Irony – Page 13 – The Elephant's Trunk

Kathmandu Déjà Vu

July 23, 2024July 23, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

The other day I got some news that threw me for a loop;
I felt like a headless chicken running ‘round the chicken coop.

You see, I met this awesome guy who made me lose my mind.
A handsome man so witty and sexy can be awful hard to find.

We both had friends from childhood days who knew us very well.
They figured if we two hooked up we’d get along rather swell.

My friend called me and his called him and we agreed on a date
To meet at Charlie’s Ribs and Ale next Friday night at eight.

Well, I was pretty keen on the idea of meeting someone new;
The last few dates I had were dull as hell and that would never do

See, I’m the kind of girl who likes to go out and have some fun.
An hour or two with some boring dude would have me on the run.

I’m really not high maintenance, I just need some stimulation;
The kind that gets my juices flowing and speeds up my circulation.

I know you know what I’m referring to; I can see it in your eyes.
I want a man who knows what’s what, the hows, the whens and whys.

So, there we were at Charlie’s, just waiting for our dates
When in walked these two cool guys and I could barely wait.

They came straight to our table and I knew right off the bat
This blue-eyed, bearded devil was a curious kind of cat.

He looked at me and I at him and our eyebrows began to rise
When we thought perhaps we knew each other almost all our lives.

We’d no idea that this blind date would not be so blind at all
For although we thought we knew each other we couldn’t quite recall.

In fact, we never took the time to even learn each other’s names.
Our paths crossed countless times before as kids playing kiddie games.

Yes, we were nameless friends in school in days from way back when.
We went to games and dances, seeing each other now and then.

We attended the same schools where we learned a thing or two
But we never said “Hey, what’s your name? I think I may know you!”

Now here we were having fun, hitting it off like two peas in a pod;
But the strange feeling that we knew each other was really very odd.

The night flew by, we ate and drank; this guy could talk the talk
And deep inside my womanly mind I knew he could walk the walk.

So, I took a wild chance and asked him to come back to my place;
He looked at me, eyes twinkling and a roguish grin upon his face.

We tried to act all nonchalant, no need to rush the night.
He said he was a poet; I said “No kidding? I like to write!”

We sat real close on my old couch and he said “Tell me, what’s your sign?”
I turned to him, said “Pisces” and he said “Yeah? That’s the same as mine!”

He wove his fingers through my hair and slowly pulled back my head.
I opened my mouth and licked my lips saying “Take me to my bed.”

We started slow, real nice and easy, just feeling each other out
But it didn’t take long before both of us were doing the ‘Twist and Shout’.

This went on the whole night long; he was quite the voracious lad.
I was his match and he was mine and none of it was bad.

We spent the next few days together; we got along really great.
He told me his name was Kevin and I told him my name was Kate.

He said he lived in Baltimore now but was born in Kathmandu.
His eyes nearly popped out his head when I said “What!? Me too!”

Things were really getting eerie now; we both knew this was bizarre
Especially when we simultaneously said “On March 10th in Paropakar!”

Now hold on, wait just a damn minute; how could this possibly be?
We were born in the same hospital on the same day in 1993!

Our piercing eyes stared at each other as we silently sipped our tea.
Who was going to ask the next question? Was it me or possibly he?

I grabbed the bull by the horns and asked him “What’s your mom’s name?”
He lowered his cup rather slowly and replied “Why, it’s Germaine.”

I heaved an enormous sigh of relief which proved to be premature
Cos he was adopted, his birth mom was Faye, of that he was quite sure.

I bolted straight upright and nearly fainted as I screamed “No way!“
For you see, I was adopted, too, and my birth mom’s name was Faye!

Now this is no laughing matter, for I’d just had me a night like no other
With a guy who was to my dismay my long-lost fraternal twin brother!

NAR © 2024
Orig. written 2021

This is “Ain’t That A Kick In The Head” by Dean Martin

Short Story

The Harmonica

July 20, 2024July 19, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Written for The Unicorn Challenge where we are
encouraged to be creative in 250 words or less
using the photo below as inspiration. This is my story.

He was neither old nor young and if he had memories … good, bad, happy or sad … they were long forgotten, washed away like tears in rain.

His hand reached for his breast pocket, fingers touching the familiar object resting inside. A harmonica. He had no idea where it came from nor did he know why it was in his pocket yet somehow with an intrinsic knowledge he knew it was his.

Removing the instrument from his pocket, he stared at it as he reverently caressed the wood, reading the faded inscription. Raising it to his mouth, he began to play an old tune he forgot he even knew.

People passing by dropped coins into the white cloth shopping bag at his feet. He might not remember much but he’d never forget the delicious aroma of the crusty baguette in his bag.

A little boy of perhaps eight years of age shyly approached, dropped a coin in the man’s bag and ran back to his father waiting nearby. There was something about the older man that made the boy’s father pause for just a moment.

This ritual continued for several days and the two men pensively acknowledged each other with a nod.

One day before the boy ran back to his father, the man slipped the harmonica into his hand. When the boy’s father read the inscription, he knew. He looked up but the older man was gone.

He closed his eyes as a teardrop landed on the harmonica.

NAR©250
250 Words

The Unicorn Challenge-19/07/24

This is “Georgia On My Mind” by Charlie McCoy

Flash

Hippocrisy

July 5, 2024July 4, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Written for Friday Fictioneers where Rochelle
encourages us to write creatively in 100 words or less
using the photo below for inspiration. And would you look
at that! Today’s photo is one of mine! Woot woot!! Here’s my story.

“OMG, Vern! People are starting to arrive. This is the most thrilling day of my life! Imagine me …. Hazel Heftybottoms …. a published author! I wonder how many of my friends will be here.

Oh no! Look who’s prancing down the street like a prima donna. It’s that cow Eloise and she’s wearing the same outfit as me! That pachyderm has really packed on the pounds! And provocative pink lipstick on her proboscis? What a slut!

I can’t believe she actually published her poetry book. What a pile of poppycock!

Yoo-hoo! Eloise D-A-R-L-I-N-G!! You look absolutely M-A-R-V-E-L-O-U-S!!

Mwah! Kissy, kissy!”

NAR©2024
100 Words

5 July 2024

This is “One Hippopotami” by Allan Sherman

Short Story

Eunice Blackthorne

June 27, 2024November 29, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Written for Six Sentence Story where we are
challenged to incorporate the word “frequency”
into a story of exactly six sentences. Here’s my six.

Immediately upon arriving at their destination, Camilla bolted from the car, slammed the door and stormed off, leaving a bewildered Nigel alone to weigh his options: go after her, call her after she’s had a chance to cool down or declare this date a complete failure and forget about Camilla all together, something he was not keen on as he was not the quitting type …. plus, he couldn’t get Camilla’s amazing breasts out of his head; after some thought, Nigel decided to go after her but first he needed to find a parking spot and then purchase two cappuccinos, one for him and one for her, in lieu of an awkward verbal apology.

Camilla was at her desk, obviously engrossed in a conversation of great importance as she was speaking rapidly in an animated manner to a tall, thin woman with blonde hair when she noticed Nigel coming her way and quicky ushered the woman into a back room, closing the door behind them; however, Nigel was determined to wait it out when just then an unidentified man approached and informed him that “Ms. Saunders had left the building and gave no indication when or if she would be returning that day”; this new intel pissed Nigel off royally since he was not prepared to have Camilla pull a disappearing act on him .… a position he found alien, embarrassing and profoundly uncomfortable.

In a huff, Nigel stormed out of the library and quickly walked to his car, arriving just in time to see Camilla and the blonde woman sliding into a white convertible which, of course, he followed, managing to stay far enough away without losing sight of the car which travelled a route which was extremely familiar to Nigel; the more they drove the more convinced Nigel became that he knew were the white car was headed but when the convertible abruptly turned off the road into a parking garage, Nigel was none-the-less astounded when he realized that Camilla’s companion lived in the same apartment building as he did …. or perhaps it was Camilla who lived there …. and just as the convertible entered the garage, Camilla glanced over her shoulder and, spotting Nigel’s car, was filled with consternation.

