#MondayThoughts: May her memory be a revolution

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The headline is not original, I’d credit it if could but I’ve only seen it as an unattributed meme.

The loss of Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsberg is devastating on so many levels, not the least of which is the rising tide of authoritarianism. There is so much bad news out of the trump regime and so little attention paid, one by one the stories drop off like they never happened at all.

I’m not hopeful, but I’m also not resigned.

There is a roiling wave of anger like this nation has never seen. Democratic candidates brought in record amounts of money in RBG’s memory, and the best thing we can do is fight. Even when we feel like we’re drowning, we find the surface.

Justice Ginsberg never gave up. She fought her body for years just to be here for us, for this nation, for women, for every citizen, for justice. She fought, she fought hard, and now, it’s our turn.

I will be forever grateful to an icon who is eternal in her legacy. So let’s get to it, folks.

Have an empowered Monday.

#WednesdayWisdom: Play a game

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It doesn’t matter what kind, if it’s on a console, on a computer or on your phone. Find a game that appeals to you–a word game, a match 3, a world-building game, an adventure game, a puzzle game–and play it. Just for five minutes.

It’s good for your brain and it gives you an escape. It also gets your problem-solving circuits going, and we all need those right now.

You could play a real life one too, if you have the time and the people, that’s also fun and a bigger break. But it’s important to take your brain for a walk now and then.

Literal and metaphorical.

And with that, I’m taking mine into my day. Have a good Wednesday.

 

Check out  my full-length novels: 
Aunty Ida’s Full-Service Mental Institution (by Invitation Only)   
Aunty Ida’s Holey Amazing Sleeping Preparation (Not Doctor Recommended) 
Her Cousin Much Removed
The Great Paradox and the Innies and Outies of Time Management.
And download Better Living Through GRAVY and Other Oddities, it’s quick and weird!
Peruse Montraps Publishing
Like my political side? Read my opinion pieces here.

#ThursdayThoughts Ten Word Photo Prompt: Restarting

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Photo by Wellington Cunha on Pexels.com

It’s Thursday! That means it’s time for a ten word story. Using the photo above as a prompt, write a story.

Of exactly ten words.

Sounds easy, right?

Maybe not.

Anyway, ready? Here’s mine.

Plucking the moon from the sky, she broke the spell.

#FridayThoughts: Eh, why not

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Aunty Ida's Full-Service Mental Institution face mask in black with white and orange writing.

So I made some Aunty Ida face masks, largely because the idea of people wearing them out and about in public just completely cracks me up.

I think there’s no way you’re not getting space with those. I mean come on.

Perhaps the lockdown has gotten to my absurdist layer. It really didn’t have far to go.

I’m sure as May stretches onward, I’ll be adding other ridiculous face masks and other items, because honestly, why not? Also dressing up the store should be fun.

Because again.

Why not.

Anyway, here we are at another Friday, this one sunny and squeaky new, and I can see the dandelions popping up even from here. I love Spring. I’m sorry I don’t get to see it in person.

So that’s me for the week, have a wonderful Friday and a perfect weekend. Oh and the masks also come in white for that just-released institutional look!

#ThursdayThoughts Ten Word Photo Prompt: Practice

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Photo by Ike louie Natividad on Pexels.com

It’s gotta be Thursday because it’s ten word story time! Using the above photo as a prompt, write a ten word story.

Exactly ten words.

Ready? Here’s mine:

Despite her training, when gravity went sideways, so did Amelia.

#WednesdayWisdom: Memory

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I forgot to put on a bracelet I meant to wear today. I reminded myself to put it on, I remember that clearly, and yet somehow, here I sit, no bracelet.

Memory is weird.

Like dreams. Sometimes you remember the whole thing, clear as a movie, almost complete with credits, and others, just that vague feeling you’ve been elsewhere.

And it can fail us. In the midst of writing this post, a friend told me his mom was recently diagnosed with alzheimers. Something so intangible can feel so permanent.

Sometimes we live in our memories. I’m not sure how good that is.

And all this over a forgotten bracelet. Have a great Wednesday.


Ten Word Photo #WritingPrompt: Late

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Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com

It’s time for our very first ten word story of 2020! I don’t know if I’ll ever get tired of writing 2020. How can we be so far in the future?

With so many people with ideas so backward?

But I digress.

So using the photo above, write a ten word story. EXACTLY ten words.

Ready?

Here’s mine:

2 a.m. Nina’s still alive. What the hell, hit man? 😡 *

*(After many rounds of discussion with myself, I decided an emoji is not a word. Tangled in my own rules, I treated it separately, but if you disagree, and hey, we’re all about a free exchange of ideas, I’d strike the “still.”)

