writing through life one word at a time

Here’s a Quarter – Call Someone Who Cares (Crazy Conversations)

/ Janna Hill / 2 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 and the photos are meant to confuse the innocent.

Here’s a Quarter – Call Someone Who Cares or Cats, Mice, Birds & Bulls*t (Crazy Conversations)

Lenny: I called you at least a dozen times Saturday! Why didn’t you answer?

Me: Did you leave a message?

Lenny: Hell no, I did not leave a message. Why don’t you answer your phone?

Me: Well because sometimes I am busy.

Lenny: You are not so busy that you can’t pick up the phone at some point. I mean – for Pete’s sake I called you twelve to fifteen times – all day long and you ignored me.

Me:  Hmm. I usually do answer if I recognize the name or the number and (of course) if I am free to talk.

Lenny: Oh, so you were busy. Are you working on a new story?

Me: Nah.

Lenny: Then what are you so “busy” doing?

Me: I have a couple minor things in the works but mostly … Hmm… let me think … I guess most of my time is spent playing with the kittens – oh and watching the birds. Maddie, my female cat – mother to the kittens – killed a Bluebird and ate it. Lordy, lord! I know it is only natural but I have to admit it troubled me seeing it. That poor little bird flapping his beautiful blue wings so fiercely at first… then flap, flap … flap. He went limp and it was over. I almost cried. I prefer not to see it, ya know?!  Did I tell you one of my tomcats, Jimmy, sweet little Jimmy Jam killed a Cardinal? Oh man, that was unsettling. I don’t know if I can ever see him as being sweet again. I don’t mind them killing mice but–


Lenny: So you are so busy with these kittens who [by the way] you know will grow up to kill the birds because that is what cats do – you are saying this full time obsession prevents you from answering your phone?

Me: No, that is not what I said. Didn’t you hear the part where I said if I recognize the number? I’m looking through my phone and apparently you are not even listed in my contacts; if you were stored in my contacts my phone would specifically say “Incoming call from Lenny” and then I would (probably) answer.

Lenny: Probably?!

Me: Yes PROBABLY. Although I’m not sure now.

Lenny: Why? What do you mean?

Me: I’m not sure I want to talk to anyone who is so callous toward cats and birds.

Lenny: I am not callous – I’m just saying —

Me: Oh, shut up hater of God’s creations. Back to your query, I’m still looking… Why aren’t you in my contacts? I don’t have your number. Hmm… no voice mail … no messages…

Lenny: Oh my gosh! You are screening your calls, aren’t you? Why are you screening your calls?

Me: That’s my business and you haven’t answered my question. I save important numbers. Why don’t I have your phone number stored?

Lenny: Because I use a Call Private service.

Me: What is that?

Lenny: My phone is set to restrict my ID so it shows up as anonymous or private number.

Me: Why the hell would you do that?

Lenny: Because I’m not comfortable with everybody knowing my phone number – I like my privacy.

Me: Oh, I see. In other words you’re paranoid or up to no good. That is a sneaky tactic, you know I do not like sneaky!

Lenny: So you will answer the next time I call?

Me: Not if I don’t recognize the name or number; definitely not if it is anonymous or private.

Lenny: Why?

Me: Because I like to know who I am going to be talking to Mr. Sneaky Snake; who I am freely giving my time to. Maybe you should drink root-beer.

Lenny: Well, don’t you at least want to know why I called?

Me: Oh dear Lenny, [mean spirited bubble buster] in honor of your anonymity and with all due respect for your privacy [despiser of soft furry things] the answer is no. Now if you don’t mind I have a thousand kitty videos to catch up on so here’s a quarter, call someone who cares.

One Angry Bird (Mad Monday)

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I do not know the story behind this poor cardinal being “uncapped” but I know he is not [at all] happy about it.

He, however, makes the best of it; he is a proud bird and holds his head high, or at least what is left of it.

We lovingly refer to him as Knot-head, which is odd considering he is missing most of his topknot. Is that irony? I don’t know but it amuses us so…

I don’t think he minds our entertainment at his expense (because we keep him fed and adore him) but I feel certain he detests the gossiping, cruel remarks from the other birds — the well plumed and unscathed with their mean-tweets and chuckles. Yep, he is past being embarrassed — he’s pissed.