Nigel kicked himself for not having learned more about Ms. Camilla Saunders while on their coffee dates for if he had he would have known this mystery woman was Camilla’s oldest and dearest friend from college, Eunice Blackthorne, who was also Camilla’s roommate right here in his apartment building; the agenda now was for Nigel to increase the frequency of his visits to his buddy, Vince, the doorman …. shoot the breeze …. buy him a coffee …. give him a few hot tips on the ponies and get him to spill the beans about Camilla, her blonde friend and which apartment was theirs.

Meanwhile, Camilla was pacing the floor of the apartment she shared with Eunice; men like Nigel enervated her, demoralized, frightened and reminded her entirely too much of her overbearing, demanding, unprincipled father, brothers, classmates, boyfriends, bosses …. in fact, every man she had ever known in her life …. and knowing Camilla had had it with men was exactly what Eunice wanted to hear.

Little did any of them know they were headed for rocky times.

Sunday’s Six Sentence Story Word Prompt!

This is “Before He Cheats” by Carrie Underwood

Short Story

The Root Of The Problem

June 11, 2024June 9, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Written for Stream of Consciousness Saturday where we are asked
to start our piece with a question. Bonus points have been hinted at
if we also end our piece with a question. Here is my questionable
stream based on a conversation I had with my husband.

“What would you say if I decided to let my hair go natural? You know, go grey?”

“I’d have to ask why you would want to do that. You always take great pride in looking younger than you are. Wouldn’t grey hair make you look older?”

“Well, I’m not sure we can toss a blanket over all women with grey hair and say they look older. There are other factors that come into play. I’ve always had great skin. Won’t I still have great skin if I go grey? How can I just arbitrarily assume I will look older?”

“Ok, I’ll give you that much. You can’t assume you will definitely look older. You’ve told me how much you like the color of your hair. I’m surprised you’re suddenly considering changing it. Where is this coming from?”

“Honestly, I’ve been thinking about it for a while. It would be so much easier not having to color my hair and get highlights every couple of months. Besides, when we were at your sister’s house the other day, I was the only woman who still colors her hair.”

“And you were the best looking one at the table!”

“You have to say that; I’m your wife! Your sister’s grey hair looks gorgeous. I know women who’d kill to have her color.”

“But there’s no guarantee you’ll end up with the same color, is there?”

“Well, no …. I suppose not. But my colorist is so talented, I just know she’d do a great job transitioning my hair.”

“Now I’m confused. If you want to stop coloring your hair, what does your colorist have to do with any of this?”

“My colorist will add some grey to my hair …. like getting highlights only they’d be grey instead of blonde. She’d gradually add more until my hair is completely grey, then I can naturally let my grey roots grow out.”

“Seem’s like an awful lot of work to me. Why not just stop coloring your hair and let nature take it’s course?”

“That’s a terrible idea! It’ll take forever and look awful growing out!”

“Well, if you’re convinced this is what you want, I’m not going to stop you.”

“I’m not at all convinced this is what I want; that’s why I asked you in the first place.”

“Ok, then my answer to your question is ‘Don’t go gray. I love your hair color the way it is.”

“Well, I’ll have to give that more thought. What do you think about me cutting my hair?”

“Seriously?”

NAR©2024
#SoCS

The Friday Reminder and Prompt for #SoCS June 8, 2024

This is “The Girl I Love She Got Long Black Wavy Hair” by Led Zeppelin

Flash

Uncle Bobby And The Spiders From Mars

May 31, 2024May 30, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Written for Friday Fictioneers where we are
encouraged to write something creative in
100 words or less using the photo below as
inspiration. This is my 100-word story.

Uncle Bobby had this irrational fear of spiders. Well, it was irrational to his family; for him it was very real.

So when the new amusement park ride Spiders From Mars opened, Uncle Bobby wouldn’t go near it.

Everyone tried convincing him the ride wasn’t jinxed or dangerous but he wasn’t buying it. All their urging and encouragement fell on deaf ears. Uncle Bobby watched from the shadows as his nieces and nephews went for a spin.

That night the ride malfunctioned; several family members were killed, unceremoniously hurled out of the park.

Guess Uncle Bobby’s fear wasn’t so irrational. 🕷️

NAR©2024
100 Words

31 May 2024

This is “Ziggy Stardust” by David Bowie

Music Blog

John and Cynthia and Yoko and May: Strained Affairs

May 26, 2024May 26, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Written for Jim’s Song Lyric Sunday where the theme
this week is all about songs that incorporate whistling

“I didn’t mean to hurt you; I’m just a jealous guy.”

For all his jokes, frenetic antics and mugging for the camera, John Lennon was a quiet and insecure man, an ardent peace-lover whose young life was filled with much sadness, great depth and many demons. He was brilliant, an extraordinary talent and, all too often, he demonstrated a sharp-tongued mean spirit and jealous streak.

According to George Harrison, his friend John could be a “saint or a total bastard”.

With a sea-faring, mostly AWOL father and a free-spirited mother whose accidental death traumatized him for years, John was raised by his Aunt Mimi and Uncle George. His mother’s memory would later serve as a major creative inspiration.

John Lennon met Cynthia Powell in 1957, when they were students at the Liverpool College of Art. Although Powell was intimidated by Lennon’s attitude and appearance, she heard that he was obsessed with the French actress Brigitte Bardot, so she dyed her hair blonde. Lennon asked her out, but when she said that she was engaged, he shouted, “I didn’t ask you to fuckin’ marry me, did I?” She often accompanied him to Quarrymen gigs and travelled to Hamburg with Paul McCartney’s girlfriend to visit him. Recalling his reaction when he learned that Cynthia was pregnant, Lennon said, “There’s only one thing for it Cyn. We’ll have to get married.” And they did; their son Julian was born a few months later.

Cynthia attributed the start of the marriage breakdown to John’s use of LSD and she felt that he slowly lost interest in her. When the group travelled by train to Wales in 1967, a policeman did not recognize Cynthia and stopped her from boarding. I guess no one .… including John …. bothered to ID her! She later recalled how the incident seemed to symbolize the end of their marriage. After spending a holiday in Greece, Cynthia arrived home to find John sitting on the floor with Yoko Ono in bathrobes; she left the house to stay with friends, feeling shocked and humiliated. A few weeks later, she received notice that Lennon was seeking a divorce on the grounds of adultery while she was away in Greece and he wanted custody of Julian. After negotiations, Lennon capitulated and agreed to let Cynthia divorce him.

John and Yoko were married and they became even more inseparable; to the surprise and consternation of everyone within the Beatles’ organization, Yoko accompanied John to the recording studio …. an undeniable first. She was a quiet but constant presence and John only had eyes for her.

After a couple of years, May Pang entered their lives as their personal assistant. About three years later, Ono confided in Pang that her marriage to Lennon had become strained and she suggested Pang reach out to John as a “sexual distraction” for him. Pang agreed; she and John soon left for Los Angeles, beginning an 18-month period John later called his “lost weekend”. ” Pang encouraged Lennon to develop regular contact with Julian, whom he had not seen for two years, as well as his former bandmates and friends.

Much to Yoko Ono’s chagrin, the “diversion” turned into a relationship. John and May Pang considered buying a house together and he refused to accept Yoko’s telephone calls. He finally agreed to meet Yoko, who claimed she had found a cure for smoking. After the meeting with Yoko, John failed to return home or call Pang. When Pang telephoned the next day, Ono told her that Lennon was unavailable because he was exhausted after a hypnotherapy session. Two days later, Lennon told Pang that his separation from Ono was now over, causing Pang to speculate that Lennon had been brainwashed (!) as a result of his hypnotherapy.

What a convoluted mess among such allegedly forward-thinking people! John and Yoko remained married until his death in 1980; they are the parents of musician Sean Lennon. Yoko Ono never remarried.

“I didn’t want to hurt you, I’m just a jealous guy.”

Those haunting lyrics from John Lennon’s timeless song, “Jealous Guy”, uncover the darker side of his iconic relationship with Yoko Ono. They are words that have rung true to anybody with insecurities and obsessions …. likely why it’s one of Lennon’s most enduring tracks. It’s also my favorite Lennon solo piece.

John Lennon began writing the song in 1968 as “Child of Nature” while with the Beatles during their spiritual retreat in India. The demo of “Child of Nature” featured Lennon’s double-tracked vocal and an acoustic guitar. Early the following year, he revisited the song as “On the Road to Rishikesh” during the Get Back sessions. Eventually, the lyrics were scrapped and replaced by the now well-known “Jealous Guy” lyrics for Imagine.

