tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5850412796909333284.comments2019-05-25T14:59:50.218-04:00Get your creativity flowing...Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11947876013414315168noreply@blogger.comBlogger50125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5850412796909333284.post-43338230132920848492013-10-26T22:32:36.272-04:002013-10-26T22:32:36.272-04:00I can't say I blamed you, eeewww!! Sorry for t...I can't say I blamed you, eeewww!! Sorry for the late reply. I still haven't figured out the new yahoo email format change, so I didn't see the email notification.Anonymoushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05294525470956301958noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5850412796909333284.post-79005701200271625622013-10-18T14:25:28.349-04:002013-10-18T14:25:28.349-04:00It’s a good thing it was still daylight, because t...It’s a good thing it was still daylight, because this place was buried from the rest of civilization. I was headed out for a job interview with an ironworks company who was looking for an IT person. I knew New Jersey had some areas off the beaten path, but driving through the Carlstadt industrial was defied description. Overhead on the turnpike, cars and huge 18-wheelers roared and shook the foundation of the road beneath. This place was ugly and smelled gross—marshy, damp and rotting. Who knew what was floating around in the tall weed stalks in the nearby wetlands. <br /><br />The buildings were low and some had watermarks from constant flooding. I visualized what it would be like working in a place where carcasses might float to the surface. No thanks. As soon as I reached my destination, I gave the place a quick call and begged off. <br /><br />Joanne Suterahttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16378937599562441595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5850412796909333284.post-6977798390487873482013-10-17T10:00:04.441-04:002013-10-17T10:00:04.441-04:00Sorry Joanne, with the new Yahoo set up, I didn...Sorry Joanne, with the new Yahoo set up, I didn't see this post until just now. Funny, just like in the writing group, we wrote about the same topic without being directed to do so.Anonymoushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/11947876013414315168noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5850412796909333284.post-54727081971488918922013-10-17T08:23:12.810-04:002013-10-17T08:23:12.810-04:00Oh my! I so didn't expect that! LOLOh my! I so didn't expect that! LOLAnonymoushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/11947876013414315168noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5850412796909333284.post-25760456444607685112013-10-16T15:35:20.692-04:002013-10-16T15:35:20.692-04:00Jess saw the bridge first. The Monet bridge or wa...Jess saw the bridge first. The Monet bridge or was it the Manet bridge? he thought. Rock formations, Weeping Willows and rippling waters with Koi streaming by. Really a greet spot. Out in the open, but secluded. <br /><br />Liz caught up with him. She stopped to remove some pebbles from her shoe.<br /><br />“What do you think, love? Picnic here. Lovely isn’t it?” Liz crossed the bridge and stood peering into the water holding the picnic basket on her arm. “Look at the fish, Jess. This is perfect.”<br /><br />“I knew you’d like it,” he said as he nuzzled her neck. His attention turned to the rocks below. “Set up over there.” He pointed to a sheltered spot where she could spread the blanket and the food. “I’ll be right there. I want to explore a bit.”<br /><br />Humming quietly to herself, Liz spread the blanket and removed the box lunch she had prepared earlier in the day. She never heard Jess sneak up and raise the stone.<br />Joanne Suterahttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16378937599562441595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5850412796909333284.post-50823879562764968542013-10-13T12:59:32.829-04:002013-10-13T12:59:32.829-04:00It wasn’t easy. It took some time, quite a bit of ...It wasn’t easy. It took some time, quite a bit of effort, and even getting a little dirty, but I think I picked the perfect one…<br /><br />Every year at this time I have a habit of rushing into it, but for once I’m not letting anything get in my way. My hands are sore rubbing over the surfaces. As long as I don’t get caught in the leaves and watch my step, I can be patient. <br /><br />Patience has always been my short suit. I describe myself as impulsive, impetuous and quick to jump to conclusions, so this is a real test of my willingness to recognize how to change. Funny, change always starts with the silliest things, don’t you agree? We wait for something really catastrophic to make the realization come to the forefront, but it is always the little things the drive home the point. <br /><br />So here I am crawling around in the dirt, microscopically examining the smallest details on the surface: roundness, smoothness and the distance between the segments. I knew it when I found it, heavy as it was.<br /><br />“I’ll take this one,” I said holding up the pumpkin. “How much?”