OMGosh! moments

from Google images

 

              9. 22. ’14: OMGosh! It’s 5:48 a. m. Must get up and write down an idea about how to finish a chapter of the sequel and answer a long-ago question in A Journey of Choice. Why was Dovie such a nervous wreck the night Bird Briley threw rocks at Liddy’s house?

9. 23. ’14: OMGosh! A Facebook video shows a huge elk herd crossing a highway, each one jumping the fence. One remained behind. It either couldn’t or wouldn’t jump. It tried to ream a hole in the fence large enough to scoot through. Nope. Loped down the fence a ways, perhaps to find a weak or low spot? Nope. As the herd moved away in single file, the left-behind animal got desperate. It ran back to get a good start. Lo and behold, it cleared the fence and ran like a racer. Voila!

Did the herd wait? No. The leader didn’t know there was a laggard, a coward, a fraidy-elk. Did its mother know, and instead of following, turn back to encourage her child? No. No one—not one came to its aid. “Gotta be brave and do this myself,” it might have thought. Or “Hey, there goes my sustenance. Gotta get outta’ this trap.”

I’m a sucker for a happy ending.

10. 2. ’14: OMGosh! Ten pages before the end of a great novel by Linda Apple (I read both for the story AND—being in two critique groups--the nitty-gritty stuff that’s probably the publisher’s doings), I nearly screamed. In the description of a wedding, Pachelbel’s "Cannon in D" came into focus. Oh, no! Oh, no! Pachelbel’s piece is a canon! I think the publisher’s auto-correct function took over, and since there IS the word “cannon,” the spell check function didn’t flag it. The publisher's been notified, the author said.

10.3.’14: OMGosh! When I opened the large plastic container with last year’s autumn/ Thanksgiving stuff, I was stunned: the real gourds had molded (dumb-da-dum-dumb) and covered all the glass and composite items, too. Yuck. As many years as I’ve used fresh gourds in my arrangements, I should know by now that they need airing so they will dry naturally. I DID salvage enough for a basket full of items that I placed on the buffet.

                10.3. ’14: OMGosh! As I tried to place a new (to me) pear-motif plastic platter—a birthday “flea” from two sisters—between the bracket-held shelves in the back hall, all heck broke loose when a bracket came out of its housing, and the 3/8 inch plywood came tumbling down. Swiftly, I moved my flip-flop-uncovered feet backwards as I yelled. A Niloak vase met its broken self, as did a green glass votive holder and another ceramic vase. The mower keys were under the shelf itself.

                10. 3. ’14: Scrolling through Facebook, I saw a photo that looked like my elder daughter. Beautiful smile, nice hair, well dressed, happy looking. I commented to the one who posted, “Is that J. B. with you? I haven’t seen her in ages.”

                Here’s a new poem:

3 a. m. t-storm

 leaves my yard

full of colored leaves.”

 Happy Autumn.