Throughout the bulk of this day, I’ve tried to figure out what to write on this prompt.
All that came to me was a beautiful health food store that my kids and I loved to shop in when they were young.
I can smell the wonderful aroma, fresh herbs, etc. We’d buy a healthy shake to sip as I picked up bread-making goodies, and that fun licorice that has a panda on the box. It was delightful. And sometimes we’d walk next door and have Chinese food for dinner.
The one thing I wouldn’t buy were the flours sold in bulk. Someone told me she found a fingernail in one of the bins. I gag, even now, thinking about that.
So, I only buy prepackaged bulk, like water, which we drink here because the well water of the area tastes of sulfur.
Anyway, thanks for the memory stroll. That health food store smells, mmm.
I hope however you celebrate the 31st of October (and November 1st) it is happy and fulfilling.
Mine has been full of journaling and memories. Oh, and the traditional layer of snow to start the morning. Halloween always seems to be the first snow that sticks a minute (Getting ready for the night of writing dangerously, NaNoWriMo)
When I was young, three clocks stood out in my life.
No picture appeared in the free tech stock, so I guess I need to use a thousand words instead. Glad the clock isn’t ticking.
This first one was the little mantel clock on the upright grand I learned to play on. It needed two keys. One to keep it wound up and the second to set as needed. It was a beautiful wave of wood with Roman Numerals. This clock rang out the hour, so no matter where you were in the house you would know the hour. It also rang once for the half hour. That was more confusing as that could be interpreted as 1 AM, 1 PM, the need to wind it up again, or just the half-hour—but what time was the last hour that rang? Dusting the piano and the clock was a sacred duty for me. I can still smell the Pledge and the smooth curves of the clock.
This is the clock that helps at night now. I glance up to the ceiling to see the time. I don’t hang out in the bedroom so I don’t have to try and see the tiny font that doesn’t show up in the light. Definitely not as exciting as those old clocks.
Next door to my grandmother’s house was a nice old couple. We called her ‘Grandma Dirtyfoot’ as she was always outside watering her plants. She actually saved my life when I was a newborn. Apparently, I had an enlarged thymus that blocked my breathing at 6 weeks old. I was the first grandchild on that side of the family. Nobody wanted to spank me while holding me upside down, even though that was what the doctor was telling them to do. Grandma Dirtyfoot walked up and did exactly what was needed. And then I breathed. This couple went to our church. When I was old enough to visit them, I remember their clock on the china hutch. A glass dome covered the golden twisty-turning pendulum. I guess that was what it was. I found it fascinating to watch. I recently saw that a friend of mine had one. It was pretty exciting to see. It is quite hypnotic watching that pendulum. But it is silent. Sorry,I couldn’t find a picture of that one either.😒
Both of my grandfathers were carpenters. My dad’s dad built houses. My mother’s dad built furniture. At one point, he built grandfather clocks. I remember the one in their house not only ticked and tocked, it chimed the hours, half hours, and quarter hours. It wasn’t just a monotone bell, like our piano clock. It played a little tune. It was beautiful in every way. And the real pendulum swayed back and forth. You had to pull the chains to wind it up. It looked something like the one below.
This is my living room clock. Not so fancy. But nice to see the numbers clearly all day long. And it reminds me of school clocks. Their time keeping was wacky. Five minutes at the end of the day took three hours. Yet this clock can make a few hours fly by as I play with my hobbies.
If all else fails and we need to be accurate, There’s the high-tech thing at the bottom of the screen.
Imagine telling our grandparents to look at their phones to see what time it was. Oh, wait! UL3-1212 I think, got us the ‘Time Operator’. “At the tone, the time will be…” She’d say. And you knew she was right.
Our Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “tack/tech/tick/tock/tuck.’” Use one or use ’em all for the bonus points. Enjoy!
I guess I couldn’t figure out how to include the tacky word. Oh, well, maybe next time. Oh, wait! I just did! Hehehe! Now how to tuck in that other word. What was it?
By the way, I tested negative today. Chris is doing okay, just not as peppy as usual. The fires are still going but far enough away that we don’t seem to get more than the smoky, sore throat. Praying for the folks that are closer. Our poor little frontier town only has a volunteer fire department. But they are doing their best.
If shipping is free then why can’t I get another cruise?
Mendenhall Glacier. We visited this place and others on a cruise to inner passages in Alaska. I was in my early 50s. I had my nails done in thermal reacting nail polish. Pink when warm, orange when cold. My nails matched my coat.
That was a fun unexpected adventure. I would have never known how much fun a cold place could be. A wish I never knew would be my wish. Until we went. I didn’t sleep. I enjoyed every moment of that June summer week.
This picture always reminds me of my favorite saying “But how do you know what you want and you get what you want and you see if you like it?” Cinderella, Into the Woods, Sondheim.
Anyway that trip was spent with my soon to be husband and his friends from high school. Another surprise for me. I was scared of meeting these old friends. What if I didn’t measure up? What if I couldn’t relate? But I had a ball with my new friends. Aren’t friendships the greatest?