<br />Joanne Suterahttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16378937599562441595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5850412796909333284.post-26294146421699467932013-10-03T11:08:29.640-04:002013-10-03T11:08:29.640-04:00Great song, great memory, beautifully written...th...Great song, great memory, beautifully written...thanks for sharing!Anonymoushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/11947876013414315168noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5850412796909333284.post-25453367666736752782013-10-01T15:18:10.130-04:002013-10-01T15:18:10.130-04:00The smell of alfalfa and the two-step, what a comb...The smell of alfalfa and the two-step, what a combination. Yet that’s what comes to mind when “Smokes Gets in Your Eyes,” by the Platters plays. I think of Joe, my first boyfriend, at a school dance in Agoura Hills, the air fragrant with alfalfa. Country music might have been more appropriate, but I never heard any country songs.<br /><br />Joe looked like Adonis, dark wavy hair, smokey eyes and a smile that melted my legs. I had never been to a dance. One of my neighbors who was from the Harry James/Artie Shaw era tried to teach me to waltz and cha-cha and jitterbug,. My mind could do it but not my feet. The two-step was something I could do and Joe and I danced close. I was sixteen and he was eighteen and my father was not happy about any of this.<br /><br />I don’t remember how we managed it, but we went to the dance and I danced the two-step with great abandon. Walking outside afterwards, back to his car, we held hands in the moonlight overpowered by the scent of hay. Agoura Hills was ranch country. Livestock roamed the countryside. Behind the fences bales of hay were strewn every few feet. <br /><br />I still love that song and the memory it evokes<br />Joanne Suterahttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16378937599562441595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5850412796909333284.post-84748764835518858722013-09-23T15:20:59.480-04:002013-09-23T15:20:59.480-04:00Beautiful as always. I so enjoy reading what you w...Beautiful as always. I so enjoy reading what you write!Anonymoushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/11947876013414315168noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5850412796909333284.post-9015617381235715392013-09-23T10:31:53.977-04:002013-09-23T10:31:53.977-04:00Fifty years of memories—how do I leave them? Ever...Fifty years of memories—how do I leave them? Everything is packed except the china cabinet. I couldn’t do it—too painful. Now as I open the dusty glass doors, I reach for the figurine of the woman walking her poodle. I forget who the artist was, but I remember when you gave it to me. We were so young. Just starting out. It remains my favorite. Every time I look at it, I see your face waiting for me to open the box. The porcelain was fine, every detail elegant. You said that is how you thought of me. I still feel a rush of tears when I think of that day. <br /><br />And what of the ugly painted stones the kids gave me that occupy the space next to the figurine? Often I am asked about them. “My kids painted them when they were 3 and 5,” I answer. The dates are painted on the bottom of the stones. I get choked up thinking of those days when our kids were little. What fun we had. And my grandmother’s china, gift from times gone by, now going to our daughter…<br /><br />So may memories. Packing will take me all day. How will I go on with just my memories?<br />Joanne Suterahttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16378937599562441595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5850412796909333284.post-30820480009076172102013-09-16T11:45:20.961-04:002013-09-16T11:45:20.961-04:00WOW!!! Tell me this was from one of the stories yo...WOW!!! Tell me this was from one of the stories you have been working on. If not, and that only took you 10 minutes, just imagine what you would be like with no time limit... Oh yeah, I know what you can do with no time limit, I've read it! <br /><br />You are an amazing writer Heidi and I anxiously await whatever new comes from you! Thank you for playing and if any of the older prompts fancy your tickle, please feel free...Anonymoushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/11947876013414315168noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5850412796909333284.post-6556374107470245062013-09-16T10:35:01.220-04:002013-09-16T10:35:01.220-04:00Christina, thanks for the wonderful post and revie...Christina, thanks for the wonderful post and review! I like your game, it seems pretty cool. I'll play. <br /><br />The fever was so high that Jule's skin burned his flesh as she leaned on him heavily. "Leave... me," she murmured through paper-dry lips. <br /><br />"Are you kidding me? I'd be dead if it weren't for you. There is no way I am leaving you out here with... those..." <br /><br />She slammed into him hard, knocking him off-balance. "If you don't leave me here, then you will be one of those things too." She gasped, curling into herself. <br /><br />"You don't know that.... We don't know...."<br />"I was bitten. You've seen it. That must be how this spreads. And soon I'll go crazy and bit you."<br /><br />Hey... there," he pointed to a construction site, empty and looming in the darkness. "I've got an idea." He dragged her over to the elevator door and fumbled around inside. Sure enough, the lift had a locking mechanism. He dragged her onto the lift. "I am going to drop you on the fifth floor, you should be safe there. Then I'll go to the roof. I'll check on you in the morning."