WINNER of the A Mused Poetry Contest 11/6/2020

“Are we there yet?” You might have wished you were if your vacation turned disastrous -and so wrote the poets of this week’s contest. Of all the mishaps they managed, only one passed for funniest, and that was:

Untitled, by Deb Whittam
Travelling around the countryside,
Ask the Whittams, Ask the Whittams,
Travelling around the countryside
Ask the Whittam Family.

Dear Whittam Family,
What do you do when your nut comes off, dear Whittams, dear Whittams?
What do you do when your nut comes off, dear Whittams, your nut?
Call for a tow truck, dear viewer, dear viewer?
Call for a tow truck dear viewer, a tow truck?
But I have no reception dear Whittams, dear Whittam?
But I have no reception dear Whittams, no reception at all?
In that case dear viewer, dear viewer,
In that case dear viewer, you are kind of f*****

Travelling around the countryside,
Ask the Whittams, Ask the Whittams,
Travelling around the countryside
Ask the Whittam Family.

Congratulations, Deb! You are the funniest poet for the week!

Admittedly, I had a REALLY difficult time choosing only one winner. These were hilarious, especially the ones that were true! Debbie won for a clever parody of an old favorite and for an appropriately funny cuss.

…On a side note, I actually read when this happened to poor Deb…

For a better laugh than the time these poor poets had, read on:

Untitled, by Sara
(This is a TRUE STORY! Only, it was my parents dealing with my little sister.)
There’s that smell

I can tell

She threw up, again

Will this ever end?

We pull over

To clean the car

We’re not nearly there

Our destination is far

As we scrub the floor mat

And her little car seat

Little did we know

We were in for a treat

Parked alongside a lovely, vast field

Ignorantly assuming a safe place to yield

Off our gal trotted, right into it

And here’s the ironic, “humorous?” bit

Two seconds later, we hear a sharp cry

It blew back the grass and tousled the sky

Baby girl was stuck

My, oh my

Our vomit-covered darling

Had stepped in a cow pie

Best holiday ever, by Hobbo
(Full version at Hobbo’s site)
We should never have chosen off peak
It was raining, the car sprang a leak
David squashed granny’s best hat
Baby Alfie was sick on the cat.

On the moors, dad ran over a ram
An hour later, we’re stuck in a jam
We got there too late for the ferry
Mum found the bar and got merry.

We arrived there to find we’d left gran
At the caff, with a man from Japan
Our five star was under construct
And all of the rooms double booked.

The food gave young Lucy the trots
And Christopher broke out in spots
German measles, our french doctor said
And confined him to ten days in bed.

Going home, despite begging and pleading
Dad got a ticket for speeding
When the copper told dad he could start
Our tyres were as flat as a fart.

Once home, track-traced for Covid 19
So then, yes you’ve guessed, quarantine
And because we are now isolating
This vacation gets zero star rating.

Basil and Mabel, by Geoff LePard
(You’ll have to disqualify me because it’s too many words, but I hadn’t the heart to cut back on Basil and Mabel…)
Basil and Mabel went to Spain
Again and again and again.

He drove from Dover
And to remain sober
He’d refrain, refrain, refrain.

One day on the Costa
He thought he’d lost her
The pain, the pain, the pain.

To dull the fear
He ordered sangria
Again and again and again.

Mabel was worried,
Around she hurried
The fool, the fool, the fool.

It began to concern her
When inside the taverna,
On a stool, a stool a stool

Basil was slumped.
‘Oh you old chump’
Dabbing the drool, the drool, the drool.

She left the bar
And found the car
Near the pool, the pool, the pool.

‘Where to, Bas?’
‘Let’s try La Paz’
‘It’s cool, it’s cool, it’s cool.’

They took to the road;
She drove like Toad
Too fast, too fast, too fast.

On a blind bend
Tipping end over end
They met their last, their last, their last

The moral of the fable
Of Basil and Mabel
Is you always lose
When full of booze
So try and abstain
When in Spain, in Spain, in Spain.

