The Holidays and the Dark

I would like to say that since the holiday season started, back with Halloween that I have been rushed and pulled in so many directions that I haven’t been able to blog.  I’d like to say that, and it is partly true, but mostly, I just am in a lull, a funk if you will. 

I think of things all the time to write, funny anecdotes, silly musings, and sometimes even consider putting snippets of my books on here for you guys to peruse. (although I haven’t figured out if that is entirely safe, the whole thievery worry and all)  But alas, I fail.  Miserably I might add.

I could use the excuse that I have personal issues going on, family illness, work, etc., but we all have that.  That’s not really an excuse, it is just life.  And for me to go on and on about my personal issues, I think, would sound selfish, as though I am the only person who has them, when I know that everyone on the planet has horrible tragic things, hard frustrating things, annoying worrisome things.  Just in the past month I have come to know two children who have cancer.  CHILDREN!  I could not imagine the Hell the parents and families of these two children are going through.  It makes the worries and problems in my life seem minuscule in comparison, even though to me they may be mountains someone else’s mountains are way higher than mine. 

Most days, wait, let me rephrase that…most hours I can focus and not become overwhelmed by my worries, the holidays seem to bring them out more I think for everyone, and since learning about these poor children, during those dim hours I can realize that I am not alone in my dim light, there are people who are going through darkness and the black much greater than I have ever known and I am thankful, which sounds callus but let me finish before you pick up the stones…I am thankful that I have what I have, who I have and that I am able to pray and help the people who are traveling that dark road ahead of me.  I may not be able to cure their illnesses, but I can pray to God who can and for their strength while they carry this burden, and I can love them and offer them help when they need it.  Which is all any of us can do really.  Love.

I am a worrier by nature.  As I said in previous blogs my Mom tells me I used to worry about the birds during storms when I was a child.  And that worry has only grown and gotten intensified by my new found OCD.  Well, it’s not really new; I have had it for 9 years now.  Lucky! 

I have my quirks, which come in handy sometimes for me; I always know where things are! I can walk into my closet right now in the dark and pull out any pair of shoes that you request without ever looking, because each of them is in a specific spot.  I can give you directions to the scissors, paperclips, can opener, fingernail clippers, and every item in my house without ever uttering the words “Um…let me think.”  My sock drawer is amazing!   

And since I worry about everything I usually have things that someone might need that most wouldn’t think to carry around with them.  Static guard, band-aids, floss, spare underwear (although I don’t share those).  It’s, however, not so great to those who love me.  Always triple checking the door, my wallet, etc.  I can see where that is frustrating…it frustrates me when I leave for work in the morning, lock the door, get in my car, drive 3 miles down the road and panic as to whether or not I locked the door.  Now I know deep down inside, I KNOW, I locked the door, but my craptastic memory doesn’t allow me to remember/picture actually doing it and that sets off my OCD which throws me into anxiety, so you guessed it, I turn around and drive back home only to find that of course, the door is in fact locked.  Talk about frustrating. 

This worrying has a dark side, much worse than frustrating and annoying myself and those who love me.  I believe that it may also be contributing to my early death.  Sounds funny, I know, but it’s really not, because sadly I worry…no pun intended…that it is true.  Worrying that I worry too much.  Worrying that my worrying is killing me.  I lay awake at night worrying about that. Now I do believe that might be a new definition of insanity. 

Simple solution right…stop worrying.  HA!  I wish it were that simple.  I talked to my pastor years ago and asked him “How do I stop worrying?”  His answer, “Turn it over to God.”  Well, of course!  I knew that, doesn’t everyone?  But does anyone stop worrying?  It is not that I do not believe or trust that God is in control, it is that I worry that His plan (albeit true, right, correct, perfect plan) is different than the one I want.  I wish that I had the strength in the knowledge to trust that I would not break if my plans didn’t come to pass.  There has been breakage in the past and that worries me.   

Of course, that is only about the big things, the major life changing things, not whether or not I remember to bring something in for someone that I promised I would.  I worry about that too.  If I promise you I will do, bring, say, go, be, pick up something I have to write myself a note (or use my handy dandy digital recorder now) so that I will NOT forget to do, bring, say, go, be, or pick up whatever it is you asked of me.  And then I will proceed to worry over that note, “Don’t lose the note, don’t lose the note!” so I will either staple it to my shirt, or if it is a sticky note, stick it to something directly in my line of site. (There is a collection of notes on my kitchen counter actually…God forbid a strong wind come through and move them, my world would come crashing down.) Or “Don’t forget that I recorded a message to myself”, so to help with that, I will leave myself another message on my answering machine telling myself to listen to my message I left myself on the digital recorder.  Oh dear Lord, typing that out just made me realize that I am truly freakin crazy.  God help my family and friends.

