writer

He’s a Chick Magnet

by

I’m watching my favorite Netflix series. I discipline myself not to binge watch. I want to pace it out, extend my enjoyment. Then the front door opens, I hear footsteps. Then the voice.

“Ray, I need a vacation. I’m wearing out the treadmill you’ve put me on. All I do is work, work, and work some more,” said La Flor* nudging her main squeeze Little Carmen.

“That’s right, we needs a vacation,” said Little Carmen. Then he added, “I think I gots it right beautiful, tough, and edgy.”

“Almost right. Remember how the first line went, ‘La Flor needs a vacation.’ I’ve a Snicker’s bar and a small bag of nachos if you get it right,” said La Flor.

“I gots it, “Ray-mo, remember how the first line went? How’d I do beautiful, tough, and edgy?”

“Ray, I rest my case. I’m going nuts. LC, do me a big, really big fav and run over to the Starbucks on the other side of town and get me a white iced tea?”

“What’s about the one down the street? Do I has to run?”

“Yes, run. Walking might even be better. take your time. I don’t like the one down the street,” said La Flor then kissed Little Carmen on the cheek. Which was enough to push all the right buttons. Granted Little Carmen doesn’t have too many buttons (note how I use too correctly, unlike Little Carmen and La Flor).

La Flor nearly pushed Little Carmen out the door. She hollered, “Take your time LC, look both ways when you cross the street. Have a cold whipped drinks while you’re there and then get mine to go. It’s okay if you give it to a homeless person on a street corner.”

“Use is a saint, beautiful, tough, and edgy.”

La Flor turned to me, “Help me, Ray.”

“Pick a vacation spot?” I asked.

“No. One part of me wants to dump LC. And, the other part of me wants to keep LC. I’m caught in a tug of war and it’s tearing me apart.”

I’m trying to think what a sensitive male might say in a situation like this. ‘I’m here for you.’ No, I saw a Seinfeld episode with that line. ‘I’m listening.’ No, Fraser used that line in every show. ‘Suck it up and dump him.’ That doesn’t sound like a sensitive male. If only I could Google ‘sensitive male expressions.’ I can’t, La Flor’s expecting a response.

I said, “Want to sit out on the patio and talk?” I’m thinking I did pretty good.

La Flor said, “What? And, waste my time with psychobabble?”

“Where’d you pick up that term?” I asked.

“Dr. Phil’s script writer. You know, Dr. Phil is an alt ego. He’s not real like you and me. What you’re seeing is an actor play Dr. Phil the alt ego. The real alt ego hangs out at the alt ego singles club.”

“Dr. Phil is an alt ego?” I asked.

“Do I have to repeat everything. Now, let’s get back to my problem.”

“I forgot it’s all about you.”

“You’re learning,” said La Flor not catching my sarcasm.

I got La Flor out to the patio. I brought her a soda in a chilled glass with the exact amount of ice, one-fourth of the glass. At least, that’s La Flor’s measure of the exact amount of ice. I’m being very sensitive. I sat down opposite her and said, “What is it you don’t like about Little Carmen?”

“I don’t like the way he uses the word two for too when he should be using it for the word to.”

“And, not two?” I asked.

“Exactly!” said La Flor.

Two, too, and to are too troublesome to think about for too long. I Pushed ahead, the sensitive male that I am, “What is something you like about Little Carmen?” I asked.

La Flor put her index finger up to her lips, she was faking she was thinking, but I didn’t point it out, the sensitive male that I am. She moved her lips as she counted to six. Why six? No clue. She said, “He’s, no that’s not a strong point. He’s, no that isn’t it either. I know. He’s, no that doesn’t work either. It’s something about him. He has no good points for a beautiful, tough, and edgy, go for it all girl like me. He has one thing, just one thing.”

She said, “He’s, no that’s not a strong point. He’s, no that isn’t it either. I know. He’s, no that doesn’t work either. It’s something about him. He has no good points for a beautiful, tough, and edgy, go for it all girl like me. He has only one thing, just one thing going for him.”