That Holiday Air, by Obbverse
(Certain hotels should have had their names changed to protect their guilt. But what the hell. And pushing the PG13 rating? Ah, what the hell.))
We breezed into Kingman, wafted up up to our pre-booked room,
‘Twas a romantic cute boutique newly tarted-up hideaway hotel,
Even in this modern times, foolish dreamers, do not presume
That an Arizonan night of heavenly pleasure can’t go all to hell.

The owners had been penny wise when fitting out the Brunswick,
True to its history they’d turned to every possible cheap trick,
An attempt to retain all original features, all part of the plan,
So, creaky bedsprings and no air-con except the ol’ ceiling fan.

Outside a high desert wind buffeted the shuttered window pane,
Inside, an ill wind blew no good, thanks to a lousy hotel’s buffet,
Dawn saw the leaving of two wretches that guest house won’t see again,
Now neither of us dare speak of, much less wish to repeat that sorry day.

Four gormless teenage lads on the road, by Doug Jacquier
Dora Dora has a single building
bereft of any sort of modern gilding;
pub and general store all rolled into one;
no exotic idyll baking in the sun.

Entering we see a bar
that you might see in Lilliput afar;
we become an instant crowd
eight feet sounding too loud.

Behind the bar, in a top hat,
sits a man with a newspaper and a scabby cat.
‘Corn flakes and milk?’ we enquire
‘Not in the bar, take three steps to the side.’

Groceries obtained, we ordered beers for four
and he nodded to where we’d been before.
Shuffling left, he pulled four ales,
fixing us with eyes like bloodshot snails.

Enough was enough and we re-join the track,
thinking it was never like this for Jack Kerouac.
And we realise somethin’ very disturbin’.
We’re not sub-culture, we’re just plain suburban.

—–

Photo by Nubia Navarro (nubikini) on Pexels.com

Thank you, thank you to all who entered! Come back at 10 a.m. tomorrow for next week’s prompt.

Deb, here’s a badge for you to use on your site. Congratulations!

©2020 The poets, and their respective works

Ohhh Eeee Aaay Vacay!

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh
The kids just screamed, “I’ve gotta go!”
And
The trailer’s back there, in the snow;
We needed it for food, sleep, clothes
But
Its tires fell off and it won’t go.

Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
Cry Mommy, Daddy, kids, baby
‘Cause
Sally poked him; “Bill’s breathing!”
The car’s all out of gasoline
And
No one’s ever changed Baby.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaay
Dad’s just asked why they vacay
So
Mom’s offered to give him ‘way
Low tire pressure‘s on display
And
When we get to far, far ‘way
Mom and Dad will droop and sway
But
All the kids will want to play;

Says Mom, “Why do we e’er vacay?”

Photo by Ketut Subiyanto on Pexels.com

©2020 Chel Owens

There’s still time to enter YOUR poem for this week’s A Mused Poetry Contest!!

The A Mused Poetry Contest 10/31 – 11/06/2020

Do you love to laugh out loud? Silently snicker? Guffaw as you …gallop? You’re in the right place!

Here are the rules for this week:

  1. The Theme is road-trip disasters or vacation mishaps. Did you travel all day and into the night, only to find another person in your bed? Find a flat tire midway through Nebraska? Get chased by roos in The Never-Never? Poem about it.
  2. Length: flexible. Keep the word count between 5 and 155 words.
  3. I recommend Rhyming, but it’s up to you!
  4. Arriving in a strange town where no one speaks your language and discovering you haven’t packed spare underwear is very frustrating, so the Rating can be PG-13 or cleaner.
  5. MAKE US LAUGH. Sad as you feel/felt/will feel, capture the humor in the annoyance.

You have till 10:00 a.m. MST next Friday (November 6) to submit a poem.

Use the form, below, to remain anonymous for a week.

Otherwise, include your poem or a link to it in the comments. Drop a comment if your link-back doesn’t show up by midnight the day you create it.

—–

Bon voyage!