So with all of that said and a little more insight to the strange, clearly crazy mind of M.L., I am left with large gaps in my blogging.  I promise to try to get better.  I appreciate each and every one of you who read my blog and perhaps even chuckle at something quirky I wrote (perhaps not so many chuckles in this post as the past ones). 

And I ask that you pray for these two children, their names are Arbor (who is 9 and has leukemia) and Nathan (who is 12 and has a brain tumor…and has had them since he was 6 yrs old and is blind from it) and pray for their families.  And remember that we need to love each other, lift each other and try, in all the madness of the world, the darkness and pain, that we are not alone, never alone, and that there is beauty all around us. 

Even the stars in the darkest loneliest night are beautiful. 

Merry Christmas friends, 

M.L.     

12th Day of Christmas

On this 12^th day of December I would like to break down the famous Christmas carol as I see it. 

12 Drummers Drumming – Well, that would just be loud, unless it were at an outdoor venue, say in a drum line on a football field.

11 Piper piping – Again, probably fairly loud.  Is that a sign I am getting old? 

10 Lords a leaping – You’d need an outdoor venue for this one too, otherwise someone is going to run into some furniture and sprain something.

9 Ladies dancing – Depends on how they are dancing.  Line dancing probably can be done in a fairly large room with furniture only around the walls perhaps.  Now some club dancing usually can take place in a 2 foot radius around the person, but I doubt that is the type of dancing these ladies are doing.  Otherwise the Lords would stop leaping and watch the ladies dancing.

8 Maids a milking – Hopefully in a barn and not inside the house.  Because it is not just the 8 maids, it is 8 cows too.  Frankly, I don’t want 8 cows in my house.

7 Swans a swimming – I believe that swans are some of the larger water fowls. So a bathtub wouldn’t accommodate 7 of them swimming.  There would be fighting and biting and a lot of water damage.  Is the correct term 'bite' or does that require teeth to be termed biting?  Swans don’t have teeth.

6 Geese a laying – I would hope that this would be in a barn or some other building outside of my home.  Geese are also larger fowls, so I would say that 6 geese and 6 nests would take up a pretty fairly large amount of space and you already possibly have Lords leaping and Ladies dancing.  Someone or something is going to get broken and I do not want the Humane Association to come to my house.

5 Golden rings – I’d prefer white gold or silver, but I would gladly accept 5 golden rings.  Platinum is also very nice.  Clearly my true love doesnt know me very well.

4 Calling birds – In a cage, like those ones at doctor’s offices, and someone to come and clean it like the people who clean fish tanks.

3 French Hens – I have never seen a French hen, I don’t know if they are different from a regular hen.  But I would like them to remain outside as well.  They may have a coupe or they can reside in the barn with the cows that the maids are milking and the geese that are making a mess. 

2 Turtle doves – They look like pigeons to me.  I’ll pass. 

And a Partridge in a pear tree – Susan Day or David Cassidy in a tree?  I don’t think they would like that very much.  Might get cold up there in the winter, especially now that my true love is giving me these things in December. 

And who does my true love think he is?  Why can’t he just get me a car or perhaps a trip to Ireland?  I don’t have a barn, or a coupe or even a football field.  What’s with all the birds? He never even considered that I could have ornithophobia.  Why do I even love him!

I could build a dog house out back but he didn’t even give me a dog.   

Merry Christmas!

M.L.

Thankful

On this last day of the month of November, after I clearly failed at blogging this month, with my one post, I would like to take a few moments and compile a list of things I am thankful for.  I hope that you will indulge me.

1.      Sunsets, preferably ones that are watched with someone else.

2.      Baby animals, for some reason, even a baby snake is adorable.

3.      Thunder

4.      Cloudy, dreary, rainy Sunday afternoons, more conducive for napping.

5.      Post-it notes.  The person who invented them should get some kind of award.

6.      Wall mounted televisions, even though I was the one to break the television stand in the first place.

7.      Photographs.  They are instant reminders of our history.

8.      Gum, once again an award should be given.

9.      Happy socks.  Explanation:  Socks in bright colors with or without pictures printed on them.

10.  Sesame Sticks.  Many fun times have been had while snacking on these.

11.  Macaroni & cheese.  Nothing else needs to be said about this one.

12.  Pets.  Tiny little living creatures that love us unconditionally, which is amazing.  Sometimes I just sit and watch my pet and think how blessed I am to be in the care of such wonderful little creatures.

