Category: Fredericksburg

Day 323-Mystery of Easter

Easter is a time of joy;
It is a time of true love.
When God showed the world He cared,
And came down to us from above.

He sent His Son to us all,
That we might be forgiven.
That we all might learn to forgive,
And in faith go on living.

He spared not even His life;
So that we might come to believe,
And understand His love for us.
So that loving one another, we might achieve.

For God so loved the world,
He gave His only Son to die,
So that those who believe in Him,
Should have everlasting life.

This is God’s love for us all.
This is God’s gift of grace to us each.
This is why we have faith in Him.
This is the Mystery of Easter which we teach!

Have a happy and Blessed Easter!

Day 322-Easter Season (Limerick)

Easter Season is so near,
With bunnies, eggs and cheer.
But what of the cross;
The tomb can’t go lost,
Or Easter’s message, won’t be dear!

Day 321-When I Look Upon the Sacred Cross

Each year as Easter rolls around, I find myself once again in awe of our Lord and Savior and the sacrifices He made for each of us. He created us beautiful and perfect in His sight, but we chose to turn our backs on him and follow in the path of sin. He spent centuries trying to bring us back by showing His power and wrath with floods, famine, plagues and destruction of the worst of us, but never all of us. He spared any that showed Him reverence and faithfulness at all. He continued to love us and when He realized that we were a foolish lot and these things only scared us back to Him for a little while, He chose another route.

He didn’t want to destroy us, but saw that through sin we were destroying ourselves. He took pity on us. He was and is GOD! He could have destroyed us and started over. He could have reached into our hearts and minds and changed them Himself, making us follow Him. He didn’t do that! He wanted a relationship with us. He wanted us to come to Him. He wanted to save as many of us as possible. He wanted us to want Him and love Him. He didn’t want puppets, he wanted children that came to Him in love and served Him in love.

There for He gave us grace.

Long ago He had established that the wages of sin was death. This was a death that would forever separate us from Him, and condemn us to an eternity of pain and suffering. He didn’t want to lose us all to this fate.

So once again He extended a hand to us in saving grace, the hand of Christ His only son. He sent him in the flesh, human like us, and able to feel and know our every pain and temptation. But yet fully divine and perfect and totally undeserving of the suffering He endures for us.

God could have done it any other way, but instead He chose to come to earth and become all that we were, except that He was sinless, in order to save us from all that we are even to this day, which is a sinful and totally undeserving people. He bled and died, was whipped, scourged, beaten and crucified that we might have everlasting life and have it abundantly. He died and rose again, conquering the grave so that our deaths might be a doorway to eternal life with him instead of eternal damnation.

He did all this out of love and a wanting and willingness to have a relationship with us. We did nothing to deserve this outpouring of love yet he freely gave it. We still do not deserve his love, grace and forgiveness, yet we have it and he continues to give it.

How sad it is that it took such drastic measures for us to realize that He wants us to turn our back on sin and follow him.

He didn’t have to die; He chose to do it for us. He chose to take our sins upon him. He could have just as easily destroyed us. Instead, He was able to “destroy the temple of God, and to build it in three days,” (Matthew 26:61) hoping that we might finally realize who He is and all we mean to Him.

When I look upon the sacred cross,
My heart is broken in my chest,
My lungs are still, my breath a loss,
My soul to Him my one bequest.

He gave Himself for me his all,
That I might live instead of die.
My tears a flood begin to fall,
His pain, my grief and so I cry.

He owes me nothing, He is my God
My sins and burdens, He freely takes.
My life He spares with just a nod,
But with shame my soul still rakes.

Upon that cross He hung for all,
A sinful undeserving lot.
It took His life for us on our knees to fall,
And find the love that sin forgot.

As I look upon that sacred cross,
And see the pain He bore for me,
So that from Him I’d not be lost,
My eyes are open, I finally see.

His hand in grace He now extends,
With faith in Him I do believe
In God whose love has shown no ends
So His service I will never leave.

Day 319-The Adult Easter Egg Hunt

Our family has its own traditions, one such, is the annual Adult Easter Egg Hunt. My mother and aunt, decided many years ago that the kids weren’t the only ones that should have this fun. Therefore, they devised a hunt for the adults.

