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WHY…

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Why do my cats love to sit or sleep within and around my shoes…?

Why do my cats throw-up in my shoes?

Why do my cats, especially Jerry, only wants to sit on my lap when I am writing, like right now?

Why does Jerry want to sit on my lap when Tom is resting peacefully on my lap?

Why is Tom sitting in that box, one of those awful cat traps? KIMG0344 (1)

Why is it when I don’t get up early enough, Tom goes into the bathroom and knocks over the trashcan?

Why when the alarm goes off, 60 seconds later when I open my eyes, Tom is inches from my face?

Why does Tom punch me in the mouth the second thing after the alarm goes off? Oh right, he’s hungry.

Why does Tom argue with me every day? I can’t get him to shut up.

Why does Tom eat out of Jerry’s bowl and Jerry eats out of Tom’s bowl, when no one is looking?

Why, first thing in the morning, is Tom’s bowl empty and Jerry’s half filled?

Why is it when I sleep on my side, and I am only four inches wide at my shoulders, and Jerry only has four feet, why does he take eight steps to walk over me?

Why do I let my cats walk all over me?

Why does Tom sleep between my legs, when I like to roll from my left to my right in the middle of the night? Oh, now I remember, because he knows I will lay there and not kick him off my bed.

Why, when Tom sleeps between my legs, do I slowly as I can slide my leg by Tom so I don’t wake him, causing my leg to cramp up every time?

IMG_20161201_135651Why is it when I am watching TV and both or one or the other, is sitting on my lap and I have to go to the bathroom, I just sit there and suffer, because I don’t want to wake them because they are so cute?

Why do these cats eat plastic? Especially when I forget to put the bags up? I don’t need a sick cat on my hands.

Why do I hear Jerry, and sometimes Tom, run from the kitchen, around the living room, then up the stairs into the bedroom and back downstairs and in the Media room like nothing has happened?

Why does Tom run up the stairs, like a madman, (mad cat), jump up onto my bed and use his claws to stop? My down blanket is down 50% of its feathers.  I have sewn it up so many times the comforter is starting to look like Frankenstein’s blanket!1266643071687

Why does Tom always try to hump Jerry? Heck, they were both neutered when they were young. So where does that come from?

Why does Tom hump Jerry? That’s when the fight starts.

Why do Tom and Jerry start to play and a minute later…the fight starts?

Why does Jerry always grab the door knob to the basement, and then look at me? Oh right, I usually, without fail, get up and open the door.

Rodeo 004Why when I open the basement door Jerry never goes down? Tom, on the other hand, runs from were ever he is and charges down into the basement. I wonder what the heck are they doing down there?

Why is it that when Jerry goes down the stairs, after sitting in front of the door for about 10 minutes he goes down into the basement, then runs back upstairs like something is chasing him? Oh wait, its Tom chasing him.

 

Why are Tom and Jerry so funny at times? Oh right, they’re cats!

Why do I love Tom and Jerry? Oh yeah, because…cats!PICT1363

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The NaNoWriMo is over and I…

It’s now over. The NaNoWriMo is over. Thirty whole days of writing 50k words in 30 day…I pause as I wipe the sweat from my brow.

This is the second time, in five years, that I haven’t finished a story. I wasn’t even close, I quit with less than 1/3 of my story. I am glad I outlined seven pages of my story, though.

As of December 1st, I decided that I would take a break from writing in any of my novels, until January. During the month of November, I came up with two more story lines, and last night, as I was talking to a friend who came up with an awesome title, I decided that I would finish my “Tome” on internet dating.

Of course, all of this, novel writing, isn’t going to take place until January first or within that first week, part of my non-resolution for the year of 2017. In the meantime, I will still write in my blogs and other little bits and pieces on the internet.

As it is, now, I have so many items on my plate, things I should have finished, in the past couple of years. Life for me has been good, but I have to carry it over, that good stuff, into my writing. So much to do, and so much time…

National November Write Month cometh

In one month and 15 days from now, National Novel Writing Month, NaNoWriMo starts. My only concern, debate…do I want to join in or do I just want to just continue writing? As it is now I had finished outlining my Science fiction novel, MAROONED, and have written about 8,000 words so far.

Now, I want to start outlining the next Sci-fi novel, SURF’S UP, but I have to finish Marooned first, I figure that should take me until the end of October to finish… fingers crossed.

Yesterday I came up with another new title, TIME SLEEPER, and have  to put something down on paper to keep that story in mind, of course an outline would help. I’m thinking that maybe I should just finish all of the above outlines before I start writing the second story.

