A Day's Work - Day 29

    The picture above is part of my latest project. It's a rental house in Anderson. It's actually an apartment in a house turned into doubles. Today, I was sanding and mopping this floor, getting it ready for stain and seal tomorrow. I came home tonight with every joint, muscle, tendon and ligament on my body, aching.

    On the way home, I called Kora to tell her that I would go to Ohio with her this weekend. We're going to a birthday party for her nephew. She needed someone to tag along to help with the babies. I am a good choice for that because my grand kids love me!

   Kora told me this cute story about my grand daughter. They were in the grocery and Korinne said "I love you, mommy." And Kora says "I love you too."

And Korinne says "But what?" She's just turning 4 years old and already she ponders the deeper meaning.

Rocky End - Day 28

    This is an old house in Anderson, Indiana. I took the photo because I thought the house looked like it could have been a stunner in it's youth. I liked the color, I liked the shapes, and I especially like the mysterious stairway between the two wings.

    I wanted to submit one more rock story because, well, I like it. Here goes:

Telling Philip -

     Before I told Philip my story idea, I had to prepare him. You see, he's a critic. He'd tear up an anvil just to see what makes it heavy. And I'm kind of sensitive, especially when it come to my creativity. If someone says or even hints at "dumb" - I immediately drop it.

   In a burst of enthusiasm , I say, "Phil, I've got this idea for a book." He listens.

"This is big, really big!. This may be the one thing I've been living my whole life to do. I may even need to get extra people to help me think it through. It's that big!"

    He says "Well, tell me this, what would be your father's reaction to the idea?"

So I think a minute and say "Girl, what's the matter with you?"

Philip says "What would be Kora's reaction?"

I say "Mom! That's a great idea! Go for it!"

So then I tell him about the rock stories book. He is grinning the entire time and when I finish he says "Just one thing, when you write it - change my name."

Trouble on the Mountain - Day 27

     I was in Anderson today. Phil asked me to help get an apartment cleaned up and ready for a renter.  So I was pulling what must have been 1 million nails, tacks, and staples out of the floor. I guess who ever installed the carpet, many years ago, must have worried about the carpet flying away because that thing was stuck down!
    Phil had come to Anderson too. It was beautiful outside, so he planned to do some patching on the roof of the Lincoln Street building.
    He came by the apartment to check on me and to invite me to lunch. I dropped everything and went to lunch with him.  After lunch he brought me back to the apartment and I got back to tack pulling.
     Shortly, my phone rang. It was Philip. He asked me if I was finished the tack pulling, There was a hesitancy in his voice. "Just about." I said. I sensed that something was bad wrong.
   "Are you OK?" I asked.
    "Yeah, I'm OK. I might need your help."
    He proceeds to tell me that he had gone up on the roof to find a section of the rubber roof sheeting blown off. As he tells me this, I could hear him breathing kind of heavy. According to him, a 6 foot by 78 foot section.  "Seven or eight foot?" I asked. He clarified "78 foot."
     I immediately headed over to help. I'll finish this story up tomorrow as we were working past sun down and I am bone tired tonight.

Motown - Day 26

     Detroit; the "Motor City," Home of Motown. We came into Detroit at about 6 PM on a Thursday night. Driving down Grand Avenue, we could see the towers of the city looming ahead. The Emerald City at the end of the rainbow. Yet, something kept catching my eye; trash! Everywhere along the streets, lay, debris. It moved in the breeze with a life of it's own. Piles of garbage, scattered bits of paper, drink cups caught in fences; everywhere. All in accent to the newly built (within the last 50 years) buildings that lined the path to the city.

    It made me sad. The ride along Grand Avenue should have been uplifting. Here we were on our way into the big town and yet the trash rushed our senses.

     At about this time, my teenage son turned on the radio. The Motown sound filled our van. Angels came out of the heavens. The trash stepped back. Voices soothed us. The city took on an entirely different look.

     Before, all I'd been able to see was "Cars Hand Washed," "Girls,Girls, Girls," or just generic graffiti.  Now, I noticed churches and groups of people standing on the sidewalks; talking and laughing while their babies kicked at imaginary objects from their strollers. It was just music, yet, what a difference the sound makes.

Rock Original - Day 25

The following bit is about the original rock idea. I found this a few days ago and this story triggered a couple of other stories. I'm a little out of sequence as the Anti-Lucy story came a couple of stories later.

(1996)

   I'd like to think that it all came about as a result of inspiration but in fact these very words that your are reading right now are a direct result of desperation.  My birthday had just passed and at 43 I began to think that perhaps the great wagon of doing something great and wonderful for the world had rolled past me while I slept. It probably came through here at about two in the morning and the hum of the air conditioner just smoozed out all the outside sounds as the fateful wagon moved on in the darkness.

   I pondered these things over my morning coffee. I wanted so much to write something. Many writing experts say write what you know. Fat Chance. I know nothing! My husband has all the brains, I just follow orders. I laugh at this as it's a running joke between him and I, except that, I'm the only one aware of the joke.

    Lately, he has had me helping him clean out this huge garage that he'd leased to scum, sucking morons, who happened to get behind in their rent, then packed up and left town in the middle of the night. Probably chasing after that wagon of fate that left me behind. Anyway, there were 240 used tires and three 55 gallon barrels of used motor oil to deal with. On top of that, everything in the building was covered with a film of grease. It was a gosh, awful, mess. In the middle of all this chaos and gunk, I felt sad. I felt that I would never actually write anything worthwhile.

     Later, I was setting at my kitchen counter thinking about my predicament and happened to notice the rocks sitting on the window sill. There are about 25 or 30  small rocks that I've gathered during various nature hikes. The colors, shapes, patterns, unique on each of them. As I looked closer, something stirred in the back of my mind. My eyes moved to a tiny rock that my friend, Ruth, gave me.

