Heads or Tails - "Tool" - 6/29/09

Barb S at Heads or Tails provides a weekly prompt to challenge our creativity. This week's prompt is "tool". As usual, when I participate, I write the first thing that comes to mind. This week is no exception. Here is my carefully crafted post for this week. It is the most factual post I have ever written:

Bernard Madoff is a tool.

Dutch 101 - 6/19/09

I have recently taken a job as a shuttle driver. I transport interns from their quarters to resort hotels that employ/train them. The company I work for is called American Hospitality Academy. I absolutely love this employment. With my level of road rage, it is surprising that I would enjoy piloting a 15 passenger van through Myrtle Beach summer traffic with house music blaring from the radio. I have displayed to my charges some new hand gestures and words they may not have been familiar with when another driver makes an incredibly stupid maneuver. I will write more posts about my continuing adventures as an underachiever, but today is about my daily encounter with a foreign language. Although I have traveled extensively abroad, I am essentially unilingual.

The majority of the young people that I convey are foreign students. Though they come from the far corners of the world, the preponderance are young ladies from The Netherlands. Oddly, there are no Dutch men in the program, only women. No complaints here. This would be an appropriate place for an inappropriate joke about fingers in the dyke, but I will take the high road. I don't think Hans Brinker even knew Ellen Degeneres.

Though they are exceptionally beautiful women and extremely nice, they speak only Dutch to each other. Through our contact, I have had the opportunity to overhear countless conversations in their native tongue. It is a very harsh language and requires a large amount of guttural throat action, with lots of consonants. Ks and Zs are very prominent. Sounds a little like Klingon. There is probably a reason you have heard many French, Spanish, and Italian songs, but probably none in Dutch. It is not very melodic. It makes German sound like poetry. Hearing this language on a daily basis, I don't think that a woman had anything to do with Vincent Van Gogh cutting off his ear and I now know why Eddie Van Halen never sings.

I will demonstrate by taking a verse of one of the most beautiful poems ever written, translate it to Dutch (very roughly) and then back to English. I invite you to read it aloud in Dutch and enjoy the flow. Then, have some fun imagining if Elizabeth Barrett Browning was Dutch and her works translated to English for our pleasure.

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.

Hoe denk ik houd u? Laat mij tellen van de manieren. Ik houd u aan de diepgang en breedte en hoogte mijn ziel kunnen bereiken, wanneer gevoel buiten het gezichtsveld van de uiteinden wordt en Ideal-Standard Gratie.

How think I keep you? Me lets count of the manners. I keep you to the load water-line and breadth and altitude my soul can reach, when feeling becomes outside the face field of the ends and Ideal-Standard Grace.

Don’t get me wrong, I can understand some Dutch words. Let me teach you some:
Hallo = Hello
Pardon = Excuse Me
Ja = Yes
Kat = Cat
Wat = What
Unfortunately, they don’t use enough of those type words to allow me to eavesdrop. There is one word they use constantly. It is “echt”. They tell me it means “really” but it sounds more like they are trying to expel a hairball.
There is another phrase they use often: Onze bestuurder is een vet dit. I will let you translate that if you are sufficiently interested.
As you can imagine, we have a lot of fun on our daily commute.

55 Flash Fiction Friday - 6/11/09

Each week G-Man of 55 Flash Fiction Friday challenges us to write a piece using only 55 words.

A soulless beauty. Perfect combination of soft and firm. He realized he didn’t have the assets to keep her interested. No surprise she is ending it. She still wants to be friends. He considers that option. She possesses no qualities that he values in a friend. He passes. He watches her sway away. No regrets.

Your Tax Dollars at Work - 5/21/09

I was in the VA Clinic recently and a stack of brochures caught my eye. They were tri-fold, multi-colored on glossy paper. My first thought was that they must have cost a fortune since obviously thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands were printed. Here is the brochure.

I then imagined that there must have been a breakthrough in the field of suicide prevention in the years since I had manned a hot-line and these pamphlets were essential to get the word out. Interested, I picked up the brochure and read.

RECOGNIZE THE SUICIDE WARNING SIGNS

1. Thinking about hurting or killing yourself
2. Looking for ways to kill yourself
3. Talking about death, dying or suicide
4. Self-destructive behavior such as drug abuse, weapons, etc.