To participate, you have to be high school age or older. There is only one egg per person. Once you have found an egg, you may watch but you may not find, or direct others to hidden eggs. At the beginning a collection is taken from the players; pretty much whatever cash you have on hand. This is divided between the eggs starting with a large amount and the getting smaller in each egg. One egg is a Booby prize and could have anything that amuses the hiders in it. All the eggs are different colors and sizes. The two top prize winners each year have to hide the eggs the following year. This hunt takes place each year in an area between 3 old barns and a field behind them. There is a mass of old implements, old natural gas tanks, old tractors, old vehicles, hay, rocks, trees, and even a small well house in this area, so hiding places are aplenty.

Several years ago, there were about 11 adults hunting. Among these, were myself and my brother, Glenn, whose mission in life is to harass me, and pretty much always has been. That being said, you have the catalyst for this particular hunt. Unfortunately, and unbeknownst to the rest of us, at least at the beginning, he was the first person to find his egg. Remember the rules, well he doesn’t follow rules well.

As the rest of us diligently hunted for an egg, taking clues from the two hiders, Glenn went around moving the eggs that he found after finding his, and distracting the other hunters so that they wouldn’t realize what he was doing.

This created a situation where certain ones of us were hunting very hard in areas that should have eggs, but no longer did. Others were finding eggs in places that shouldn’t have them, had been previously checked, and now mysteriously did. Eventually, as the hunt went on, the hiders and other hunters became aware of what was going on, especially after they were practically directed to an egg.

My poor dad became collateral damage, as dad and I searched an area with no egg for quite a long time. Glenn allowed him to hunt along because he didn’t want to make me suspicious. Once I gave up and moved on to another site, Dad miraculously found an egg in a place we had both looked dozens of times. Of course we found out later that it was because Glenn was carrying it around in his pocket the whole time so I wouldn’t find it.

By this time everyone else had found an egg, and become aware of what Glenn was doing. I was the last one. For this reason they were all watching with bated breath, to see what he had planned for me and my egg. He kept me hunting for a while longer, and others even chimed in as to where there might still be an egg, even if they knew there was not one there. Then they even all collaborated to make me believe that they really didn’t know where the last one was hidden. This was easily believable since they had all been moved around so much, and the hiders only knew what Glenn told them.

Finally I was directed to a spot around the little well house. I had scoured this area earlier and knew at that time there was no egg. Glenn was all too interested in me finding this egg, so I knew something wasn’t right. Sure enough on top of the roof under some wood and trash was a small blue egg.

Now I am told that this egg originally held pennies as the booby prize, but by the time I found it, those had become part of another party’s egg. Mine held a small square piece of paper with a hand written note, which left no doubt as to whom was responsible. It was covered in my brother’s clever little wit, and read:……………………………..?

Well I know it had something to do with winning and/or being the Booby prize myself, but I no longer remember how he worded it. Regardless, he was extremely proud of himself, and I vowed revenge, which I am still waiting to collect. And so there you have it, the hunt goes on!

P.S. I am still waiting for my revenge. That being said, we actually haven’t had this hunt in a few years because due to weather, time, and other factors it just got missed. But my oldest daughter and I have had some new prize ideas. Most of the players are over 21 now, so we were thinking of mixing it up with travel liquor bottles in some of the eggs. Of course Glenn’s booby prize is still a work in progress……:)

Day 187-Focus Challenge 2-Writing Scenario to Story Premise

Fiction Writing Exercises for Stimulating Creativity Writing #365daynovel

From a simple scenarios form the basis for a story. Your job is to come up with three story premises for the scenario. Be creative and try to avoid the most obvious premises.

Chosen scenario:

  • A man and a woman are sitting across from each other at a small table in a dimly lit restaurant.

Premise 1:

A young, attractive couple sits together in the same dimly lit restaurant night after night. She has long auburn hair and bright green eyes, he had crystal blue eyes and thick dark brown hair. They are the picture of health and beauty. They are always deeply engaged in conversation. Just simple things that seem so very day-to-day, yet they exude excitement and wonder as they talk. They seem to never notice anyone around them, they are totally in a world all their own.