That reminds me, I have to rewrite my screenplay and re-submit to the company I submitted it to four months ago. They mentioned I should rewrite and try again. A positive thought in a rejection letter.

That takes me back to NaNoWriMo…to write or not to write, what is the best for me. I have never finished a story during that November time frame. Would it be worth my while?

As my favorite saying goes, so much to do so little time.

Coffee, black and…cover your lady parts.

On my way to a café, the other day, in one of those towns where the uber hipsters hang out, I thought I’d park my car a little further away so I could get a little refreshing walk in. I crossed the street and made a quick left, heading to the café in the middle of the block.

Ahead of me were two young women. One of them had a head of bright blond hair with dark brown streaks in it, topped with a blue thingy wrapped around her hair ending in a long ponytail. She had on a colorful; I don’t know what you call it, a Halter top that exposed her belly button and a blue, short skirt that had frills on the ends near her knees. On her feet were beige-colored platform style shoes with straps that went up her ankles.

All of a sudden, she rolled her ankle, tripped and went down. She rolled over on her butt and as I walked to her to help her up, I noticed that she had no underwear on. It seemed like an eternity as I reached for her hand to help her up. She looked at me for a moment and said, “Did you like what you saw?”

I said, “No. You could use a trim or a Brazilian, maybe, or dye it the same as what’s on your head.” I smiled, and turned into the café. I then ordered a coffee, black, no sugar or cream. I wanted a brownie, but they didn’t have any that day, so I got one of those large, soft, chocolate chip cookie. I went and sat down on a vacant sofa and waited for my comrades to come. I was going to read some of my poetry, that day.

I was just about to get comfy when that young lady marched over to me. She stood there for a second then bent over to say something to me that only I could have heard.

“Are you some kind of pervert?” She said…her eyes wide, her face almost expressionless. I was shocked, but only for a second or two.

Looking dead into her eyes I said, “Youngster, I have seen, touch, tasted, and played with over xxx women in my lifetime. I am over xx years old and that,” pointing at her crotch, “doesn’t excite me as much as it did when I was your age.”

I looked up at her and smiled, then added, “Besides, a pervert would have had a camera and took plenty of pictures. My camera was in my pocket.”

She straightened up and put her hands on her hips. I noticed the corner of her lip started to erect into a tiny smile. I figured she wanted to burst out laughing, but she didn’t. She turned and started to walk out of the café. I noticed, as she walked away, her rear end was sashaying, a definite prominence that she didn’t have as she was walking down the street.

At that moment I realized, I had lied to her. Something I don’t do often, fibbing, not telling the truth. I did get excited, just a little, a tiny bit. Just enough to let me know, I’m still human.

Forty-five minutes later, as I sat listening to one of my friends read their poems, that youngster walked back onto the café, over to me and whispered into my ear, “can I get a ride home?”

 

 

One hell of an answer.

I have a sign on my door, stating: “Please no soliciting”. It’s been there for over a year. In that past, year and a half, a handful of people have knocked on my door.
Once, a bunch of old ladies, knocked. I mentioned the sign and one of them told me that soliciting was about prostitution. I told them to be on their way (not really but it was implied).
On another occasion, a boy knocked, I mentioned the sign and he too mentioned that soliciting was only about prostitution. I could only shake my head in disgust. Don’t they teach these kids anything in school these days?
Anyway, today, two young girls knocked. I mentioned the sign, again and the oldest of the two said, “That means selling something…and we are not selling anything, we are asking for something.
Again I just shook my head…I then said, “Soliciting means asking for anything, not just selling.”
She retorted, “…it means selling, My Mother is a lawyer.”
I mentioned what other people do in life and what does that have to do with you not knowing what the word means, and I am a writer, I know words. I then said “GOOGLE IT!”
“It means, selling something, My Mother is a lawyer.”
I could only shake my head in total dismay and disgust. Maybe her mother should be a teacher or something because these kids nowadays know nothing!

A Study in Orange and Black

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Chaos

Fire and steel, molten

red malevolence poured

from vessel to vessel,

Chaos.

 

A river of steel flowing growing

smaller, pounded, beaten, flattened,

drenched, cooled,

Chaos.

 

A whistle blaring, a train’s

coming laden with ore splattering

its contents down the side,

Chaos.

 

Sparks fly like static electricity

dancing in the air, sizzling

aimlessly, alight near a flowerless plant

growing in the orange rust colored ground,

Chaos.

 

On that same plant, a butterfly

A spectacle beholding,

a Monarch, or maybe…

Chaos?