—–

Photo by Nubia Navarro (nubikini) on Pexels.com

©2020 Chel Owens

WINNER of the Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest

Wow. I’m not certain I want to go on vacation after reading this week’s batch of terrible poetry. From ‘wish you were(n’t) here’ to ‘wish I’d vacationed alone’ to …sheep? the poems this time around truly delivered.

But we’re not only here to lament our wasted work leave. We’re here to pick a winner, and that is:

Untitled piece

by Gary

Arrived in Pluto just 459 years late.
You wouldn’t believe what they are charging on the exchange rate
Can’t open the hotel windows as the air tends to dissipate
Can eat what I want as the low gravity gives me little weight
The beaches are empty so it feels a little desolate
The trip round the 5 moons was first rate
The nightlife is great at the disco you should see the locals gyrate
Tomorrow off to one of the poles to ice skate.

Congratulations, Gary! You are the most terrible poet of the week!

Competition was stiff between 2-3 at the end. Gary’s won for its wonderful every-line-rhyming, mostly. I also appreciated his consistent mis-meter, topped by an interesting message that was on topic.

Do you think you’d like to receive a postcard bearing any of the following?:

Untitled piece

by Trent McDonald

Just writing from my.
Little bit of paradise.
Just taking some.
Time for a note.
Just saying that.
Vacation is going.
Well.
Just need to let you know.
That I will be out.
Of the hospital.
Soon.

—–

Greetings from Bermuda

by Peregrine Arc

I finally made it to Bermuda, my dear little one.
Everyone has shorts and triangles for sale, it’s odd.
I should be back next Tuesday, make sure you feed the cat.
The plane just needs to get us out of this isoceles, stat.

—–

Untitled piece

by Deb Whittam

Mary packed her bags
Mary had had enough
Damn the little lost sheep
They could cut their own fluff
She was going abroad
To sunshine and wine
She was going abroad
She was going to have a swell time
All was going well
But then the hotel demanded payment
Mary huffed and puffed
She was being treated like a vagrant
Mary decided to take a stand
There was more than one way to call a bluff
She went to the local zoo
To find the right stuff
Filling her room with creatures
She dared them to remove her now
Mary landed herself in jail
Damn those damn sheep
They were all going to hell

—–

A postcard to the wife

by Bruce Goodman

I wanted a hassle-free vacation
so that’s why I’m not telling you my location.
I don’t care if you’re alone;
I’m glad I left you at home.
I don’t miss you constantly talking garbage,
although I do miss having you here to carry my luggage.
When I get back home next Friday
I hope the house is nice and tidy.
So aloha from some hidden beach
that hopefully you won’t be able to reach.

—–

Vacation Limerick

by Riley4892

My family went away on vacay,
And the sun shone most every day.
Until there was rain,
It drove us insane,
And now we stay inside to play.

—–

Déjà vu

by Joanne the Geek

It’s like I’ve been here before
all the beaches I’m at, all seem the same
they all have sand and rocks and water
and bathers slowly roasting themselves in the sun
and then there are the hotels –
all offering services and rooms that all
look the same no matter where you go
and all the people are the same too
I’m not actually saying they are literally all the same people
but that they are all the same types of people, that’s
what I’m getting at
I don’t mean to sound neurotic
but sometimes I wonder if I’m in a simulation

—–

A Postcard from Finland

by Shaun Jex

Hello Dear –
I fear
You would not like it here
Helsinki
Is way way way too stinky
This time of year
But I guess it’s good to know
No matter how far and wide I roam
There is always a little something
That reminds me of our home.

—–

My Summer Vacation

by Ruth Scribbles

Various

Anxious

Catastrophic

Antics

Tempted

Indecent

Outlandish

Nonsense

On my summer vacation

A best staycation ever

The jealousy abounded

And I was hounded

Indecently

For my details

V

….A

……..C

…………A

…………….T

………………..I

……………………O

………………………..Ns

—–

Thank you to all the wonderful/terrible poets! Come on by tomorrow around 10 a.m. for next week’s prompt.