Young lovers, most would assume, happy and engaged in each other’s interests.
They talk only to each other, and look only at each other. The locals are used to them. no one ever talks to them or approaches them. They are allowed to carry on alone, uninterrupted, and almost unnoticed. Rarely is anyone ever seated close to them, so they continue in their own way. It is best this way.

Then strangers come in. Some don’t give them more than a passing glance. Some notice that something is different about this striking couple, others are attracted to them wanting to engage them in conversation. Their excitement for life seems to bubble over needing to be shared. It is like an energy that flows from them in quiet waves that invigorate the senses of anyone close by. They draw others in without even a glance or word to them directly. They have a unexplainable attraction to those who don’t know.

Locals watch, pitying those that fall under their spell. Those that join them at their table appear to have a wonderful evening with them, but when the restaurant closes, this beautiful couple is the last to leave, and somehow they always leave alone. Their new friends, what of them? The rumors  among the townsfolk speak of untold horrors, and these new friends are never seen again.

Premise 2:

A young couple in their teens sits together in a dimly lit restaurant trying to blend into the atmosphere of romantic lovers. The environment around them is strained as they practically will themselves to appear as completely enthralled young lovers, hoping that no one will notice them from anyone else in the place.

They hide in the darkest booth in the far back of the restaurant, praying that creature that killed their parents won’t look for them here. They don’t know what it is or where it came from, only that it is after something that their parents knew and now it seeks them since it did  not find what it was looking for in their house or glean the information from their parents.

They are hunted by the  police as well because they neighbors reported the murders and only saw them running from the house. They have no money, no car, and no  place to go, and it is only a matter of time before they are found. Somehow they must escape the creature and the  police until they can figure out the truth about what has happened and find the only person they can trust to help, and old friend of their father’s. But even this man is shrouded in mystery and they must walk in shadows until they can be sure if he will be their salvation, or more of their doom.

Premise 3:

An innocent couple is tucked away in the far corner of a romantic restaurant enjoying their meal, talking of an upcoming vacation when an explosion rocks the neighborhood sending the high-rise hotel next door crashing into the restaurant. They manage to flee the bay window table they are in, just as the building dissolves around them and they are trapped beneath the rubble. A section of the building remains where they are all trapped, but many are injured and the structure that is left won’t last long. Now they are in a race against time to get help and to find a way out, helping as many others as they can.

Roger is an EMT and Miranda a nurse, and they must use all their skills to survive, even as warning on Roger’s radio warn of another impending attack in more buildings in their area.

Ok, this was my writing exercise for the #365daynovell course I joined yesterday. This is day 2 of my challenge. Let me know what you think of my story premises from this exercise. The exercise was supplied by Writing Forward.

365daynovel.com/gigijb

 

Day 176-Halloween-The Harpist’s Wife

Happy Halloween! Today I am sharing another one of my ghost stories with you. I wrote this one some years ago as well, but it is all my own.  It was inspired by years of playing in the local cemetery behind my grandmother’s house, with my cousins while I was growing up.  It was published about 3 years ago on  Yahoo Contributor when I was writing for them, before they closed down the site, so there is some chance you may have seen it before. If you have, enjoy it again, if you haven’t, than welcome to the world of:

The Harpist’s Wife

It was a cold, dark, rainy, windy, night with lightning flashing and thunder rumbling loudly, and yet we were still there. We were stupid, foolish teenagers. We knew we shouldn’t be there; it was crazy and dangerous. We knew the stories were true, but we just had to see for ourselves. The legend said that if anyone went out to the cemetery on a night like this, one of them would not return from the Harpist’s grave, yet we still went. We had to know for ourselves. Call it dumb, invincible; know it all teen age pride and morbid, curiosity. We were six, when we went there that night.
Legend was that if anyone ventured into the cemetery on a night just like this one, you would see the Harper, hear him play, and watch as once again, he murders his wife, who smashes his harp in a jealous rage. Because the harp truly was his first love, in his will he left his full estate to the harp’s protection. It was to be enshrined atop his grave, in the most shatter proof glass, held together with thick steel, plated with solid gold. Lights shone upon it from either side, that it might shine like a god of the music world, he perceived it to be. He wanted it there, where he was sure, even in death; he could reach up and play it. And many say he plays it often. Many have heard it, and tell stories of reliving the night he murdered his wife with one of its broken strings, severing her throat. But each time there have been new witnesses to this crime, there has also been a new victim. His wife still tries to escape him, but for this there must be a trade, a soul for a soul. She must possess a mortal in order to flee from him.
So there the six of us were, standing in the stormy, dark night with only the light from the harp and the lightning waiting like lambs to the slaughter at the foot of the Harpist’s grave.
The thing about legends is that sometimes there are parts of them that people know, but are too afraid to speak of, so they only tell what they think will scare others away.
At precisely, 2:13 a.m., the harp began to play, and the harpist appeared at its side, an ordinary looking man, slender with shoulder length dark hair. Soon his lovely wife appeared, a vision of beauty with long flowing red hair, which surprised us, because every recounting of this story described her different, but always beautiful. They both were dressed in the finery of the late 1800’s. We watched as they began to fight. The real harp never moved from its shrine, and its music continued to play, as a vision of it fell to the ground. The Harpist scrambled to protect it, as she chopped it with an ax. Several times he narrowly escaped harm himself, crying in anguish as his precious harp broke into pieces.
She stood back weary and exhausted, dropping the ax to the ground, smiling. The Harpist plucked a long thin, sharp string from among the wreckage, and rose to face her. His hands wound tightly around the ends of the string until they began to bleed. Her smile faded, and she began looking for a place to flee for safety, it was then, they became aware of us watching.
She ran toward us wildly begging for protection, for a place of refuge. We scattered in different directions trying to get out of their path. I ran, my heart pounding, I could hear her footfalls behind me and her voice beseeching me to save her. I screamed that I could not help her because she was already dead. I stumbled over a low headstone, and fell and she fell upon me, and then we were one.
I felt her fear and my own, as she urged me to run, but I had broken my ankle in the fall and could only hobble. I cried for help from the others, but they would not come near because they had seen us become one, and they were afraid, but watched from the shadows.
I stumbled away as quickly as I could, but the Harpist overtook me, and I felt the bite of the string around my neck, cutting into my flesh. I could neither scream nor fend him off, though I tried. He over powered me. I felt my blood flowing down my neck, and my life slipping away.
In my head I heard her voice, “Thank you for setting me free, I am so sorry it had to be you.” Then I felt her fade away, and my world went dark.
When I awoke, the Harpist was once more playing his harp as though nothing had happened. My friends and the traveler were crying and screaming as they ran from the cemetery, leaving me behind. I called to them to wait, but they didn’t seem to hear me. As I started to follow after them, my foot caught on something on the ground. It was then that I knew what she had meant. Below me lay the body that once was mine, on the ground.
As I looked up, the Harpist beckoned to me. “Come my dear wife; let the music of the harp bring you peace, at least for a while.” I tried to walk away, but I found I could not leave the cemetery.
This was the part of the legend, no one would pass along. This was why no one described her the same way twice. Because each time she succeeded in freeing herself, she passed on her legacy to the one who took her place. This I now know, because for now until the next legend seekers came to the cemetery, on a stormy night, I am the Harpist’s wife.

Day 166-The Writing on the Stall Wall

Our 8:00 am conversation around the Billing department was rather comical this morning. It all began because Neil  brought donuts to share for his birthday.

Sharon announced, as we were coming in, “Neil brought donuts to share, they are in the back!”

To which I responded, “Oh cool, is it his birthday?”

At this point several other ladies chimed in and the conversation went something like this:

“Yes today’s Neil’s birthday.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Oh, I read it in the bathroom.”

“Oh, on the stall news, I guess I missed that.”

“Ya that’s how we find out everything these days.”

Laughing, “It used to be when someone said they read it in a bathroom, that meant it was written on the wall, like in the old days. “Call for a good time…””

“Now the Safety Stall News is where we find things out.”