<br />"Don't," she groaned. <br />As the doors opened on the fifth floor, she flung herself out. "Get out of here!" She hissed through teeth clenched in pain. He hesitated only a moment, then pushed the button. <br /><br />As he sat on the roof listening to her groans and curses from the agony, he wondered if it was such a good idea. Eventually she would turn, and then he would have to kill her. Could he do it? <br />chickangellhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/00157626717952852330noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5850412796909333284.post-27147176196942668982013-09-16T08:15:50.741-04:002013-09-16T08:15:50.741-04:00You captured a story just about every mom can rela...You captured a story just about every mom can relate to. Great job and thanks for being one of the few brave enough to post. I always enjoy reading what you have written!!Anonymoushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/11947876013414315168noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5850412796909333284.post-14759810996482793682013-09-15T20:25:49.537-04:002013-09-15T20:25:49.537-04:00The fever was so high that Marcia was certain the ...The fever was so high that Marcia was certain the child would convulse.<br /><br />“Donny, can you hear me. I am going to put you in the tub. The water will be cold, but you are going to feel so much better, I promise.” Marcia lifted his slight body and laid him a blanket on the cold floor, while she drew the bath.<br /><br />Donny whimpered and tossed, opening his eyes, and then closing them. His vacant stare warned her to hurry.<br /><br />Quickly she undressed him and lowered him into the water, his body heat warming her arms that held him for support. The cool water worked. It took nearly 20 minutes, but Donny’s blue eyes opened and looked about with some signs of recognition.<br /><br />“You’re okay, baby. The fever broke. I’m going to put you in some fresh pajamas and put you back in bed.” She took him out of the tub, hugged him close and wrapped him in a towel. She brought him back to his room.<br /><br />He reached for his floppy little teddy bear and held it tight while she dressed him. <br /><br />“Open your mouth, honey and swallow this,” Marcia said as she spooned liquid Tylenol into his mouth. She tucked him in with a light sheet and sat at his bedside.<br /><br />“How about I tell you a story?”<br />Joanne Suterahttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16378937599562441595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5850412796909333284.post-84268202575986474762013-09-15T13:32:59.486-04:002013-09-15T13:32:59.486-04:00Excellent!!
In 1970 or 71, the same sort of thing...Excellent!!<br /><br />In 1970 or 71, the same sort of thing happened to my parents, but the object was a sofa, this huge heavy thing originally done up in burgundy velvet. The sofa has been reupholstered and restuffed several times over the past forty years, but it is still in my mother possession and will eventually be in mine and probably my children's.<br /><br />One man's trash...Anonymoushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/11947876013414315168noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5850412796909333284.post-78540305390493964612013-09-15T12:58:54.688-04:002013-09-15T12:58:54.688-04:00When we were first started out in our new home, my...When we were first started out in our new home, my husband and I would pay particular attention to the night before “big or bulk trash night.” It is fascinating to see what the neighbors throw away. One evening we were driving home when we spotted a piece of furniture that looked like it might have been an antique cabinet of some sort. We pulled over and looked at it. We opened it and discovered it was a buffet with drawers for silverware and shelves for china. The drawers slid nicely and were scratched but clean inside. The outer dark wood was in definite need of refinishing. Some of the trim was loose, but the pieces were all there. <br /><br />We loaded it into our hatchback and drove the piece home. A few days later we took it to be refinished. That piece still sits in my dining room and serves as storage for china and silverware and serving pieces. <br />Joanne Suterahttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16378937599562441595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5850412796909333284.post-40504591250590540102013-09-12T16:06:15.661-04:002013-09-12T16:06:15.661-04:00This brought back memories from when I was younger...This brought back memories from when I was younger and used to see "Plays in the Park" at Roosevelt Park. I didn't realize there were still things like that going on now. Provided this is a true story, I would love to hear about it. I loved it when I was a kid and I think my daughter would enjoy seeing the plays as well.<br /><br />Thank you for posting!Anonymoushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/11947876013414315168noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5850412796909333284.post-74200478766765862052013-09-12T11:33:43.416-04:002013-09-12T11:33:43.416-04:00Friday night was really cold. I mean biting cold....Friday night was really cold. I mean biting cold. John and I decided to go to Washington Crossing State Park and see an outdoor production of “Gypsy,” put on by one of the local community theater groups. I had called the theater office earlier in the day with some questions. <br /><br />“What time does the box office open? What about mosquitos? The temperature is dropping into the fifties, how should we dress?”<br /><br />“Dress warm. Bring blankets,” she said.