13.  Coca-Cola.  Another award is needed here.

14.  Sunglasses, otherwise I would be blind most of the time.

15.  My ability to read.  I have discovered that so many people cannot and that bothers me. Reading opens up entire new worlds at your fingertips, not to mention being able to follow the directions to install television wall mounting kits.

16.  Turtles. 

17.  Hair gel.  It keeps me from having Rosanna Danna’s hair style. (Saturday Night Live)

18.  Beans.  I LOVE BEANS, beans of all types, pinto, kidney, northern, butter, chili, except for lima…lima beans are not welcome on my plate. 

19.  Sweet pickle relish to go on the beans.

20.  Red Velvet cake with cream cheese icing. Even though I don’t actually know what is in it.  I was told that it is just Devil’s food cake with red coloring, but then someone else told me that it wasn’t.  Scary thought that no one seems to know. But either way, it is wonderful.

21.  Cheerios or their generic equivalent.  Plain or with milk.

22.  Sitting on the floor wrapping presents.

23.  Lying on the floor looking up at the Christmas tree lights.

24.  Pencils toppers.  Like the one on my desk that is an eraser in the shape of a brain.  I wonder where I got that? 

25.  Frogs.

26.  Nicknames.  Bean, Batman, Dirty Bean, Intimidator, Cosby, Eyes, Captain, Frito, and The Boy.

27.  Painted toe nails.  Preferably in silver, dark blue or purple or lime green.

28.  Duct tape.  Or Duck tape as we call it here in the South, or maybe that is just me.

29.  Twisty ties.  They are not just for bread anymore.

30.  I am most thankful for my family, my best sister, my friends, my home, my job, and that I live in a country where I can worship freely, speak freely and continue to dream. 

I hope all of you had a wonderful Thanksgiving.  Let me know what you are thankful for, maybe we could start a trend.    

M.L. 

Time

When I was a teenager I decided that I was going to rebel against time.  I did not wear a watch.  That was my entire rebellion. 

Actually it went further than that; I decided that since time was a man made invention that I didn’t want to be a part of it any longer.  Time, dates, weeks, months, the entire year I wanted to wage a sit in and be done with it.  I believed that no one should tell us “When”.  Dang you Eudoxus and Julius Caesar!

(Disclaimer – this is about the concept of time, seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years.  Not theological or philosophical) 

Unfortunately I was still in high school, and I still had appointments to keep as many teenagers do who have extracurricular activities.  So my rebellion of time was merely by mouth and not action as I still had to be at school on time, in class on time, at my music and club appointments, church and at my part time job.  And I had a mother who was the most annoying yet persistent alarm clock in the entire world. 

For part of this rebellion I was at the mercy of my parents, mainly my Mom, who would cart me to and from aforementioned places.  Then I turned 16 and got my driver’s licenses.  I thought “Surely my rebellion could come to fruition!” (I don’t remember if I actually used the word “fruition.”)

It, however, did not.  Shockingly.      

I still had to be everywhere on time just like I had to be before.  Adults do not care about the whims of a teenager’s rebellion against time, nor do their part time jobs.

Clearly my rebellion was futile.  I did not convert any followers and I did not do anything but not wear a watch.  It was more inconvenient than rebellious. 

Most people just smiled and nodded and thought strange things about me.   I think they still do.

I still do not wear a watch, even though I have approximately five of them.  I don’t need to wear a watch now, as we are all surrounded by time.  Right now as I type this at the bottom right hand corner of this screen is the time 2:39 p.m.  My cell phone tells me the time, even the date.  It’s on the radio, the television, flashing LED signs as I drive down the street.  My voice mail even tells me what time it was when someone left me a message, so does the texts.  We cannot go anywhere in modern western civilization and not know what time it is, or what date it is for that matter.  Yet we cannot control it, even though we created it. 

You’d think that something that we created we could manipulate.  Alas, we cannot.  Where is Dr. Emmett Brown or Marty when you need them?

I believe that we should be able to manipulate time, stupid physics.  Just like I believe that I should, in theory, be able to rip a telephone book in half, it’s man made why not?

(For those of you younger readers, a telephone book is a large catalog type book with very thin pages listing businesses phone numbers and addresses, as well as residents.  It comes in yellow or white depending on the use.  On a further note, a Book is a tangible substance that you hold in your hands with many paper inserts with words written on them in the form of a story and it is bound in a harder type of paper to keep the inserts safe, some are even bound in leather.  Amazing I know. They were invented by the dinosaurs.)  I cannot rip a telephone book in half.  I’d like to think that I should be able to because it is something that man created.  It is not smarter than me, its paper after all and in separate parts it is fragile and weak.  Combined however it might as well be made of steel.  And that frustrates me. 

