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what an age

Twenty-one years old!
He was such a cute baby
Blonde haired,
Blue eyed chub
Called me Mom
Called his Mom – well, Mom
Couldn’t tell us apart
Voices alike
She had the sustenance
I shared the nurture
Her baby boy
My grandboy
Twenty-one years ago

Now a man
By age and by law
Still my cute baby boy
Blonde haired
Blue eyed chub
Wisp of whiskers
Crooked grin
Towering over me
Calls me hobbit
Looks up to me

still

Unafraid to hug
and kiss me
Love me
in front of God
and everybody
firstborn grandboy
my one and only
Sean Patrick


Sean at 14 – on our trip to DC with his 8th grade history class. This was taken at “Awakening” near the Patomac River.
————————–
So hard to believe my grandkiddos are getting so old and I am not . . . oh, all right, I’m getting older too. This week, VV challenged us to write 100 words on AGE. These are mine. Your turn.

How’s the air up there?

you are on my last nerve
about to topple off
your high horse
and loop da loop
like a whirlwind
a duster of sorts
bad romance
let’s start over
Hi, my name is . . .
—————————
those prompt trifecta editors gave us a doozy for the weekend challenge: they gave us a list of words (topple, paradigm, underneath, nerve, honey, loop) from which to pick three; we were then to add 30 of our own to make the weekend 33. The above are mine . . . now it’s your turn.

Deliberate Judgment

caseyaltman / Foter.com / CC BY-NC-SA

Peering over glasses perched at the end of his nose – the judge looked at the defendants seated before him. It was just another day in his judicial service. Just another string of defendants jumpsuited in faded yellow, manacled to each other.

Just another day in paradise.

He let his gaze slip over each “in custody” in a slow, deliberate way, taking in the appearance and demeanor of each.

Seated at the table was a gaggle of young and eager public defense attorneys. They did their job – defending the guilty – well, with eagerness, fervor and mostly smiling faces.

“Call the first case, madam clerk,” he bellowed into the overhead mic.

“Case number 62-43690, Judge,” she replied.

A timid hand raised from the midst of the in custodies and the judge tried to act less surprised than he felt. What was SHE doing here? In chains? Hair unwashed and tousled? Yellow jumpsuit and blue tenny-runners with pink socks?

“Charge, Mr. District Attorney?”

“Minor consuming, Judge.”

“I see. Thank you. Now, Miss Michaels, this is what I am going to do. I need to recuse myself and let Judge Olsen continue with your arraignment. Do you understand?”

He tried not to smile as she nodded and he noticed her trembling lips and a tear working its way down her cheek.

Leaving the courtroom he took off his robes and went to the Bailiff’s office. “I’ll be posting bail for 62-43690, Josh. But I have a favor to ask. Don’t let her know the bail has been posted until the morning.”

“Sir?”

“You see, I always promised my kids that if they were arrested they would spend a night in jail before I bailed them out.”

“Aha! Yes, sir. I’ve got it.”

Fully robed again the magistrate reentered the courtroom.

“All rise! The court is back in session, the Honorable William Michaels presiding.”
He adjusted his glasses once again, looked over the remaining prisoners and boomed into the mic again. “Next case, please.”
——————————
Those deliberate trifecta judges . . . erm . . . EDITORS have challenged us with the third definition for DELIBERATE. Here are 329 (or 330 – depends on the program) of mine . . . bring on your own. There is still time.

onomatopoeia


Alaska spring erupts
With sounds of music
Geese honk
Forming vs in flight
Sandhill cranes
Giant turkeys on stilts
Crooning melodies to
Their mates
Seagulls screech
Mine, mine, mine
Begging for handouts
Ahhhhhlaska


—————————


Those wordsmithy editors at Trifecta are seeking onoatopoeia in 33 words . . . at least one example. The “flats” in Kenai are abuzz with a cacophony of sound right now as the birds pause to feed on their way northward. My 33 include some of those sounds.

And, do . . . if you would like . . . take a gander at my Texas posts. I found much to love about my visit in Texas. I want to share that with you as well.

Dentoning

Part of the fun of traveling is getting the “local feel” of a place. Denton offered that to me in spades via my travel guide, Shelly who is an awesome guide and has a wealth of knowledge about her town.

It all starts with coffee, right? And a tour around the square, which is quite active, no matteer the time of day.




Ms. Shelly leads a ghost tour around the square – that is, she tells stories of those who may be walking still among us. It’s a 90 minute, very fun an informative tour – do take it if you are ever in the area. Can’t be Dentoning without doing it.

Interestingly, the moose became a part of that ghost tour . . . it all started with a visit to Recycle




So, you want to hear the story, eh? Well it all started as we wandered through the store looking at books here an books there, stopping to admire leather bound tomes, exclaiming over books older than we. I stopped in front of a set of educational children’s books, then turned and stepped about two feet away to look at children’s books that I remember – and some I do not . . . suddenly a book from the shelf I had been standing in front of moments before LAUNCHED itself from the shelf an hit my right calf. Now, when something FALLs, it falls straight down . . . this came across the way and hit me. “Shelly . . .” We both laughed nervously, then placed the book back on the shelf.

Sigh – yes, you read that right. We placed it back on the shelf. We did NOT buy it! Argh!!!! And, when we had thought about that and decided to go back to buy that book . . . it was no longer there – the shelf was bare where it had sat.
:(

Ah, well . . . a book came into play later that night . . .

We decided to attend the first Twilight Tunes event, which, because of the cold temps (!!!!) had been moved indoors to Sweetwater.




Yes, 45 degrees is perfect for an Alaskan, but Texans seem a bit put off by it. Thus the music was moved indoors. Before I tell you the story of this book, take a closer look at the bass guitarist . . . looks sorta like (what I would call) a “skater dude”, doesn’t he? Sorta out of place in a “chicha” or “salsa” band? Yes, I thought so, too . . . but he was GOOD! Los Patos Poderosos was rockin’ the house. We did a lot of “chair dancing” but others, as you can see, were not so “shy” and got up to dance.

The book story . . . thought you’ never ask. See the little old lady sitting there? We asked her to join our table and when she moved over she brought a newspaper, a book and a scarf. She placed them in her chair and sat on them while watching the band. After an hour or so the band took a break. She stood up grabbed the stuff from her chair, put them on top of the table and began wrapping the book furiously in the newspaper, tying it up tightly with her scarf. She patted the result, turned, and walked into the bar.

A young man seated nearby jumped up and came to talk to us. Seems the book in the bundle was his! He proceeded to extract the book, leaving the newspaper an scarf intact. We couln’t help it . . . we started laughing sooooo hard and had to leave before she came back. Not sure what happened next.

But, on telling this story to my boss . . . her only comment was . . . that book is following you! Nawww, I said. Are you sure? she asked. Ummmmmm, nope. GULP!

There is at least one more installment of “Dentoning” I want to share with you. It will have to wait . . . and so will you. Be back soon.