In “Jealous Guy”, John sings of his envious streak that would often result in tumult between him and Yoko; he admitted that jealousy would regularly dictate how irrational he’d behave either around her or without her. The song was never released as a single during John’s lifetime. It became an international hit in a version by Roxy Music in early 1981, the year after John’s death.

“Jealous Guy” is one of the most commonly recorded Lennon songs, with at least 92 cover versions. In November 1988, the single peaked in the United States at #22 on the Hot Adult Christian chart and reached #80 on the Billboard Hot 100 in conjunction with the release of the documentary film “Imagine: John Lennon”.

This is “Jealous Guy” by John Lennon

Lyrics

… I was dreaming of the past
And my heart was beating fast
I began to lose control
I began to lose control

… I didn’t mean to hurt you
I’m sorry that I made you cry
Oh no, I didn’t want to hurt you
I’m just a jealous guy

… I was feeling insecure

… You might not love me anymore

… I was shivering inside
I was shivering inside

… I didn’t mean to hurt you
I’m sorry that I made you cry
Oh no, I didn’t want to hurt you
I’m just a jealous guy

… I was trying to catch your eyes
Thought that you was trying to hide

… I was swallowing my pain
I was swallowing my pain

… I didn’t mean to hurt you
I’m sorry that I made you cry
Oh no, I didn’t want to hurt you
I’m just a jealous guy
I’m just a jealous guy
I’m just a jealous guy

Source: Musixmatch
Songwriter: John Winston Lennon
Jealous Guy lyrics © Lenono Music

Bonus track. This is “Child of Nature” (Esher Demo) by The Beatles. (Esher is the town in England where George Harrison’s home Kinfauns was located and where the demos were recorded.)

Released November 22, 1968
Composer/Lyricist: John Lennon
Producer(s): George Harrison, John Lennon, Paul McCartney, Ringo Starr
Studio Personnel: Giles Martin, Mixer

Whistler’s Mother

Very big thanks to Jim Adams for hosting another great weekly Song Lyric Sunday.

Thanks for stopping by. See you on the flip side. 😎

Short Story

The Proofreader

May 25, 2024May 25, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Written for The Unicorn Challenge where we are
encouraged to get creative in 250 words or less
using the photo below as inspiration. This is my story

Dear God in heaven! How the hell I’m supposed to get through this book is beyond me!

I’ve been at it now for hours and I’m bored stiff. I don’t know who this guy thinks he is but I’ll tell you what he’s not …. a good writer! I’ve read menus more interesting than this rot!

Jeez Louise! I’ve come across some real clunkers in my day but this one is totally b-o-r-i-n-g. Haul out the woodchipper!

The owner of the small publishing business behind me, Miss Willow Everwood, is my boss; I work there as a proofreader and I really like my job but reading this book is torture. Miss Everwood spotted me dozing off on the chair and demanded I sit on the hard pavement to keep from getting too comfortable and falling asleep. She even said she didn’t want me rooting around inside until I was done with my job.

Well, now my limbs are as stiff as an old hickory stick, my noggin feels like it’s full of sawdust and my butt’s as hard as a slab of redwood. I swear if I have to keep reading this, I’m going to nod off right here in the middle of the sidewalk and start sawing wood.

If I had a rope I’d hang myself from the nearest tree! But I’m not about to get all sappy.

Well, good luck to this Tolkien guy if he thinks he’s going to make it with these creepy Ent people!

NAR©2024
250 Words

The Unicorn Challenge-24/05/24

This is Rob Inglis with “Ents and Entwives”

Flash

Carla’s Big Night

May 24, 2024May 24, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Written for Friday Fictioneers where we’re given a photo
and asked to let it inspire us to create something magical
in 100 words or less. This is my 100-word inspired creation.

“Ungrateful … bastard … son-of-a-bitch … always telling me what to do … when to do it … waiting on him like a motherless child … picking up after him … cooking three meals a day … seven days a week … cleaning … cleaning … cleaning … and what’s my reward … an unwelcome fuck at 3 AM … pig … I … have … had … enough!”

Carla’s thoughts raced through her head like a locomotive engulfed in flames.

“You gonna cook that pizza or beat it to death?’ he snarled.

He died instantly. Death by rolling pin.

NAR©2024
100 Words

24 May 2024

This is a live acoustic cover of The Allman Brothers’ “Whipping Post” performed by Matie Cummings and Jeremy Edge

Another muse: my usually stoic mother
making an attempt at humor. Circa 1965.

Short Story

Perfect Day For Planting

May 23, 2024May 22, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Written for Six Sentence Story where we are asked
to be creative in no more than six sentences
using the word “light”. This is my story.

Colette, typically looking away the second I snap a photo! Eyeroll!

We got a late start with spring cleaning in our yard, especially along the side of the house where our attached garage is located; even though the gardeners had cleared a lot of old shrubbery away for some new plants and bushes, it was just not meant to be after we were derailed by the sudden death of my husband’s twin brother on April 2 and me being sidelined since the first week of May by a major sinus infection (the heavy-duty antibiotics have left me “out of commission” and able to eat only extremely light meals or, at times, nothing at all).

In mid-May, we put in a couple of small white azaleas, relocated a baby rhododendron which wasn’t doing well in the far back corner of the yard and planted a bit of Blue Bugle and Lilies of the Valley for light ground cover (along the side of the house, not visible in this pic), but that’s as far as our broken spirits and depleted bodies would allow us go.

When Colette is here with us (Tuesdays, Thursdays and the occasional Saturday or Sunday) and the weather is good, she wants to be outside; hell, even if the weather isn’t good, she wants to be outside – a phenomenon about most children that escapes me as they (well, she definitely) seem to be impervious to heat or cold or rain or snow or wind – all the elements, times when Bill and I would prefer being inside nestled in our recliners with a lightweight blanket.

Speaking of nestled, we discovered that sparrows had made their nest in an old watering can in the corner of Colette’s playhouse; the mama and papa birds are very resourceful, building the new home in a location almost invisible to us, one which I discovered quite by accident when I heard a faint chirping noise coming from the playhouse and …. with my trusty flashlight in hand …. I went to take a peek but was immediately dive-bombed by a wildly protective kamikaze sparrow which, when it sped just inches by my head, had me believing it was a small bat …. terrifying!

Tuesday the temps soared to a scorching 86ºF – a leap from the mild low-70s of just the day before – so it was, according to Colette, the “perfect day for planting!” …. a concept I did not agree with thinking it was too hot and we would be in direct blazing sunlight for the entire time …. but I did not object (mainly because the child could not be dissuaded and it was far less taxing than yet another round of the Disney edition of Monopoly); armed with our faithful spades, Bill with his macho shovel and pitchfork, we planted another azalea along the side of the house, then Colette and I pulled all the weeds and detritus from the two ancient cement planters on either side of the bench you see in the above photo, replacing all of what was growing in them as haphazardly as Albert Einstein’s hair with two bright pink kalanchoe plants, then stood back to proudly bask in the glory of our gardening prowess.

Of course, manual labor such as that demands a reward and certainly not a monetary one which would be looked upon with disdain and confusion by a 4-year-old whose idea of recompense consists solely of instant gratification in the form of ice cream – the I-don’t-give-a-hoot-how-messy-I-get kind – and after getting Colette situated in her pink fairy chair, pinning up her waist-length hair and snapping on the 15-year-old bib we originally used for our first grandchild, Mckenna, I disappeared into the kitchen and returned with fudge-covered vanilla ice cream pops for Colette and Bill and a lemon ice for me; judging by the look on her face and the twinkling, totally satisfied light in her eyes (photo below), Colette was over the moon with her sweet, sloppy treat and …. you know …. she was right after all about it being the “perfect day for planting!”

It’s Thursday’s Six Sentence Story Link Up!

This is “Let It Grow” by Eric Clapton

Longer Stories

Boys Will Be Boys

May 20, 2024May 20, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Written for Stream of Consciousness – “What’s that smell?”,
Weekly Prompts Wednesday Challenge – “humility” and
Weekly Prompts Weekend Challenge – “departure”.