Gary: D. Wallace Peach created this graphic that you can use (if you want) for a badge of honor as the winner:

Why Vacation if You’re a Stick in the Mud?

I don’t get out much. Maybe you’ve noticed.

When I do escape the dishes and children and laundry, my vacation destination is …Wal-mart. Ooh! Or Costco! Frankly, I spend enough at those, and the local Smith’s Marketplace, to cover a cruise.

Bu-u-u-ut the hubs and I made a goal to family vacay every summer. Sometimes it’s been camping. Sometimes it’s a cross-country trip. Sometimes we jaunt down to California for our every-five-years-Disneyland extravaganza.

Since I began this summer on bed rest, I had to put any travel plans on hold. Since we learned I was pregnant and needed to pay for removing our sweet, little parasite; we had to put our finances on hold.

I therefore booked a quick weekend away, using some reward points from the credit card.

I therefore picked somewhere not too far away but far enough to count as ‘vacation.’

I therefore booked a really fun hotel with a water slide and planned to eat tuna sandwiches.

I therefore demanded an oath of my husband that he would not point out any practical failings, metaphorically raining on our happy parade.

Problem is, I am an analytical person. I married an analytical person. We are both fairly practical as well. And critical. And, although I’ve been riding the Jaded Coaster since about age 3, my sweet husband got on and has been uncomfortably riding for over a decade now.

We made it to the second day before fighting about how the whole thing made no financial sense and we could be doing everything we were doing if we’d simply stayed home.

Fun times.

Which has since led me to ruminating about people and their vacations. For, of course one could save money, comfort, time, and hassle by staying put. There’s no risk. No bedbugs. No missing toothbrush. No change of climate or circumstance.

I’ve wondered a few specific things:

  1. Are vacations fun?
  2. Are they worth the cost?
  3. Are they worth the work?
  4. Is a vacation a vacation?

What do you think? What has your experience been?

 

—————-

I wrote a few things this past week:
Wednesday, August 14: Shared some of my favorite funny pregnancy t-shirts in “The Funniest Pregnancy Tees.”

Thursday, August 15: Announced I’d be going off the grid for a family vacay. I haven’t really come back yet.

Friday, August 16: Winner of the Weekly Terribly Poetry Contest. Thank you so so so so so so so so so so much to Bruce for adjudicating. Congratulations to Mathew for winning!

Saturday, August 17: Announced the 39th Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest. The theme is vacations. PLEASE ENTER!

Also shared “Except for the Exceptions,” from a depressed mood during vacation.

Sunday, August 18: Nothing.

Monday, August 19: Enthused about receiving Stephen’s published book, The Kirkwood Scott Chronicles: Skelly’s Square (soon to be reviewed!).

Tuesday, August 20: “A Tick A Kick.”

Wednesday, August 21: Nothing. Tra-la-la.

Thursday, August 22: Today.

I also posted all this week at my motherhood site. I wrote “Hotel For …Fun?,” “The Best Thing You Can Give Your Child,” and “There’s Nothing to Eat.”

Photo Credits:
Image by tim striker from Pixabay
Image by Daniela Dimitrova from Pixabay
Image by KRISTEN FOSTER from Pixabay

 

©2019 Chelsea Owens

The Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest

Good morning, afternoon, evening, and midnight snack time! It’s time for Terrible Poetry Contest #39.

What the heck is ‘terrible poetry?’ Read our obligatory recommendations and health risks here. The Terrible Poetry Contest and Chelsea Owens will not be held accountable for any writers’ or readers’ desires to gnaw their own legs off after reading.

Interested? Here are this week’s specifics:

  1. The Topic is vacations. Were you in paradise, the envy of all your online ‘friends?’ Did you finally cross off your bucket list trip to sleep atop the grave of Edgar Allen Poe? Or, was your experience a little less than ideal?
  2. As may be expected, this means the Length is postcard parameters. Write your poem home to your parents, to your grandparents, or your pen pal you want to impress.
  3. Rhyme if it works, or if it doesn’t. The choice is yours.
  4. Make it terrible!! Don’t make me sic the camp counselors on you, right after unleashing beach sharks to photo bomb your Leaning Tower of Pisa pic.
  5. Vacations aren’t risqué. This rating can stay PG or cleaner.