But I also believe that I when I was a child I could hover.

Clearly the smiles and nods and thoughts of strangeness might be warranted. 

Since we (I) cannot manipulate time, or phone books, we are stuck with what we have.  We march forward through it and it doesn’t care about us and it certainly isn’t kind to us. 

Because now as an adult at the ripe ole’ age of 38 I never have enough time.  It slips through my fingers like water.  I have a theory that we wish our time away.  Monday morning we wish the weekend had been longer and we would have had more time to do what we wanted/needed to do, Tuesday through Thursday we are just wishing to get home to spend time with our children, spouses, prop our feet up, veg on the couch and for it to be the weekend soon, and Friday night we are wanting time to stand still.  Saturday and Sunday is a blur, a flurry of activity all crammed into two days and Sunday night we are wondering where it all went.  And we are left standing there asking ourselves…what happened on Wednesday?  

I do not rebel against time any longer.  I hate that it is passing so quickly, but I can’t stop it, so I accept it and move forward on the wave with it, that and I can’t get my flux capacitor to reach 1.21 gigawatts. 

M.L.

Walkie Talkie

While watching television a couple of weeks ago I saw a Wal-Mart commercial.  Now, I rarely laugh at commercials, they are usually loud and annoying, and I usually begin to flip channels once commercials start, but there are a few that I enjoy, one is the Volkswagen commercial with the young Darth Vader…love that one….and now this new one by Wal-Mart.  

The commercial starts by showing a conveyor belt in the Wal-Mart checkout line with flu medicine, Kleenex, Clorox wipes and the last item is a digital voice recorder slowly making their way to the end of the line.  The next scene is a woman standing at a kitchen counter when her husband wobbles slowly into the kitchen and mentions something about feeling better.  She comments about how that is good because he is like a baby when he is sick, he denies, the pet parrot chimes in, he denies again and she plops down the digital voice recorder on the counter where she has recorded him whining like a child.  I laugh every time I see that.   I was also inspired to purchase a digital voice recorder.  Way to go Wal-Mart commercial!

With all of that said, now let’s get down to the real reason I am writing this…apparently I cannot walk, talk and record myself at the same time, or in a sad turn of events, I apparently cannot walk and talk at the same time, but now I have recorded it.  

I have always known that I am of the non-graceful persuasion.  Poles, door frames, carpet, all of them work together in an evil coup to trip me, smack me, and embarrass me.  Evil inanimate objects.  But in my mind when the carpet crinkles up to catch my shoe I believe that I am as graceful as Anna Pavlova (famous ballerina) or as stylish as J-Lo in my recovery.  I may not be graceful in the beginning, but I am graceful in the end.  I have believed that for many, many, many years, because up until the purchase of the digital voice recorder, no one told me otherwise. 

Clearly I am not. It is a very good thing that this digital voice recorder is not a video recorder otherwise someone would be on YouTube by now. 

Sitting and recording myself is odd.  I have transcribed dictation for years in my profession, but never of my own voice.  I have discovered that I sound like an intoxicated Smurf.  I am just going to continue to fool myself that a setting is wrong and I haven’t figured it out yet. 

Walking and recording myself is, however, tragic.  Thus far since the purchase of my new little contraption I have recorded myself a total of three times.  The first time was when I gleaned it from its container and ‘practiced’ while I was sitting down at my dining room table.  The second time I was driving on my way home from work and was inspired to take notes for a pending book and recorded my musings.  Luckily this abnormality doesn’t extend into driving, talking and recording or this would have a much sadder turn of events.  This last time I was at home doing laundry when the inspiration hit me and I rushed inside to gather my recorder. 

Having the memory of a goldfish, I believe, aided in the series of unfortunate events that followed.  As a mere two days earlier I had used the recorder but in that 48 hour period I had subsequently forgotten how to work the machine.  As I walked back to the laundry room flipping and turning the recorder in my hand, pressing buttons, I was not watching where I was walking, and I did not know that I was actually recording already and my adventure had been captured. 

I believed that my quest to retrieve the recorder and return to the laundry room was uneventful.  Perhaps with a few minor slip ups but nothing to ‘write home about’ due to my Fred Astaire recoveries.  Upon play back I discovered I was sorely mistaken.

