Category: Humor

What Do Writers Write, When They Haven’t A Clue?

What do writers write about when they have no clue what to write about? What words hit the page, when there is no event to cover, public interest or personal thing that lends itself to writing a story? That is exactly what this story is going to investigate.

Of course, I say Writers, loosely. Mostly this applies to one lost writer I know.

I sit at my computer, brainstorming over ideas of nothing. The little voice in my head rehearses that writer’s mantra of “Writer’s Write,” so write something. Write anything! Certainly, there must be something of interest for me to put words on paper.

My writer friend, Phil, who seems to never lack for something to write about, of course, that is pretty much all he does these days. I still have a “real” job as my husband would tell me. If it were up to me that would be my only “real” job, but finances just do not follow inline for me. Anyway, he asks me every time I see him, “So what have you been writing lately? I haven’t seen any posts from you.”

I need more rocket events; I always write about them when they are in season. Unfortunately, Rocket Season just ended for the spring. Only the big boys that we take to White Sands are left to be tested at the end of June. I have been doing pregame on that event, but I cannot launch those yet. Pun definitely intended. I love Rockets, and I had to get it in there somewhere. But as is the usual schedule of events, after June, I have no more rockets and sadly my enthusiasm seems to wane. So, in answer to his question, “Not a whole lot. Some poetry here and there. A fictional story once in a while. Oh, I did a devotion for our Lenten book at church. Does that count?”

I told him, I would love to travel and write about where I travel. He asks, “ Why aren’t you doing it?” Same answer, “Time, money, PTO, did I mention money.” Yup it’s a rut!

Now here I am, trying to at the very least write something. And here is the best part. I love having spell check and an editor, but can’t it just leave me alone until I want it’s help? I don’t even know what I am writing about! What do I care if it is correct at this point?

I am sitting here trying to figure out where to go from here, tapping inertly on my keyboard. When a story I saw in the Daily Update of the Fredericksburg Standard comes to mind, and I wonder why, now? Here is the answer, and it is something to write about, however briefly.

The band is reviving the Cake Walk this Thursday, at the Farmer’s Market at Market Platz. Actually, it is TODAY! They have asked for percussion alumni to come play the old traditional cowbell cadence. As I ponder for ideas, I realize my inert drumming is that very cadence. Not surprising, since old Bandies tend to revert back to what they know.

The Band Cake Walk hasn’t happened since the 1990’s so I am told, but I was a very young child when I really remember attending the event. I do remember making a pink carousel cake with Peeps animals for horses. I was very proud of it at the time. It was the only decorated one I recall taking to donate and be judged. No, if memory serves me, it did not place.

At the time I recall it used to take place right where Adlesverein Halle is on Market Platz. That corner was a community baseball field at the time. I do remember having fun as a child. By high school it had lost it’s luster. I was a teenager, and both my mother and grandmother made wedding and all occasion cakes for the public and I was forced to help. I hated it. Little did I know I would spend 13 years setting up and delivering cakes for Sophie’s Choice Bakery later in life. My Oma would have been thrilled. She always told me, what you throw away the farthest is what you pick up first. Well, it wasn’t first, but I did pick it up and actually enjoyed it then.

I do intend to attend tonight’s event. I am curious, and nostalgic. I want to hear the cadence. As for the cake walk itself, I will watch, past that I have not decided, only time will tell.

Most of what I have found to note on paper today, probably won’t be of interest to folks not from old Fritztown, but you know what? That is ok. Heck it might not even be entertaining to them. But you know what? There are words on paper. Honestly, that was my goal.

So, I still don’t really know what to write about, but I did have fun rambling around. I hope you enjoyed it. Perhaps I will try to do it more often. You know, make it a thing, titled, “What Do Writers Write About, When They Haven’t a Clue?”