#HappyNewYear: Why Hello There 2020!

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It’s almost not 2019 anymore, a year that looks so modern, so in the future, but sixty years from now will look as old-fashioned as a Model-T and women just securing the vote.

Maybe.

On to 2020, the most futuristic-sounding year yet. Funny how they all feel that way at first.

And, in what is now firmly a tradition, here is a short story from my collection, Better Living Through Gravy and Other Oddities:

In with the Old

“It’s nothing personal,” she said as kindly as she could muster, “it’s just time.”

“But I’m not nearly as used up as they said I would be,” the other one said, “not nearly at all. I’m not wrinkly, or old – I’m kind of in prime time.” She gave herself an once-over, careful not to break her bond with the contraption behind her.

“Unfortunately, we really need the machine.” She sighed and tapped her pen on her clipboard. “We only have a few more hours.”

“We?” said the woman in the machine. “We only have a few more hours? You’re going to install that thing,” she gestured with her head toward the giggling baby making faces at the man in the white coat at the other end of the room, “and go on with your routine. You think don’t have it down by now? Daily dial turnings, just one click. Then you, with that pretend-serious look, yanking that lever. You think I didn’t notice you enjoy those lever pulls? Well I did. And you do.”

“Now come on, Wanda, there’s no need to be this way. You can go out with dignity.” She shot a look across the room to her coworker. He was too enthralled with the baby to get her message for a little help.

“What am I supposed to do now? I was huge, I was everything.”

“You’re sounding like a bad movie.”

“They don’t tell you what you’re supposed to do when it’s over.” She relaxed her grip on the copper handles inside her chamber, her visible gears going slightly slack down her arm toward her shoulder, the teeth just a bit looser. The worker took that as a good sign. She quickly tamped down her encouragement, in case Wanda saw.

“There are always retrospectives,” the woman said. “You know, ‘Best ofs.’ And there’s still plenty to do in the first few months, while people are getting adjusted. You know, rent checks, 18-month calendars, that kind of thing.”

“And then what?” said Wanda. “Then what happens? Where do I go? What do I do?”

“I’m so glad you asked,” the woman said, finally able to return to her script. “You see, we have this lovely facility, all of you go there, you know, when you’re finished. Here,” she slid a glossy folded paper from beneath the clip of her board and held it toward Wanda. “There’s even a brochure.”

The pictures were bright and multicolored, with others sitting and laughing, eating, strolling by the water, the patina of their clockwork innards glinting warmly in the setting sun. It didn’t look too bad. She nearly let go of the handle to take the brochure, to open it, to see what kind of crafts there were, as promised on the cover, when she remembered.

“No,” she said.

“Wanda,” said the woman, her tone sharpening, gaining hardness around the edges, “I’m afraid you haven’t got a choice. It’s time.”

She shook her head as much as the chamber allowed, which wasn’t much. “I’m not going.”

“But what are we supposed to do with him?” She pointed her pen at the baby, who turned, stared at them and burst into a full beam, his tiny gears engaging as he reached his arms toward Wanda. “It’s his turn now. Don’t you want to give him his turn?”

Wanda closed her eyes. It wasn’t fair, she thought. It went by so quickly, her lifetime of usefulness, her purpose, and now she was supposed to retire off with the rest of them, with some anonymous body of water and a dining hall and crafts. Though crafts are nice. But still, this was her machine, it was hers.

The worker had moved away, but she could hear her talking softly, her sentences interspersed with the cluck of her two-way handheld.

“No, no, I’m telling you it didn’t work.” Something unintelligible garbled through from the other side. “No. Clamped on, completely. Like a vice.” Again, soft electronic murmuring. “It’s like Oh-Three all over again.” More garble. “What? She can’t hear me. I’m away from the chamber.” Indistinct chatter. “Fine, fine, Trinity. Like Trinity all over again.” She waited for the response. “That would probably be best.” After a long interlude of murmur, the handheld fell silent.

“Umm, Wanda?” said the worker several minutes later, the ice in her voice retreating. “I’d like you to meet someone.”

“Not interested,” she said, her eyes still closed. She knew the truth, the worker had practically said so herself, with the conversation she thought Wanda couldn’t hear. She was only a number to those people. Oh-Three indeed. “What do you call me when you’re out of the lab?” she said, her eyes still completely shut. “When you’re talking to your buddy over there at lunch or wherever it is you go?”

“Wanda,” the woman said, her discomfort obvious even to Wanda and her closed eyes.

“What do you call me? One-One?”

“Wanda, really, there’s someone here you should meet-“

“Or Eleven? Do you call me Eleven? A number to you, that’s what I am after all this time.”

