Caleigh O'Shea's Blog, page 23

Happy B-day, Mom

Grown don’t mean nothing to a mother. A child is a child. They get bigger, older, but grown? What’s that supposed to mean? In my heart it don’t mean a thing. ~Toni Morrison, Beloved, 1987

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Mom–

The one

Who loves us

In spite of our

Flaws and prickliness.

The one who gave us life

And sacrificed her own hopes

To keep us happy, safe, and clean.

How can we ever thank her enough?

But perhaps she doesn’t need repayment.

Note: This poetic form is an Etheree. Today is my mom’s birthday (I won’t say how many!). Happy B-day, Mom!

Royalty at Last

Every tooth in a man’s head is more valuable than a diamond. ~Miguel de Cervantes, Spanish writer

A few days ago, I was brushing my teeth when I felt something small and hard in my mouth.

Fearing the worst, I spit it into the sink: yep, it was part of a filling from one of my bottom back molars.

I got into the dentist’s office that very day so he could take a look.

His recommendation?

My first crown, something tooth-colored that would cover and save my natural tooth.

When I told the Domer that night, he quipped, “Does that mean I have to call you ‘Your Highness’ now?”

HaHa, funny.

It was a week before my dentist could tackle this job. A week during which I babied my tooth, opted not to blow my flute, refused to use my electric toothbrush, and all sorts of other things I hoped would forestall mouth pain during the wait.

The day of the procedure, my dentist numbed my mouth on the side where the work was to be done, then filed away the part of my tooth preparatory to the crown installation. What was left looked like a dining table with a silver top from the filling already there.

The next step was taking digital pictures of my tooth so the new crown could be matched as to color, size, and placement.

Sometimes, dental crowns are a multi-week job, with the filing and placement of a temporary crown during the first visit and the rest of the work sometime later.

I’m fortunate. My dentist has the capability of making crowns on-site, and I got to watch the machine spinning the porcelain cube around as diamond drills filed out my crown. Then, it went into a heater, where temperatures in the super-high degree range shrank it to the proper size.

I’d planned on working on my novel-in-progress while this was taking place, but the process was so fascinating, I’m afraid I didn’t get anything done!

When the crown was ready, I was escorted back into the chair. The top tooth was filed so the new crown would fit properly, and the “tiara” was cemented into place.

Definitely NOT an inexpensive procedure, but gee, it’s kind of cool having a “white” tooth again, rather than all that silver filling I used to have.

And of course I’ll answer to “Your Magesty”!

Fairy Tale Love

When I am with you, the only place I want to be is closer.  ~Author Unknown

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I know I’m only just a toad

And not the frog that maidens kiss.

Aware I tote a heavy load

When looking for my special miss.

I’m not cuddly and then there’s this:

I’m plain as you can surely see.

Still, where’s a toad to find his bliss

If no one wants to embrace me?

Note: This poetic form is called Huitain. It’s my first try at this French form with 8 lines (per poem or stanza), and 8-10 syllables per line (consistent within the poem) in a rhyming scheme of ababbcbc.

Walktober 2020

Thoughts come clearly while one walks. ~Thomas Mann, German novelist and 1929 Nobel Prize in Literature laureate

It’s time once again for the annual Walktober, hosted by Robin of Breezes at Dawn.

Today, we’re in Central Illinois, where a prolonged drought has stressed trees and produced a faster color change than what typically takes until mid-October to peak.

Nevertheless, it’s a beautiful day — temps in the low 70s, sunny and clear — so let’s hop into our sneakers and head outside for a two-mile stroll.

Look! Here’s a maple with a sunny dress on:

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And for those who prefer shades of orange:

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And let’s not forget how red some maples turn:

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This is the time of year when leaves FALL to the ground. Somebody’s got some work to do here with a big rake:

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This dude on a bicycle seems oblivious to the beauty surrounding him:

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Fall in Central Illinois is harvest time. Here, you can see a line of trees — some of which haven’t begun to turn color yet — right next to what used to be a field of soybeans:

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Look how the sun catches the beauty of these trees:

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Here’s a dogwood whose color makes it stand out in the midst of much bigger trees:

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Notice how this one is turning a purple color from its top down. That’s a lot of leaves:

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Sometimes, the views are breath-taking:

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Other times, the trees almost look as if they’ve been painted:

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Here’s another dogwood, this one turning shades of maroon and purple:

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Old Glory dwarfed by these beauties:

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I hope you didn’t forget to scuff your feet through some leaves and listen to them crunch! Thank you for joining me on my walk. Let’s plan on doing it again next year, if not sooner:

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I cannot endure to waste anything so precious as autumnal sunshine by staying in the house. So I have spent almost all the daylight hours in the open air. ~Nathaniel Hawthorne, American novelist

Being Kind

“I will permit no man to narrow and degrade my soul by making me hate him.” ~Booker T. Washington, American educator, author, and Presidential advisor

I’ve noticed something of late that disturbs me greatly.

So much so that I’ve got to write about it.

It’s a pervasive meanness, a lack of civility, a raging anger, and hate that seems to cross all age, gender, race, and socioeconomic boundaries. It’s prevalent on social media, of course, as people seem to think anonymity there provides a cloak of protection (guess they don’t know, or don’t care, that stuff on the Internet never goes away — unless you’re trying to write a novel, in which case you’d better save and save often!)