Wow! What Algonquin Round Table came up with this information? This is groundbreaking stuff that really needs to be distributed, regardless of the cost to the taxpayer. When VA funding is so limited that they can't prescribe medications that are critically needed to treat vets, providing this information is obviously a higher priority. Who would have guessed that the above could lead to suicide? Glad we now know. "I am thinking about killing myself, what could a possible outcome be?"

But the pamphlet continued:

ADDITIONAL WARNING SIGNS MAY INCLUDE

1. Hopelessness, feeling like there's no way out
2. Anxiety, agitation, sleeplessness, mood swings
3. Feeling there is no reason to live
4. Rage or anger
5. Engaging in risky activities without thinking
6. Increasing alcohol or drug abuse
7. Withdrawing from family and friends

Oh, now I get it. Suicide stems from a negative mental outlook on life. Just think how many lives could have been saved if we had only known. So, conversely, happy people are not a suicide risk. We can thank the federal government for clearing that up for us. A million dollars well spent. And that is just the printing. It is impossible to gauge the research and funded studies that went into creating this document.

55 Flash Fiction Friday - Dog walk

Each week G-Man of 55 Flash Fiction Friday challenges us to write a piece using only 55 words. The following came to mind this morning. I am posting it early as we are off to the mountains this weekend and I didn't want to forget. I have been lazy about posting lately. Not everyone is Shakespeare. Someone will GROK it I hope.

An Elke Sommer Doris Day, Pete Roses in Orlando Bloom. Took Snoop Dogg Christopher Walken down Nathan Lane to Rosa Parks. The Sun Myung Moon lit Alonzo Mourning sky. Julia Child played Lucille Ball when a Nate Dogg began to Chevy Chase and Gordon Jump. Jason Kidd and his Joyce Brothers threw a Chris Rock.

Three Word Wednesday - "Service, Opportunity, Quarrel" & 55 Flash Fiction Friday - 4/29/09

Once again, I have combined today's prompts of "service, opportunity, and quarrel" from 3 Word Wednesday with the constraints of using only 55 words from 55 Flash Fiction Friday. Those prompts led immediately to this thought.

They had just had another, alcohol induced, quarrel. He retired to the couch and she flew solo in the king-sized bed. A foreboding thought flashed into his mind as he gazed longingly at his service revolver. He had investigated enough cases to know he could never get away with it. Opportunity, means, motive. The trifecta.

3 Word Wednesday - "Deceit, Indulge, Oath" & 55 Flash Fiction Friday - 4/22/09

I have combined today's prompts of "deceit, indulge, and oath" from 3 Word Wednesday with the constraints of using only 55 words from 55 Flash Fiction Friday. This is the first thing that came to mind.

He had taken an oath…....”until death do us part.” That was nearly fifty years ago. Who knew she would live this long? That he would? They had both outlived passion and attraction. He considered indulging in an illicit tryst, but he didn’t have the energy for the dalliance, or the memory for the deceit.

55 Flash Fiction Friday - "Bang" - 4/17/09

The challenge from G-Man at 55 Flash Fiction Friday is to write a story using exactly 55 words.

It was heavier than it looked. He could hear his brother, Jerry, coming down the hall towards his parent’s bedroom. He pointed at the doorway and said “bang,” but the noise did not sound like bang at all. He would never forget the two simultaneous explosions. One in his hand, the second was Jerry’s head.

My grandson Carson - Carrying the Wainright Mantle - 4/13/09

The vast majority of people that share my family name spell it Wainwright. My clan does not include the second ”W". I have been told by a reliable source that the second "W" indicates wholesale inbreeding. I get annoyed when people insert it automatically. Even when I spell it out carefully to them, they throw in that infernal “W’. My name has been misspelled so often that I am certain I have an AKA on file with the authorities. I recently noticed that my mother’s name is spelled wrong on her death certificate. You would have thought they could have taken the time to get that right.
I tell you that to tell you this. There is only one person charged with continuing my particular Wainright family line. I have a half-brother, Chris Wainright, who has only daughters. My oldest son, Rick, has only daughters. My other son, Josh, has no children, though he desperately wanted kids. But the more he and his wife, Tia, are subjected to children of friends and family, the less desperate they are to procreate. That leaves my grandson Carson, the son of my daughter Carly, with the awesome responsibility of insuring a Wainright branch on our family tree. I remain optimistic. What do you think? Should I bring my swimmers out of retirement?

Wordless Wednesday - Splash Mountain - 4/8/09

My grandson, Carson, reevaluating his decision to go on Splash Mountain.