“What is it?” I am intrigued.

“He’s a chick magnet. I don’t want any other alt ego women to have him. He’s mine. All mine.”

“Let me see if I understand.”

“Not a chance,” said La Flor.

“Why not?”“You’re not one of the species who has the understanding gene.”

“You’re not one of the species who has the understanding gene.”

“I’ll rephrase. Let me see if I can summarize.”

“That’s better, Ray.”

I said, “There is nothing you like about Little Carmen. How am I doing?”

“So far, so good,” she said.

“He’s a chick magnet and all your alt ego girlfriends would grab him in a second and you won’t let that happen.”

“You got that straight,” said La Flor.

In the distance, getting closer was the wail of sirens.

La Flor rushed to the window. She turned to me, “Ray, it’s the paramedics. Oh no, LC must be hurt and they want me to identify his shattered remains. He must have jumped out of a window because he loved me so much. Ray, I don’t think I can take it. I hope he left a note that tells everyone how he didn’t deserve me because he didn’t.”

I looked out the window, the back of the ambulance opened, LC jumped out, one of the paramedics hands him his Starbucks carry all. The paras waved at Little Carmen as he LC jogged to the door.

I said, “He’s okay, La Flor. He got a ride in the ambulance to bring you your drink.”

“Out of my way, Ray.” Said La Flor rushing to open the door.

“Here’s your drink my beautiful, tough, and edgy you can have it all girl.”

“Put them down you big lug and hug me. Then we’ll go plan our vacation at Wineland.”

I’ll never understand those two, too, or to.

* La Flor is a fictional character and acts as my alt ego. Her character has evolved over the blog posts. She began with a single letter as her name. Her name gradually grew to two letters, then three before she settled on La Flor. She liked the name because it fit her idea of a beautiful, tough, and edgy feminine PI.  It is my interaction with her persona that serves as the source of these blog posts. I have no notion how La Flor will continue to evolve. It is an adventure for me as well as the reader.

 

Good Puppy

by

I have no secret hiding places. My sacred space evaporated with the morning dew. Actually, faster than the morning dew. Alone time? What is it? I feel like a third-rate character in a B movie. Okay, I write the script, but I’ve lost control. How can I lose control to the script I’m writing, you ask? You’re asking the wrong writer. Somewhere, who knows how many blogs ago, I took a right turn, or was it a left turn, maybe I kept walking straight ahead, it’s all a blur. I entered the world of alt egos.

I’m not the first one to have this experience. The cult television show, The Prisoner, from the sixties and more recently, The Truman Show present the similar dilemmas. Those were movies. This is a real life situation and 911 won’t listen to me. I’ll stop here, I hear her.

“What’s up, Ray? You look lost in thought?” said La Flor, taking a seat at the patio table. Of course, she took my coffee cup, help it up to me for a warm up. She wrapped both hands around it and smiled at me.

“Where’s Little Carmen?” I asked. I said a silent prayer the mob kidnapped him. I didn’t much care which mob.

“I sent him outside. I needed a break, you know some quiet time. He’s probably sitting on the front steps wondering when I’ll let him in,” she said.

I wondered if Little Carmen chased squirrel’s, or cars, yelled at postmen, growled at anyone walking down the street. Do I need a sign in the front yard, BEWARE OF LITTLE CARMEN for insurance purposes?

“Whatcha thinking about, Ray?”

“Oh, nothing. Nothing at all,” I answered.

“You’re thinking of something. I know you’re thinking something. I’ll figure it out sooner or later. Enough of you. It’s me time,” said La Flor.

How do you respond to that kind of comment? I thought of two or three responses and they’d all turn out bad. I had a strong desire to grab the coffee pot and drink directly from it. Mental note, bring two cups. Make it three in case Little Carmen shows up.

La Flor broke the silence, “I’ve decided to become a two-career woman.” She held up her hand, policeman style, forbidding me to speak. Then she continued. “I am beautiful, tough, and edgy. I’m keeping my PI shtick.”

