Author: Sally

gratitude · Life

TToT — February 23, 2025

Sally3 Comments

What am I thankful for this week?

  1. Health — yes, I’m pretty close to 100%. I even went swimming the other day.
  2. Swimming — I think swimming is one of the best exercise out there. The only downside is that you have to get wet.
  3. Birthdays — Am I thankful for birthdays? Really? I struggle with my birthday, not because of the number ticking up, but because it’s too much attention. Okay, so, if no one remembered my birthday that would bother me, too. In the meantime, I have to smile and seem flattered that people remembered. Last year, I was traveling on my birthday. I think I need to plan to do that every year.
  4. Cinnamon rolls — I treated myself to one from Schneider’s Bakery on my birthday. I think they have 3000+ calories, but they are delicious.
  5. Frederick Buechner — Ten years ago, when my brother passed away and we cleaned out his apartment, I found a box full of books by Frederick Buechner. I wrote about it in a post called Vultures. The other day I started reading The Yellow Leaves which is a collection of his essays. I find myself copying bits into my journal, like these words he wrote describing an encounter with FDR — “… even the mightiest amoung us can’t stand on our own. Unless we have someone to hold us, our flimsy legs buckle.”
  6. Brian Doyle — I’m reading a collection of his essays called Reading in Bed. It’s filled with Brian Doyle’s brilliant wit and pithy practical writing advice, like this today: “The first great editor I worked for gave me a gnomic speech about how we do not use the word hopefully to begin a sentence here… then I worked for a genius editor whose driving theme was say something real, write true things, cut to the chase. More advice I have not forgotten (hopefully).”
  7. Sunshine — finally. Glorious. Much appreciated
  8. Pens — I love good pens, so a package of new colored pens was the perfect birthday gift.
  9. Bird/squirrel feeders — cheap entertainment.
  10. Cats — They are interesting creatures who allow us to love them. They deign to permit us to give them attention. Of late, one of my cats follows me into the bathroom in the middle of the night. You may pet me now, she says.
fiction

A Magical Ride

Sally12 Comments

She always ran to the toad.

Oh, there were horses and unicorns on brass poles that rose and fell during the ride. The huge golden retriever seemed to be bounding home. The smirking goat went up and down. The pig did not. The swan with a graceful neck was stationary as was the toad.

The toad was greenish-brown, bumpy, and ugly. No one ever rode the toad. She felt sorry for him so one day, she climbed aboard.

On her first toad ride, she wasn’t expecting the total transformation of her surroundings when the carousel started to revolve. The organ music started, the platform picked up speed, and suddenly she was in a garden on a toad who hopped a time or two before unexpectedly shooting its tongue out to catch a fly.

As the platform slowed, the garden faded and she was back where she started.

“Can I ride again?” she begged her mom.

On the second ride, the toad hop-hop-hopped before stopping to grab a worm wiggling on the ground. the scene faded as the ride stopped.

After that, it was always the toad. At home, she read about toads: their habitats and their diet which she saw on every ride. She also learned about their means of protection.

One day when she was riding, the toad was hopping and encountered a yappy dog. She immediately knew what sticky stuff was coming out of the toad’s skin.

I wonder if toad-toxins kill, she thought.

This is my submission to the Unicorn Challenge. The challenge has only two rules: 1.) no more than 250 words, and 2.) use the photo as a prompt.

In my town, we have a beautiful carousel, handcarved by artists from around New York. It has quite an array of animals, but no toad.

poetry

Listening

Sally12 Comments

The truest love involves more than giddy peaks,
It’s listening, really listening, when the other speaks

Words are words are words. Heck, anyone could say them
When there’s honest listening – that’s where love comes from

Words hit heart, hit home, when one looks between
Beyond simple listening we sees what words can mean

To listen we must step aside and hear with more than ears
Listening in that way leads to love that lasts for years

A sally is a jaunt off the beaten track
And love is really listening even when words lack

This is my submission to the W3 challenge this week. The challenge was to write a Ghazal on the theme of Love. Here are the instructions for a Ghazal:

  • Made up of a chain of couplets, where each couplet is an independent poem;
    • It should be natural to put a comma at the end of the first line of each couplet;
  • The Ghazal has a refrain of one to three words that repeat, and an inline rhyme that precedes the refrain;
    • Lines 1 and 2, then every second line, have this refrain and inline rhyme;
  • The last couplet should refer to the author’s name;
  • The rhyming scheme is AA bA cA dA eA etc.