Growing up, it was just me and my sister – two girls doing girl things. And while we weren’t always best of friends, it was just the two of us. It wasn’t my fault that my mother went into labor smack in the middle of my sister’s 4^th birthday party; after making a hasty departure for the hospital, my mother arrived just in time for me to be born …. on my sister’s birthday …. and she’s never really forgiven me. I mean, she says she has but deep down there’s resentment. But I digress.

Bitterness for being born on her birthday aside, we managed to get along ok. And we both had a bunch of little girlfriends who’d come over the house to play and swim in our pool. There’s a definite advantage to having the only pool on the block – even if it was inflatable and barely three feet deep. We always had lots of friends over but there were never any boys around and, if an interloper did show up, he was quickly shown the way out before he had a chance to dip his you-know-what in our pool!

For the first six years of my life, I had very little contact with boys .… except for my cousins and they didn’t count. In elementary school boys were just tolerated; they were looked upon as excess baggage. Of course, that all changed when I hit my teen years and realized boys had potential. I had a couple of crushes early on but nothing earth-shattering. Then, at the ripe old age of 17, I went on a blind date with a guy named Bill and together we learned all about boys and girls, how they were so wondrously different and incredibly well-made for each other. I was stunned by how much I didn’t know about boys.

So, wouldn’t you just know it! God, in his infinite humorous nature, decided to bless me with only boy babies. All those years of playing with my baby girl dolls, changing their diapers fashioned from paper napkins, powdering their petite girlie bottoms, all that didn’t come close to what these boys were packing! It didn’t matter how well I knew Bill’s anatomy; he didn’t wear a diaper and I had never changed one …. at least not a boy’s. Talk about a rude awakening!

Let me just explain something very quickly here. When infant girls are getting their diapers changed, sometimes they pee but it’s a dainty little trickle that gently disappears into the absorbent pad under them. When infant boys are getting their diapers changed, parents put on a hazmat suit because that nozzle has a mind of its own and it is gonna spray wherever it wants.

Oh sure, parents can buy little wee-wee teepees to hold over the wee-wee while their baby boy giggles at them, but most times that thing is flying around like an errant garden hose and the pee goes everywhere. And, of course, that’s where men first learn to pee with no hands – yawning and stretching and placing their hands behind their heads in a very satisfied “look-what-I-can-do” sort of way. Usually in those situations, there will be spillage. I have found, for the most part, the male species is not very discriminating and is quite happy to just “hit something“.

Which brings me to the heart of this story.

I love my boys and, in all humility, Bill and I did a good job raising them. BUT, nature will take its course no matter what we do. And let me tell you, there is nothing …. and I mean NOTHING …. like the overwhelming musky, barn-like odor that punches you in the face when you open the door to a boy’s bedroom. For the love of all things holy, what is going on in there? How is it possible for boys …. little or big …. to ravage so many briefs, boxers or tighty-whities in one day, not to mention the now-fossilized face cloths (and sometimes my good hand towels)?

We’re all adults here and you know exactly what I’m talking about.

Well, I finally reached the end of my rope. It became unbearable for me to do my teen sons’ laundry, let alone keep up with it, so I threw down the gauntlet. I led the boys to the laundry room where I proceeded to write on my washing machine with a Sharpie. In all the corresponding receptacles were the words “DETERGENT GOES HERE.” “BLEACH GOES HERE.” “SOFTENER GOES HERE.” I’m sure they didn’t believe me when I said I was done doing their wash. After two weeks of their laundry piling up and them running out of clean clothes and their sheets desperate enough to literally walk off the bed and leap into the washing machine, they finally got the message!

As the old saying goes, boys will be boys, and I never had a problem with what was going on in my sons’ bedrooms …. within reason; if I thought something dangerous was happening, I’d be in there in a flash. I’d just had enough of cleaning up their messes. Now they’re grown men, good men, married with children, and they get to deal with their own kids’ smells, sprays, spills and secretions.

And when I see them lugging a basketful of laundry to their washing machines, I chuckle and know I did them a huge favor.

The Friday Reminder and Prompt for #SoCS May 18, 2024

Weekly Prompts Wednesday Challenge – Humility

Weekly Prompts Weekend Challenge – Departure

One of my readers once commented that I have a song for every story. Well, who am I to argue?

From the Broadway show/movie Hair, this is “Sodomy”.

Short Story

The Continuing Adventures of George and Martha, Vol. 3: Chicken Scratch

May 11, 2024November 6, 2025 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Written for The Unicorn Challenge where we are asked to get
creative in 250 words or less using this photo as inspiration.
Here is my story. If you would like to read previous adventures
of George and Martha, you may click here and here.

Continue reading →

Short Story

View From The Bridge

May 4, 2024May 4, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Written in response to The Unicorn Challenge
where we are asked to be creative in 250 words or less
by using the photo you see below. This is my story.

NB. My story is another perspective prompted by C.E. Ayr’s intriguing response to this week’s Unicorn Challenge. Please check out C.E.’s story here and/or here. I hope you enjoy my version and his.

Contrary to popular opinion, sometimes these things really do just happen – at least that’s how it was for me.

My husband was out for the day … the monthly visit with his son from his first marriage. I never fault him this time alone; it’s good for him and it gives me the chance to spend a day in my favorite book store.

One day while on my way home, I paused to watch the swans; from the bridge I saw a man emerge from his boat. As if drawn by my presence, he glanced up at me and waved. I waved back. Then the most unexpected thing happened: he beckoned me. I went down to greet him and that was the beginning of our affair.

Now I live for my husband’s monthly visits with his son.

This month my husband’s son is backpacking with friends and there is no visit. He busies himself with tennis and darts at the pub. Desperate to meet my lover, I bailed on our tennis game, pretending to be sick, and my husband went off alone to find a partner.

The afternoon with my lover was heavenly; half-way home I turned around and returned to the boat.

How could I know my husband had paused on the bridge to watch the swans and saw me leave the boat?

How could my husband know that while he was plotting his jealous revenge, I had returned to the boat and was inside when he torched it?

NAR©2024
250 Words

The Unicorn Challenge-03/05/24

This is “Diary Of Hate” by Michael Nyman

Poem

Whisker Pie: A Dectina Refrain

April 24, 2024April 24, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Melissa at dVerse poets has asked us to write a poem for the prompt “If You Don’t Like Cats, I’m Sorry”, based on one of Louis Wain’s drawings. I have written a Dectina Refrain for “Cat’s Nightmare”. Oh, but there’s a catch: we can’t use the word “cat” in our poems!

A Dectina Refrain is written as follows: 1st line is 1 syllable, 2nd line is 2 syllables, 3rd line is 3 syllables, and so on for 9 lines; the 10th line is comprised of the first four lines as one stand-alone sentence.

WHO
do you
think you are,
trying to hide
from the likes of us?
We have our eyes on you
watching every move you make;
foolish kitties, there’s no escape.
A tasty whisker pie we will bake!
Who do you think you are, trying to hide?

If you don’t like cats, I’m sorry.

This is Blood, Sweat and Tears with “The Owl And The Pussycat” (Instrumental Interlude – Outtake 1)

Short Story

The Floor Lamp

April 17, 2024April 16, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Written for Six Sentence Story
where the prompt word is “present”

When little Summer was just a few days old, her mother Laura started the tradition of sitting with her in the nursery to read stories before bed; in the corner of the nursery was an old floor lamp that used to belong to Laura’s grandparents, Momma and Poppy, and it filled the nursery with a soft, soothing glow.

As a little girl, Laura spent a lot of time with Momma and Poppy and the three of them developed a deep and loving bond so when Momma and Poppy passed away, the one thing Laura asked for was the floor lamp which was in the bedroom of their house where little Laura napped; now, each night Laura would tell baby Summer all about her beloved Momma and Poppy.

This one particular night as Laura and Summer were sitting in the nursery, the glow from the floor lamp caught the baby’s attention and she was captivated by it, something Laura thought was a sweet connection, especially since the lamp originally belonged to Momma and Poppy, Summer’s great-grandparents, but then Laura noticed a pattern developing, a pattern that would repeat two or three times most nights at Summer’s bedtime where the baby would gaze calmly and quietly at the lamp, then slowly begin to coo, gurgle and giggle for a few minutes before becoming animated – smiling, eyes glowing, arms waving, laughing and babbling loudly – then back again to quietness but still very much attracted to and aware of the lamp …. even when the floor lamp was off, Summer was attracted to it.