“It certainly is a shtick,” I said.

“Thank you, Ray. I’ve decided to be a food critic. You know the phantom dinner. LC will travel with me. He knows food and can give me pointers.”

“Do you mean Phantom Dinner or Phantom Diner?” I asked.

She shook her head, “You’re not listening, Ray. Your head is not in the game. You’ve got a big part in this.”

That got my attention. I turned my chair to directly face La Flor. I kept repeating to myself, ‘Ray, listen. Don’t agree to anything. Think it over.’ The problem for me was I had a lot to remember and repeat it while I am trying to listen to La Flor.

She continued, “Since we’re just starting out, we need a driver, someone to pay for our meals until a syndicate picks us up, or the Food Channel. And, someone to work with LC with the menus. That’s where you come in.”

“That’s a lot of work.”

“It’ll be fun hanging out with LC and me.”

“It will?”

“I’m going to call LC in and tell him the good news. Do you have anything good to eat?”

“Everything I have is good to eat.”

“I mean a cookie, candy bar, you know what I mean.”

“No, but I have dates, raisins, and blueberries,” I said.

“Who are you dating? I didn’t know. How long have you been dating? What does she look like? Do I know her? Tell me everything,” said La Flor bending toward me.

Do I tell her I’m dating a dried fruit? How will that sound?

“Come on, Ray, give it up,” La Flor insisted.

I owe Little Carmen one, from outside the front door, he interrupted, “Beautiful, tough, and edgy PI, I misses use. Can I come in?”

“Isn’t he the sweetest, Ray? Where are the raisins? He needs something for being good.”

“You sure you didn’t send him to obedience school?”

Tomorrow the Phantom Diner may be at your favorite restaurant.

Change happens. It’s a part of life. If we don’t want to change, life’s circumstances often tell us we have to change. La Flor switching careers is a change. Will it work out? Who knows? At least La Flor had the courage to try something different. I like her attitude.

* La Flor is a fictional character and acts as my alt ego. Her character has evolved over the blog posts. She began with a single letter as her name. Her name gradually grew to two letters, then three before she settled on La Flor. She liked the name because it fit her idea of a beautiful, tough, and edgy feminine PI.  It is my interaction with her persona that serves as the source of these blog posts. I have no notion how La Flor will continue to evolve. It is an adventure for me as well as the reader.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’ll Have a Margarita

by

“I am bored Ray. Let’s do something other than blog, blog, blog.”

‘What do you suggest, La Flor*? You got your start because of a blog and now you’re turning your back on it? It smacks of being a bit ungrateful, don’t you think?”

“Not at all. You don’t listen to the same song all the time, do you? I am so tired of you playing the same songs every morning over and over again. I’ve memorized all of them.

“I like those songs. Besides, you don’t sound like George Strait.”

“It’s the same food for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Today’s Friday, and I already know what you’re going to cook for Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday. How about the time you leave for the Y? Shall I continue?”

“Stop. I get your point. What do you suggest we do to break the routine?”

“Let’s go to the Riverwalk. You can order your iced tea. I’ll get a margarita. And, we will people watch and make snap judgments.”

“A Margarita?” I asked.

“What other kinds of drink do you suggest for a beautiful, tough, and edgy PI on the San Antonio Riverwalk?”

“How about ice water with lemon?”

30 minutes later we were sitting under red, white, and green umbrella at a table next to the San Antonio River on the Riverwalk. Crowds of people passing by looking for an empty table. Good luck to them and the Red Sox. It’s a good thing I’m writing this blog. I made sure we got a table with a view so we could make our snap judgments. Crowds of people passing by looking for an empty table. Good luck to them and the Red Sox. It’s a good thing I’m writing this blog. I made sure we got a table with a view so we could make our snap judgments.

