F***ed Up, So Gonna Post It

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Well, I wasn’t dialed in.

I entered a micro fiction contest where I, for some dumb reason, thought I had 48 hours to submit, when in actuality I had 24 hours… Sitting here all proud of myself for getting ready to submit early, when I had already missed the deadline…and damn it, I had it written in time!! It was right there in front of my face…I just blew it.

I’ll blame 2020.

So, to not let it go to waste, I’ll post it here.

The contest is sponsored by @nycmidnight in case you ever want to enter a fun contest.

The assigned genre was: HISTORICAL FICTION. It had to have the word DANGER incorporated. It had to have the action of CROSSING A FINISH LINE. 250 word limit.

Twin Souls

Since their conception, the twins had been inseparable. Though the girls were competitive, they’d supported each other and relied on each other’s strengths to get through life. They hadn’t lived dangerously, but they had lived boldly. At sixteen, they’d marched as suffragettes through the streets of San Francisco. They’d roared through the 1920s and bet on who would marry first. They defied prohibition and worked tirelessly, side-by-side through the Depression. They’d consoled each other through miscarriages and the loss of one of their husbands. They were each other’s pillar when they sent their sons to the second Great War.

But this. Liz wasn’t sure she could take this. Their boys were home safe, however Beth was gravely ill. Liz held her twin’s hand and pleaded with her not to give up. Pleaded with her that it was too soon. They still had so much to see and do. She’d just ordered a color TV, for Christ’s sake. Grand babies were due soon. 

“I’m going to beat you,” Beth whispered through dry lips. “Over the finish line of life. You may have been first born, but I’m going to leave first. I’ll be waiting for you, dear sister.”

“This isn’t a race,” Liz said. “I need you here. I’m not me without you.”

Beth gave Liz’s hand one last squeeze and whispered their childhood mantra, “Me and you. You and me. Together forever, twin souls are we.”

Liz wept when Beth let go and won the one competition they couldn’t aviod.

Scrabble Confessional

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That’s the name of my essay that was just chosen as one of the winners of the Nickie’s Prize for Humor Writing competition sponsored by the Erma Bombeck Writers’ Workshop! Take that 2020. You almost had me at rock bottom – but not now. Now, I am elated.😊

It’s fitting, kismet really, that this is my first acceptance. Without the support of the friends it’s about, I might have given up long ago. I might have continued to write, but remained terrified to submit. But I did it girls! I hit submit and here we are.

It’s only been a few hours, but my friends have already cast our parts in the sure to come Hollywood blockbuster. Halle Berry, Jennifer Garner, and Charlize Theron have no idea the fun they are in for. Nothing screams “Action Packed Thriller” like a movie about women bonding over a Scrabble board. We’re also going to write in another character, because we want Kristin Bell in the movie too. She’s just so damn versatile.

I’ll keep you posted about when and where you can read Scrabble Confessional. In the mean time, thanks to all. You know who you are. 😉 And a special thanks to the EBWW community. They rock!

Angry Eyebrows

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Recently, I went to the dermatologist for my six month check. I see my dermatologist more often than any other physician due to sun damage caused by excessive time spent in swimming pools, fishing with my dad, and being a teenage beach bum. I’d barely walked into the exam room when the nurse asked if I would be interested in Botox.

“Are you trying to tell me something?” I asked.

“Oh! No, no, no. I just happen to have some left over that I need to use up. It’s about to expire.”

Expire?

“Huh. Where do you think I would need it?”

“Between your eyebrows. It erases the lines there.” She held out a hand mirror.

“Which lines?” I asked, waggling my eyebrows.

“Well you have to scrunch your eyebrows together to see them,” she said.

I scrunched my face to make my angry eyebrow look.

“There! Those lines!” She stabbed her finger between my eyes.

I flinched back, “Well, there aren’t really lines if I don’t scrunch.”

“And with Botox, there wouldn’t be any there when you do scrunch,” she chirped.

“So then, how will people know when I’m angry?”

She paused for a perplexed moment, then snatched the mirror out of my hand, “I don’t think Botox is your thing.”

“I don’t think expired Botox is my thing,” I murmured, angry eyebrows on full display.

…Two Years Later

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It’s been two years since I lasted posted. Two tumultuous years. To say some shit has gone down would be an understatement. Some things have been good, but there has been enough bad to cast a grey cloud over it. And then the year 2020 kicked into high gear and sent us all into a tailspin. Like a lot of people, I’m a bit flustered with the state of things right now. Flustered, frustrated, frightened, and f’ing pissed off. Frankly, just down and out. I had the highest of hopes for the year 2020. The greatest of expectations. I should have known from experience though, that the quickest way to be let down is to have high expectations. Or maybe any expectations at all.

Hoping for the best always reminds me of Snorkel Bob’s on Maui, where a very stoned employee once suggested we choose the mid-priced rental gear, “…which SHOULD work fine, brah. Just hope for the best!”

The good news is none of us drowned that year. Although that has more to do with the beaches being subsequently shut down due to a fatal shark attack, than being in possession of adequate snorkeling equipment. Good times.

I’d have to say my biggest loss during this time has been the loss of my sense of humor. My humor was usually what got me through the true tests of life (the passing of friends and pets, health struggles of my own and others, work/life balance, family matters, etc.). But it’s elusive right now. My sense of humor, that is. Only on the rarest of occasions do I feel it peaks out to remind me it’s there somewhere, buried under life’s heaviness. My humor going MIA has left me feeling mostly empty. Which in turn leaves me feeling flustered, frustrated, frightened, and f’ing pissed off.

Like Stella, I’ve lost my groove. And I guess, when you feel like this, the best thing to do is take the advice of Snorkel Bob and hope for the best. Or maybe just get stoned and wait for this to pass.