One afternoon when Summer was around 3 years old, Laura heard her talking and laughing, just like she did when playing with her stuffed animals, and when Laura peeked into Summer’s room expecting to find her little girl on the bed, she was surprised to see her in the big over-stuffed chair where Laura read bedtime stories; the floor lamp was lit and Summer appeared to be having a happy and lively conversation – not with her stuffed animals but with the lamp.

When Laura asked Summer who she was so happily talking to, the little girl was quick to reply “Momma and Poppy, of course; can’t you see them, Mommy?”

Laura caught her breath for a moment but she was not completely shocked for she knew Momma and Poppy’s lamp was special – the very reason Laura wanted it in her own home, but she didn’t realize how special it was; Laura never tried to stop Summer from talking to the lamp for she truly believed the spirits of Momma and Poppy were present and Summer’s conversations with them were real …. and who are we to say they weren’t. 🪽

Sunday’s Six Sentence Story Word Prompt!

This is “Guardian Angels” performed by John McLaughlin, Larry Coryell and Paco De Lucia

Uncategorized

Fall From Grace: Kevin Spacey

April 15, 2024April 22, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Written for Friday Faithfuls at Mindlovemiserysmenagerie
where the prompt is “celebrities that fell from grace”.

In the fall of 2017, Kevin Spacey’s life and his astronomical career in acting, writing, directing and production (and more) came crashing down with devastating swiftness and near Shakespearean consequences. The reason: sexual assault allegations from 30 years ago.

On October 29, 2017, actor Anthony Rapp alleged that Spacey, while appearing intoxicated, made a sexual advance toward him at a party in 1986, when Rapp was 14 and Spacey was 26. Spacey stated on Twitter that he did not remember the encounter, but that he owed Rapp “the sincerest apology for what would have been deeply inappropriate drunken behavior” if he had behaved as asserted.

Almost three years later, on September 9, 2020, Rapp sued Spacey for sexual assault, sexual battery and intentional infliction of emotional distress under the Child Victims Act. In the subsequent federal civil court proceeding, a jury found that Spacey did not molest Rapp and was found not liable on all counts, with Rapp subsequently ordered by the court to pay Spacey $39,089 in damages.

Fifteen other accusers emerged from the woodwork and jumped on the bandwagon alleging similar abuse. The Guardian was contacted by “a number of people” who alleged that Spacey “groped and behaved in an inappropriate way with young men” while he was artistic director of The Old Vic theatre.

On the same day as Rapp’s allegations against him, Kevin Spacey came out as gay when apologizing to Rapp. His decision to come out via his statement was criticized by gay celebrities as an attempt to change the subject and shift focus from Rapp’s accusation, for using his own drunkenness as an excuse for making a sexual advance on a minor and for implying a connection between homosexuality and child sexual abuse. Spacey expressed regret over the way he came out and said that it was “never his intention” to deflect from the allegations against him or conflate them with his sexual orientation.

Amid the allegations, filming was suspended on the sixth and final season of House of Cards starring Kevin Spacey. His livelihood, public acceptance, reputation, peace of mind and very existence was hanging by an excruciatingly slender thread.

As Rapp’s trial lawsuit against Spacey commenced in October 2022, it was revealed Rapp had given an inaccurate description of the apartment where he alleged the abuse took place. The judge dismissed the emotional-distress charges as a “duplicate” of the battery charges and a jury found Spacey not liable of all charges.

On May 26, 2022, Spacey was charged by the Crown Prosecution Service (CPS) in the UK with four counts of sexual assault against three complainants which were said to have taken place between 2005 and 2013 in Gloucestershire and London. According to the CPS, it would be possible to formally charge Spacey only if he entered England or Wales either voluntarily or through an extradition request. In a statement to Good Morning America on May 31, 2022, Spacey said he would “voluntarily appear in the UK”.

In his first British court appearance, on June 16, Spacey denied the allegations against him. On July 14, he pleaded not guilty to the charges in London. During the hearings, the complainant gave conflicting reports, false information regarding deleted text messages on his phone and eventually refused to answer any other questions, invoking the Fifth Amendment. On November 16, the CPS authorized an additional seven charges against Spacey, all related to a single complainant arising from incidents alleged to have occurred between 2001 and 2004. Three charges were dismissed before or during the trial, which began on June 28, 2023, and, on July 26, 2023, a jury found Kevin Spacey not guilty of the remaining nine charges.

Kevin Spacey has received countless accolades, including two Academy Awards, a BAFTA Award, a Golden Globe Award, a Tony Award and two Laurence Olivier Awards. He was named an honorary Commander and Knight Commander of the Order of the British Empire in 2010 and 2015, respectively.

Kevin Spacey’s brother, Randy Fowler, has stated that their father was sexually, physically and emotionally abusive and that young Kevin shut down emotionally and became “very sly and smart” to avoid beatings. Spacey addressed the matter in October 2022, saying that his father was a white supremacist and a neo-Nazi who beat him regularly and called him derogatory names, including ‘faggot‘. Spacey stated that the abuse at the hands of his father caused him to become extremely private about his personal life which, in turn, resulted in him choosing not to come out as gay earlier in his life.

The following video aired prior to Kevin Spacey’s hearings in the UK where he was found not guilty of all charges. There are other videos available for viewing on YouTube if you so desire. I went with this one, choosing to avoid the sleazy and salacious nature of “entertainment news”.

This next video is a clip from the movie “Beyond The Sea” with Kevin Spacey portraying Bobby Darin. Spacey did all his own singing which is rather impressive. I could have gone with songs like “Mack The Knife” or “Beyond The Sea” but the name of this video tickled my funny bone.

Here is Kevin Spacey as Bobby Darin singing “Dream Lover”.

Celebrities That Fell from Grace

Story

Almost Paradise

April 1, 2024April 1, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Written for Fandango’s Story Starter #142

Was everything that happened really all my fault?

It all came about one day in April, the 1^st, to be exact. Newly divorced, I had recently moved into a house in the country and was enjoying my morning coffee on the patio. Birds of many different varieties flitted about the bushes and fruit trees in the yard next door. Even a couple of deer and a few rabbits were contentedly munching on the grass. I felt like I was in the middle of a Disney movie and wouldn’t have been at all surprised if the animals started talking and singing!

Looking around my property I couldn’t help but compare my landscaping to that of my neighbor, Marjorie. Hers was overflowing with every sort of plant imaginable while mine had a paltry number of pitiful-looking bushes on the verge of death. I began to envision my very own Garden of Eden. There would be shrubs and fruit trees and flowers everywhere, graceful statues and a tranquil water feature. My yard was going to be much better than Marjorie’s!

Perhaps her ears were burning or it was just a coincidence but at that very moment Marjorie turned her head in my direction. Even from forty feet away I could see her beady eyes squinting at me. A rather obese woman, she was sweating profusely as she labored in her garden, her ridiculously small bonnet providing little shade to her balloon-like face. I waved to her but she didn’t wave back; either she didn’t see me or she chose to ignore me. Marjorie wasn’t all shits and giggles. Her husband left her for another woman (no big surprise there!) and her grown children lived far away. It seemed like her only joy in life was tending to her expansive garden.

Being a city boy, I knew nothing about gardening so I called the local nursery where one could get anything from a hose nozzle to a majestic pine tree. One of the landscapers came by a few hours later and walked through the property with me, making suggestions as we went along. I told him money was no object and gave him free reign to plant whatever he thought best – the more impressive the better.

A few days later the nursery’s trucks arrived at my house. I caught a glimpse of Marjorie peeking through her curtains as my many purchases were unloaded and wheeled into my yard. The landscapers got to work planting everything from small flowering shrubs to walls of bamboo. They put in an arbor, birdbaths, several angelic statues as well as a Japanese-inspired water feature. Before my eyes the once barren wasteland was now a flourishing oasis. Take that, Marjorie!

My new bountiful yard only spurred her on to do even more work in her yard; every time one of us added something new, so would the other. It became a petty, childish game of tit for tat; who could create the most majestic personal Nirvana?