You have till 8:00 a.m. MST next Friday (August 23) to submit a poem.

Use the form below if you want to be anonymous for a week.

For a more social experience, include your poem or a link to it in the comments.

Have fun!

 

Washroom Stories

Oddly enough, today I wish to reminisce about bathrooms. The idea came from Irene Waters, the illustrious writer and memoirist.

Her suggestion came at the same time a friend of mine is on vacation, a friend who keeps posting ratings for the various bathrooms she’s visiting. Little did I know that this is an activity she’s indulged in for a few years, supposedly stemming from a terrible experience with one. To this, I can relate. I did not realize how crucial a good seat for relieving oneself became until my first cross-country drive in 2015.

It inspired a star-studded poem:

I’ll tour this grand old land of mine;
I’ll drive from ocean to sea.
I’ll walk where millions walked before,
But,
I’ll not sit where they all …do their business.

Unlike some of the older participants in Irene’s prompt, I haven’t lived through a drastic era of change regarding toilets. Every house I’ve lived in has had what I have now: an indoor model that flushes with the aid of plumbing that enters and leaves the house. No water closets or outhouses. I do not believe I’ve ever lived somewhere with a septic tank.

composting-1431541_1920

Yes, I’m spoiled. And young, I suppose.

I have stayed in less-posh situations. I recall a summer camp one year with limited water and sewage supplies. We were advised to follow the old poem, “If it’s yellow, let it mellow. If it’s brown, flush it down.”

My family also spent a couple of summers at a cabin in the woods with its very own outhouse. I still recall the dread of midnight nature calls, shaking my flashlight through the dark and whooshing trees on the path and out to the pit-with-a-door. Due to active imaginations, two of my children are currently afraid of using the toilet alone. They said they imagine a head poking out of the hole and biting them. I don’t know what they would have done with the outhouse in the woods…

bathroom-3712300_1920

For my part, my only childhood fear of toilets involved imagining an alligator in one. I’ve never lived in Florida nor visited beyond the airport, but had heard a news story to the effect in elementary school. I also feared for spiders and such. I think, as a female, one’s fears are more justified since one always has to sit.

The one advancement in washrooms I have experienced in my lifetime is the automation of its basic functions. Automatic toilets, sinks, soaps, and blowers make using the bathroom a breeze. They also made for many, many times of standing over a peeing child to block the sensor so he does not get flushed on before he’s ready.

In a somewhat-related experience, I recall a music trip to San Francisco in my senior year of high school. For the first time, I encountered public stores that did not offer a public restroom. Also for the first time; I was directed to a public toilet, on the street corner, that utilized two-way mirrors as walls. When inside, a visitor could view everything outside as if he were not within a building at all. My childhood experience of knowing one could see through this glass by getting close did not encourage any desire to use this facility.

I suppose, like my friend, I also note and rank vacation bathrooms. When in Rome, eh?

bathroom-453420_1280

Photo Credits:
Image by Andrew Martin from Pixabay
Image by Luciana P. from Pixabay
Image by David Rinehart from Pixabay

 

©2019 Chelsea Owens

WINNER of the Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest

It’s almost time for fun in the sun (or snow)! After reading through the entries this week, I may reconsider my vacation plans…

Especially after reading the poem of the winner, Peregrine Arc.

Oi’, Summah!

by Peregrine Arc

Lemunade and sugahs
Butterflies and sands
My dear, look at my toes
They’ve been completely eaten by crabs.

Oi, get yer feet off my beach blanket
Tide, do yer worst
For I’m a sun crisped lobster
A blue eyed, Caucasian curse.

Tantamount to the joyous degrees and aspects of the tiny filigreed hairs of a baby tarantula from Spain.
But never, ever with a yellow umbrella on Tuesday, for shame.

Is how much I enjoy my summer rain.

Drip. Drip. Drip…
….
….
….
Zazzle.