A mariachi band was playing close by. I like mariachi music. There’s something about it that will never make the top of the charts, yet, it tugs at the heartstrings – especially when you’re writing a blog. When the song ended, the leader of the mariachi band came over. He took off his sombrero and bow, then said, “Senor, would you like us to play a haunting romantic melody for the señorita and you?”

I was about to say no, when La Flor said, “Perfecto.”

I wondered where La Flor was picking up her knowledge of the Spanish language. Within seconds, a trumpet player, a violin player, and a guitar player who doubled as a vocalist surrounded us. We were the center of attention on the Riverwalk. I wanted to crawl under the table. La Flor moved her chair closer to me. I looked at her and said, “You’re embarrassing me.”

She grabbed hold of my arm. I removed it. She grabbed hold of it again. With my other hand, I reached into my pants pulled out a $20 and asked the leader to move on. A wave of the sombrero, a bow, and thankfully La Flor released my arm to applaud.

“You are not my girlfriend,” I said.

She said, “I’m a girl, right?”

“Right,” I answered, too blind to see the sixteen-wheeler approaching me at 110 miles an hour.approaching me at 110 miles an hour.approaching me at 110 miles an hour.

“I’m your friend, right?” she said.

“Right,” I answered and switched metaphors. ‘Houston, Houston,” my mind screamed, ‘I have a problem.’ Only problem, NASA isn’t reading my mind.

I fell head first into the fifth-grade trap.

La Flor said, “Then I’m your girlfriend.”

“What about Jack Reacher?” I asked.

“What Jack doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” she said.

“How many margaritas have you had?” I asked.

“Not to worry, Ray. The chips and salsa absorb the Marguerite.”

“What are you talking about?”

La floor didn’t answer me. She took one more sip of her margarita and said, with the littlest voice I’ve heard in years, “Ray, I’m so happy you are the designated driver. La Flor PI is taking the rest of the day off. Can we go home?” Burp

We went to the Riverwalk with the intention of making snap judgments on other people. All in good fun. Not intending any harm. We didn’t make any snap judgments. There may have been many snap judgments made about us and deservedly so. I have no intention of making any towards La Flor. She’s sleeping so I can tell you she has a heart of gold and her rough edges, at times, obscure the wonderful person she is. That is true of all of us. Our rough edges often hide our genuine goodness.

* La Flor is a fictional character and acts as my alt ego. Her character has evolved over the blog posts. She began with a  single letter as her name. Her name gradually grew to two letters, then three before she settled on La Flor. She liked the name because it fit her idea of a beautiful, tough, and edgy feminine PI.  It is my interaction with her persona that serves as the source of these blog posts. I have no notion how La Flor will continue to evolve. It is an adventure for me as well as the reader.

 

 

You Can’t Keep Your Feelings Bottled

by

“Why are we here, La Flor? I’m only going along with this to keep you happy. A happy character is a contented character.”

“If our relationship is going to work, Ray. We need counseling.”

“What relationship?”

“Why are men afraid of relationship counseling? Don’t be afraid of letting it go, Ray.”

“Letting what go?”

“Your feelings. You can’t keep them bottled inside.”

“BTW, men are not afraid of relationship counseling. It’s just, just that it conflicts with ESPN, the Comedy Channel, fantasy football, and wondering what’s for dinner. Besides, I’m not afraid of counseling. I just don’t need it because there is no relationship between the two of us.”

“There is the problem.”

“What problem?”

“You’re in denial.”

“About what?”

“Our relationship.”

“What relationship?”

We’re going in circles, Ray. Can we change the subject?

“Okay, what is the name of the psychologist? Is it a male or female? Why didn’t I get a voice in the matter?”

“He is very famous. He comes highly recommended. I thought having a male psychologist would make you feel more comfortable.”

“Who recommended this psychologist?”

“My mystery writer girlfriend. She used him in one of her mysteries to break a cold case,” said La Flor paying more attention to her emery board than to me.

“La Flor, let me see if I have this straight. I’m going to counseling with a fictitious character I created because she thinks she and I have a relationship problem?”

“Right.”