Knot-head is one angry bird and I suspect he is plotting revenge.

I must tell you I have petitioned him for the full rights to his story. The problem is he may have limited comprehension and communication skills due to his head injury. Time will tell…

  • Mean tweets

#TBT (A Poem & A Picture)

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Getting Me Back (the original poem)

Tissue thin transparent bits and pieces

by the millions I gave to you…

To be received, to be tended or

to be rendered useless as you deemed fit

old inhabitants of terra firma.

Slivers of my soul….

What did you do with these pieces of me?

Where are the misplaced microscopic stars of

my spirit, where are they laid?

Did they dissolve beneath a soft autumn rain?

Or burn in the heat of a cruel summer day?

Were they consumed by the dust mites of fate?

Giving me away was easy….

Getting me back seems nearly impossible.

I saw a fleck of glitter this morning,

caught in an abandoned web of time.

I retrieved it ever so carefully, pulling away

the tiny choking strands; polishing it in the palm of my

hand till it shone bright like a

minuscule star… exploding… and

I recognized it as the twinkle I once saw

in a smiling photo of me.

If you recognize the above poem and picture it may be because you saw it two years ago. Or… maybe you read the book.

In the Storm (April is National Poetry Month)

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In the Storm (#NPM )

Firstly, my condolences to all those affected by Saturday’s hellish tornadoes. My thoughts and prayers are with you.

Many of my fondest early memories [as well as imaginative ideas] were born in Houston county among the pine trees and red dirt, particularly a tiny community called Weches.

Some of you may know a few of my characters have roots in Louisiana, Alabama and Mississippi – that is not happenstance. Those just happen to be a few of my favorite states.

Again, my heart goes out to those suffering loss and I hope you’ll forgive me for choosing this poem for today.

Confession: My afflictions are bitter-sweet.

In the Storm

I reach for you…

With every crack of thunder

I hear you laugh…

Your smile is every bolt of lightning.

The drops of rain, you touching me,

with unsalted tears…

No more pain; no more regret.

I raise my arms,

as a child beckoning to be held

and it pours.

My grief is washed away by

stinging pellets of a spring rain

Leaving behind a clean slate

with only memories of the most mundane,

most cherished moments of my life.

Credits: I created the heading image (Inside the Storm) from a compilation of images I found at Pixabay. (Thank you Pixabay contributors).

The poem, In the Storm was taken from this twisted book of poems. And… guess what?

For a limited time my partnering experiment with Smashwords lets the reader decide what they will pay. Yep! You decide.

Check it out.

Don’t Blink (Lyrics are Poetry Too)

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Bear with me, I am feeling a little [selfish] nostalgia today. I’m not sorry either. Ahhh, I am wallowing in this stuff. No worries mate, I am still promoting poetry for National Poetry Month.
That boy is a teenager now and those sweet dogs are no longer with us.
Remember, lyricists are poets and lyrics are poems too.

…

Don’t blink
Just like that you’re six years old and you take a nap and you
Wake up and you’re twenty-five and your high school sweetheart becomes your wife
Don’t blink
You just might miss your babies growing like mine did
Turning into moms and dads next thing you know your “better half”
Of fifty years is there in bed
And you’re praying God takes you instead
Trust me friend a hundred years goes faster than you think
So don’t blink

…

Full lyrics can be seen at: YouTube

Songwriters: Chris Allen Wallin / Casey Michael Beathard

Singer: Kenney Chesney

A Poem & A Picture (#NPM)

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I love it when someone suggests a poem and I can supply the picture(s). Luuurv it! And who does not love Emily Dickinson?

” Whether it’s Buttercups—that “skim”—
Or Butterflies—that “bloom”? ”

Those lines hooked me on the poem. Muchas gracias!


Make Me A Picture Of The Sun – Poem by Emily Dickinson

Make me a picture of the sun—
So I can hang it in my room—
And make believe I’m getting warm
When others call it “Day”!

