On the Floor


Image result for yoga poses


When our son and family visited us, I was in the living room finishing up my yoga session with my usual ending of corpse pose when our grandson, about 15, came in and said,”Call someone! She’s been killed!” My son came in and said, “Nah, she’s just pretending so we will go away” I got up and said no, silly, just finishing my yoga.

Did I mention I do a great corpse pose?

One spring I had to have major surgery and had to take it easy for a while, but it didn’t take long to get back to my yoga routine.

That fall I had a visit from older brother and his female friend. They stayed with us for a few days, and one night they all went to bed but me, and since it was fairly early, I decided to do some yoga to get a good nights sleep.

Did I say I had had surgery?
I was on the floor in the living room when I heard someone go into the bathroom. I didn’t look I was just finishing up with, yep, corpse pose.
A bit later I heard the bathroom door open, so I opened my eyes, I could see down the hall to the bathroom, and saw the lady coming out of the bathroom, so I opened my eyes and said hi.

Did I mention I do a great corpse pose? Well, she almost did the real thing.

Today my husband had to take the car out for repair and called me to say he was on his way home. It took me too long answer the phone and it went to the message machine. Yes, we still use an old tape style message machine. Anyway, after I got to the phone and we waited through the bells, beeps and whistles, I got to talk and said, sorry I took so long, but I was on the floor. He didn’t bat an eyelash, just said, on my way home.

Did I say I do a great corpse pose?



My Life as a Musical





When I was growing up, I got to see a lot of movies. My parents ran a restaurant downtown where we lived. I was about nine or so when we started that part of our lives. I have a brother five years older than I, so we were left to ourselves during the day while our parents worked. We lived not to far from the city bus stop, so it was possible in the summer to ride to the restaurant and get my lunch then go to a movie. I averaged three movies a week and sometimes, more.

My favorites were comedies and musicals.

I loved musicals. I thought life was a musical. I hoped my life would be a musical. I think I knew at the time, that it was not real life, but who is to say it couldn’t be?

One of my favorites was 7 Brides for 7 Brothers. The t v show was based on it. The movie was based on an ancient Roman legend Rape of the Sabine Women, which in the movie is told as Sobbing Women, anyway, the reason it was a favorite is because the music, the dance and the story wove together so well, that it seemed natural for lumber jacks to dance and sing while they build a barn and have a picnic.

And, I was ten. Who wouldn’t want Howard Keel or Russ Tamblyn to sing and dance for you?

You add in that this was also the time of Fred Astaire and Gene Kelly, you can understand that I thought life would be a musical.

It never occurred to me that it hadn’t happened yet, but I just thought it was all in growing up. I also thought everyone had someone in their family that could play the piano and sing without sheet music, but, I was wrong. About both.

It wasn’t in growing up that everything was set to music ¬†and not everyone had someone who could play the piano without knowing the notes on the pages. We did. My mother. She could listen to a song once and then play it. It might take a few playthroughs before she got it right, but she could do it.

No, I didn’t inherit that talent.

Baffled, Bothered and Bewildered

I started a post a while ago about how humble I felt when I discovered a friend of mine had become a follower of my blog. Which could come under baffled, because I could not for the life of me think I would have anything that wonderful to say that would make someone follow what I had to say.

I know that I have readers and that they come back frequently, to see what I have to say. But somehow that follow business just made me feel really humble.

I was feeling humble and it bothered me. Not that I try to be boastful or anything like that, but what exactly had triggered this humbleness? The fact that I had a follower? It shouldn’t. It wasn’t the first time I had had a follower or a few, anyway.

Then, I knew why it made me humble.

It was someone I truly admire for their writing, for who they are. When you have someone you think is higher on the mountain, than you and they have taken a moment to look down and say, ” Hey, there is someone who could use a little encouragement, and I like what they say”. It is truly wonderful. So, now I am no longer bothered by it, by love it.

Bewilder is a bewildering word. Mostly because it has a kind of negative connotation for me. I think of it as wandering around trying to figure out what happened and how to handle it. And the dictionary says, “perplexed and confused”, so guess I am on the right track. So, according to the dictionary, perplexed takes us back to baffled.

I will enjoy the followers and the readers and hope y’all enjoy me.

I am so pleased that all of you who read my blog take the time to find out what this baffled, bothered and bewildered person has to say.



What if I quit?

I have been thinking lately of quitting. Everything.


It came to me today that I don’t want to get up at 6 a.m. tomorrow and go to the gym. We have been doing it pretty steadily since the first of the year, but I’m done. I am not an early riser, as a rule, but have been pretty faithful this year about being up and about by no later than 6:30 a.m. That way we are in to the gym by 7 a.m. and home by a little after 8 a.m. and then we have the rest of the day to do whatever we want. That is after we recuperate after the gym. So, not sure how much good it does, therefore…

I’m done.

I have also tried to write 500 words and report to my online writing group daily. Haven’t done too badly with that. Not excellently, but not bad. I have failed miserably this past week. I haven’t done 500 words a day nor have I blogged even once. No excuses just didn’t get to it.

Well, I’m done.

I have also tried to be intentional about what I eat, hoping to lose a few pounds. Not many, only ten. Haven’t done that either. I have tried eating smaller portions. Keeping a journal thinking that if I saw what I ate, I would cut back. I have tried to eat several times a day, but less in those times than I did before. I failed.

Finished. Finito. Done.

I thought about quitting and do none of the above. Who cares? No one notices but me that I haven’t done these things. So, why does it matter if I continue or not?

The only one who cares is: ME.

I thought about what would happen if I quit trying to do all these things.

Here is my result:

Without the gym I get creaky. I mean getting up out of a chair is a major, major thing.

Guess I won’t quit.

If I don’t write I feel like a failure to myself, because it is done primarily for me. Hopefully, in the process of writing and publishing to my blog I will help someone else besides myself.

So, I will continue with this dribble drabble of wordage in the hope that I and someone else might feel better.

Onward and upward with the word count.

If I continue to eat my usual way, I will manage to gain more weight about which I can worry.

So, guess that won’t work.

When we feel as though all is lost and what we are doing is worth nothing, it is time to stop, take a deep breath and look at what has been accomplished. It may not be what we want, or as much as what we want, but accomplish something we do.

So, don’t give up. Don’t quit. Take a step back pivot the other way and see what there might be to do in a different direction. Maybe you need to change exercises.

Perhaps you need to just write without any idea of publishing, or maybe dial it back and only publish once a week or once a month.

And maybe you just need to not worry about what you eat and only eat a portion of whatever you eat normally and not punish yourself for eating more than you should.

I am not quitting. I will pivot and adjust and tomorrow is another day.