The next morning while brewing a cup of coffee, I was shocked to see a police car and ambulance outside Marjorie’s house; she had suffered a fatal heart attack while working in her garden. Well, there certainly was no love lost between us but I never wished her any harm. She was a rotund woman; laboring day after day in her garden the way she did obviously put too much strain on her heart. I hoped whoever moved in next door would treat Marjorie’s yard with the same tender loving care.

A few weeks later I woke up to the screeching sounds of power tools and heavy machinery. Unable to see through my dense bamboo hedge, I walked around the front to Marjorie’s place; all her marvelous landscaping was being leveled! After everything was hauled away, a bulldozer began digging a huge hole. Week after week the work continued. The noise was enervating and I found myself spending more and more time working inside from my home office and away from my backyard utopia.

Finally one day in early August all was quiet; the work next door was complete. I decided it was time to fling wide the portals leading outside and enjoy an afternoon in the sun with the birds splashing in my water feature. My good friend Charlie stopped by and as we sat there enjoying a few ice cold Michelob Ultras, the pristine silence was broken by the shrieks, yelps and laughter of little children.

“Damnation! What now?” I grumbled, rolling my eyes and craning my neck for a peek.

Charlie nearly choked on his beer. “Don’t tell me you don’t know!”

“Know what?” I asked. I had no idea what he was talking about.

“You dumb son of a bitch!” Charlie howled. “Dear old Marjorie left a will stating that her house and property were to be leveled and converted into a daycare facility, complete with playground, carousel and swimming pool.”

“You can’t be serious! What about zoning laws?” I sputtered in disbelief. Visions of my plummeting property value made me groan. And Charlie laughed, clearly enjoying my distress a bit too much.

Was this some sort of twisted karma? I just wouldn’t let old Marjorie best me and now, what she couldn’t achieve in life she had accomplished in death. The ultimate victory was hers. I felt sick to my stomach.

“Almost paradise.” I sighed, a defeated man. Maybe everything that happened really was my fault after all.

Fandango’s Story Starter #142

This is Joni Mitchell with “Big Yellow Taxi”

Short Story

Dinner Out

March 30, 2024March 29, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

This is The Unicorn Challenge
where we are asked to be creative
in 250 words or less, with this photo
as our inspiration. Here is my story.

The smell of old cooking oil reheated too many times stuck in his throat and clung to every inch of the Chinese food takeout joint. He hated being here, his uncomfortable demeanor only making him feel ridiculously out of place. And why were there only two tables in the whole shop when there was clearly room for more. He felt naked, center stage, all eyes on him yet no one paid him any attention.

How the hell did he let himself get roped into this? His granddaughter, a 15 year old package of rebellion and maladjustment, talked him into a dinner out. He didn’t like eating anywhere but at home but he realized in the fourteen years since she was in his care, he’d never taken his granddaughter out to eat, not even for an ice cream.

He wondered if he resented her. In truth it was his daughter, the girl’s mother, he resented for running off like she did and leaving her year old tot with him. What kind of mother does that? One just a kid herself, stuck with an unwanted baby and a desperate need to be a teenager. Well, she took off one night and never came back.

Now, here he sat, waiting for this willful girl who was too much like her mother for her own good to return from the toilet. She’d been in there far too long and he sat staring at his past knowing she’d run off, leaving him alone again.

NAR
250 Words

The Unicorn Challenge-29/03/24

This is Del Shannon with “Runaway”

Short Story

Matinee Idol

March 30, 2024May 12, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

This is The Unicorn Challenge
where we are asked to be creative
in 250 words or less using this photo
as inspiration. Here is my story.

There was never a time when my father didn’t sport a mustache. A thin, elegant line when he was a young man, a bit more pronounced as he grew older but always neat, always refined.

Dressed in his army uniform, he was every bit the matinee idol and it was obvious why Mom fell for him.

When we visited him in Albany Medical Center the morning of his surgery for multiple aneurisms – both abdominal and aortic – his grey hair was neatly combed, mustache trimmed. He was 82 years old and the doctors gave him a bleak 6% chance of surviving the operation. Yet, survive he did.

My sister’s daughter – my father’s eldest grandchild – gave serious thought to postponing her wedding until my father was stronger. He insisted she “do nothing of the kind”. He told us all, in no uncertain terms, that he would never miss his first grandchild’s wedding …. and he didn’t. Dressed to the nines in his tux and bow tie, perfectly groomed silver mustache, we all held our breath as they walked hand in hand onto the dance floor for what would be their last spin together.

When my dad died, we provided the undertaker with a photo for reference. The inexperienced mortician did a lovely job tending Dad but, looking back and forth from the photo to my father at peace his coffin, the undertaker knew something was amiss.

It was the first time any of us had ever seen Dad without his dashing mustache.

NAR©2024
250 Words

The Unicorn Challenge-29/03/24

This is “Celluloid Heroes” by the Kinks

Flash

Rite Of Passage

March 29, 2024March 28, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Our gracious host Rochelle at Friday Fictioneers
is encouraging us to get creative in 100 words or less
using this photo as our inspiration. This is my story.

In the 7^thgrade, ballroom dance class was a rite of passage – a Friday night event that lasted six months, culminating in a semiformal dinner-dance. The boys wore ties and jackets, the girls in party dresses and white gloves. It was not mandatory but if you didn’t sign up, you were snubbed. It was the highlight of the year …. not for the 12-year-old students but rather for their moms.

My son balked but signed up.

“You’ll never regret knowing how to dance”, I told him.

Since then, I’ve seen him dance on two occasions – his wedding and his brother’s.

NAR©2024
100 Words

29 March 2024

This is “Ballroom Dancing” by Paul McCartney

Short Story

Sock It To Me

March 6, 2024March 6, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Denise at GirlieOnTheEdge is once again
challenging us to write a Six Sentence Story
using the word “ace”. This is my story.

The other night as I was getting undressed and ready for bed, I pulled off my sock and saw something on the sole that looked like a bit of fuzz or a piece of string but upon closer inspection I realized it was something imprinted on the bottom of the sock itself; since I can’t see a thing without my glasses, I thought it was the letter A for the company name which is Ace USA but I soon found out it was the letter L, obviously for LEFT.

“What are the odds!” I declared to myself, rather tickled by the fact that I put the LEFT sock on my left foot without even checking the bottom of the sock, but when I took off the other sock, fully expecting to see the letter R indicating the RIGHT sock, I was confounded when I saw another L!

“Just my luck” I again proclaimed to myself, somewhat annoyed that I would be the one to get a defective pair of socks, with two LEFT socks and no RIGHT sock!

I promised myself that in the morning I would call Ace USA and encourage them to correct their oversight by sending me two RIGHT socks, one as a mate for one of the LEFT socks and the other as a mate for the other LEFT sock, leaving me with two perfectly functioning pairs of socks.

The next morning I called Ace USA, explained my problem to Eleanor in customer services and requested two RIGHT socks to match my two LEFT socks; well, I’m sure you can imagine what a good laugh I had when Eleanor sweetly explained that the L on the bottom of my socks did not stand for LEFT but rather for LARGE.

Now I find myself rethinking that box in the front closet full of defective mittens.

Sunday’s Six Sentence Story Word Prompt!

This is Aretha Franklin with “Respect”

Story

Walk This Way

March 4, 2024March 13, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

When I die, I’m going to donate my body to science. Don’t mistake me, I’m not being altruistic. I’m being realistic. Maybe one of those brilliant doctors or scientists can finally figure out what the fuck was wrong with me; I sure as hell haven’t had any luck so far. This long sought-after info won’t be worth a pile of beans to me cos I’ll be dead …. just saying.

There are 168 hours in one week. Just for fun, let’s divide that in half to represent day and night – awake hours vs asleep hours (not very accurate, I know, but you get the picture). Half of 168 is 84. Of those 84 hours, I experience a tingling sensation for about 70 hours per week, maybe more. And it’s not the good kind of tingling. You know what I mean, wink wink.

When the tingling first started, perhaps two years ago, it was fleeting – much like the feeling you get when your foot is about to fall asleep. It was located in the left side of my lower back and traveled down the back of my left thigh to my knee. It was annoying but not horrible. Over time, the tingling spread down to my toes; now it has also begun to travel up into my back, shoulder and neck …. all on the left side. And it is insatiable …. kinda like that feeling I get when I see Colin Farrell. There are few and far between times when I’ll notice the tingling is gone; it’s sheer bliss and feels absolutely magnificent to be at rest. Then it comes back just a couple of hours later. It’s back right now but this time in both legs! Ain’t that a kick in the head!?