“I’m not finished. Your good friend, who writes a mystery writers blog, whom I’m never met, recommended a psychologist she uses in her blog to solve cold cases.”

“Right.”

“I have more. I believe the mystery writer is the alt ego of a real person and is a created character like you.”

“You’re on fire, Ray.”

“What am I, a real person, doing going to counseling with a fictitious psychologist suggested by a fictitious blog writer and character I created over relationship problems?”

“He can help, Ray. He’s a very, very famous psychiatrist.”

“And, whom might he be?”

“Dr. Joe Brothers. He’s Joyce Brothers twin brother. He married Dr. Phil’s sister. Sounds strange, right.”

“I’m having a difficult time following you, La Flor. Are you sure about your facts?”

“You’re confusing Dr. Joe Brothers with Sigmund Fraud. Check that, Dr. Phil. That’s it, you’re confusing Dr. Brothers with Dr. Phil.”

“You did say Sigmund Fraud, not Freud? Does Joe have a mustache?”

“Yes, Sigmund Fraud was the famous one, the other one stole all his ideas. As for Dr. Joe, he did have a mustache, just like Dr. Phil, but he went to an alt ego dermatologist from Dr. Oz’s blog and had it lasered off. The dermatologist worked the laser like LeBron James works a basketball.”

“He must be good.”

“The best in the blogosphere. Be quiet, here he comes.”

Dr. Joe Brothers ignored me and walked over to La Flor. She rose to greet him. They hug. He said, “La Flor, how delicious to see you again.” Kiss, kiss on each cheek.

I said, “La Flor, is this the Dr. Joe Brothers you were telling me about?”

Brothers looked at me without turning his head, nice trick the way he moved his eyes so the one blue iris and one green iris rested in the corners of his eyes. From the way he kept his face toward La Flor, I was sure he had a crush on her. He mumbled something about my nose and ears I didn’t catch. He should talk, he’s got at least three-quarters of an inch on me if we’re measuring noses. He took La Flor by the hand and ushered her into his office, I trailed behind.

Brothers had an iPad he pretended to type notes on. I know he pretended because Siri kept saying “Please change your settings if you want to access this site.”

He turned the iPad over and said to me, “May I call you Way?”

He attempted to sound like he was from some European country. But you can take the boy out of Brooklyn, but you can’t take Brooklyn out of the boy.

“My name is Ray, not Way.”

“Are you making fun of my wisp?”

I turned to La Flor and said, “Why are we here? This isn’t real. He’s not real. He’s a character like you.”

“Way,” Dr. Brothers said, “Have you considered that we are weal and you are not weal?”

“What do you mean by weal?” I said, irritated.

“It’s this way, Way. What’s weal is weal.”

If I didn’t think he was real, what was I doing here? Had I lost my grip on reality? It’s all La Flor’s doing.

He turned to La Flor and said, “Ways denial is wery deep.

“I’m going to rewrite the whole thing,” I said.

He turned to La Flor, “Darling, I thought you said it was your blog?”

“Matter of time, but don’t call me darling, one man has my heart.”

“Is it Way?”

“No, it’s Jack Reacher.”

“I thought we left that two blogs ago,” I said

“A girl can dream can’t she right? Can’t she?”

Every now and then our relationships hit a bump in the road. Small bumps may seem like mountains. When both parties have the courage to step back and acknowledge their relationship is worth the effort to save it; it is the first step to smoothing out the bump, growing closer, and becoming stronger as a couple. It takes two, it always takes two to make it work. When both express their feelings in an open, honest and non-threatening way, breakthroughs happen.

 

Did You Get Gift Receipts?

by

Something I’ve vowed I would never do, I went ahead and did. What did I vow never to do and go ahead and do it, you ask?

It’s quite simple. I called Orkin, the pest control people. When they refused to help, I went on Angie’s list and started calling the pest control experts one after the other. Some were rude to me. Others laughed at me. And, others told me they were going to report me to one agency or the other. I really didn’t do anything. All I wanted to do was to get rid of La Flor for a couple of hours.  I’ve come to like La Flor. I won’t tell her that. And, I ask you to keep my confidence. If I did, she would want a bigger role in this blog.