History, Haunts, and Heart Beats

A new form of entertainment has manifested in Fredericksburg, Texas. It is the Fredericksburg Ghost Tours. This new venue is a walking tour of Fredericksburg starting  and ending at the Nimitz Museum (National Museum of the Pacific War). It is filled with interesting, little known stories and histories of many places along Main Street and it’s  alleyways.

Your host/tour guide is dressed in 1800’s attire as he leads you around town, regaling your with stories, not found in the normal Fredericksburg history books. Each account given is tied to a place along the tour and the residing ghosts of that area.

The tour itself is not scary, but rather entertaining and informational. Though the stories are a historical basis for ghosts, there is much humor in them as well. Derrick  Spence coordinates the guides and tours. He has also done the research and compiled the stories shared on the tour. The guides are cheerful,  and they do their best to see you learn a little and have a good time. Daniel was our guide this particular evening, and he was knowledgeable, entertaining and fun.

Be sure to bring your phones, or other cameras and take pictures. It is highly encouraged and if you find you have visitors in your photos  you can send them in to their website at fbgghosttours@gmail.com and they may feature them on their website.

The stops currently on the tour, are just a handful of the many haunted places in town. Your guide will mention a few not on the tour at this time and encourage you to go investigate them on your own.

Tours run Thursday through Sunday evenings with tours at 8:00, 8:30, or 9:30 p.m. It is encouraged to meet at the Admiral Chester W. Nimitz statue at least 10 minutes before the start of your tour, with your previously purchased ticket in hand.

You may purchase tickets online at https://www.fredericksburgghosts.com/ , or call 830-383-3122 and speak to founder Rick Koch or one of his employees, they will be happy to help you reserve your tickets and then pick them up at the Vintage Vault at 406 West Main Street, next to the Amish Market.

My friends and I embarked on the tour at 8:00 this past Sunday evening, October 7th. We had a wonderful time and are ready to do it again with other friends and family who have not gone yet. We were encouraged to take pictures along the route. During the tour we really didn’t see much more than Fredericksburg sites and allies in the dark, but as the guide explained, what you do not see with your eyes, may be watching you, and may not be camera-shy.

They do encourage you to share photos to their page if you think you have caught a ghostly  image, or just a really interesting photo from the tour. They may feature it on their site. That being said, I will share some here and will probably send them in after this  post.

After reviewing mine the next day, I definitely think I caught some images to share. I hope you can see what I see, but you may have to enlarge the photos, that is how I confirmed my sightings.

My best possible sightings were the ones from the Nimitz, Keidel Hospital, and one of the back alley stops.

Here are a few of mine. In all of them, my friends and I see something. Do you? Share your thoughts in the comments. I would love to hear what you think.

Here is the Nimitz. Pay close attention to the dark window on the middle section, just below the window that is lit up, in the first and third photos.

  

 How about a creepy back alley to look down? Look closely, there is more than meets the eye.

And last, here is the old Keidel Hospital building (home to Der Kuchen Laden and Rathskellar Restaurant).  Pay close attention to the large window at the top, above the door. A ghostly pair looks back at you.  Then look at the window to the left of the large window, in its bottom left pane, and also the column to the right of the door, there are ghosts in all of these. Two frames are provided so that you can compare. Most of the visitors appear in the right frame. Honestly we did not see these things as we looked at the places that evening, but then there they were in the pictures.  That definitely gets you thinking and your heart beating a little faster.

Let me know if you see them.  Maybe this is a coincidence, but also in the Keidel photos, there is a very strange water mark in between the two bottom windows. It is quite a creepy creature looking back from the rocks.

There are many other stops along the tour, I just wanted to give you a glimpse.

I hope  I have peaked your interest and you and your friends will come take the tour. The ghosts are waiting to greet you!

Happy Thanksgiving All

I had planned to post something  that I had written in the past for Thanksgiving, only to discover I couldn’t find anything I had written in the past for Thanksgiving. How sad, I thought, such a wonderful holiday and I have never taken the time to write a word about it. Well, now I shall remedy that, even if at the moment I have no idea what I plan to say. So you will just have to bear with me a bit!