Congratulations, Peregrine Arc! You are the most terrible poet of the week!

Honestly, I had three poems tied for first after my initial run-through. They were terrible, confusing but still readable, related to vacation, and had hidden messages. P’Arc’s winning elements were her deviance from a meter and her (hopefully intentional) misspellings.

Again, some of you were (hopefully intentionally) not that terrible. Bad or no, you’re all worth a read:

The perils of camping

by Bruce Goodman

We’re leaving town to go on summer vacation.
The traffic heading out is like a conflagration.
We’ve got the three kids in the back of the car.
We’re going to a lonely camping spot with no shops other than very far.

Arrive we have! now to erect the tents;
One for the kids and one, you know what is meant,
for me and the Missus.
Already she’s flooded me with kisses.

Well here we are getting down to business.
The kids are all fed and have washed up their dishes.
Oh oh… oh Honey, we’re safe in our tents
but I forgot to bring the condiments.

Chorus: Heigh ho! Heigh ho! Is it off back home we go
because Daddy forgot to bring his condiments?
Who wants stuff heated up around the camp fire
when eating a sausage without condiments is dire?
Heigh ho! Heigh ho! Is it off back home we go
because Daddy forgot to bring his condiments?

—–

The woe of winter holidays

by Deb Whittam

Holidays are upon us,
She whispers with dread
Perhaps it was time
To enforce a day in bed
The kids would be up to hijinks
The circus, the movies, the zoo
All great fun things
When it’s raining to do
What about arts and crafts
No need to get wet
The look they send you
Suggests this isn’t a safe bet
In the end you’re left with no choice
Honesty is the best they say
Go play on your computers
I’m staying in bed today.

—–

Untitled piece

by Trent McDonald

Time for the two of us
To be where we’re not
For privacy take long
treks
We’ll get all sweaty
And deliciously hot
While engaging in rigorous
Hikes

—–

I Really Wish You Were Here, Instead Of Me

by Joanne Fisher

Here I am just soaking in the brine

I really wish I was having a good time

It would be really nice if someone else was here

If only I had won a totally different tier

I am at this wonderful summer resort

All because one day I bought a torte

The prize was a holiday in the midst of winter

All I’m hoping is this isn’t going to make me bitter

I better go as I’m running out of space

I long to soon be back in an aeroplane’s carapace

By the time I get home I’ll be full of joy

but for now I should let go of this freezing buoy

—–

Summer vacation

by Violet Lentz

life has been one long endless summer vacation lost luggage canceled flights hotels with no HBO sandy beaches endless nights spent wading in hot water close calls getting caught up stopping short of letting go doing nothing so long that it finally gets boring taking off on a tear in a t-bar and bra make up and cigarettes toothbrush at the ready why hang on to dirty laundry just throw that shit out grabbing at straws as they strike at my fancy waking up wearing nothing but an old worn wild hair in hot pursuit of a synonym for i wanna get higher diving too deep in some roughneck’s water seeking someone i can drown in or maybe just drift- far away from myself.

—–

VACATION EXCITEMENT

by Ruth Scribbles

Summer vacation?

Excitement?

I hate summer in Texas

It’s blasted hot 🥵

If I leave Texas, then….

Oh Lordy, must I be wordy

Hot as hell…

How do I know?

My skin sizzles and smells

My energy disappears

I become a big wimp

Can’t even limp around

Oh wait, did you say vacation??

Woohoo! Alaska, here I come!

She said as she melted from the sun.

—–

I have so much fun reading through these every week and hope you have just as much fun writing them! Come back tomorrow at 10 for the next prompt.

vicko-mozara-324955-unsplash

Peregrine Arc: D. Wallace Peach created this graphic that you can use (if you want) for a badge of honor as the winner:

The Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest

Welcome to The 28th Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest.

Buckle your safety belts, keep your arms and legs inside, and review the manual if you’re worried about how to operate a terrible poem. We encourage mis-meter, almost-rhymes, and intentional clichés on this rocket ship.

