Author and Inspired Writer

My apologies, gentle readers, for not keeping up ye olde blog, but I needed to take some time to write a poem for the “3 Days in August” event. And then I was invited to write an article for Vanessa Shield’s newly designed blog, and I sense that’ll take until the end of the week. Once it’s posted though, (it’s on the intersection of writing and religion), I’ll post the link and you can peruse it (and Vanessa’s new blog) for yourselves.

Until then, keep it righteous.

For the next three days I’m going to be sequestered in my office writing poems for the “3 Days in August” event – poems about Windsor, the good, the bad and the ugly – that will be collected for an anthology edited by the Windsor Review.  (Vanessa Shields, Guest Editor)  Poets who want to participate will all be writing at the same time, over this weekend, and we’re hoping for a wonderful confluence of literary energies.

I noticed tonight is a new moon, tomorrow, the end of Ramadan, and Sunday, the Leamington Tomato Festival.  In such a propitious configuration of events how can I fail?!  So for the next 72 hours I’ll be at my desk (taking appropriate breaks for food, rest, and, you know, necessities), pen at the ready, begging inspiration to come down from that corner of the ceiling I always stare at.

Wish me luck!

This past weekend, The Mister and I traveled to Richmond Hill to celebrate the 70th birthday of my eldest sister with my two other sisters and their respective spouses.  This was a very big deal for me, because chronic fatiguers like myself can become easily overtaxed when they travel, and that can lead to a long, frustrating recovery period, something I desperately wanted to avoid.

We were looking at a four hour drive, and our little puddle-jumper does not have air conditioning or cruise control.  I told The Mister, “Pa, I don’t cotton to drivin’ 401 with the windows down, ‘n breathin’ in all them fumes and listenin’ to all that noise.  No sir.  Don’t cotton to it one bit!”  The Mister replied, “‘N I don’t hanker to drive a car that’s too lazy to drive itself,” by which he meant “without cruise control.”

So what to do?

We thought about car rental, but that got more expensive and more inconvenient the more we looked into it.  Finally The Mister said, “I could ask Brother if’n he’d lend us his car fer the trip.”  And I said, “Now, that’d be right nice if’n he would.”

Turns out Brother was only too pleased to lend us the car, a Chrysler 300, (a big’n!) and our travel problems disappeared!  It was a lovely drive up and back, comfortable and quiet.

And the hospitality in Richmond Hill is second to none!  The food!  Oh, the food!  My second eldest sister and her husband are both accomplished cooks, and the birthday feast was magnificent!  At one point my stomach said, “Check your pulse right now!”

“Why?”

“‘Cuz I think you’ve just died and gone to heaven!”

“No, no, it’s just the food!”

Staying overnight presented one more hurdle, and one that, sadly, I didn’t negotiate very well.  It seems I cannot sleep in a strange bed, a description my sister objected to:  “The bed isn’t strange,” she hastened to correct. “The bed is normal.  I can’t speak for the people sleeping in it, but the bed itself is normal.”  Ah yes.  Thanks for the clarification.

I got maybe three hours of shuteye, and wondered how I would manage the birthday brunch and the four hour ride home.  The party was fine, but I could feel the needle on my energy tank was hovering in the red zone by the time we pulled into our driveway.  I took a quick shower, and then started talking to The Mister about our plans for the next day.

He said, “Do you realize you’re swaying back and forth as you talk?”

“I am?”  I looked down at my feet.  “Oh yeah.  Look at that.”

He turned me around and gave me a gentle shove towards the bedroom.  “You maybe want to go and lie down now?” he asked.

I did.  I really did.

I slept nine hours.  I wish I could say I slept straight through, but Mother Nature thinks it’s just hilarious to wake me up at 2 a.m. by squeezing my bladder.  Haw haw.  (The Mister thinks I must have prostate issues.  He, on the other hand, sleeps through the night.)  Mind you, I went right back to sleep after my bathroom visit, so haw haw HAW Mother Nature!

The next day, I had energy to spare!  The Mister decided to wash the car before giving it back to Brother, and that tuckered him out.  A nap restored him to his usual ebullient self, though.  And then last night, another nine hours for the both of us!  We’re sleeping like teenagers again!  And there’s been no relapse into my chronic fatigue!  Woo hoo!  And thank you God!

No, really – thank you God!

One thing I can say after 23 years of marriage to The Mister – it’s never been boring.

We were watching TV a few evenings ago, when I noticed what appeared to be dried blood under The Mister’s nose.

“Hey Pa,” I said, “your nose is bleeding!”

“Really?” he replied without looking away from the tube.  “Must be dry in here.”

“I’d agree with you,” I said, “except a) it’s been raining for two days; b) the windows have been open all week and c) you’ve never had a spontaneous nosebleed in your life.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Could you maybe go in the bathroom and take a look at it?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Today?”

He sighed.  “Fine.”  And off he went to check out the man in the mirror.

A few minutes later, I heard laughter coming from the bathroom.

“What’s so funny?” I asked, not entirely sure I wanted to know.

“It’s not blood,” he said, still chuckling.

“So, what is it?”

“Chocolate.”

My left eye started twitching.

“Chocolate.  Oooookaaaaaayyyyyy…where did it come from?”

He took up his chair in front of the TV again.

“Well Missus, I was indulging in some trail mix earlier today, and there are chocolate chips in the mix, don’tcha know.”

“Yeeessss…?”

“Yeah well, when I tossed a handful in my mouth, one of them l’il chips musta just scooted right up my nose.”

“Oh my sainted Aunt Cecilia,” I muttered.

“Say what?”

“You mean to tell me you’ve been walking around with a chocolate chip up your nose and never knew it?”

He flashed me a grin and turned back to the screen.  “Weird, huh?”

I buried my face in my hand.

“Yup, that would be one word for it…”