It is odd that I haven’t taken the time to write about this holiday since I know it is one of my favorites and I know many say the same. I think it stands out as such because it involves all the wonderful aspects of a holiday without so much commercial fuss.  Yes, it does still have some, but not like Christmas, Easter, and Halloween.

It is designed as a holiday of thanks and sharing of all that we have, so we take the time to get together with family and friends and prepare and share food, 1452392_687153997972401_473183348_nfellowship, fun, parades, football, hunting, church, prayer and thanks. We share sheer joy at just being together. Our gifts for this particular holiday are our food, our joy, our love, and our companionship. We wrap them in smiles, hugs, tears and laughter.

We relax, visit, watch football, play games and eat all day long, and in our case late into the night. In fact sometimes it becomes a campfire party later in the evening.

The biggest stress is preparing food and cleaning at the house. Yes I said it that way on purpose because quite often all the cleaning never gets done (mostly dusting, the floors and bathrooms are clean-hey if you can’t handle that, write your name in the dust and then politely leave through the same door in which you came),  and my family never seems to mind. What didn’t get done will get finished as the Christmas decorations go up next week. Besides, I live in a sand field and I can dust today and it will look like I never did by tonight, especially if the windows are open which they have been off and on lately. But I digress, that is not the point. The point is we get together for this holiday to give great thanks and to just plain eat and have fun.

The stressful stuff starts on Friday as we start shopping for that next biggest holiday of Christmas.  But for Thanksgiving Day, wake up, watch the sun rise and go enjoy your family.img_8693 I know that is what I am going to do. Actually most of them are coming to my house. I wish every last one of them was, but unfortunately some due to circumstances just cannot. I pray that where ever they are, they are safe and have a wonderful day anyway.

God bless and give thanks for all you have, and pray for those less fortunate than you that may not being having such a wonderful day. May God bless and keep them and fill their needs as well.

Happy Thanksgiving All may you have a wonderful and blessed day.

Day 299-Who’s Gonna Shoot the Dog?-A Humorous Anecdote About Last Wishes

So there they were watching a scene right out of a “Far Side” cartoon. Six red neck men who had it all figured out. They had a huge bon fire built-in the field. They had an air tight metal box that should be able to withstand the heat and keep the ashes contained. They had the dog rounded up and surrounded between them. And they had six shot guns in hand.

What a sight they were, with old straw hats on their heads, well-worn blue jeans, and faded pearl snap shirts. Each one staring at a frightened dog that had no idea what he had done wrong. It was all ready according to their plan except for two details. The first of which was who was gonna shoot the dog? The second detail should have been the first, but none of them were aware of it.

You see, it all began with 98-year-old Granny, whom had passed away three days earlier, leaving a large adoring family of country hicks behind, and a few last requests.

The thing about large families is sometimes they get spread out, and those not closest to home (Granny’s home) might not hear all the news in people’s lives back home. The bigger things tend to find their way down the grapevine. Some smaller events just might not be important enough to anyone but those directly involved, and so once dealt with they are forgotten and not passed along to everyone.

There is good reason for this too. Most of us don’t rightly care to get a holler every time Aunt Margaret has to have her toe nail cut out, Uncle John gets a fishing hook stuck in his behind, cousin Mark falls in the creek trying to walk and look cool for pretty girls, sister Jean’s cat dies because she plops her 50X behind on it, or one of Granny’s dogs dies. Granted these things are tragedies to those immediately involved, but the rest of us just don’t want to know.

Most of us aspire to that cliché, “ignorance is bliss” in such situations. Well there were those among us on this particular day that would have appreciated if at least one of these gems had indeed been passed along.

So anyway, three days earlier after Granny’s passing, all manner of red neck, country bumpkin relatives from everywhere Hicksville, USA, had descended on the old home place where Granny had lived to come pay their respects. It is truly amazing what a family reunion a funeral gathering can be.