I read and read and read the instructions and, in the end, did only half of them. I wrote couplets, I had a refrain (though not at the end of the line), and the last couplet refers to my name. But the internal rhyme and the rhyme scheme? – Meh.

gratitude · Life

TToT — February 15, 2025

Sally6 Comments

Ten Things of Thankful — for what it’s worth. I’m still not feeling 100%

I am thankful for 1sick time at work. Nobody even questioned my taking Monday, or working shortened days Wednesday through Friday. (I’ll get to Tuesday in a sec.)

“Do what you need to do.” “Take your time.” “It’s important that you give yourself time to recover.” These were all things I heard from my co-workers, along with offers to bring food. It was nice to feel seen and cared for.

On Tuesday, I had jury duty. I thought about calling and telling the court I was sick, but thought that sitting in a courtroom wouldn’t be physically taxing and if I went I wouldn’t have to use another sick day. Here are my jury duty thankfuls:

2The system — Big picture, I think it’s a pretty darn good system. There were ninety random people thrown into the courtroom that day. I recognized several: a physician, two swim-moms from my coaching days, a homeschool mom, and a retired greenhouse director. The randomness, the mix of backgrounds and education levels, all seemed to set a good stage for putting together a good jury.

(Sidenote: when accusations are made about “rigged” juries, I’m not sure how that can happen. The two attorneys can be pretty thorough sifting out people who may have serious biases.)

3The chairs in the jury box — I was called in the first round. The chairs were pretty darn comfortable. They were wide, cushioned, and they swiveled.

4Lunch — I didn’t bring lunch. My appetite has been off. As it turned out, though, we all had to leave the courthouse from noon to one. Fortunately, I knew where I could go in town for an easy lunch. At a little coffee shop, I got a bowl of soup which was perfect.

5 I didn’t get selected for the jury. It was a sexual abuse case involving a father and his now-adult daughter. Honestly, I would have done it as a civic duty, but I’m glad that I didn’t have to listen to that testimony.

6 The Kingston Trio — I have a friend with a functional CD player. “Got any CDs?” he asked me earlier this week. Actually, yes, I do — shoeboxes full. I brought him an odd mix of Scottish music, the Beatles played by the Boston Pops, and The Kingston Trio. Oh, The Kingston Trio — I LOVE The Kingston Trio. It had been years and years since I had listened, but I still knew every word of every song. For your listening enjoyment, here’s a sweet Kingston Trio song:

I read multiple books at a time. Non-fiction, for the most part, so it’s easy to read a little section and then let it simmer in soup-pot at the back of my brain. Three books/authors that I’m currently reading and am thankful for: 7The Yellow Leaves by Frederick Buechner, 8Reading in Bed by Brian Doyle, and 9Draft No. 4 by John McPhee.

From my window, I’ve been watching a flock of 10wild turkeys gathering daily near the river. They strut around. Some roost in the trees. Occasionally one will spread his wings wide in a gesture of big-ness. I am terrible at estimating distances, but I’d say that it’s more than a football field away. Turkeys are pretty unmistakable, though, even from that distance. Anyway, I finally dug out my father’s binoculars so I could really observe them — and I set the binoculars by the window. Of course, I haven’t seen the turkeys since then. Still, I’m thankful. And I’m ready.

fiction

The Tree

Sally10 Comments

Emma didn’t go down that street anymore.

In fact, she hadn’t gone down it in years. The last time had been with a policeman and her mom. The time before that had been with Linette.

She remembered that day so well.

“Don’t you hear it?” Linette said to her. “The tree knows my name.”

“I don’t hear anything,” Emma replied. Well, she heard cars and people in the cafe and such, but she couldn’t hear the tree.

“It wants me to put my hand in there,” Linette said, pointing to the oddly shaped cavity in the trunk.

Emma tugged at Linette. “Let’s go,” she said. “This is creepy.”

But Linette ran back. “I’ll catch up with you,” she said.

Emma never saw her again.

Emma repeated that story umpteen times to her parents, Linette’s parents, and the policeman. She showed them the tree.

They shook their heads and looked at her with sad expressions.

Poor confused little thing, she could hear them thinking.