That relationship has far outlasted my other marriage and his previous marriages. I think we grow more in real love as we learn how all that is supposed to work. Being there for each other.
While dreaming impossible dreams, I wish I could live on a cruise ship. I love the water. And I’d love to take all my family and friends. A relation ship.
Per Linda: Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “a repeated story.” Include in your post a story you’ve repeated again and again or a story you’ve heard again and again. Or write about the phenomenon itself. Have fun!
What did you do all day? Why are you so late to the blog?
Well, it’s the same ole story. Yesterday I found a mistake a few rows back and today I’ve been Tinking back. I still haven’t reached the boo-boo. And I find the number of stitches on each needle is so different I’m going to have to get creative to get the number to match. Or tink even farther. Ugh!
When I was a young adult, my grandmothers had Alzheimer’s. Yeah. Both maternal and paternal. So when you all wonder why I work so hard at languages and learning new things and puzzling things like Sudoku, that is a fight I’m on. I’ve not been diagnosed, but at 74 I’m being as vigilant as I can.
And yes, I do repeat stories. I have since I was a child. Most people do. Maybe they don’t realize it. Or maybe they are trying to work something out in this retelling. I remember my grandmothers would tell a story once again and folks would criticize them. But I listened and saw they changed the story a bit each retelling. Sometimes I learned something new about them or others. Sometimes it just was their story. A thing that made them. How I’d love to hear them repeat one of their old tales to me again.
Think about how kids love hearing a book read to them for the umpteenth time. They’re working the story out. The rhythms, the rhymes, how it all works.
I have learned to reread or rewatch things as each time I pick up just a bit more. Not only the story but about writing, directing, acting. Or maybe more about how people differ in their relationships.
Old stories are still packed with nuggets we can learn from. Whether we are telling them or an audience member.
I’ve never had a chance at shortwave, we had walkie talkies when we moved that helped the four vehicles keep in contact. But my favorite was a transister radio. My dad gave it to me at about the same age, 11. He also gave me a long tube speaker. My friend and I walked around the track with her and we listened to Old Rivers and Mr by Walter Brennan. My best memory of the little radio.
I think I’ll copy this and reblog your post. I’d like to have that alphabet easy to find. My husband uses them when spelling his name out on the phone. Sometimes I’d like to do that but I mess it up. Every time!
My memories of my little transister radio. Before long Beatles kept my ears on the radio along with Motown.
Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is: “memories of the room you’re in.” Write about a memory of the room (or park, or gym, or where ever you are) you’re in when you write your post. Enjoy!
The room I use the most is the living room. My memories here are about ten years.
When we first moved in, we didn’t have much furniture in here. My friend, who sold us the house, had laid carpet samples in a checkerboard pattern. With so much room I’d find myself dancing square to square. Those were fun days. Now the room is full of furniture and my hobbies. These create new memories. But I miss a place to dance even if no one ever saw.
I don’t talk much about Duolingo and my 10 languages. Maybe you think it’s a bad idea to do all of them. But both of my grandmothers died from Alzheimer’s. I want to learn as much as I can while it all still works. Still, some days I work on every one. Some days I might barely make it through one little lesson. I’ve managed to stay at the Obsidian level. For me, the great take away is I feel more and more confident — until I feel I suck. I would say more positive times than negative. And I love the feeling of growing, getting better. Hearing words on TV or while reading that I understand just thrills me. I must admit Navajo and Hebrew are the hardest of all ten. I keep starting over. I think I need books or tutorials on these.
The other tidbit is the achy muscles from < 5 miles and < 30 minutes on the stationary bike. Before I hop on the bike I do 20 pushups on the door, 10-15 floor/ceiling touches, and side to side bends. That doesn’t make me sore. But my son and I have started our afternoon walks of two miles. The energy is there to do these. But my legs are protesting quietly. Again, I’m amazed at how little things can build to make a body or mind, or habit grow. Why did it take me so long to understand that?
As many directions as my mind wanted to go with the prompt, this is what I thought of. How many years of putting on mascara only to have it clump or smear. I haven’t worn makeup for at least a decade. Between eyes that are smaller than they were before, not to mention the crop of wrinkles begetting wrinkles, I don’t have a mirror situation to work with my old eyes and inability to stand that long. Not too mention so many other things calling me to get busy. All more fun than makeup. Though, I do enjoy nail polish, a pluck or lotion. But yarn! Diamond painting! The newest binge or book. All far more fun than standing in front of a mirror attempting facial improvement.
I used to have a vanity I inherited from my grandmother. It smelled of her perfume and powders.
It looked kind of like this one. Mine had a cushioned stool. The wood was blonder. Ah, I miss it and the hours I spend singing Beatles songs while primping.
“Yesterday…”
How I feel in my head as I stream along. Actually:
Working on my series: Haven.
Doodler (zendoodle.com)
Music major: voice and piano
Mom of four great adults
Reiki II practitioner
I have been on disability/retired for 10 years now from depression, anxiety and fibromyalgia.
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