i paint i write

Live boldly, laugh and make art

It’s not my mess

Easter Sunday, 5:43 a.m. I am angry. I am angry because someone didn’t clean up their mess on the counter in the kitchen. Jesus died on Friday. He was crucified. He was buried. Today he rose from the dead. Jesus is alive. And all I can think about is the mess on the counter in the kitchen.

It’s not my mess. I didn’t make the cookies.

Do you like to be first?

The peanut butter jar is sitting on the counter. The jar has never been opened. You walk past the peanut butter jar and hesitate. You aren’t hungry now, but you want to take the first spoonful.

Looking for Jesus in Israel

I found my journal on the bookcase last night between James Herriot’s, Dog Stories and Margaret Sidney’s, Five Little Peppers And How They Grew. My journal begins on September 7th, 1978 in Paris, France, and ends on December 29th, 1978 in Kibbutz Reshafim, Israel.
An entry from my Journal:

December 23, 1978

I saw so many things today, so much history dancing before my eyes. Or more like I walked past it, it was already there. Mount Moriah, on top of which is The Dome of The Rock. Abraham prepares Isaac for the sacrifice on Moriah. Mohammed ascends to heaven from Rock.

Don’t tell me what to do

I hate being told what to do. I absolutely hate it. If you tell me I should do something, I won’t do it. Your suggestion may be valid. You may be wise beyond your years. Your advice may even help me lose five pounds.

If you say, “You should do this.” I will ignore you.

Don’t throw away your dictionary

I really want to tell you why you shouldn’t throw away your dictionary. My dictionary weighs over 9 pounds, so it would be hard to throw very far. I have a very good reason why you shouldn’t throw it away.And I would love to tell you.

To find out the why You Shouldn’t Throw Away Your Dictionary, please read my article on Splickety Magazine’s Lightning Blog, an on-line Flash Fiction magazine. I am a regular contributor. Please read my story and comment so Splickety thinks I have a lot of friends.

9 Reasons why you don’t have any friends

Why don’t you have any friends? I would like to be your friend, but sometimes you make it hard for me to get to know you. Sometimes you are mean to me, or you don’t listen when I try to talk. Do you know what a friend is?

Breasts are not a fashion accessory

There are several aspects of my life that I am proud of. In college I won a hairy legs contest, I hitchhiked though Israel in the late 70’s, and I shot and skinned a black bear who was dangerous.

I wash my face and brush my teeth before I leave the house. And, of course I get dressed. Sometimes I will accessorize my outfit with a scarf, or perhaps I will wear a necklace. My breasts are covered in a bra, sometimes an undershirt if it is really cold outside, and a shirt that covers my chest. There is no cleavage showing.

Why you shouldn’t compare yourself to other people

I wouldn’t mind being compared to a summer day’s by Shakespeare. I like the idea of being more lovely and more temperate that a day in summer.

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thous art more lovely and more temperate. – William Shakespeare – excerpt from Sonnet 18

When I am shopping for a tree. I compare several trees before choosing one.

But, I don’t like to compare when the comparison causes me to feel inadequate.

3 reasons why you should mail your birthday cards out on time

Today is my brother’s birthday. He is 1 year, 6 months and 25 days older than me. I have his cell phone number. I will call him today to say, “Happy Birthday Neal.”

On my smart phone I put in date reminders to remind me his birthday was two weeks, then one week away. The dinging noise on my phone was supposed to remind me to get his card in the mail in time for his birthday. The card is sitting beside me on my desk. I haven’t mail it yet.

Remembering Auntie Joyce: Five Minute Friday

I remember when I first met you in 1982. You were living in a convent. You wore a black long habit and a hood. You were the sister to the man my mother married. My mother and I stayed at your convent for the night, we ate meals with you and sang in the chapel.