Author: Janna Hill

Marching Into Spring

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If the old folks in East Texas are right we will have another cold snap so don’t plant your tomatoes yet. I’m not in any hurry, after all we are just getting to the Ides of March and the Spring Equinox is still a week away. What does all of that mean? I could write about it but I’m afraid it would bore you straight to death and I don’t want to be listed on your death certificate as the official cause so how about I show you some pictures instead? Okay! Moving right along…

From the Bluebird outside my window.
Jonquils
Looks like me without coffee.
Pretty purples
The Eight Spotted Forester Moth

Of Poetry (Resident of Insanity)

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Of Poetry

Be it good, bad or indifferent I suppose I will always be a poet at heart.

One might think “real” writing (you know things like novels, short stories and blogs) would dissuade poetic tendencies but it doesn’t… and it shouldn’t.

Someone once said of poetry, “I honestly don’t know why it flies through my head but it’s like an energy that must be loosed and the only way I know to let it go is to jot it down.” Okay that someone was me but we’ve already established that authors and poets are insane a peculiar lot. At least that’s what I keep hearing from the voices living outside of my head.

Admittedly I tend to write disturbing prose. Why? I have no freaking idea other than the above explanation and this one just flew in.

Resident of Insanity

 

He gnashed and smashed his teeth to bits

Hissing shards of peppermint

On face and lace chipped molars lit

While gums and tongue did chide

~

The air like mud was thick with scent

Red with dread and white with grit

Dentin mixed with blood and spit

Where insanity did reside

~

He snatched and scratched at lights not lit

Held cries in eyes seen through slits

Pleading, “Someone give a shit

And plump this crumpled pride”

~

But none could hear his broken mouth

Or see the lights had all gone out

With hand on heart he faced the south

And they say that’s where he died

 

*Here’s this year’s first reminder that April is National Poetry Month so you have plenty of time to be thinking about it. Whether you read my poetry or that of someone else plan on expanding your horizons.

P.S. My works are not always of such unsettling nature. They’re worse when I’m happy 😉

Weekly Photo Challenge: Lost in the Details

/ Janna Hill / 7 Comments

I have been busy – I mean crazy busy! Or maybe I’m feeling lazy and every little thing feels like a huge undertaking?  No, I’m going with the crazy busy but that doesn’t relieve me from commitments. I made a commitment (if only to myself and my mother) to participate in the weekly photo challenge and by golly the show must go on! Besides, these challenges give me a reason to take a break from the mundane and enjoy what others have to offer. As I a writer I’m prone to get so involved in writing and research and blah blah blah that I forget life’s fundamentals. Not just the bathing and eating, I forget to do that all the time. Sometimes I literally forget to breathe… to get up and take a walk… to look outside the scenes inside my head. That’s when Honey (aka my husband) steps in and performs CPR.

My chaos is no more trying than the next persons and probably less than many. The world is spinning faster for everyone and we hamsters must pick up the pace. We must also admit when it’s just a tad too much and relinquish the wheel or the camera in this case.

So, without further ado I present Honey’s take on this week’s photo challenge: Lost in the Details.

Finding Myself lost in the details.

Finding Myself lost in the details.

Weekly Photo Challenge: Forward

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This week’s photo challenge is titled FORWARD not foreword as in preface, prologue or introduction although I am prone to confuse the two or is it too? It’s two.

The pictures should convey what forward means to the photographer. I considered a covenant i.e. a contract or an agreement (since I couldn’t use an overview) but those definitions didn’t inspire a snapshot. Maybe an advance like a picture of a million dollar check? Yeah, right. How about the front of an object? No that won’t do. Think (I said to self) forward as in opposite of reverse. And voila! It was as simple as going for a ride.

Construction is moving forward.
This is more of a standstill.
Which way should we go???
Away from the city. Onward ho! Mush mush!
Some move faster than others.
Leaning forward & rural construction. They call it progress.
Growing forward on a quiet country lane. (The tree & pole seems to be reaching for one another)
Well phooey! It may look like the end of the road to some…
I call it an adventure. It’s not IF we are going forward but HOW. 🙂
Where there’s a will, there’s a way. Keep moving forward.

How I met Maggie and Almost Killed Clara

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I was wading in the surf on Matagorda beach one warm, sunny day exchanging dialogue with Clara.