After turning the recorder on, and not knowing it, I proceeded to push buttons, commented about my memory or lack thereof, and tripped over a shoe…now let me say this, I don’t know where that shoe came from, granted it was my shoe but I do not remember putting it there…I caught myself on the back of the couch, dropped the recorder (which I have no memory of), said a few “peas and carrots” comments, continued into the kitchen wherein I proceeded to slip due to the non-slip slippery socks and the fact that I live in the Tiltin’ Hilton, caught myself once again, this time on the kitchen counter, Eepped! loudly, dropped the recorder once again sending it skidding across the kitchen floor under the baker’s rack, dug it out, blew it off and commented once I saw the light was on and it had ‘started’ to record, took an approximate five steps, opened the laundry room door and tripped over the threshold.  I took my seat on my tiny laundry stool and gingerly laid the recorder on top of the dryer and began removing the laundry and folding it while chirping on and on about my ideas. 

I have not laughed as hard and been horrified and embarrassed at the same time as I did when I pushed “Play”. 

Luckily for me there is a delete button. 

Morals of this story are…a) I am not as graceful as I thought I was. b) Clearly I have a selective memory. c) Some things should never be recorded. d) If I sat up video cameras in my home I would be a millionaire.  e) Purchasing a digital voice recorder is not only a handy way to take notes, but instant entertainment. 

M.L.

Hello?

I have decided that if I were in a horror movie (a real life one of course because otherwise it would be scripted) that I would either die first or be one of the last ones to die, if not survive the entire ordeal completely. 

I was watching a horror movie last night on SyFy.  Part of the 31 Days of Halloween, which I absolutely LOVE, and during the movie, the main female character was home alone doing something when she heard a door creak open.  She proceeded to stand up and as she walked toward the sound she called out “Hello?”

Who says that?  Well, clearly people do, but why?  Why would you a) announce to an intruder your location or b) assume that the intruder would answer you? 

Granted, I am the first person to go investigate a noise, hence my assumption that I might be the first to die in a horror movie.  But if I hear a noise, I freeze and listen to see if I hear it again or if it has a follow up noise, say…footsteps.  I do NOT give away my location.  Then as stealthily as possible I make my way the most indirect route possible to the said noise, picking up a weapon of some sort along the way (the dark makes even a yardstick look menacing), which may lend to my being one of the last to die if not survive all together.  Although if it is an intruder and I have a mere yardstick I am possibly going to die anyway, unless they are weaponless then I can fah-wap them into submission with it. 

My first thought, after hearing a door open or close, is that someone is in my house, someone that I did not invite.  Because, I don’t know about you, but people, including my friends and family, do not just come in my house unannounced.  First of all they could not get into my house because my doors are locked at all times, and secondly why would they just walk in, I could be in the bathroom or changing clothes or somehow indisposed.   That’s a risk I wouldn’t want to take if I were a person walking into someone else’s house unannounced…eww.   So door opening/closing, definite intruder…at least in the world of M.L.

Now, let’s think outside the box, let’s think less intruder and more paranormal…which of course was the premise of this movie.  A supernatural being, be it a ghost, specter, evil entity, vampire, werewolf, whatever you’d like, will already know exactly where you are.  Saying hello or even keeping quiet is not going to keep you from your pending doom.  The best bet there is to remove yourself from the premises as quickly as possible.  Which would cause me, once again, to be one of the first to die in a horror movie because a) I would go see what the noise was, quiet or not and b) all my doors are locked, as mentioned above, and I would have a harder time leaving the premises.  But I say this, calling out “Hello” will rarely get you a response by a supernatural being.

An actual physical supernatural being may have more difficulty getting to you, so you have a better chance at escape, albeit a slight one.  But a ghost, specter, etc. will more than likely be able to move through walls and no matter what path you take you are screwed.  Of course there are the standard deflections, spells, water, salt, you can try all of these things, but you are more likely to draw ants then propel ghosts by keeping a ring of salt around your house.  

  

Everyone knows the noises around their house; it only takes a few days to become accustom to what is “normal”.  Someone coming home from work will use a key to open the door and open the door quickly; there will be shuffling and the laying down of items on a counter or table, with the usual follow up of “I’m Home!” or “Anybody here?” or even “Hello?”.  People do not come home quietly.

There is not a slow door creaking open followed by silence then measured tiptoed footsteps across the floor with pauses every third step.  If there is, then you, my friend, live with some creepy people.

Of course if it is just someone coming home, in such a sinister fashion, I would scare the total crap out of them with my bob and weave maneuver and my handy dandy weapon of choice.  But then they would deserve it for coming in so creepily. 

So I ask…would you say “Hello?” if you heard a noise in your house?