I thought it would be a good idea to let her take my credit card and go shopping. What could it hurt? I have no idea what this is going to cost. But the peace of mind I’ve achieved over the past two hours has been worth every cent. What was I thinking?

“Ray, Ray. I’m back. Did you miss me?”

All of a sudden, my stomach hurt. My heart is pounding. My right eyelid is sending signals across the cosmos. I take a lesson from the U.S. Navy Seals and breath deeply to a count of four. Or, was it five? Maybe three? It’s not helping.

I said, “How many bags do you have? Do I see one from Saks Fifth Avenue?  Nordstrom’s?  What are you doing with the bags from Victoria Secrets? This is a family blog.”

“Do I ask you where you go shopping? Do I ask you what you buy?” La Flor is clutching her bags close to her body.

“Yes, to both questions. Did you consider Target? Old Navy? Gap? BTW, I don’t want your bags. Relax, por favor.”

“No. No. And, No. And, I didn’t consider the big W if you know what I mean. See, this is the difference between you and me. When you go shopping, you go to H-E-B and buy groceries – boring. When I go shopping, I go out to have fun and spend, spend, spend. Besides, everything I bought is a necessary expense for La Flor, PI.”

“Did you get gift receipts, La Flor PI?”

“Why? I’m not giving anything away.”

“I’m talking about returning everything.”

“No can do, Ray.”

“Did you go shopping by yourself?”

“Duuh!  Beautiful, tough, and edgy girls never go shopping alone. If Jack were with me, I’d let him carry my bags. You’ll also notice lunch at La Cuisine Upscale on your credit card.”

“Get over Jack Reacher. He’s beyond your reach. Pretty good, right? I never heard of it.”

“The restaurant? It’s the overrated, overpriced French restaurant with the snobby wait staff. And, never enough food to fill you up. But the wine is excellent.”

“You couldn’t go to a barbecue joint? Whataburger? In-N-Out Burger? Subway? Tony’s pizza?”

“When girls go shopping, Ray. They don’t do those kinds of places. The only time I do those restaurants is when you take me for doing a good job. I can’t wait to renegotiate my contract.”

“What contract?”

“The one my agent is going to send to you.”

“How did this happen? I created you?

“Save it for another blog post. You’re already over your head in this one.”

“I think you’re carrying the tough and edgy parts of your persona a bit too far. What is the tab on my credit card?”

“I never keep track of that kind of thing.”

“You’re making my heart race, La Flor.”

“It’s only money, don’t be so tight.”

I’m online checking out my credit card. La Flor you spent . . .”

La Flor is a good teacher. Oh, she goes overboard now and then. But she’s right, it’s only money. Money is a useful thing, and it has its place. When it rules our lives, it becomes destructive. People love me, money doesn’t love me. People lift me up when I’m feeling down, money doesn’t. People inspire me that tomorrow will be better than today, money doesn’t. Thank you, La Flor, for prying my fingers loose, a little bit.

Maybe I Was Flirting

by

“Ray, Ray, do I have your full attention this is really really important?”

“How important is it La Flor? Is it still La Flor?”

“It is until I use one of my aliases.”

“What is your problem? Your eye is twitching. Your left leg is jerking at 90 miles an hour. And, you been popping chocolate truffles one after another as if they’re popcorn. Maybe I’m going to write about your character gaining an enormous amount of weight. How would you like that?”

“Don’t add to my problems, Ray. I told you I am beautiful, tough, and edgy, recall? You made me too beautiful, tough, and edgy, but don’t change anything.”

“I don’t understand. You look beautiful, tough, and edgy. You’re tanned, toned, and terrific. Do you like my alliteration to describe you?”

“I don’t have time for your nonsense.”