“It just sounds wrong, “I read  in the bathroom that it is your
birthday today.” Laughing.

“Yup we get our news on the Toilet Tabloid!”

The conversation really went down hill from here with much humor, but not everything said can be repeated, only laughed at.

Have a great day, I will be watching for your name on the stall walls.

Day 145-Bull vs. Toyota-Livestock and Animals on Texas Highways

I saw something last night that has been a fear of mine for some time. Black Angus cattle are very hard to see at night. Quite often on my own road to the house, where I am already watching for them, I have come to a fast halt while rounding a corner due to one lying or standing in the middle of the road. Of course, I know they are there, so I am always watching for them.

Last evening we received a call from a concerned friend about a bull up by the old road side park on FM 965. They identified the tag, and luckily it was not our’s. We also located our’s standing in the field in front of our house, so we were doubly sure. We gave suggestions for other neighbors in the area that had similar animals.

A short time later a Sheriff’s deputy called us a second time, asking about the bull. I gave him the same information. At this point Brett and I decided to go up and see if we could lend a hand in any way.

From the time we got the call from the deputy, until the time we arrived on scene, which wasn’t more than ten minutes, things had taken a drastic change. We arrived to three sheriff’s vehicles with flashing lights blocking the road and we could tell by the debris in the road that an accident had occurred.

We pulled off the road in behind the last Sheriff’s car, and walked up to the scene to speak to the officers and see if we could help in any way. The bull was lying in the ditch alive but severely injured. Slightly in front of it, also in the ditch, was a white Toyota FJ Cruiser with the whole front end smashed in. The passenger’s side was the worst, obviously the main point of impact, but the vehicle was definitely totaled.

Apparently something spooked the bull and he ran across the median and straight out in front of the woman in the FJ. There was coolant and car pieces all over the road in her wake, but no skid marks that we could see. I don’t believe she even had time to react before impact.

The driver was still sitting inside the SUV with the door open waiting for the EMS to arrive, and a Sheriff’s deputy watching over her. Luckily the cab of the vehicle was completely intact and had held up well in the impact. The air bag had deployed, and most of her complaints injury wise were from the air bag and seat belt. Other than that she was distraught over having hit and injured the bull. She was actually more concerned for him than herself and was literally sick over seeing him lying in the ditch suffering while they tried to determine who he belonged to.

Shortly after we arrived one of the other cattle owners, that leases in the area pulled in behind us, and right after him the ambulance. The vehicle owner was treated and released at the scene with instructions to go to the ER if any symptoms worsened.

At this point, the second cattleman didn’t perceive the bull to be his. At the Sheriff deputy’s request I called another property owner in the  area to inquire if the bull might belong to him. After verifying the tag it was determined not to belong to him either.

Eventually after sending a picture of the tag to the previous owner, the neighbor on scene with us did verify that it was the bull that he had just moved in for a 3 month trial before buying. It was a very disappointing discovery for him, coupled with the fact that the animal should have been on the complete opposite side of the property no where near this road.  At this point he had no choice but to shoot the bull ending his suffering, and winch him up onto a truck bed to be hauled away. This was a very disheartening scene for all of us.

Folks I am telling you this story because this is an inevitability of rural Texas, or anywhere people raise livestock. Of course, this is a well used highway and the right of way is fenced all along it, but that is where we all get too  comfortable. Fenced or not, if there is livestock in the area we have to be vigilant. Deer  and wild animals are not the only creatures that may wander into the road ways in front of your vehicle. Domestic livestock do not always follow the rules even if they have fences, and in many rural areas, they are not fenced out of the roadways.

Cattle, horses, sheep, goats, llamas, and various others can and will get into roadways from time to time. Any of them can do damage to your vehicle and you if you hit them. Many of them come in dark colors that are hard to see at night. And the larger ones could cost you your life if you hit them at a higher rate of speed.

Don’t count on fences. Always watch your surroundings. If you see livestock in the area where you are traveling be careful and watch for them even if they appear to be in fenced in areas. No one expects a black bull to run out in front of them in the middle of the highway in the dark. If the animal is not facing you were their eyes catch the light, you may not be able to see them at all.