M.L.

Guidelines

Page 4

The Nokes Household Handbook

As a resident of the Nokes Household you will find that we may have unexpected and sometimes unwanted guests in our abode.  These wayward travelers who find their way into the premises will be addressed according to the Guidelines set forth below.  Please present a list of these Guidelines to each guest either written and/or verbally upon their arrival, or detection. 

As a private residence we have the sole right to evict and/or terminate any guest’s stay or life at our own discretion.  We fully understand that as a guest you may not have been aware of your surroundings until you found yourself inside the premises and that will be taken under consideration at the time of your arrival or detection. 

The terms of these conditions are as follows:

I)                   Crickets/ Order: Orthoptera

As a beloved member of the night time community, and a good luck charm for most Asian societies, your stay at the Nokes Household is a welcomed one under the following conditions:

1)      That you remain quiet.   If you are found to be noisy between the hours of 10:00 p.m. through 7:00 a.m. you will be evicted. 

2)      If during your eviction you become spastic and/or uncooperative you will be terminated.

II)                Rollie Pollies, a.k.a Pill Bug / Order: Isopoda

As a member of the crustacean family, and a presumed descendent from the Ovdovican and/or Silurain period, your stay is not necessarily unwelcome, but if detected your eviction and/or incarceration may be determined upon the following conditions:

1)      If you are detected within a ‘one room’ distance from an exit you will be evicted.

2)      If you are detected outside a ‘one room’ distance from an exit you risk the following:

a)      Incarceration, until such time you are turned over to the State, in care of the Department of Waste Management.  The Department has the sole decision on your parole or termination.

b)      Eviction by the Department of Waste Management, Water and Sewage Division.  This may or may not lead to your termination; it is unknown at this time the outcome of said eviction.

III)             Ants/ Order: Hymenoptera

As a respected member of the insect society and your ability to work as a unit and build a working community your stay is not necessarily unwelcome under the following conditions:

1)      You come alone.  If you bring any other members of your society with you, you will all be terminated.

IV)             Moths / Order: Lepidoptera  (and any relatives such as Butterflies)

You are beautiful and welcome, but your stay may not be a wise one as you open yourselves up to the following:

1)      Eviction, due to annoying any household member;

2)      Eviction due to landing on and/or crawling into any body part of said household members;

3)      Detection by any quadrupedal member of the household may lead to your termination.

V)                Fly / Order: Diptera

You are unwelcome.  Your stay is not permitted under any circumstances.  If you choose to disobey these Guidelines you risk termination as follows:

1)      Termination by any means necessary, i.e. newspaper, shoe, book, swatter, etc.

2)      Termination by aforementioned quadrupedal members of the household.

VI)             Gnat / Order: Diptera, Suborder: Nematocera

You are unwelcome.  Your stay is not permitted under any circumstances.  If you choose to disobey these Guidelines you will be terminated.

VII)          Spider / Order: Araneae

As a member of the insect society that preys on other insects, you are welcome under the following conditions:

1)      You are not poisonous; if you are found to be poisonous you will be terminated and traps will be set out to thwart any future family members from trying to come into the premises.

2)      You are the size of a nickel and/or smaller. 

a)      If you meet the above requirement in condition 2, you must meet condition 1 as well, and not be spastic and/or sneaky.  If you are found not to meet either of these conditions you will be terminated. 

b)      You are not allowed to traverse the premises via the ceiling.  If you are found to not meet condition 1, 2 or subsection b you will be terminated.

3)      You are attractive.  If you are found to be creepy in any way you will be terminated.

VIII)       Popping Beetles / Order: Unknown

You are unwelcome due to your strangeness and annoying popping sound.  You will be terminated.

IX)             Granddaddy Long-Legs a.k.a Harvester / Family: Pholcidae, Suborder: Araneomorphae

Since several members of this household have once occupied a farm and/or rural premises, you are respected and welcomed.  Unfortunately due to your delicate nature you will be quietly and carefully evicted from the premises.     

Guests that warrant instant termination:

There is no eviction, Guidelines will not be discussed or disclosed, and any household member may and will terminate you on site. 

Fleas / Order: Siphonaptera

Roaches / Order: Dictyoptera

Bed bugs a.k.a Cimicidae / Order: Hemiptera

Slugs a.k.a Gastropod Mollusc / Order: Pulmonata and all sub orders

The appearance and/or detection of any of the aforementioned will result in an extensive and massive termination of all guests, including welcome guests, of more than four legs.

If you are a welcomed guest and see one of these intruders please alert your nearest spider and/or household member to save you from your own termination.