“Okay, what is it? I need to go to Starbucks and get my cold brew for the afternoon. Will this take long?”

“Men just don’t get it.”

“Hey, I’m one of the sensitive ones.”

“That speaks volumes for your species. If you are the archetype of the sensitive male, God help all women.”

“You’re making me look bad to my blog readers. What is your problem?”

“Do you know Jack Reacher?”

“Are you talking about the Lee Child character?”

“Exactly. He was hitting on me. I want you to do something about it”.

“Have you read any of the Jack Reacher books? I don’t imagine you have. Jack Reacher is one tough hombre. What were you doing fooling around with Jack Reacher?”

“I wasn’t fooling around with him. Well, maybe I was flirting a bit.”

“Did you go to the Alt Ego Bar with your mystery writer girlfriend?”

“So? How did I know Jack Reacher was going to show up.”

“He hit on you? What did he say? He doesn’t seem like kind of character that mistreats women. Bad guys that’s another story. Besides, I warned you about going to Alt Ego bars.”

“He sauntered to our table, bent over, his muscles popping through his shirt, his deep blue eyes were piercing my soul. It was the way he said it,”

“You’ve got a crush on Jack Reacher. Am I right?”

“No. I think it’s the real thing. Jack said,”I just wrapped up another book and I feel like celebrating. Let me pick up your tab. You beautiful ladies have a great day.”

“The real thing? I don’t think so. That was all? He didn’t sound like he hit on you.”

“That’s the problem, Ray. He didn’t hit on us.”

“Then why did you tell me he hit on you?”

“Because I wanted you to write Jack into the next blog so I can get to know him a little better.”

“La Flor, what am I going to do with you?”

“Love me?”

We all have our crazy moments. Moments when we may not be as nice as we ought. It’s one of  life’s wonderful lessons, no one is perfect. No one is close to perfect. In those moments of imperfection, which are many for me, like La Flor, I ask, ‘Love me?’ Loving another, warts and all, during the good as well as the bad is the glue that holds our fragile world together. 

 

Can I Chase My Heart Dreams Too?

by

“You are working up a sweat, Ray. Why are you trying to get in shape?”

“Why did you follow me to the Y? I’m already in shape. I’m just trying to get in better shape.”

“The Blog Master asked me to keep an eye on you. You’re on their watch list.”

“Watchlist? A blog watch list? I’m on it?”

“Right at the top, Ray. Let’s face it, I don’t think you’re going to run a marathon. You don’t look like you can make the NBA. You can’t jump high enough. And. I’ve seen you shoot basketballs, you can’t make a layup.

“You think? I almost beat Joey the other day.”

“How old is Joey?”

“Nine. But, I’m getting better. He only beat me by three baskets. Maybe I’m going to be Tom Brady’s backup this year.”

You may as well add winning the Nobel prize, Pulitzer Prize,  and any other prize they give for writing to your dream of being Tom Brady’s backup. I hate to burst your bubble kid, but those dreams are not coming true.

Where did kid come from? My name is Ray. I don’t change it every other day or every day like some people I know. BTW, what’s the name today, Me Lu?

I’m glad you asked. I decided since it is summer, to call myself Sunflower.”

“Sunflower? Why not Rose, since you are filled with thorns.”

Very clever, Ray. Very clever. Not.

“Have you thought of changing your name Ray? I can come up with some good ones for you. The names I will give you will change your persona. They will cause people to respect you, women will be knocking down your door, and money will flow into your bank account.Those are the three wishes of all males in our culture.”

“I have an idea, Sunflower.What if I kept my name and chase the dreams in my heart.”

“Oh, I like that, Ray. Can I chase my heart dreams too?”

“Let’s go for it, Sunflower.”

Dreams that come from our heart are the special ones. They are the dreams that make a difference in our world. They are the dreams that give life to our talent. Our dreams are unique to each of us. Don’t let anyone convince you not to chase your dreams. Sunflower and I are off to chase our dreams. Come along and fly through the cosmos with us.