As everyone became re-acquainted with one another, many stories and such about Granny were passed along. In the process, the subject of Granny’s last requests became a hot topic of concern. You see, Granny had every last detail mapped out for after her life from not only who got what and who got not, but what was to be said, sung, done and who was to be buried with her at her funeral. The only detail missing or so they thought was who was to carry out that one final wish, since it had to be done by the next day, in order to be ready for the funeral.
Granny’s final wish was that the ashes of her dog be buried with her. This caused quite a stir among all the relatives gathered there visiting.

My parents and I were at the funeral home seeing to the funeral arrangements, so it became clear to the gathered throng that they would have to handle this last request on their own. In amongst this band of cowboy, red neck, hicks sat Fred, Granny’s dog, alive and well and enjoying much attention, oblivious at this point to the pity he was receiving.
The first order of business was to decide how they were going to accomplish this doggy cremation, and worst of all who was going to have to shoot the dog so that he could be cremated. So sad a task they had in hand because Fred was still a good dog with years left in him, but they had to honor Granny.

Since Granny had hand-picked her six pall bearers, it was decided that they would decide how this would be carried out. Once all was ready, they circled up and drew straws on who had to put poor Fred down. In case the first chosen couldn’t do it, they would all bare arms and be prepared so that surely one of them would be able to carry out Granny’s last wishes.

That brings us back to where we were with all preparations ready and six red necks with shot guns circled around poor Fred, as he stared back at them wide-eyed and sheepishly. The rest of the gathered family watched from the house. Children cried and adults shook their heads and waited.

It was into this scene that my parents and I, returned from making Granny’s funeral arrangements. We had seen the bon fire behind the house and the crew standing around outside, but it really hadn’t concerned us that much. After all, what better way to reminisce then around a good fire?

We entered the house to find everyone watching through the windows, not outside around the fire. We knew something was amiss. Therefore, we questioned what was going on. One tearful child answered, “We are waiting to see who’s gonna shoot the dog?”

“Shoot the dog! Why on earth do they wanna shoot poor Fred?!” asked Mom.

“Granny wants his ashes buried with her. They can’t very well cremate him if he’s still alive,” the same child answered.

“Oh my goodness!” Mom exclaimed as she looked around with a new appreciation for this very surreal scene. Then it hit her and she burst out laughing. She laughed so hard she couldn’t speak, and tears came to her eyes.

The crowd, turned to see what she could possibly find so funny about this obviously sad dilemma. Dad walked in as one of my cousins demanded to know what her hysterics were about.

“How can you possibly find the impending death of Fred so outrageously funny, have you no heart?”

“Death of Fred, the dog, why? He was fine when we left,” said Dad.

“Well they’re gonna shoot him, quick and humane like so as they can cremate him like Granny wanted. Just look outside. We were all watching to see who would have to do it,” said Uncle George.

“Oh no,” Dad said, running for the door, and throwing it open with a bang that startled the six-gun toting, doggy doomsday, do gooders of sorts.

Fred took this distraction and ran behind dad. “Its ok Fred, no one’s gonna shoot you today or any other day.”

“But what about Granny’s last request?” all six asked.

“Guess you boys hadn’t heard that Milo made that deal with Granny about three months ago,” Dad smiled.

“Milo, what do ya mean? Where is Milo?” they asked as Mom appeared in the door, having finally regained her composure, holding a small silver Erne inlaid with Milo’s picture, and engraved with his name, date of birth and death.

Fred reappeared, sitting himself in front of Dad now. I swear I saw him shrug in a sigh of relief, as he cocked his head to one side, staring at the harbingers of his past doom.
“I wish you guys could have seen yourselves standing in that circle, debating on who was gonna shoot the dog! My gosh, do you really think Granny would have made us bury a dog with her that was still alive?” Mom snickered and then burst into laughter again followed by many others.

Well since we had a bon fire to watch, we gathered around it to reminisce about Granny and the kids roasted marshmallows and weenies. Funeral or not, you can’t waste a good fire. Besides, that’s one camp fire story no one will ever forget.

