Yes, I completely forgot to do this last week. COMPLETELY. I wrote an A to Z post but didn’t do a photo prompt.
Oopsies.
So in case you are unfamiliar, on Thursdays when I don’t totally blow it, I post a photo and we write a ten word story about it. Exactly ten words.
I managed to stick to the animals, too.
OK, ready? Here’s mine.
Oh Timmy’s VERY advanced. He stopped feet-sitting hours ago.
(Photo by Jean van der Meulen from Pexels)
Is anyone else running through the alphabet in your head each time you sit down to write a post? To make sure you have the right day?
I thought I’d have the alphabet down pat by now.
Or.
Maybe I didn’t?
Or packs a lot of punch in those two little letters, which, if I’m being honest and I’m always honest, are starting to look weird next to one another already.
You can change an entire hour, an entire day, an entire lifetime, an entire universe with that tiny little “or.”
“Sliding Doors” and all its progeny were built on or. Every single “or” is a Choose Your Own Adventure, a separate path, a fork in the road.
Or not.
See what I mean?
You’re probably wondering about that jumble of letters up there. What you’re seeing is an #AtoZChallenge brainchild!
Yep. Not only do you get blogging, you could get brainchildren.
Last year, a number of people enjoyed the disciplined way that A to Z keeps you blogging. But getting projects finished can prove tricky, especially if taking advantage of more than one of April’s challenges.
So MAYkingItWork was born.
It’s a no-pressure May challenge where you take that project that’s been annoying you–whatever project that may be–and you, well, make it work.
That challenge gave rise to #AccountaClub. And Donna McNicol’s JuKnowUCanDoIt. Which, shockingly, happens in June.
We’re a punny people.
Hang around in May, if you’re so inclined!
Before we talk about how I am it, can we talk about what a great word “lackadaisical” is? Despite being nearly impossible to spell?
It is, itself, nearly musical in its tumbling lazily toward its finish. Lackadaisical. It’s careless and it doesn’t care.
Which, I suppose, is the crux of being careless.
I, on the other hand, do care, but I also nearly forgot to blog today. Just as I nearly forgot it was #AccountaClub yesterday.
Wherever the ball is, I am not on it.
But I may have made a discovery. I was talking toothpaste with my father, as one does. He’s a doctor, and I told him that the one I use has potassium nitrate in it.
Nitrate.
Which is a migraine trigger. “Eureka!” he exclaimed.
Well, he didn’t really but it makes for a better story.
Is it possible that my scrupulous oral hygiene has set me up for these headaches? We’ll soon see. I’ve changed the toothpaste.
Don’t worry though, my lackadaisiality doesn’t extent to brushing my teeth.
Still behind. Still sorry. And I have so much catching up to do after my headaches, so it will probably take a bit, so I’m not ignoring you, I still adore you or am thrilled to meet you, I’m just behind.
And on to knotty. Which is how I found this post this morning, struggling as I was to find a K. It’s funny how we can tangle up and and around ourselves, exacerbating whatever pressure we had in the first place.
Which I am now doing.
Sometimes things seem to knot up all on their own, the metaphorical and the literal alike. Take, for instance, my headphones.
How?
How is it that no matter what state I leave them in, the next time I see them they’re the World’s Biggest Ball of Headphones? Is it personal?
Stress does that too, back in the metaphorical realm, it weaves the problems together until it’s difficult to pick one out of the other. Not that I have any experience with that or anything.
But at least it’s Friday, and I’m now realizing this post isn’t AccountaClubby at all. In fact, I only just realized it was supposed to be (sneaky me) and that I hadn’t done the photo prompt yesterday.
See what I mean? Knots.
So: for #Accountaclub: yay #AtoZ! Yay many other annoying tasks that have to get done! Yay exercise!
Boo writing! Boo being a bad commenter and visitor!
How was your week? Knotty?
So just one thing before I get into just: still at battle with my head. I’m sorry I’m a bad visitor and comment responder right now, but at least I’m still posting…
Right?
OK, just. Just is just my my writing tick. Why? It just is.
No matter what I’m writing, “just” just sneaks right in. Even in my fiction, I always have to do a search for “just,” and when I see how many hits there are, I’m just flabbergasted.
We all have those ticks, those words that always show up no matter what our intention. “Just” isn’t even a very useful word, really.
The key is identifying them so that we can destroy them, destroy them with the might of a thousand word-processing programs.
Or just the one. Really, you only need the one.
What’s your tick?
Sorry. She just won’t let “I” pass without getting her due. Aunty Ida, that is.
Who is Aunty Ida, you ask conveniently hypothetical reader? Why she’s a brilliant scientist slightly more, um, well, enthusiastic than she should be.
Don’t tell her I said that.
Her bad side is a place you do not want to be. For sure.
While fictional, I’m not sure Aunty Ida is entirely fictional. Sometimes I feel as though she’s out there, somewhere, in a parallel somewhere or another, dictating her stories to me through the distance of space and time and reality.
If anyone could, she could.
For the writers among us, do you have characters like Ida? Ones who boss you, who tell you what’s what? Who demand your attention and their spotlight on the page?
Want to meet Aunty Ida? Here she is.
So I’ve been a terrible comment-responder and blog visitor the last few days thanks to a long-lasting and constantly-evolving headache.
Not sure what, exactly, triggered it. Last week much of it was weather, I think, which is frustrating as I’ve yet to figure out how to control it.
The weather, I mean.
I promise to try to catch up today, as so much of A to Z is the interaction.
My headaches form this annoying, attention-demanding creature who lives inside my head, making me dizzy, making me squint at the light, clouding my thinking so it comes out in dribs and drabbles.
Not a fan.
I’d love to make them vanish, but nothing much works aside from avoiding the triggers in the first place. Do you hear me, weather??
I’m sure I’m not alone, we all have those body quirks. All we can do is try to work around them.
If only they weren’t so determined to be in the way.
(Photo by Frans Van Heerden from Pexels)
Great is one of those words that depends so much on tone. How are you feeling this Monday morning?
Great!
Or
I still have to empty the dishwasher.
Great.
See what I mean? Genuine, sarcastic, “great” has it all.
Maybe, ironically, because it doesn’t say much. What is “great?” Not a word you’d use while writing, really, unless it’s something a character would say. Then, of course, it’s great.
Because of the duality.
Not many words have that instant flexibility, that built-in self contradiction.
Meanwhile I have much Monday to Monday, shoulder to the wheel and all those cliches.
No need to worry about me, though. I’m great.
(Photo by me. That’s one of Darwin’s finches in the Galapagos!)
It’s foggy today, metaphorically and literally. It looks like the fog outside may be breaking up; hopefully the fog in my head won’t be far behind.
My thoughts feel like the trees outside, wrapped in a soft layer of concealment. I can make out shapes, but not much more.
I’m definitely taking a nap today.
Have a great Saturday!
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