HALF PAST PRETTY
- Paris, Iowa,
- September 30
- Retired Domestic Space Cadet/Current Arbiter Of Midlife Dysfunction
- Not often
- Artist, Poet, Writer, Wife, Mother, Daughter, Sister, Friend, Lover, Seeker, Follower, Listener, Communicator, Found, Forgotten, Sainted, Sinner, Struggling, Sentient, Surviving...So far, so-so.......
Unless otherwise noted, all of the artwork accompanying these posts was created by and is the property of the artist.
MY RECENT POSTS
- Write Something
May 25, 2014 11:46AM
- MISSING PERSONS
May 25, 2011 11:35PM
- POINTE of DEPARTURE
March 09, 2011 05:40PM
- Little Lori Blue - Unresolved
March 04, 2011 09:43AM
- Happy Birthday, Cranky!
February 27, 2011 04:41PM
MY RECENT COMMENTS
- “I am going to rate this
even though you get to sit out
in the breezy
June 05, 2014 04:43PM
- “Anything you write is
worth reading, Scanner,
because you are
May 30, 2014 11:38AM
- “One of the great
bounties of being a writer on
a writing site
is that you
May 29, 2014 07:07PM
- “"Daisy, Daisy give me
your answer, do." And if you
May 28, 2014 10:32AM
- “@ A Persistant Muse, I
know you have lived the wisdom
convey and that has
May 27, 2014 07:54AM
Susan Creamer Joy's Links
- MY LINKS
“Write something.” He says. “I so wish you’d write again like you used to when I first met you. I really believe it will do you good.”
“He” is The Scholarly Renegade, a fellow writer/dreamer, on whose farm I have sought solace and healin… Read full post »
On the morning of February 14th I went missing. My first thought was that this would be a temporary disappearance; the kind of sensorial vanishing that often accompanies the fallout from a striking epiphany or a grave shock. So I continued in my daily routines with… Read full post »
My younger sister always ran in first, her delicate fingers tightly scrolled around the flimsy handle of the patent leather case that held her change of clothes: A flounce of pink tulle, black leotard, tights and the soft, leather sippers that made no sound against… Read full post »
Little Lori Blue
Never felt at home
Thought she had to roam
Make her dreams come true
It would be well over a year before we learned anything at all about what happened to her; before forensics and coincidence joined forces to… Read full post »
There once was an ogre named Cranky
A master of word-hanky panky
Whatever he wrote
was tough to connote
though he meant every word of it, frankly.
By the time they reached my bedroom door, I was already sitting up - my stomach ratcheted by the tense grip of an unnamed anxiety; my pillow, unburdened of my drowsy head.
To this day I cannot explain how I heard them coming up those stairs in their bare… Read full post »
~ HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY~
To all the Open Hearts on Open Salon
Thank you for reading
And for caring.
I love you.
Read full post »
In a few days I hope to receive the first of the journals that my son is writing while incarcerated. We have conceived of and taken on a project that we hope will reach and benefit a much larger audience than just the two of us as we each write… Read full post »
Annie, are you sure this information will not be held against us in the future? How about now?
My stomach is beginning to tighten.
Where to begin?
1. I am chronically late. It is now 9 p.m.. You put out the Open Call plea over twelve hours ago/… Read full post »
It begins here:
"You get your temper from your father's side of the family, not mine."
"Whatever problems you have, you can blame them on your mother."
"If your generation were not so irresponsible and selfish, there would be stability in our future."
We… Read full post »
Of course, you don't think it will happen to you. No one ever does.
But then you hear it. Just when you think that you've dodged the fixed gaze of last year's insouciance and have thoroughly scanned the horizon for easier vows, you overhear that niggling interna… Read full post »
Open Salon is a rare place. It blooms
even in winter.
Thank you, everyone, for bringing so much
joy into my life.
Bless you all, and have a lovely Christmas
and a remarkable New Year full of
Lots and lots of… Read full post »
I promised myself I would not let this happen. I told myself last year that when the 2010 Christmas cards came filtering in that I would NOT be negatively overcome by the seemingly mandatory inclusion of the increasingly popular MASS HOLIDAY LETTER.
But after rec… Read full post »
And so it is Christmas, again.
Depending upon where you live the winds may have grown decidedly colder with front porches and backyard patios forced to shed their hospitable design.
From the facing window at my drawing table, I look out and see the wrought ir… Read full post »
There is a small, half-moon scar on the underside of my chin. It came from my mistaken belief at nine years old that whatever object was hung on the handlebars of my bicycle would remain separate and apart from the spokes of the front wheel.
In this… Read full post »
I was born to be a writer. I've known it since the seventh grade when Mrs. Spangler, my bespectacled English teacher announced to my parents that I had a "gift with language" and was writing well-above grade level. She predicted I would go on to do "great things" in… Read full post »
For the past couple of weeks I have been quietly ingesting a nightmare. But because it is not one conjured from the depths of my own subconscious, it has taken me longer to reckon let alone attempt to reconcile; and because it will not go away, I continue to… Read full post »
Until I was ten years old, I believed a simple truth: We only live once.
It was a reasonable assumption that perfectly supported and promoted the idea that living a good and honorable life was the only worthy goal. This was accomplished by placing the prize in the everlasting… Read full post »
The Christian Church Hospital 1921
It was a dark and stormy night.
Alright. It was dark.
The humidity was at 45% with a dew point of 56.8 F; barometric pressure at 30.9 and falling with variable wind speeds gusting up to 20
For every sigh she makes a mark
And captures light to let it lie
Her pen will rake her thoughts apart
The words her eyes could never cry
She bids the secrets in her heart
to speak in honest, gracious tones
and writes from where… Read full post »
I come from a long line of psychics. Most hail from my mother's side of the gene pool whose clairvoyant waters run to depths of inky blackness. Yet there also exists a significantly greater volume of normal, shallow ancestral tributaries; thus ruling out the possibility of… Read full post »
On the day I was born every teenager in America, if not the world, was in profound mourning. While my young parents celebrated my arrival and the sweet procession of life cocooned within the sterile walls of a New York hospital; on the opposite coast, time… Read full post »
I have a tendency to get lost. Alongside my earliest memory of motion is the corresponding memory of finding myself at a destination well outside my original game plan.
The first time this happened I was three years old and in a large field… Read full post »
They came again this morning. It was early; just after eight a.m..
But I did not hear the metallic creak of the wrought iron gate that tops the steps outside our front door; that rusted yawn that signals to me the presence of friend… Read full post »
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