“I thought she couldn’t hear,” she said to someone, though Wanda wasn’t going to bother to open her eyes to see who it was. “I swear, I wouldn’t have used the technical–“

“Technical?” said another voice, a new voice, a male voice. “Technical? Really? Is that how you’re describing it?”

“Well-“

“Her name is Wanda, you know,” he said, his tone both relaxed and oddly engaging despite the rebuke. Wanda couldn’t help herself, she opened her eyes a crack.

“I’m Oden,” he said with a half-smile. “I’d shake your hand, but I understand your position. Obviously,” he said. His gears were slightly rainbowed with a healthy dose of age. Wanda thought they made him look distinguished.

“Oden,” she said. “So I?”

“Replaced me, yes.” He took a step toward the chamber, careful to keep a distance. “Flip of the switch and it was me in there. And you over there,” he said, and smiled at the baby, a real smile, not a put-on one.

“What did you do?”

“I went,” he said. “It was time. It’s how it works, you know.”

“I know,” she said, looking at her feet, so comfortable in the only spot they’d ever known. She glanced up and met his gaze. “I know,” she said again.

“The place really looks like the brochure,” he said, offering her his hand to help her to step out. She considered it, but didn’t lessen her grip on the handle.

“What about the crafts?”

He took the hand he’d been holding out and dug into his pocket, his gears gliding smoothly along. He pulled out a wallet. “I made this,” he said. “Stitched it myself.” She took in the uneven stitches and frowned. “I’m not a very good crafter,” he added quickly, “but they are fun to try.”

“Hmm,” said Wanda. She glanced at the worker who looked at the clock on the wall and back at Wanda, her face full of cautious hope. Oden set out his hand again.

“The sunsets are every bit as pretty,” he said, “and the best part is there are no more dials, no more levers. No more chamber.”

“But I like the chamber,” she said, scooting back to be further back within it.

“You like the chamber,” he said, “because all you know is the chamber. Take a leap.”

“No, no,” said the worker, “that’s him.” She pointed at the baby.

“You understand you’re not helping the situation?” Oden asked her.

“I do, yes, realize that now.”

“So what do you say, Wanda?”

She gave her chamber and the lab a final look over. She could probably make a better wallet. She could certainly make a better wallet. Maybe they’ll have pottery. Slowly, she released first her right hand and then her left, and placed it in Oden’s outstretched palm. The machine beeped behind her while the worker anxiously watched the clock, the man with the baby leaning, ready to place him.

She stepped out of the machine.

The woman grasped a crank on the side of the box and turned it furiously so that the chamber got smaller and smaller and the arms shorter and shorter. The man, watching the clock rather than her or the baby, placed the baby where she had been moments before but where she would never fit now. The baby giggled.

Without looking back, Wanda took Oden’s arm, and together, they headed toward the door. They reached it and disappeared into the flash of sudden white light.

The worker leaned against the machine, her hands shaking. “Happy New Year, everyone,” she said weakly.


Like my political side? Read my opinion pieces here.
Check out  my full-length novels: 
Aunty Ida’s Full-Service Mental Institution (by Invitation Only)   
Aunty Ida’s Holey Amazing Sleeping Preparation (Not Doctor Recommended) 
Her Cousin Much Removed
The Great Paradox and the Innies and Outies of Time Management.
And download Better Living Through GRAVY and Other Oddities, it’s quick and weird!
Peruse Montraps Publishing

#WednesdayWisdom: Have a Merry Christmas if you celebrate

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Merry Christmas to all who celebrate, and a lovely quiet day to everyone who doesn’t!

I hope whatever you do today, it brings you joy.

#TuesdayThoughts: Also gray

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Another gray day, which is why November was always my least favorite month. Relentless grayness, needling icy rain, just the start of bleakness to come.

Get it together, November.

In the past few years it had forgotten itself, and November had several uncharacteristically jolly days. It seems to have gone back to its gray roots.

Though I had a few things pop up while writing this and there’s a very subtle hint of blue in the sky, so I think it heard me. Good.

I’m finally getting back to the routine after last week, though I feel like I’m moving extra slowly. Personally, I think that’s a sign of lack of caffeine, but I think my sleep patterns would beg to differ.

I’m off to do Tuesday things, I hope you have a lovely day.


Check out  my full-length novels: 
Aunty Ida’s Full-Service Mental Institution (by Invitation Only)   
Aunty Ida’s Holey Amazing Sleeping Preparation (Not Doctor Recommended) 
Her Cousin Much Removed
The Great Paradox and the Innies and Outies of Time Management.
And download Better Living Through GRAVY and Other Oddities, it’s quick and weird!
Peruse Montraps Publishing
Like my political side? Read my opinion pieces here.