I had known Clara for about ten years and I have to admit, conversing with her was like pulling teeth. I don’t want to say she was dull, but she was too quiet and a tad introverted. Don’t get me wrong, she is a lovely girl. She is smart and pretty and sweet and kind, but she was just too darn nice for the most part. Too calm, too reasonable, too… dull! There, I said it!

Anyway, as I was wading in the surf, dragging my feet (literally to scatter the sting rays) I was thinking how I might kill her. I know that must sound horrible, we had been comrades for so long, but she wearied me. Her unspoiled, hoity-toity, prim and proper, everything by the book personality made me want to send her sailing face down with the outgoing tide. I think she knew it (she has a sixth sense thing, you know) and I figured she wasn’t going to fight me. It wasn’t in her nature. I thought maybe she wanted to die?

I had mulled it over and finally come to terms with the decision when a perky little blonde came running down the beach waving and shouting,

“Hey y’all wait for me.”

Oh my lord, I thought, while trying to ignore the thin, tanned Mississippian’s approach. I quickly shoved Clara toward the incoming wave but her feet were planted too firmly — she didn’t budge, and to my surprise she pushed back!

“Do you know her?” I asked.

Clara shook her head slowly and replied, “No but you do. You met her on a trip to Biloxi once.”

I was speechless.

“Hey, I’m Maggie,” the lady smiled as she looked past me and held out her hand, “you must be Clara.”

I suppose it’s true that opposites attract. I watched Maggie come alive and in doing so she saved Clara.

*This is a story about a story. Clara and Maggie are safe and sound (for the most part) inside a fictional series.

Read about their meeting in Book 1

Weekly Photo Challenge: Kiss

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This weeks photo challenge is Kiss

I had almost decided to pass on the weeks photo challenge but Sunday some of the family were standing around watching Cameron retrieve a tennis ball from the roof (yeah, that’s how we play) and the idea struck me. “Hey! Y’all start kissing” I said as I readied my camera. Of course they all gave me a wary look and mumbled amongst themselves with lifted eyebrows. “It is for this week’s photo challenge” I explained. They sighed a unified ohhh, stepped back a few feet and crossed their arms. I think I would have gotten better results if the challenge had been show me your naked butt. I considered using the kiss and make up card but there was no circumstance to warrant such harsh punishment. I was left with nothing but kiss my… when Cameron (now off of the roof) went in to action. He is my partner in pictures and has helped me more than once with a photo challenge. We all know he loves to take pictures but [hApPy dance] he also takes direction well. “Work it Cam. Worrrkk it.”

Happy Kisses
Kisses to comfort and bless.
Brace yourself. The Kissing Bandit
Playful Pecks

Weekly Photo Challenge: Home

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The Home Inside My Home

The home depicted here is only one of many inside the house where I dwell. After all I do did have a sign that says Mi casa es su casa.

The lamp (filled with moth carcasses and webs) might be witness to my housekeeping but I prefer to see it as testament to my many philosophies. Live and let live. Live and let the spider have the lamp. Live and let the over abundant population of moths sacrifice themselves. Live and hope the spider never comes out of the lamp…

There is no place like home.
Two bedroom web for rent.
Dining in.

Weekly Photo Challenge: Unique

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For the Weekly Photo Challenge: Unique & the Stories Behind My Oddities

The Plate: The plate was made expressly for ENG-SKELL CO. The funny thing is I had never paid attention to that detail before rinsing it off for this week’s photo challenge. For the last fifty years it has only been known as the three plated plate. That sounds absolutely ridiculous I know but if you were to ask any one of my siblings they would agree and probably wonder what ever happened to the highly coveted three plated plate. Well kids, now you know.

I have no idea how my family acquired the offbeat plate but it certainly stood out among the everyday serving set, generating many battles and negotiations. One brother would barter, “I’ll give you two matchboxes and a chicken leg if you let me have the three plated plate.” “You’ve got a deal but just for supper. It will be mine again tomorrow.” The other would agree.

Democracy worked for quite some time but like all systems we reached a point when negotiations broke down and civil war erupted. In order to keep peace mother took the beloved dish off the table. Literally. We would have to find something else to fight over.