I really enjoy walking but haven’t been getting out as much as I’d like. Walking saved me the last time I had a major flare up. Everything just sort of healed itself. I got my strength and stamina back and I was feeling the best I’d felt in quite a while. I need to get back into walking. I know it sounds like a lame excuse but I really don’t enjoy walking when it’s freezing outside and there are no malls nearby to walk in.

Today was like Spring so I went for a short walk; I took it easy and was out for only about 15 minutes. I do not subscribe to the ”no pain, no gain’‘ school of thought; 15 minutes today was quite enough, thank you. After walking, I relaxed in my recliner for a while with an ice pack, just to be on the safe side. I love my recliner. It’s where I make pit stops during the day, when I need a break from housecleaning, cooking, babysitting. I’ll put my feet up and ice my back and neck and it helps.

Lately my head has developed a tendency to tilt to the left; it happens when I’m watching TV or sleeping or checking out the new house being built across the way or sitting at my Mac, as I am right now. When I get really tired or I’ve pushed myself too far, my lower back will start screaming while my left side becomes an angry buzz of tingles. My head will tilt dramatically to the left and I imagine I must look like Marty Feldman, the actor who played Igor in Mel Brooks’ “Young Frankenstein”. (If you’ve seen the movie, you’ll know that’s Eyegor and Fränkenstēēn). I adore Mel Brooks, the last of the real comedic geniuses. At least I have managed to keep my sense of humor through all this physical bullshit.

Now I’m noticing a lovely new development: it’s all but impossible for me to tilt my head to the right! Ain’t that a kick in the head!? It’s either sitting perfectly straight on my shoulders (which is good!) or tilting to the left. There’s a tendon, I think, that is stretched to the max like a big fat fully extended rubber band and it’s tight as a drum. I’m pretty damn sure that’s what’s keeping me from tilting my head to the right. I saw my orthopedist the other day; she felt around my shoulders and said “Jeez, you’re really tight!” Ya think!?!

I’ve had multiple trigger point injections, nerve blocks, epidurals and cortisone shots, all resulting in extremely short term relief. X-Rays, scans and MRIs show a lot of arthritis, spinal stenosis and some funkiness going on with my discs but nothing “remarkable”. How can that be? Ain’t that a freakin’ kick in the head!? Hey! Maybe that’ll set everything straight …. a good kick in the head!

So, here’s the plan: next week I’m going to have another bilateral shot in my lower back in the hope it will “alleviate my discomfort”. If it doesn’t, I’ll have another series of MRIs to see if anything has changed over the 12 months since my last set of MRIs. It will be fantastic if the shot helps but I’m not betting the house on it. One thing is certain: after this upcoming shot, I’m done with injections. I’ve had it so wish me luck! Well, you might be interested in knowing that besides the arthritis/stenosis, there’s not another single thing wrong with me. I’m in perfect health, totally aware of what’s happening to this “vessel” in which I exist. Ain’t that a kick in the head!?

My mister is one of the funniest people I know and we make each other laugh. It’s not always easy keeping a good sense of humor but it helps me get through everything. And to be perfectly honest …. I’m getting really tired of walking around like Igor!

From Mel Brooks’ “Young Frankenstein”, the first meeting of Igor and Dr. Frankenstein:

This is Dean Martin with “Ain’t That A Kick In The Head”

Poem

Life Pages ~ A Senryu

March 2, 2024March 2, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Life is strange –

One minute you’re thick as thieves

The next, you’re dismissed

This is the Moody Blues with “Isn’t Life Strange”

Short Story

Chances Are

February 14, 2024March 19, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Rachel and Paul had been together for six years. They assumed one day they would marry, have kids – the whole nine yards – but life has a funny way of taking twists and turns. Their romance and dreams just fizzled out but they remained very close and relied on each other for guidance – from the job scene to the dating game.

One night Rachel texted Paul: “Hey, babe. Ella & Sam set us up with blind dates for Fri. U in?”

Paul: “Y not? No plans anyway!”

Rachel: “Great! Emilio’s @ 7. Glad U R my back-up!”

Paul: “Ditto, babe! C U there.”

Both kicked themselves for calling the other “babe”. Old habits.

Friday night the foursome met at Emilio’s. While checking-out their prospective dates, Paul and Rachel exchanged alarmed glances; her eyes were screaming “WTF!” It was the fastest dinner in the history of Emilio’s restaurant.

As soon as Paul got home, he called Rachel: “What was that?!“

Rachel howled: “A TOTAL FREAK SHOW!! Your date was downright scary! She looked like Vampira and I swear her eyes were red! And what was up with that black cape – with a hood, for Christ’s sake? Did you notice her steak? It wasn’t rare; it was raw and practically throbbing!”

“And what about YOUR date?!” Paul exclaimed. “Wrist-to-neck tattoos, eyebrow, nose and lip piercings, boots with spikes and a “Carcass” t-shirt! He downed a bottle of beer in two gulps and belched like a bloody Viking!”

“I’ll never let Sam and Ella play matchmakers again. I’m sure they thought it was hysterical” Rachel quipped. “Anyway, my mother set me up with her friend’s cousin’s son, “The Doctor”, for next Saturday …. on Valentine’s Day, for Pete’s sake! If you get a date maybe we can try this again.”

“Sure. Nothing could be as bad as tonight” Paul replied. “I’ll call ya.”

A few days later Paul called to say he had a date for Saturday – a friend of a friend. “But she said “drinks only” and she’ll take a taxi.”

“Ok, fine, with me, but if it turns into another debacle like that last date, we all go our separate ways.”

Arrangements were made to meet at The Aviary in Central Park. Rachel’s date was Wesley, an OB/GYN. He was handsome, tan and suave. Paul’s date was Ginger, a salesgirl at Victoria’s Secret with modeling/acting ambitions. She was a vivacious redhead with mischievous green eyes.

The hostess seated them at a semi-circular booth; Ginger smoothly slid in between Wesley and Paul. With each sip of her martini Ginger inched closer to Wesley, asking risqué questions about his practice which he was more than happy to answer. Before long they were blatantly flirting, leaving Paul and Rachel dumbfounded. Giggling, Ginger excused herself to use “the little girl’s room”. The trio sat in awkward silence until Wesley’s pager beeped. He announced he had an emergency at the hospital, apologized and left.

“Well, there’s no point in me hanging around” Rachel said glumly. “Ginger should be back any second and three’s a crowd.”

As Rachel got up to leave she glanced out the window and saw Wesley and Ginger getting into his car. “What the hell? Paul! We’ve been dumped …. on Valentine’s Day!”

Paul and Rachel started the slow walk of rejection through Central Park. He jokingly bumped her shoulder with his.

“There’s a hockey game on tonight. Any chance you wanna watch?” Paul asked.

She bumped him back.

“Why not? I don’t have any plans now, anyway” Rachel sighed.

This is Johnny Mathis with “Chances Are”

This portfolio (including text, graphics and videos) is copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and is not for use by anyone without permission. NAR © 2017-present.

Short Story

Benvenuto!

February 10, 2024February 10, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

It’s time for The Unicorn Challenge!
Jenne has provided the photo below
and asks that we respond with a story
not to exceed 250 words.
Here is my 250-word response.

Russell was tired of my excuses, my insecurities, my hang-ups and what he called “That Sicilian thing that’s 2000 years old”, which would have had more gravitas if I didn’t know it came straight from “Godfather 2″. He was breaking up with me and I was laughing in his face.

He was right, of course. I was a lousy girlfriend and I certainly wouldn’t make him a good wife. I didn’t like sex with him; some of the things he tried to do went on forever and brought me no satisfaction. I was disgusted by what he wanted me to do.

Russell stormed out. Good riddance. That’s when I decided to follow my dream and move to Sicily. Travel arrangements went smoothly and, having spoken previously with the people where I’d be staying, I knew getting accommodations would not be a problem.

My plans came together quickly. I packed a carry-on; more than that I wouldn’t need. In the morning I called for a taxi. Four hours later I was flying across the Atlantic on my way to the town of Erice. The place where I was staying was ancient, located on the top of Mount Erice, far from the useless worries of life. No cares, no distractions.