It had a gold and brown color with a spiral, wormlike formation in the center of it. As I looked at this rock, it occurred to me that perhaps this rock held the key to wonderful stories. I took the rock and put it in my sock, the pants I was wearing didn't have pockets. I left the rock there as I watched television. In the back of my mind, I began to think "What if this could work? What if I do get inspired by this thing? What if it starts talking to me? What if I end up in a mental ward, clinging to this stupid rock, like it was God or something?" I was thrilled! 

The Anti-Lucy - Day 24

   I was at work in Anderson, yesterday. I'd set about trying to find a specific file. In a box that smelled like mice had been using it for a restroom facility, I came across a file which contained several stories that I have promised to share, starting today.

    I pulled out a folder with Bud from Married With Children printed on it. Inside, I found this particular story:

  [1996]

     I was at the keyboard. I had just finished talking to my sister, Grace and the adrenaline pumped through my veins. I was electric! So, I sat at the keyboard, music played from my son's stereo. And it happened! I began to write!

     Not dry, forced junk but deep, soulful writing. The words came to my mind as if an outside force were spooning them into my brain. All Heaven and Earth could have disappeared on that morning and their disappearance would have gone unnoticed. Inspiration was mine. The rock was working!

     I wrote for what seemed to be minutes but was almost 2 hours. Suddenly,  the telephone rang. It was Philip's cousin. She and her family were coming by for dinner. She had called to make sure that was still the plan. I was so out of it that I barely could grasp what was being asked. I had to deliberately concentrate to make the correct words come out of my mouth.

     I got off the phone and tried to recapture the lost mood. No luck.  So, I go to print up these marvelous pages of thought put to paper. I highlight the words on the computer (a big mistake) - push one button and every single word disappears! Gone! Vanished! Lost forever; back to that point were all good things go when they die. I could have puked! 

   In a panic, I start pushing lots of buttons, thereby losing any chance to reclaim what was mine. This made everything worse.

     The phone rings. I answer. It was my daughter. She's in a good mood and tells me that she's had a brilliant insight!

     "Mom, you and Dad are the opposite of Lucy and Ricky!"

     So I'm thinking and say "What do I have in common with Ricky Ricardo?"

     "No, Mom, you're the anti-Lucy" she says.

     I then tell her how I, this day, lost the meaning of it all in seconds. She gives me suggestions, including:

     "Sit down and write down on paper, everything you can remember about what you wrote."

     I tell her that I have to go. My mind was shot. I was bereft.

     Later that same day, I started thinking about that phone conversation. "The Anti-Lucy? What does that mean? How would that apply to Philip and me?" Then I think about how Philip is always including me in all his "projects". I'm always working for a way to not be in his "projects"....that's anti.... "Yes, she's right! I am the Anti-Lucy!"

Philip (speaking in broken Cuban accent) - "Oh Lucy! You want to be in the show?!"

Me (Lucy)  "No, no, I don't want to be in the show! Waaaah!"

     My daughter is a genius!

 

StarGate 2012 - Day 23

    Today was an interesting day. I had every intention to get back to work on the Kickstarter Art Project that I am working on for my son's group. The frames were sitting there, waiting for my attention. I have hit a block that I want to call  "Let's question Sarah." And the questions start; "Is this something the recipient would want? Maybe this looks too, "old lady?" This is taking forever, when are you going to be finished?"

   I did what any artist worth their name would do, I took a break from the art work. I can't stand art, nagging me! Besides, I was looking for a certain file that had been placed in a box and stacked away amidst a lot of other stuff that had been placed in boxes and stacked away.  Trust me, I am trying to deal with my hording.

   I found the file that I was looking for but I also found a lot more. In a box of files, I found some stories that I had written in 1996. That's right, 16 years ago.

   I started looking through my writing. I came across a story that I will have to tell you over the next few days. I will clue you in that when I read one that concerned my daughter, I called her up, laughing, and we both ended up laughing.

   These stories started when I had the idea to carry a small rock around to use as a focus for daily stories. Stay tuned.

   In other news, I don't know if I have told any of you about what happened to me the other night. I was laying on the couch, it was getting late, and I called out to Philip - "Honey, would you carry me to bed?" I was just kidding. I had even stood up to go get ready for bed. Philip came in the living room and proceeded to pick me up in what I will just call "a bear hug." It was not pretty. My feet were about 12 inches off the ground and the human vise was doing his job of lifting me. I got scared that he might hurt himself so I said "Put me down. Ok, put me down." No sooner had those words left my mouth when we both heard a pop! It sounded through both our bodies and it felt like a twig had snapped in my rib cage. At first it was painful, then I suddenly felt great. I felt fine. At least until the next day when my left, lower ribs hurt.

    Last fall I fell while taking a hike and hurt my ribs. When I went to the doctor, I found out that I did not have broken ribs but the doctor told me that usually it's hard to break ribs. What usually happens is the lining is bruised and that is what is hurting.

   I was thinking about this today at the cabinet store. An older couple came in and bought 4 / 42 inch vanity bases. I was hurting but we had to get these cabinets loaded. So I was pulling and helping lift the cabinets into his van. I thought "This is gonna kill me!" But after they left I actually felt a little better. And it made me think of the story that, writer, Ann Lamott told about when she had her tonsils out. Her throat was in such pain. She kept telling the doctor that she needed more pain medicine. He refused to give her more pain pills. He told her that she needed to swallow her food even though she was in pain. The only way to it is through it. So now, instead of guarding my side, I am trying to stretch out the injured side. I think it's helping.

    So stay tuned for "Rock Stories - the series" beginning tomorrow.