Sunday Scribblings - Celebrate - 4/4/09

I didn't think there was going to be a Sunday Scribbling this week so I didn't write anything but when I saw the prompt was Celebrate I was reminded of a video clip I saw recently. You can see it here. Wouldn't sports be a lot more fun if this type of celebration was embraced? In golf, most players are boring, emotionless, robots. About the only player who shows any emotion is Tiger Woods and he is sometimes criticized for it. More people would tune in if the could expect him to respond to a made putt in this manner. I don't like, or understand chess, but I would watch chess masters play if there was any chance of the victor providing post-match entertainment. I actually react in a similar manner when I beat my daughter at Cribbage.

55 Flash Fiction Friday - 4/2/09

I have been labeled lately by my 55 Flash Fiction Friday readers as the Prince of Poignant and Pathos, so I thought I had better change it up this week.

At the mall in front of Starbucks
Sipping six dollar brew
A fragrance wafted by
It was Estee Lauder Youth Dew
It stirred both a pleasant rousing in his fruit of the looms
And the memory of 40-year-old heartache
As his mind recalled this very scent on her young skin
He couldn’t help but smile

Wordless Wednesday - 4/1/09

Sunday Scribblings - "Aging" - 3/29/09

The first thing that came to mind when I saw the Sunday Scribblings prompt of “Aging” is a line from Jeff Dunham’s very funny ventriloquist act: Jeff: “Women age like fine wine.” Walter (dummy): “She ages like milk.”

I think that 2008 was the year that I became aware I was curdling. I have always been reluctantly aware of aging, but last year it became impossible to remain in denial. If I were an automobile, every warning light would be illuminated and all gauges would be pegged to the minimum values. My doctor started using words like biopsy, nodule, mass, cyst, polyps, etc. And what is up with skin tags? I am getting so many of them I am starting to look like a Trill. I had x-rays, cat scans, and MRIs of body parts that doctors had never had any interest in before. Every time they ask my family history my response is met with a slight grimace and a worrisome amount of medical transcription. Both my parents died of metastatic cancer, origin unknown, at a fairly young age. I am careening towards that age.

The older that I get, the faster the months of the calendar tear off. Years, sometimes decades, pass without me really noticing. I have been divorced for over 22 years, much longer than I was married. I have been retired from the Air Force for over 16 years. I still have nightmares about both tours of duty. But most shocking to me is that the final episode of Seinfeld was broadcast 11 years ago. Of course that doesn’t stop me from watching reruns every day. I am certain that when the poet, Virgil, coined the phrase “tempus fugit” he was in my demographic.

Some of the aging signs are physical and some are mental. Some are subtle and some are dramatic and undeniable. As a very corporeal person, who considers himself ten feet tall and bullet proof, physical corrosions are the most obvious.

Not long ago, Skooter and I were walking on the beach. Some guys were tossing a football and it got loose near us. I picked it up and elected to throw it back to the guy who was about 30 yards down the beach. One thing I was blessed with was a very strong throwing arm. So I gauged the effort required to complete this pass with a tight spiral would be little more than a flick of the wrist. I cocked and fired and it flew like a duck that had been hit by anti-aircraft fire. Not only did it not make the 30 yards, it went end over end and did not fly out of my shadow. I think, even my dog was embarrassed by my futility. The only thing that could have been worse would have been an attempt to kick the ball and add a groin pull to my damaged pride. There was a similar event featuring an alligator and a golf ball that my son, Josh, revels in witnessing but I will not detail here.

My golf game has lost 50 yards of driving distance in recent years but I have not yet achieved the “old man” accuracy that usually replaces it.

There has been an irrefutable loss of mental acuity. I often enter a room without any knowledge of a reason for being there. I have often read several chapters of a book before realizing I had read it before. These small, seemingly insignificant, lapses are actually more disturbing than the expected physical deterioration. How close am I to being the guy who forgets to put his pants on before leaving the house?

But the most disconcerting indication of my aging is that I have reached that magical point in my life that a woman I find attractive and desirable may be interested in me as a dating possibility…………….for her mother. Stop laughing!!

55 Flash Fiction Friday - Test Results - 3/26/09

The doctor gave him the results, casually, as if he had done it many times before. Perhaps he had. What remained of his stomach tumbled and he suddenly retasted his breakfast. A second opinion? This was the third opinion. They didn’t necessarily agree on the unpronounceable name, but they were unanimous as to the prognosis.