Said household members hold the specific right to determine a guest’s stay and may evict and/or terminate without questions asked.  If you feel you have been wrongly adjudged, please see your local insect community leader and file a formal complaint.  Each complaint will be considered and dealt with accordingly.  Of course if you are terminated your next of kin may also file a formal complaint. 

If you understand these conditions set forth by this set of Guidelines please sign, nibble and/or somehow leave your mark below and enjoy your stay at the Nokes Household. 

M.L.

Invisible

A short story by M.L. Nokes

It was a dark and stormy night….

            No, not really, but isn’t that how tales are started?  It actually was a normal, average day in the middle of August, I believe, when she first realized that she could be invisible.  But let me start a little further back, my name is Tucker and I would like to tell you a story of my friend Leann. 

            I met her years ago; she was tall with broad shoulders that she got from her father, long limbs and a longer gait, bright grey eyes and a loud boisterous laugh, which she also got from her father.   Most everyone that met her became her instant friend, although I would find out over the years that her friends were in layers, like the many rings of a tree’s life.  There were those that circled by once a year for the holidays with cards or an occasional chance meeting, a few rings closer in were the ones she perhaps knew many years prior but as the years ticked by their relationship grew as thin as their memories, just outside the inner circle were those of us who hovered waiting for that final step, but the truly lucky ones, less than a handful, were within the inner circle, I was not one of them. 

            Life was not easy for Leann, it wasn’t terrible either.  In the grand scheme of life she had, on average, more of the bigger downs, but she was blessed by many ups as well, just not so many of the bigger ups.  Looking back I think perhaps they could not counteract the size of the downs, but she balanced it, or so it seemed. 

            As the years went by and she and I became closer friends, even though she kept her distance, she would confide in me things that I would only assume should be meant for the most inner of circle friends, and I felt honored that she thought so much of me, or maybe I should have been sadden because she thought so little. 

            She told me of the time that she discovered that she could be invisible.  I laughed, I thought that she was being funny, we had only just been talking about if we had super powers what would we want to be, and then she tossed out her power of invisibility.  She just laid it right out there on the table, as though it was something as jovial as “I am going to the dentist on Thursday.”  And that is when she told me of the times leading up to that average, normal day in the middle of August, and I will tell you the same now.

            She said she noticed it as the weeks and months past, probably like a year or more.  She would go to parties with a friend or two and other than talking with her friend; she would be ignored by all the other patrons.  At first she thought that this was because of her actions, perhaps she was being shy or anxious because of the strange and unfamiliar surroundings.  She had always heard that “you get back what you put out”, so perhaps she was putting out a “don’t bother me vibe, I bite.”  So she tried to be more personable.  Laughing, with her boisterous laugh, at others jokes, sitting closer, including herself in conversations, but it didn’t work.  She was still ignored. 

            As the days went by she started to notice that even while doing mundane things like standing in line at the post office she would be over looked when the clerk would call out for the next customer.  Stepping forward she would be ran into by the person behind her as he or she would step up to the counter never noticing that she was there.  There would be the normal “Excuse me, pardon me, I didn’t see you there.” comments, which she passed off as busy people in a busy world. 

            She would be grocery shopping, following her list, perusing the aisles for the items that she needed, when she would come up on a group of people talking.  Politely she would stand there patiently waiting for them to notice her and excuse themselves out of the way, but they never would.  Their children on the other hand always noticed her.  She would inevitably be forced to turn around and take another direction.  I would come to find out that all children noticed her, as well as animals.  You know they say that children and animals have a sixth sense that we adults loose as we grow older, perhaps they could still see her.  I don’t know that’s something that crossed my mind just now.  

            One could say that she was just not forceful, perhaps she was meek.  But even without opening her mouth she was imposing.  Standing in a crowd, one would think she would be noticed with her almost six foot frame.  Even the meekest person, if tall enough or broad enough would be noticed, or so one would think.

            Her closest inner circle friend advised her that her being unnoticed, at least at the grocery store, was probably due to her tearing through the store like the Wicked Witch of the West, with theme song included.  So, Leann decided to make eye contact, smile, and nod, even say “Hello” as she passed other customers.  Nothing, not even a smile. 

            “Am I that unattractive that people are repulsed by me?” she actually thought at some point.  I told her that she was not unattractive, quite the contrary and that perhaps people were intimidated by her!  She laughed.  She claimed that I, like her friends and family, were looking at her through “love goggles” and we didn’t see the true her.  She began to think that her life had jaded her, faded her.  I tried my best to assure her that she was wrong.  But that thought stuck with her and I think that is what stirred this power to full fruition.  She began to think she was unworthy, her days became more work and home and less life and living. 