Here are the specifics for this week:

  1. Topic: The excitement of summer vacation (or winter, if you’re down South).
  2. Length: Postcard-sized. If you write rather small, you can fit more in your poem.
  3. Rhyme if you wish; grandma probably won’t be able to read your handwriting anyway.
  4. Make it terrible. Not only will granny not know if you crossed your t’s but might also misconstrue a few of your words for some she thought she heard her favorite news anchor warn about the young’uns using these days.
  5. Rating: PG or more decent. We’re having good, clean fun this summer.

You have till 8:00 a.m. MST next Friday (June 7) to submit a poem.

Use the form if’n you don’t want yours up till next week.

For immediate fame and gratification from your peers, include your poem or a link to it in the comments below.

Tell your friends, your TwoFacebook crowd, your Tweeters; whatever. Spread the word and share the love.

Most of all, have fun!

vicko-mozara-324955-unsplash

Photo credit:
Vicko Mozara

Sunshine Blogger Award Thingie, Again

I’m not a fan of the award thingies, mostly due to the whole chain-mail idea of them; however, I am a fan of sharing people’s sites and connecting and learning more about everyone.

So when Len over at Len’s Daily Diary mentioned my site, of course I answered …a few days a week later. He is just the sort of upright, intelligent, honest, kind, humble, and great writer you’ll want to follow, anyway. So check out his stuff.

Here are the questions he posed to me, with my answers:

1.What is your fondest memory of childhood?

As an adult, I feel my childhood images have blended into a kaleidoscope soup of random feelings and sunshine moments. Trying to pull one, fondest shard is a daunting task. I do know that I’d pick from amongst my family vacation moments.

My parents took me and my brother and sister on a vacation every year. The funny thing is that I know we were absolute jerks pretty typical children, yet I only retain the happiness I felt in new adventures and experiences shared with the people I love.

https://www.pexels.com/photo/view-of-empty-road-1537979/

If you think this looks idyllic, add at least three underage voices SCREAMING death cries to a background of loose objects being smashed against car and human body parts.

2. If you could write your obituary, what would it say?

How morbid am I that I’ve thought about this more than once and am under the age of 50? (In my defense, I seriously considered it after helping my aunt edit the one for my grandmother.)

I’m not going to write it out here, but let’s just say that it will contain a hidden message or two and at least a passing reference to HG2G -all written in verse.

sandy-millar-758468-unsplash

3. Do you prefer turbulent waters or the stillness of the desert?

I definitely prefer the desert over deep water. -Don’t get me wrong; I love turbulent things. I just have a sort of terrible thalassaphobia.

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4. What is your favorite flavor of ice-cream?

I have more of a favorite brand or type than flavor, because I’ve gotten to the point where I’m picky about the depth of creamy taste and luscious thickness of quality ingredients.

So, a darned good chocolate variety works for me.

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5. Who do you most admire from history?

Distant history? Pretty much anyone who survived all the diseases and tooth decays and no hygiene; and still lived, reproduced (gah! tooth decay!), and made himself better in the world.

I admire those who had great difficulty; they are real people to me.

 

Thanks, Len! If the rest of you are still with me, here’s my nominees/people you should go check out:

Bladud Fleas: An extremely excellent writer, superbly talented artist, and …well, I don’t really know much else about him. Go visit, though.

Wilton Sugiyama of Wiltoons: He’s a dude I met through my motherhood site who draws cartoons about life.

Thru Violet’s Lentz: An excellent writer of many genres.

Ruth Scribbles: Another excellent writer who mostly dabbles in poetry.

Bereaved: My short name for A Dad trying to cope with the loss of his Partner and becoming a single parent. Long name; hilarious and touching posts.

All y’all can answer these questions if you feel like it:

  1. How much chocolate is too much?
  2. Who would really win: Batman or Superman?
  3. Why is it always the last place you look?
  4. What is the airspeed velocity of an unladen European swallow?
  5. Where would you go to find The Meaning of Life?

 

Photo Credits
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Sandy Millar
Greg Rakozy
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