As for Fred and Milo, well Fred died of natural causes at our house ten years later. He and Milo reside in a pet cemetery we started on the farm. You see, apparently the cemetery where Granny’s buried has an association and rules kind of like those neighborhood associations in them fancy sub divisions. Believe it or not, it has a no pets allowed in the occupants residences (graves) rule. Now don’t that beat all!

Day 275-The In and Out of An Idea

Some days ideas just jump into my head,
But then they look around at all the clutter,
Get scared and jump back out again.

Often I catch them before they get away,
But then they just dangle there
Like a fish on a hook waiting to be reeled back in.

The problem is no time, no room, and
No clear thought process that lasts
Long enough bring them to fruition.

If they get away then often I see them,
Peeping in the window reminding me they tried this once already,
And they still don’t see an opening large enough for them to fit.

So I think on them, trying to figure how to make them work.
Often this annoys them, and instead of seeing my solutions,
They disappear taking half my work with me.

This they seem to do just to punish me
For not paying closer attention and making them room
When they first arrived on the scene.

Why do good ideas always come at bad times;
When you have no access to pen and paper,
And then they expect your full attention and memory?

For example, in the shower;
Even if you were to have a pen and paper,
Just try writing in the shower, it will melt and you will never remember it all.

Day 222-Christmas Magic

When I was very young, my parents celebrated Christmas with us, steeped in German traditions that brought life and magic to the holiday. They went over and above in order to make the magic of Christmas real.

In our home the big celebration was an open house at my mom’s on Christmas Eve. On the 24th the house came alive with family and friends. There were decorations, a huge tree, tons of food, drink sweets, music, gifts and fun.

For us, the kids, all the wonderment began on Christmas Eve morning, but for my dedicated parents, the work began late on the 23rd. You see, my parents sent us to bed around nine o’clock on the 23rd in a house with not one decoration or obvious sign of Christmas, no tree, nothing.

When we awoke on Christmas Eve morning, the excitement and magic of Christmas had arrived at our house while we had slept. We came down the stairs to air-filled with the wonderful aromas of food cooking for Christmas Eve dinner. The house was decorated, and in the living room, was a Christmas tree that stood from floor to ceiling tall and almost as big around. It was fully adorned with decorations. In those days, the decorations consisted of beautiful glass balls and birds, golden garland, silver tinsel, and old-fashioned bubble lights, along with hundreds of colored twinkle lights which were ringed in little plastic star bursts. It was gorgeous, like a Christmas card in our living room. And best of all there were gifts of all sizes under the tree.

We were allowed to peak at the tree, but then the doors were closed and we weren’t allowed in again until time for gifts and guests. When we were older, we could help set the dining room table which was next to the tree, but we were not allowed to snoop around the gifts. Of course we couldn’t help but try to see names on the gifts as we worked, in such a way as to not get caught snooping. That was a tedious endeavor, I assure you. As soon as our work was done the door was closed again, and we were back to waiting.

The best part of this whole thing was the knowledge that Santa Claus had done it all, the tree, the gifts, decorated the house. He and his elves had been here while we slept. I know what you are thinking, “But Santa doesn’t start delivering until Christmas Eve.”

Well that’s right, but Christmas Eve starts at midnight, and it takes him all day since there are so many children in the world. And since he knew we had our Christmas that day, my parents had a standing agreement that he would come by our house before daylight on Christmas Eve.

I think the must have given him fresh turkeys for his Christmas table from my dad’s turkey farm each year to seal the deal because they quite often, got him to do special favors like this.

I remember quite well one of those favors he did for them. I was very young, perhaps 5 or 6 that particular Christmas. The day had transpired as I described previously. The extended family was there. We had read the Christmas story from the Bible and opened all our gifts.