The bus dropped me off at Sorelle Povere*. My knock on the door was answered by a smiling older woman.

“May I help you?” she asked.

I told her my name.

“Ah, our newest novitiate!” she declared. “I’m Sister Rosella. Benvenuto! Welcome!”

NAR©2024
250 Words
*Sorelle Povere translates into Poor Sisters. The entire name is Sorelle Povere di Santa Chiara Monastero Sacro Cuore which means Poor Sisters of Saint Clara Sacred Heart Monastery, an order of nuns in the town of Erice.

The Unicorn Challenge-09/02/24

This is “Only The Good Die Young” by Billy Joel

This portfolio (including text, graphics and videos) is copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and is not for use by anyone without permission. NAR © 2017-present.

Short Story

Chastised

February 8, 2024February 8, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

My quadrille for dVerse
using the word ‘imagine’

As a former children’s choir director,
I often rewrote the lyrics
to favorite songs.

My days as a lyricist ended
after being chastised by a pastor
who accused me of
‘lacking imagination’
by using the same melody
and ‘simply changing the words‘.

Imagine that!

Come play with me!

A lovely dream …. Just imagine!

Short Story

What Happens In Vegas

January 29, 2024January 29, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

7:30 AM Friday, Drew texting: “Hey, sorry! I know it’s early. Got any plans this weekend?”

[OMG! My heart starts racing. My biggest crush in forever is asking me if I have plans this weekend. OK, get a grip. I don’t want to appear too anxious; after all, we’ve never actually dated – just the occasional coffee and walks in the park with our dogs, Arlo and Dexter.]

[Alright. A sufficient amount of time has passed.]

7:40 AM, me texting: “This weekend? Um …. I don’t think so. What’s up?”

[Just the right tone. Cool and calm …. which I’m neither at the moment. Gotta love texting. It’s so impassive when necessary.]

7:42 AM, Drew texting: “I scored two tickets to Springsteen for Saturday night in …. are you ready for this? Vegas!”

[Vegas! I love Vegas! I love Springsteen! I’m practically hyperventilating. Settle down and take a deep breath. Remember …. cool and calm.]

7:44 AM, me texting: “Wow! That’s fabulous! Let me just check my calendar. BRB“

[Exit text, count to 30.]

7:46 AM, me texting: “Hey Drew, my weekend’s open.”

7:47 AM, Drew texting: “Excellent! Even Arlo’s excited! And Amy, listen …. it’s an overnight trip; we’ll be getting back late Sunday. I don’t want to push you. Are you cool with this?”

[Am I cool with this?? It IS a bit sudden but I have to admit it’s what I want. Go for it.]

7:50 AM, me texting: “I won’t lie, Drew …. it is kinda sudden but I’m ready; it’ll be fun.“

7:52 AM, Drew texting: “This is gonna be an amazing weekend, Amy. I’m so happy you said ‘yes’. See you at your place tomorrow morning at 8:00. The flight’s at 11:00.”

7:54 AM, me texting: “Perfect! See you then.”

My head’s spinning. This is really happening! So much to do before tomorrow! Skip lunch today and go to Victoria’s Secret. Get a bikini wax on the way home from work. Pack tonight.

I couldn’t concentrate at work and excitement kept me awake most of the night; I finally gave up at 5:30. Time for coffee and a shower.

A quick glance at the clock …. ten minutes before Drew gets here. I place my carry-on bag on the bed, toss in my toothbrush and zip it up.

The sudden shrill ring of the doorbell startles me. Forcing myself not to lunge for the door, I pace myself, smile and casually open it to see Drew smiling back at me, one arm cradling Arlo, his other arm around the shoulder of a stunning brunette in tight jeans and a Springsteen tank top. My smile freezes in place.

“Hi, Amy! This is Charlotte. I’m so glad you can take care of Arlo this weekend; we’re really looking forward to this trip. Anyway, the routine is the same as the last time you watched Arlo. We’ll pick him up Sunday night. Thanks, Amy. Sorry about the short notice. You’re a real pal!”

Taking the pup, I manage a “Have a great time” and watch Drew and Charlotte walk down the hall and head for the elevator. They are laughing in that carefree way. Slowly I close the door, my stupid grin gone as I snuggle Arlo.

“Hear that, bud? I’m a real pal.”

This is “Waitin’ On A Sunny Day” by Bruce Springsteen

Flash

Pennies From Heaven

January 26, 2024January 26, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Rochelle at Friday Fictioneers has
challenged us with this photo prompt.
Here is my 100-word response.

Sunny Hill Farm. The name alone made me smile.

We never went on vacation when I was a kid; that was for “rich people”.

You can imagine my unbearable glee when it was decided in the summer of ’59 that we would leave The Bronx for five glorious days in a place called Sunny Hill Farm.

Looking at the brochure we declared it to be “perfect” with lush rolling hills, horses, swimming, picnics, barbecues, fresh air and sunshine everywhere.

We loaded up the car, singing all the way to our vacation nirvana …. where it poured and poured for days.

26 January 2024

This is “Pennies From Heaven” by Billie Holiday

Short Story

Those Were The Days

January 20, 2024January 20, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Time once again for
The Unicorn Challenge.
Jenne has provided the photo;
this is my 250-word response.

“Mother! What do you think you’re doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing, Morris? I’m going to go sing with that band.”

“You can’t do that. You’re almost 73 years old!” her son replied. He was becoming impatient.

“What the hell does my age have to do with anything? Tony Bennett, Tina Turner, David Crosby were all in their 80s and still going strong.”

“Mother, you’re not exactly in the same league as Tina Turner!”

“Thank you for pointing that out to me and the family, Morris. You’ve turned into a self-righteous little prig …. certainly not how I raised you.”

“Well, one of us had to grow up, Mother. You’re not going to sing with that band. I won’t allow it. This isn’t Woodstock!”

“Grammy? What’s Dad talking about? You were at Woodstock?” Dina asked her grandmother in disbelief.

“As a matter of fact, I was! You know, I wasn’t always your grandmother! I lived a whole other life before your father was born.”

“Grammy, why am I just hearing about this now? I’m 22 years old and never knew this! How is that possible? Dad, how come you never said anything?”

“You’re father’s embarrassed by me, Dina. I was always a very free spirit; I met a lot of incredible people before and after Woodstock.”

“Grammy, were you a groupie?” Dina asked conspiratorially.

“Oh, Dina! Lets just say I had great fun.”

“Mother, this conversation ends now!”

“Oh, shut up, Morrison!”

“Morrison?” Dina whispered knowingly, eyes wide.

The Unicorn Challenge-19/01/24

This is Mary Hopkin, “Those Were The Days”

The Doors with “Alabama Song” (Whisky Bar)

Flash

Thin Skin

January 19, 2024January 18, 2024 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Rochelle at Friday Fictioneers has prepared for us
another prompt with the intriguing image below.
This is my 100-word response to her challenge.
🥶

It’s been dreadfully cold lately; I seem to get a chill much easier now that I’m older. Maybe my “Senile Under-Skin Bleeding” is a direct result.

I spoke to my dermatologist about the thinning, drying and bruising skin on my lower legs; she suggested sauna bathing. The benefits include detoxification, increased metabolism, weight loss, increased blood circulation, pain reduction, anti-aging, skin rejuvenation, improved cardiovascular function, improved sleep, stress management and relaxation.

What could possibly go wrong?

I located a spa with a sauna. My glasses steamed up, I tripped and bumped into the frozen water bucket.

Lovely! Another fucking bruise!

✦ Authors Note: “Senile Under-Skin Bleeding”, also known as “Senile Purpura”, occurs when the skin and blood vessels become more fragile as people age, making it easier for the skin to bruise from minor trauma. While it is mostly associated with older people, it is a common problem among those in their 30s and 40s. This frustrating and painful skin issue with a very ugly name can be improved slowly following a dedicated regimen of gentle exfoliation, daily Vitamin D and a skin lotion rich in Vitamin C. Staying out of the sun and wearing sunscreen, keeping hydrated and eating fruits and leafy greens are also extremely important and helpful.

19 January 2024

This is Brian Chevalier with “Thin Skinned”. Relax to this bluesy sound.

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