A Haunting Voice

by

Somedays everything goes right–Today was not one of them. The day started out fine enough. The perfect cup of coffee. My oatmeal found the perfect place between too soupy too thick. And, my blueberries were sweet with a hint of tartness. I looked out the window, the sun was shining, the sky blue without a trace of clouds, and the birds darting in and out of the birdfeeder as if they were guided by air traffic control at O’Hara Airport.

And then, “Ray? Got a moment?”

The voice.  A voice that has been haunting me for the past couple of weeks. It was Z uh or whatever her name was today.  I was trapped. I had no place to hide. She was standing in the doorframe smiling holding a large clear coffee cup, filled with black gold. Black gold I made for myself. I can already feel my lack of caffeine heading toward a monster headache.

“Yes, Z uh?”

“It’s Me Lu, I think the name gives me an intriguing personality.”

“Oh, it does something for your personality, that’s for sure.”

“BTW, thanks for making coffee for me this morning.”

At that moment, it struck, right above the right eye. My right eye felt like it was the size of a bowling ball. I was heading toward the mother of all caffeine withdrawal headaches.

“Something wrong, Ray?”

“Where do I begin?” I said.

“How about beginning by listening to what I have to say.”

“Have a seat My Shoe. Like the old Frasier show, ‘I’m listening.’”

“It’s Me Lu. Do you think you should have your ears checked for wax plugs?”“My hearing is fine.”

“My hearing is fine.”

“I was online this morning. And, I found something very interesting.”

I raised my eyebrows, hope in my heart Me Lu might be thinking of moving on. I said, “A new boyfriend? A new alt ego dating site?  A new place to go with your friend from the mystery writers blog?”

“Wrong on all three.  There is a cleanup on the River today. I thought you and I could go and pitch in.”

“Why don’t you and your friend from the mystery writer’s blog, whom, by the way, I’ve never met, go. I’m busy with my blog.”

How are you going to meet people if you don’t get involved? The closest you get to getting involved is waving to neighbors when you take the trash out.”

“I wouldn’t have to do that if you picked up your share of the load around here.”

“Too late, Ray. I already signed you up. I knew you would agree. It’ll be fun.”

“What are you doing? Leave that alone. I didn’t save my work. That’s just not right.”

“It’s the only way it could get you away from your computer. If what you were writing was like the rest of your blogs …”

We are a community people. As a community people, we can work together to build a stronger, sustainable, healthy community. Whatever our gift is, we can contribute it to our community through our involvement. I will take Me Lu’s advice and get involved. I will be doing something meaningful to benefit those who live in my community and me as well.

I Waited 6 Months For This?

by

Today is the summer solstice. I waited six months for this day.

“Give me a clue, Ray. Why did you wait for six months for this day? I don’t get it.”

“I was speaking with my readers, not you. BTW, what is your name today?”

“Y.”

“Because I am the writer and you are the creation. That’s Y.”

“You’re right, but your grammar could improve.”

“Why?”

“That’s better.”

“I feel like we’re going in circles. I wanted to write about the summer solstice. I’m off to a good start and you enter and confound everything. Something you do very well.”

“I accept your comment as a compliment.”

“Why? It was meant to show you that you need to take a six-year vacation in another galaxy, light years away.”

“Why?”

“Really? You don’t get it? Let’s be civilized for a moment. What is your name if it is not B, P, or C?”

“I’m Y. So don’t ask me why? Stay with me, Ray. You’ve got some smart folks that read this blog, Only God knows why. My last statement has a double meaning if you’re quick enough to grasp it. Let’s toss the smart, nerdy ones a bonus for reading this far in the blog.”

“What do you suggest, Y.”

That’s the boy. You’re catching on. Here’s a link to the hours of the summer solstice. Most of the maps are North America, but there is a world map in the bunch.

Celebrate the summer solstice in the northern hemisphere. It’s a day of light.

Imagine if our lives were filled with light to help others who struggle along the way. Every day would be a summer solstice.

 

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