I had wanted a bicycle that year, but there wasn’t one under the tree. We had begun to entertain guests and eat food. General merriment was being made all through the house; there was laughing and stirring but thankfully no mouse.
About half way through the evening, the door bell rang, as it had been doing all evening to announce more guests. I was told to open the door and so I did.

Outside on the step, there stood a brand new, red bicycle with training wheels. No one was there with it. Everyone I knew was in the room behind me watching. I heard jingle bells in the distance, and I searched the sky but never saw him, only heard the sleigh bells. Santa had made a special delivery, and was quick to be on his way so that I never saw him. I was excited and disappointed all at once.
I’m still not sure how my parents and “Santa” pulled that one, off and to this day, those who know aren’t talking. I do know it was probably the most exciting and memorable Christmas ever. The magic couldn’t have been more real that year. It was wonderful and fun.

After my special delivery had been safely ushered through the house to the utility room, where it couldn’t break anything if it fell over, the party continued as before. I looked out the window and up at the sky often that evening, never quite sure how Santa could get away so fast, and secretly hoping to catch a glimpse of his sleigh somewhere in the sky. I never saw it, but then that’s what made it magic.

Day 220-Christmas Mountain Slide.

Just before Christmas, in 1986, my parents, sister and brother-in-law and myself, embarked on a trip to Ruidoso, New Mexico, to top the mountains of Ski Apache Resort. Little did we know that instead of sliding down the slopes, the more harrowing adventure would be sliding up and down the icy hillside roads to the resort.
On the first day, the drive was not bad because I rode with my parents, who are experienced snow drivers from all the years they went to Colorado, hunting. But even with experienced drivers, seeing the edges of the road so close to the side of our truck, as we slipped along on ice and snow-covered narrow roads made me want to cry. I knew dad knew what he was doing, but that did not make the 1000’s of feet down onto rocks, trees, and who knows what else look any more inviting. Oh, and of course, no guard rail. The opposite side was no better, there you slid into the hillside, large rocks, or into oncoming traffic. Yes oncoming traffic on a road that was so narrow you could barely go one direction and it was going two. The first day, we made it safely.

The next day the fun began. My parents stayed behind to tour, and let us drive their Chevy truck while they drove my sister’s station wagon around for the day. They should have designated a driver other than my brother-in-law, bless his soul; safe driving was not and still is not his strong suit.

To leave the cabins you had to follow a little road across a small bridge and then turn left on to the road towards town. You had no choice but to turn left because there was a snow-covered hillside preventing you from going any other way. Not so with our talented driver, we made an only slightly left skid directly into the snow-covered embankment. Luckily the only damage was to the snow, where we left a bumper shaped deep dent. Which incidentally my parents told us that they knew was from us as soon as they saw it. But thus started our trip up and then back down the mountain that day.

We invented a new word that day, it went something like, “Sloeeeaahck!” It was a terrified cross between “slow down”, and screams of eek and aahhh! I don’t think I have ever seen my life flash before my eyes so much in one day. It was kind of like having instant replay on a football game that you had watched several times before. I had actually forgotten about some of those events though, so at least I had my memory refreshed.

It seemed we were constantly sliding toward our doom, whether that was 1000’s of feet down to our deaths, crashing into the mountain or perhaps a tree or a rock. Quite often it seemed we were hanging just over that edge looking death in the eye as we stared down that ravine in terror just before our truck some how righted itself back onto the road. Of course then we were usually headed for the snow-covered just as unforgiving hillside. We seemed to be the metal ball in a pin ball game bouncing back and forth off whatever obstacle was there to change our course. Pin Ball is an old style arcade game for those of you too young to know.

We created our own road both up and down the mountain that day. It seemed traveling was either going to literally kill us or scare us to death in which the outcome would be the same; sudden death, just days before Christmas. Somehow, by the grace of God indeed, we are all still here today, survivors of this Christmas mountain slide.

PS. No the picture is not from New Mexico, but I didn’t have any available. As you might be able to tell that is Texas Hill Country snow, but to us it is even more treacherous! Haha! Merry Christmas!

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.