<br /><br />Before we left, I went outside and tested the weather. Cold, biting cold. Warm coats and blankets were not an option. <br /><br />Now I am not an outdoor person. I prefer being inside where the climate is controlled, but this was going to be an experiment. I looked at my winter coats hanging in the closets. Too early for fur, the warmest. I passed on wool, too dressy. I opted for my LL Bean jacket with the big pockets. I dragged it out to look it over for stains or tears. Lots of weight in one of the pockets. Stuck my hand in and pulled out my jewelry. <br /><br />So that’s where I hid it. Funny when those senior moments grab me. I’ve learned to relax knowing things will turn up sooner or later. <br /><br />The play was fun. We froze out there even though we were bundled up. <br />Joanne Suterahttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16378937599562441595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5850412796909333284.post-28591692975283876422013-09-10T17:28:51.527-04:002013-09-10T17:28:51.527-04:00WONDERFUL Joanne. Thank you so much for sharing!WONDERFUL Joanne. Thank you so much for sharing!Anonymoushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/11947876013414315168noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5850412796909333284.post-23787864538502370272013-09-10T15:40:43.829-04:002013-09-10T15:40:43.829-04:00I remember where I was the day Marilyn Monroe had ...I remember where I was the day Marilyn Monroe had died. Why was Marilyn so important to me? As a kid growing up not too far from Hollywood, movie stars were part and parcel of my life. At my first job, Fabulous Eddie’s, a Mexican fast food place, I met Steve Allen and his wife, Jane Meadows. I tutored Paul Picerni’s son. My girlfriend, Sharon’s mother was a stand in for Ester Williams. In the mountains behind my uncle’s grocery store in Calabasas, the Eastside Kids were filmed. I met Leo Gorsy and other cast members there. For my first two years of high school, I attended an all-girls Catholic school in Studio City, which was down the block from Republic Studios and across the street from Dupar’s Restaurant where high school kids and cast members from popular TV shows hung out.<br />I had been in New York the previous nine months and had come home to get away from this guy who wanted to marry me. I moved to Hollywood that summer not knowing that I would return to New York in the next few months and never live in California again.<br />I was waitressing in a coffee shop on Ventura Blvd that morning. Some of the customers arrived with newspapers. The headlines told the story. Marilyn Monroe was dead. Marilyn, who was the much photographed actress in all of the movie magazines, whose picture I had cut out and pasted into my scrapbooks. It was sobering and sad. How could someone like her die so young? <br />I think of that day occasionally. I see the coffee shop, the customers, the bright sun coming through the windows. Time stood still for that moment. I had no knowledge of drugs, depravity, cheating, or any other vices that I would come to know as my world expanded and I shed the protective mantle of being home. That day it was only disbelief.<br /><br />Joanne Suterahttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16378937599562441595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5850412796909333284.post-72233642065338774192013-09-10T07:15:59.324-04:002013-09-10T07:15:59.324-04:00Absolutely Joanne. Either type right here or you c...Absolutely Joanne. Either type right here or you can cut and paste from Word which is what I do. Looking forward to reading your responses!Christina Paulhttp://christinapaulbooks.blogspot.com/noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5850412796909333284.post-55106954879045096172013-09-09T13:33:46.480-04:002013-09-09T13:33:46.480-04:00Is this how we can do your prompts
Joanne SuteraIs this how we can do your prompts<br /><br />Joanne SuteraJoanne Suterahttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16378937599562441595noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5850412796909333284.post-43586854515822621172013-09-07T14:56:18.515-04:002013-09-07T14:56:18.515-04:00Comment from FB:
Marcy Fitzpatrick-Wiebe I love y...Comment from FB:<br /><br />Marcy Fitzpatrick-Wiebe I love your blog.. and I try and read it everyday.. sometimes life gets in the way.. And it is raining here today, but to me it is still a glorious day.. Have a happy day Christina!!Anonymoushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/11947876013414315168noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5850412796909333284.post-58704958296864380252013-09-07T14:55:32.645-04:002013-09-07T14:55:32.645-04:00Comment from FB:
Mallbq Pig - Yes, people read th...Comment from FB:<br /><br />Mallbq Pig - Yes, people read these but are too lazy to play games<br />Anonymoushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/11947876013414315168noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5850412796909333284.post-91757227334777193802013-08-05T06:09:12.001-04:002013-08-05T06:09:12.001-04:00Copied response from FaceBook - Karolyn - When you...Copied response from FaceBook - Karolyn - When you pick me up tomorrow it will be LIGHT out. The temperature will be in the 60's so we might need to find a CAVE to sit in and get warm. Hopefully, I will find a great SHELL or two to add to my collection.Anonymoushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/11947876013414315168noreply@blogger.com