In this area of Texas, animals of all kinds are the rule, not the exception. If you haven’t hit an animal, at some point you probably will.  It is not your fault, it just happens, but driving with caution and being aware that you are in areas where animals roam, both domestic and wild, is your best defense. Altercations with livestock, are bad for everyone involved. Everyone is out money and property.

The woman last night was very lucky. Yes, her vehicle is totaled, but she came away, so far with what appear to be only minor injuries. There are people everywhere that have much different stories to tell, and some that are no longer here to tell their stories at all.

Don’t be reckless when trying to avoid an animal, swerving and skidding can be just as dangerous. Don’t depend fully on the protection of your grill guard either, smaller animals and deer may be deflected but larger animals are most likely not running as quickly and their larger mass doesn’t deflect away or under as well. In smaller cars you could just as likely end up with the animal in your lap as on the road after the collision.

Animals and livestock are a fact of life here in Texas and most rural areas, expect the unexpected.

Day 138-Focus Challenge 1-Comfort

It was suggested to me that the picture I posted of the hay field shrouded in fog, gave one of my readers comfort. It wasn’t actually a writing suggestion, but I decided to run with it anyway. Thank you, Mary Beth Lindig Kendrick.

When I originally posted that picture, I just liked it, and for me the fog suggested a bit of mystery, or even spookiness, yet beauty. My friend suggested to me that for her, it brought forth feelings of comfort. For her it was a sense of home, safety, and a blanketing of comfort. I had never looked at fog quite like that, but I definitely can see where she sees this, and it got me to looking at it a bit differently.

I began to think of the things we associate comfort with, and what comfort means.

By definition: (according to Merriam Webster)
First in the verb, it means: to give strength and hope; or to ease the grief or trouble of.
As a noun, it means: to be a strengthening support or assistance, solace; or a contented well-being; satisfying or enjoyable experience.

I believe we all understand and can agree on what comfort is in the first sense of comforting one in grief or stress, but comfort as a noun, is where we both agree and disagree. Or perhaps, not disagree, but instead, differ as to what it is or does for each of us.

For this discussion, let’s focus on the definition: as a noun. So the question is, what do we associate with comfort?

There is a wide variety of things that we associate with bringing us that sense of safety, solace, cheer, well-being, and all around stress and grief free feeling, if only for a little while? We use things such as food, clothing, places, activities and people to help us achieve that sought after sense of comfort.

Have you ever thought about what makes you feel comfort? Perhaps it is different things at different times or for different reasons?

Food is quite often a big one for many. We eat things that remind us of better and calmer times, when things were happy. Ice cream, chocolate, desserts, and even candy are often turned to because they were many times childhood rewards or treats for special times and occasions.  Certain dinners or dishes that mom or grandma used to make can also be sought after as comforts.

I like fried turkey steak, home-made oatmeal cookies, coconut cream pie, and red velvet cake with my grandmothers cooked butter cream icing. I grew up eating turkey steak because we raised turkeys my whole life. Oatmeal cookies remind me of hauling hay with our neighbors. Meta would always make a washtub (I kid you not) full of oatmeal cookies, with tea and lemonade for a break when we came to do their hay.  My Oma Birck (grandmother) always made coconut cream pie and red velvet cake for birthdays. They were two of my favorite things she made. Do you have comfort foods? What are they, and why?

A piece of clothing or a blanket may also create good feelings of comfort. Growing up in an old rock house, I was always cold because it held the cold in, so I was usually wrapped up in a blanket or six. Because of this, even in the heat of summer I don’t sleep well unless it is cool enough to be under at least a sheet and preferably a light blanket. But ironically summer clothes are my comfort clothes, because though I love my blankets, I don’t like being bundled tightly in anything especially not heavy clothes for winter. Shorts and beach dresses are my comfort clothes.