            On that fateful, average, normal, middle of August day she went to the same grocery store she had been to for years upon years.  She followed the same path, the same list and pulled down the same items she always had.  While in the cereal aisle something got into her eye, a lash or dust, but she claimed it felt like a branch, so she rubbed and rubbed until tears began to well but the log would not wash out.  She needed a mirror. 

            Quickly she made her way down the cereal aisle only to be stopped in her tracks by the Mother Clutch, the group of two or three women huddled together with their carts, in the middle of the aisle laughing and swapping stories of children or recipes or husband woes.  None of the women noticed her, but every child, from infant to around five all looked at her and smiled.  She smiled down at the babies and winked at the children and waited patiently for one of the women to glance her direction.  Nothing. 

            She turned and went around the opposite way and hurried down the always empty baking aisle, across the promenade, and into the infant section headed for the sunglasses aisles.  As she turned the end cap of the diaper aisle she almost ran into a young mother with her small child who was close to a year old.  She stopped abruptly, mumbled an apology and proceeded to go around her.  The young mother, engrossed in styles and sizes of diapers, never looked up or even glanced.  Her child however did, the small blonde girl, petite and porcelain skinned with giant green eyes; grinned and reached out with her chubby Cheerio crusted fingers and pointed at Leann as she passed.  The young mother, seeing her daughter’s movement looked over and followed her point, for a split second, as Leann glanced over her shoulder back at the two of them, their eyes met, but it was like the young woman was looking past her, or through her.  Leann smiled and nodded; the young mother cooed something to her daughter and turned back to the mountain of diapers never acknowledging that anything transpired.

            Leann made it to the wall of sunglasses looking frantically for one of those small, almost useless, warped mirrors that the stores have there for you to try to see what you would look like with their sunglasses on, only to not really be able to see anything but about three inches of your face.  Tears had started to pour from the tree sticking in to her eye and she was desperate to see what it was and remove the foul evil entity. 

            She found one near the end.  Pushing her almost full shopping cart along with her, she reached up, taking her hands off the handle to adjust the tiny sunglass mirror, thinking it was too high or too low, and she caught a glimpse of her purse in the basket with her scribbled grocery list laying catawampus on the top of her purse.  She turned the mirror up and down, left and right, and that was when she realized, although she could see the cart, her purse, and her groceries, even her grocery list and all that surrounded her in the store, she wasn’t in the mirror. 

M.L.

Blocked

Writer’s Block:   When an author loses the ability to produce new work. 

I haven’t written in 3 weeks, this is going on the fourth, or maybe the fifth, I have lost track of time in general.  This is Monday right?

Do I have writer’s block?  I don’t know, I could, but I don’t think so as I am still thinking of things, still jotting down notes of scenarios and character ideas.  Is that writer’s block?

If not, then what is wrong with me? 

Could it be that life is just too much right now?  Sounds like a lame excuse, everyone has heavy things going on in their lives, does this happen to other writers?    

I am of the idea that I don’t have actual writer’s block, because I don’t think it’s a lack of ability to write, like I said, technically I am still writing.  I think it is my lack of focus, (on everything, including dishes – Sunday I started them, walked into another room to get something, then completely forgot that I was doing the dishes in the first place) (P.S. I was not being forced at gun point to do the dishes, I simply wanted to make spinach dip and I needed a bowl.)

I can focus on it for short bursts, a few minutes of several jotted notes on scrap paper versus typing furiously on a lap top for hours and hours at a time.  Does that constitute a block? 

When I come home at night, all I want to do is veg out in front of the television and not think about anything, not about the heavy things, the stressful things, the worrisome things.  I want to be numbed by entertainment.  Is that still blockage?

Is this a normal thing for writers?  When I started this whole writing thing I went at it at break neck speed, writing every night and on weekends.  Pumping out two books, almost finishing a third and starting two more, all in just a few months time.  Did I burn the candle too much and now I am left with only a snub of melted wax and a stubby ashy wick?   Perhaps I need to invest in a lot more paraffin and a much longer wick.  Maybe a nice lavender scent would be calming. 

Or perhaps this is not any type of block at all.  Perhaps I am just too much in my own head.  I have been known to dwell there sometimes, and I have gotten lost before.  It can be a very Wonderland of activity in there at times.  Sometimes I am less Alice and more the Hatter. 

Or am I just a normal person?  Wouldn’t that be a twist in the plot that is my life? 

M.L.