Draw me a Robin—on a stem—
So I am hearing him, I’ll dream,
And when the Orchards stop their tune—
Put my pretense—away—

Say if it’s really—warm at noon—
Whether it’s Buttercups—that “skim”—
Or Butterflies—that “bloom”?
Then—skip—the frost—upon the lea—
And skip the Russet—on the tree—
Let’s play those—never come!
Emily Dickinson

Once We Went Gaily (NPM)

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I chose this poem because I felt like horsing around. 😉
Once we went gaily with never a care,
And the bigger the fences, the bolder we were;
Once the wild wind was our spur and our lash,
Once we would laugh at the splinter and crash
As the rails broke behind us, and thrill to the call
Of twelve foot of water or five foot of wall.
Once we could cope with the bucker’s demands,
Once the hard puller came back to our hands;
Once the green four-year-old, fretting and free,
Flinging the foam in white flecks to his knee,
Bent to our bidding and held us our place,
O’er the stiffest of country whatever the pace.
To blood running hotly, to hearts beating strong,
Not the longest of days was a moment too long;
‘Till the evening drew over its mantle of stars
We would ride to the hoof-beat and rattle of bars.
There was song in the gale, there was kiss in the rain;
Ah! Once we went gaily-but never again!
For the harsh years have stolen that magical zest
When with confident courage we rode with the best.
Now swift and unchallenged the braver may pass
On their reefing blood horses, hard held, on the grass;
The nerve is departed, the rapture denied,
And the chase must be left to the young ones to rideOnce we went gaily with never a care,
And the bigger the fences, the bolder we were;
Once the wild wind was our spur and our lash,
Once we would laugh at the splinter and crash
As the rails broke behind us, and thrill to the call
Of twelve foot of water or five foot of wall.
Once we could cope with the bucker’s demands,
Once the hard puller came back to our hands;
Once the green four-year-old, fretting and free,
Flinging the foam in white flecks to his knee,
Bent to our bidding and held us our place,
O’er the stiffest of country whatever the pace.
To blood running hotly, to hearts beating strong,
Not the longest of days was a moment too long;
‘Till the evening drew over its mantle of stars
We would ride to the hoof-beat and rattle of bars.
There was song in the gale, there was kiss in the rain;
Ah! Once we went gaily-but never again!
For the harsh years have stolen that magical zest
When with confident courage we rode with the best.
Now swift and unchallenged the braver may pass
On their reefing blood horses, hard held, on the grass;
The nerve is departed, the rapture denied,
And the chase must be left to the young ones to ride.

By William Henry Ogilvie
21 August 1869 – 30 January 1963

No Fooling (Oh and…)

/ Janna Hill / 1 Comment

I am doing a new experiment with an old retailer.

Smashwords, based in Los Gatos, California, is an e-book-distribution platform founded by Mark Coker for independent authors and publishers. The company began public operation in 2008. Wikipedia

Okay maybe Smashwords isn’t that old but it is older than my Indie Adventures.

So, here’s the deal. Smashwords has a publishers option to let the reader decide the price they are willing to pay for a book as in: “You set the price!”

Yep! You can pay $0.00 or $1,000,000,000 for a book. It’s up to you. And I have made that option available for all of my titles with Smashwords. Seriously. No fooling.

Man wouldn’t that be cRaZy nice if someone dropped a million bucks on one (or all) of my books. Woo-hoo! I would be like, (happy dance ensues)

“Yo fans and frenz it’s party at my place.” We would have soooo much fun with beers and grilling and…

(Dream comes to screeching halt. Author frowns and regains composure.)

Anyway… Check it out. [Note not all titles are up on their site yet and many copies at Smashwords are from years ago but I am trying to update while adding to the list.]

I’ll let y’all know how the “You set the price” experiment goes sometime in the near future.

Oh And…

You all know April is National Poetry Month so we have that to look forward to, right? Right!

In the mean while just look at my Nectarine tree blooming and making little baby Nectarines. The babies look like something from a horror film now but before long they will be scary delicious.

Does anyone have a poem about Nectarines?

No? Well here’s to inspiration.