fiction friday – sit here, beside me
Sit here beside me. In this chair. Talk to me. Tell me that things will get better than they are now. I am so tired and I need to become lost in dreams.
Tell me about the ocean. Is it true that you can see for miles and not see anything but water? Can we sail across the ocean and visit foreign places? I want to hear French and Italian. I want to eat with fancy forks and taste fancy food.
Tell me about our children. What will we name them? How many will we have? I want our girls to look just like you, but I want them to have grandma’s red hair. Those girls will be pistols.
I am tired, so sit and talk to me. Hold my hand and we can dream together.
wednesday’s word – balloons
chickens!!!!
https://www.flickr.com/photos/timmcmurdo/14105469002/player/
Because there have not been enough chickens on this blog this year.
friday fiction – smokehouse
https://www.flickr.com/photos/timmcmurdo/9543105962/player/
T’aint nuthin wrong with smokehouse bacon. Thas the truth. This‘d be a far worse a place witout it.
Sunday beans n cold biskits’d suffer mightily if’n we runned out.
Ah likes me some smokehouse bacon n so does my dawg n that mangy cat too.
Them hogs? Oh lordy, thas rich! Ah don’t magine they’s so keen bout smokehouse bacon.
friday fiction – my beloved
https://www.flickr.com/photos/timmcmurdo/8587860790/player/
Today is our anniversary. On this day, sixty three years ago, I married you, Jessica Anne Hanaby.
Jess.
Jessie.
Laying here, I can see the setting sun light up the clothes that you wore on our wedding day. You had a fancy french word for that outfit, though I can’t remember it any more.
Funny how time plays with my memories. I can’t remember that word, but I can remember that blouse and that day clear as a bell. Now, they are all that I have left of you. Those clothes and those memories. The rest are gone. Some to the church clothes drive. Some to the long years in between.
I still love you Jess. I miss you and it hurts me something terrible. The evening is the worst. That's when the house is quiet and I have time to think about you.
Every day, I still get up,I make my meals, and I keep the house clean. Not that I care anymore, but because you would have wanted me to carry on.
You are still… my beloved.
fiction friday – conversation over a cup
“Tell me about princesses”, she demanded.
“I’ve never met a princess. I don’t think there are many princesses left any more.”
“You are not doing it right”, she chided. “Tell me about their dresses”
“Ah, yes, their dresses. I think princesses all wear dresses made from pink and purple silk. They wear pretty jewelry made from silver and they have lots of sparkling diamonds. They ride on big white horses…”
“No, they don’t! “ She gasped.
“They don’t?”
“No, they ride ponies”, she corrected. “You are not very good at princesses.”
“I’ll try to do better next time. I’m better with frogs”
hayloft
I downloaded the new Nickel Creek album, Dotted Line, last weekend and instantly became enamoured with this song:
Little did I know that Hayloft is a cover of the Canadian band, Mother Mother. I like both versions and now, I am going to go download some more Mother Mother. Funny how you discover new bands and new music.
elizabeth-spinning in the parlor
fiction friday: waiting for the 3:14
Detroit. I can see the question forming on your face, long before it reaches your lips. I am going to Detroit. I will be on the 3:14 with a one way ticket in first class. I am going in grand style because this will be my final trip, my last adventure.
No, Detroit doesn’t sound very exciting. It’s a city that is slowly dying a cancerous death and that is appropriate because Detroit and I will reach that destination together. However, Detroit is not important, it’s the long ride over the rails that is the real adventure.
Yes, there is an interesting story behind my trip. I’d be happy to tell it to you. Meet me in the saloon car at 4:00 and I will buy you a whiskey. We’ll smoke a cigar, you can hear the tale and we can pass a few hours in good company.
tim mcmurdo 