Fast forward a few decades and I am sole proprietor of the three plated plate. I don’t recall exactly when or how I gained possession of the weighty tan piece of Wallace China. Well maybe I do but if I told you – I’d have to kill you.

The highly coveted three plated plate.
All the way from Cali-For-Ni-A.

The Ring: The unique amethyst ring was found on a beach about 33 years ago and no one knows I hid it came forth to claim it. It appears to be missing a stone in the center. For years a tiny pearl rested there but superglue does not last forever. Recently I was attempting to re-glue the shiny white mineral as my daughter watched. I told her about finding the ring so many years ago and about the pearl I placed there, the one I had picked from my jaw after eating a plate of oysters. “How can you be sure it’s a pearl and not part of your tooth?” she asked. “Because it is smooth and round, I don’t think a piece of tooth would be smooth and round.” I told her. “But you can’t be sure can you?” she giggled. “No I can’t.” I confessed. We had a few good laughs and pondered the ring’s history before I put it away once again and stored the pearl in a Ziploc bag for the tooth fairy further analysis.

See how well it fits my lovely finger.
All the glitters is not gold.

 

The Bowl: I adore this bowl. Not only for the beautiful and unique pattern but because it was a gift. It was during a ladies pinterest project I noticed the woman across from me had a hodgepodge of glassware. I had to walk over and see this bowl with all of its lovely features. I am not a dish collector (I don’t even do pinterest) but I do enjoy peculiar things. Seeing how I admired the dish the nice lady gave it to me. No, really! She said, “Do you want it?” Of course I said yes seeing it was already in my purse.

An intriguing dish. Goldilocks would be pleased.
It looks like China but this says it was made in Japan.

 

 

Crazy Conversations (Moe I’m Dying)

/ Janna Hill / 8 Comments
Cotton, peas, your friends, your seat, your nose… There are a lot of things you can pick. Family isn’t one of them. Disclaimer: Life is crazy, people are crazier and my family… well they get the crazy award if there is one. This is a work of ‘true fiction’ inspired by family. The names have been changed to protect the guilty. CAUTION: They cuss.
 

Moe, I’m Dying

Pippin: I got my lab reports in from the doctor. There’s an H beside half of them, what does that mean?

Kit: High. H means high, L means low.

Pippin: I know that! What do these numbers say about my health?

Kit: Ask your doctor. I forgot to lay anything out- what do you want to eat?

Pippin: I don’t know. Answer the door.

Kit: You answer the door, I’m busy.

Pippin: Come on in man. Did you hear the bad news? I just got handed a death sentence… Moe, I’m dying.

Kit: Do you want chicken or pork chops for dinner?

Pippin: I’m dying and she wants to know if I want pork chops for dinner. Do you see what I’m dealing with Moe?

Kit: We have left over pork chops. They smell a little funny but I think they’ll be okay if I rinse the sticky stuff off.

Pippin: It ain’t bad enough the pork is killing me slowly; she has to add ptomaine to the mix. Have you ever had ptomaine poisoning Moe? It’s bad, real bad. You’ll have to watch that when I’m gone, don’t eat anything around here or you’ll be a goner just like me.

Kit: Okay would you rather have the chicken? It’s still frozen but I could microwave it for a minute or two then fry it.

Pippin: Did you hear that Moe? My only alternative is a radioactive chicken. Not only will it be full of cancer causing radiation but she’s going to boil it in oil so she can finish me off.

Kit: I’m not boiling it in oil, I’m frying it.

Pippin: What’s the difference? My arteries don’t know the difference. My cholesterol is 5000 and you want to argue?

Kit: Oh, you’re talking to me now?

Pippin: See Moe, she’s hoping I’ll get mad and have a heart attack right here in front of her. You’ll have to call 911 – she won’t do it.

Kit: Stop telling him that! You are not dying.

Pippin: I’ve got high blood pressure-”

Kit: And your cholesterol is not 5000, there’s no such thing. No one has ever had cholesterol that high.

Pippin: Don’t listen to her Moe. Look at this here report. I’ve got high pressure, high sugar, high triglycerides…

Kit: You’ve got high hopes too if you think that dog gives a hoot about all of your ailments. Moe, you want a pork chop?

Pippin: Now she’s just trying to hurt my feelings. You love me don’t you Moe? Come back here. Moe heel! Moe… Moe? Dammit Moe you know I’m dying.