Now, she could hear the tree calling. It did know her name. She was blocks away, but somehow she knew.

She knew it was the tree.

Emma, Emma, the tree called. Come see me.

“No!” she said aloud.

Emma, Emma, the tree called.

Emma found herself walking toward the street, then down the street, then approaching the tree.

She had forgotten the way the cavity in the tree looked like a yawn.

Put your hand inside, the tree said.

Timidly, Emma reached her hand toward the hollow.

This is my submission for the Unicorn Challenge. It’s a simple challenge: write no more than 250 words and use the photo as a prompt.

poetry

I thought about trashing this…

Sally13 Comments
Art by Glen Martin Taylor

So shattered
Everything that mattered
Broken, unfixable, trashed
Dashed

One person
Opts to better, not worsen
Fashion, build, construct, un-break
Make

When you might think all is lost
That all pieces should be tossed
Giving up has higher cost

This is my response to this week’s W3 Challenge. Here are the guidelines given by the Poet of the Week:

  • THEME: Write a poem to encourage someone not to give up—urging them to persevere, try again, or push forward for just one more time or day;
  • STRUCTURE: Use no more than 11 lines;
    • Choose any form or rhyme scheme you prefer;
  • Optional Inspiration: Consider drawing inspiration from the image and/or statement by artist Glen Martin Taylor above;
    • If you do include Glen Martin Taylor’s statement or repost the image, please give proper credit to the artist.

There’s an unpronounceable Celtic form called Deibide Baise Fri Toin. Syllable counts per line are 3-7-7-1. Lines 1 and 2 rhymes on 2 syllables. Lines 3 and 4 rhyme on one. So I wrote two of those plus three more 7-syllable lines that all rhyme with each other. Total lines = 11.

Life

Having the flu is like…

Sally4 Comments

Quick search of the internet using the words “having the flu is like”. Here are five things:

  1. Having the flu is like having a really bad cold. Um, no, it really isn’t. That’s like saying that apple pie and Boston cream pie are the same because they’re both pies and have a crust. If you’ve had both, you know the difference.
  2. Having the flu is like heartbreak. No one loves you. No one wants to be around you. You’re shunned. (Mai Abdo, Washington Post) Actually, I have felt very loved through this. People call and text. They bring me soup. They check in.
  3. Having the flu is like being in jail. A couple of the similarities noted: taken away from your job, solitary confinement, and dreaming of good food. (https://my1053wjlt.com/6-ways-having-the-flu-is-like-being-in-jail/)
  4. Having the flu is like going through the same day over and over. “I have a terrible night’s sleep. I am exhausted in the morning. I take an afternoon nap. I wake up in the evening to just exist, dreading my impending night of terrible sleep. At 2am I check my temperature. Fever. I take two ibuprofen and put a cool rag on my head. I toss and turn in bed. I move up the couch. I wake up at 4am. I go back to my bed. Somehow I sleep through the rest of the night. I wake up the next day to do it all over again.” Yup, this. (found on Reddit)
  5.  Having the flu is like having a license to kill, or at least a license to incapacitate. Find your worst enemy — hell, anybody — and ask to borrow a pencil, use his phone or to become blood brothers. It’s all good, just remember: transmission of fluids is best. Use your imagination. Or a needle if you’ve got one. (from The Daily Free Press: The Good, the Bad and the Snotty of Getting the Flu)

This is my submission for One-Liner Wednesday. Okay, I know, it’s more than one line. If you’re a hard core One Liner Wednesday person, stop after the first one.

gratitude · Life

TToT — February 8

Sally7 Comments

On Wednesday, I was feeling off.

On Thursday, I was not feeling well at all.

I emailed in sick to work. Despite sleeping all morning, I continued to feel worse and worse so I went to a walk-in clinic. I am 110% thankful for 1walk-in clinics. Yes, they are largely staffed by PAs and NPs — but, seriously, you don’t need four years of college followed by four years of medical school followed by four or more years of residency to be able to do a throat swab or a nasal swab (I had both) to diagnose common illnesses. Anyway, as it turns out, I have Influenza A. Joy, joy. (And, no, I did not get my flu shot.)

I hate being sick. I don’t have time for this nonsense.

Here are my sick thankfuls:

2Nadene and Marissa — who finished up my work at the church for me. They stapled and folded all the bulletins, which I had no energy to do.