The beach, Enchanted Rock State Park, and the waterfall on our creek are some of my comfort places. Before E-Rock was a state park we went there on a regular basis to climb, run around, and play so it is a big childhood fun time memory place for me. When ever my family didn’t have time for big vacation trips which by the time I came along they were few and far between, we would go down to the beach and play around for a few days. The sand, the waves, and the sea shells are the best source of comfort and peace I know. They just seem to reach into my soul and relax me. The waterfall on our home place is a spot filled with family and friend memories throughout my life. We swam, bathed, picnicked, played, fished,and just hung out there. Often it was a good place to escape to think, write, cry and relax alone as well.

And to add to this list there is one place I love and that is Disney World. I have only been twice in my lifetime, but I found it fun and fascinating each time. If I could afford to go often and take my family it would be a comfort place as well, because it represents the best parts of life which is the magic of youth and imagination, where you can just have fun, be silly and ride the same ride five times in a row if you want to, before moving on to the next adventure.

Where are your comfort places? Do you still go to any of them? Why are they special?

Other things that give me comfort, are many of the beauties of the natural world, put there by the Lord for all to observe. Sunsets, sunrises, fields of flowers, large bodies of water, fields of hay, most baby animals, and my children, all inspire comfort and joy in my heart and soul.

Stop for a moment and reflect, what are your comfort things?

 

Day 134-Focus on a Writing Challenge

Focus is sometimes the hardest part of writing. I often sit down to write and end up with nothing because I have so many things on my mind that I would like to write about that I leave the page blank in indecision.

Part of my problem is simply not wanting to be like so many others I see. I don’t want to get on here and tell you my life story all the time. I don’t want to use this a place to rant and rave about problems, people, and day-to-day things that irritate me. Trust me the temptation is there quite often. I don’t want to complain or say things that would cause any grief or backlash to any of my friends or family. That is hard quite often too, because sometimes I have a very valid gripe and maybe even an idea of how to better things, but know that voicing these things would only make things worse because the people involved simply don’t think they are allowed to be questioned and would take it out on others.

I am not a “politically correct” person, I prefer to say what I think, albeit in as polite but straight forward way that I can. The problem with this, is also knowing when to speak and when to perhaps wait for a more appropriate time. This is an even harder point, because those of us that like to speak our mind honestly, usually don’t like to have to hold our tongues, but necessity is sometimes just that.

I prefer to stay out of all things political, frankly because that seems to be all I see, hear and read right now, and I just don’t want to add to it, or argue about it with anyone. I do my own research, make my own choices, talk to people on occasion about it, but my views are my views and I don’t want to debate them on here.

I want to write interesting things, although this one may not be, but sometimes you just have to write your way through what you are thinking in order to create a subject to focus on. That is what I am doing today. I have so many things going on in my life that I would love to vent about, but it wouldn’t be wise, so then I have trouble focusing and coming up with an actual subject.

I have considered the idea of allowing my readers to pick subjects and ideas for me to write about. I am mostly a creative writer so I like fiction. It is fun and freeing. I have done plenty of non-fiction as well, and even a little history, tons of poetry, some community interest pieces, short, long and in between.  And now I blog,  where the subject matter is less organized and more spontaneous, which is good and bad. I had intended it to be more daily so that I would write more, but then my favorite subject (ie. rockets) only has big news a few times a year, so I have to find other things to write about.

As you can tell, I can be long-winded, but I have finally come to the Focus of this blog piece. I will continue to write what I want as the mood strikes, but in order to keep me writing on a more regular basis, I would like to entertain the idea of letting people who read this blog, suggest story ideas for me to contemplate and possibly  use. What I will probably do is continue to title my blogs with the blog day # like I do, but then on days that the subject is picked by a reader I will call them Challenge Stories and they will have an assigned # and Title. I will also occasionally write a blog giving the latest ideas and highlighting the ones that I plan to use. Now this will just be for fun but if I use an idea I will reference the  person that suggested it. Be creative, adventurous, and fun.

I guess I will see if anyone really reads this now won’t I?  if no one sends messages with ideas I know I am only writing to entertain myself, which if that is the case, at least I know my audience, don’t I?

If you are interested, just comment on the blog, or on Facebook  under the story, or m or message me with your subject idea. Let’s have fun…….