3Shetland Season 9 — I binge-watched, sort of. I could listen to Scottish accents all day. I may need to go back and watch the show again, though. I kept falling asleep. There were a LOT of twists and turns — and my flu-infected brain struggled to follow the story line. Still — Scottish accents, beautiful scenery. I’m thankful.

4Songberd’s Grove — I’ll have to look back to see who recommended this book, but it has been delightful! Published in 1957, written by Anne Barrett, set in London, it’s a wonderful children’s book that is just what the doctor ordered.

5Friends and family who check on me. People have been so kind. My brother checks in twice a day — “Do you need anything?” A friend offered homemade soup. Another dropped off some food. I am grateful for them all.

6Sleep — I have slept SO MUCH over the past few days. It’s kind of an amazing thing that our body uses to heal. I rarely give myself enough time for it.

7Tea with honey. I am a coffee drinker through and through, but coffee hasn’t really tasted good. Tea, on the other hand, is soothing and I’m glad that I have some here.

I learned what a 8pilchard is. If I had guessed, I wouldn’t have even been close. It turns out they are FISH, like sardines. I can still picture my mother opening a can of sardines with that little key. She would lay those little fish neatly on a piece of bread and squeeze a little lemon on them. They were way too fishy for me. I love learning new words, but I’m not sure how often I will use the word “pilchard.”

I also love learning new phrases and came across 9“Not by a long chalk.” I had only ever heard “not by a long shot” — probably a military term. I looked up the chalk version and it turns that it’s a pub term. I found this on the web:

…the expression almost certainly comes from the habit of using chalk in such establishments to mark the score in a game, a habit which now survives in British pubs mainly in the game of darts. A chalk was the name given a single mark or score, so that a person might explain that somebody or other had lost a game of skittles by four chalks or you needed 31 chalks to finish. If your opponent had a long chalk, a big score, he was doing well.

The expression indicates a determined intention to continue, though the game is going against you. Your opponent may have a long chalk, but you’re not done for yet.

worldwidewords.org

I’m also grateful for this poem: 10“Small Kindnesses” by Danusha Laméris. Please check it out. It’s full of the small kindnesses we experience every day, and half the time we don’t even notice. I read it for the first time this week and I keep going back to it. I want to remember them. I want to see them.

fiction · Writing

Mr. Barleigh

Sally20 Comments

Mr. Barleigh kept the floors clean at the primary school. He swept. He mopped. He picked up trash.

Mr. Barleigh moved at one pace. It wasn’t slow, really. It wasn’t fast, certainly. It was an amble.

Mr. Barleigh was tall and thin. He had minimal hair, peppery-grayish. His uniform shirt was loose, as were his pants, but his suspenders kept everything in order. He had suspenders in a variety of colors and patterns. The children were always interested to see which suspenders he had on.

Mr. Barleigh knew every student’s name and greeted them by name every day.

Mr. Barleigh carved turtles out of little bits of wood and he gave one to each student. “We can learn a lot from turtles,” he would say, “but the two most important things are ‘Move at your own pace’ and ‘Be comfortable in your own shell.'”

Mr. Barleigh smiled when one of the 2nd grade teachers used his turtle sayings for a bulletin board. “I hope you don’t mind,” she said, “but there’s so much wisdom in those words!”

Mr. Barleigh always ate his lunch in the cafeteria, sitting with a different group of children every day.

One day, Mr. Barleigh didn’t come to work. Teachers and students alike were concerned. The police officer who went to his house found that he had died in his sleep. He also found that every bit of wallspace in his house was covered with school photos and drawings from children.

This is my submission to the Unicorn Challenge. The rules for the challenge are simple — no more than 250 words and use the photo as a prompt.

poetry

Longing for the window seat

Sally17 Comments

From the window seat on the plane, plain
Stretches out. And sometimes I see sea.
Sometimes it is a sandy beach. Beech
Trees with maple, birch, hemlock wood would
Populate my view. Back row aisle, I’ll
Say that my view is, of course, coarse
Economy class — deaf to my pleas: Please,
I need the window but I know no
One cares! [sigh] Be there in a few. Phew!

This is my submission to the W3 Challenge. This week we are challenged to write an “Echo Verse” which means the last syllable is repeated at the end of each line. It was a fun challenge.

When I fly, which isn’t often, I truly am a window seat person all the way.