I’ve noticed it on TV, sports, podcasts, comedy acts, neighborhoods, cities, and even homes. And you can’t miss the meanness if you follow the political scene, where those on the outside scramble to get in, and those on the inside grapple to stay there.

“Hating people is like burning down your own house to get rid of a rat.” ~Henry Emerson Fosdick, American pastor

I wonder if countries outside the U.S have fallen victim to hate like this, or have they managed to escape its grasp?

I wonder if this pandemic hasn’t succeeded in worsening the hate, perhaps because no longer can humans get close to one another, no more hugs and handshakes, no more High Fives — and unifying activities like dining out, movies, music, theater, and church have been interrupted.

Instead, we’re forced to view each other with suspicion and distaste — Has she got COVID? Does he have a cough? Even if we haven’t seen someone in months, we shrink back from touch and gauge the distance between us and them.

“The price of hating other human beings is loving oneself less.” ~Eldridge Cleaver, American writer and political activist

There are more times than I can count where I turn off the noisy devices with their hollering, vindictive, angry voices. I’ve found myself unfollowing those who try to shove their angry opinions down my throat (perhaps they pride themselves on their sphere of influence, but real dialog comes only when minds and hearts are open to exchanging ideas.)

And really, haven’t they heard that it’s okay to disagree, but it’s not okay to be disagreeable?

“I have decided to stick with love. Hate is too great a burden to bear.” ~Martin Luther King, Jr., American minister and Civil Rights activist

My mother was of the generation that taught their children, “If you don’t have something nice to say, don’t say anything at all.”

It’s a good rule to follow, and it’s never gotten me in trouble.

Too bad we’ve chosen to toss it out the window in our efforts to be heard, to stand out from the crowd, to one-up each other in who can be the meanest.

Everybody is entitled to their opinion. But “one convinced against his will is of the same opinion still.”

Peace has to start somewhere. If each of us, upon arising, would remind ourselves to err on the side of kindness, maybe we’d make an impact.

Maybe some of the hate and meanness would go away.

What do you think?

“Hate is a fire that consumes the altar upon which it burns.” ~James Lendall Basford, American aphorist

I Believe in Miracles

When prayers go up, blessings come down. ~Author unknown

Those who know me well know how hard it’s been for me since my beloved Sheltie Dallas left for the Rainbow Bridge back in March.

Not a single day has gone by without my thinking of, and praying for, him.

But it’s taken nearly seven months for me to dream about him, and what a vision that turned out to be!

I dreamed my son Domer and I were in a car traveling on a single-lane road that had gravel where the tires should go and grass between them. Domer was at the wheel.

Suddenly, he said, “There he is!”

And I said, “Stop! Let him in!”

When Domer stopped the car and opened his door, Dallas leaped inside, across Domer’s lap, and right into my arms!

I tell you honestly, I could feel him, feel the weight of his body, feel the warmth radiating from him, feel his lustrous furs. It was heavenly!

And I finally knew the peace that comes when somebody you’ve loved and lost returns to you, if only for an instant.

If only in a dream.

Now, this story would be magical enough if it ended right here.

But it doesn’t.

The day after this dream, I was talking on the phone with Domer and described it for him, just as I have for you all.

And he stopped.

I heard him take a quick inhaling breath, and he said, “Wow!”

“What?” I asked.

“It’s just that, some time ago, you sounded really sad over missing Dallas and not being immediately able to find a new pup to love. That night, I prayed that God would send you Dallas to cheer you up. And it worked.”

Oh, my. It did, indeed.

And I still get chills when I realize just how caring my son is and how powerful prayer can be!

Don’t You Hate Computer Problems?

Technology… is a queer thing. It brings you great gifts with one hand, and it stabs you in the back with the other. ~C.P. Snow, English novelist and physical chemist

I like to think I’m somewhat tech-savvy.

I’ve been using a computer for decades, and I work in web design; however, recently an “issue” has cropped up that I’m helpless at resolving.

I asked Domer when he was home this last time, but he didn’t know — either what was causing it or how to fix it.

I’m hoping my colleagues online can come to the rescue.

You see, I use a laptop computer. It saves space and is easy to pack up in case I need to work away from my office.

But laptops are notoriously un-ergonomic. Did you know the human head typically weighs 11 pounds? All that weight hanging forward and down to peer at a laptop screen and keyboard can’t be good for one’s neck.

I’ve positioned my laptop approximately 8 inches up, making the screen practically perfect for eye-level viewing. And I invested in a Bluetooth keyboard and mouse combo that makes it possible for me to type and point/click at proper arm’s level.

So far, so good.

However — and this is where my problem comes in — sometimes, I’ll be typing away, working intently on my novel or a web project or a blog post, when all you-know-what breaks loose.

I’ll look up and notice there must be 5,000 identical specimens of the last letter I typed. And more keep coming!

It’s like gremlins have commandeered my keyboard.

And I can’t stop it. Pressing Escape, Delete, Back, or the Windows icon does nothing. Hitting any of the other keys does nothing. Typing keys on the actual laptop does nothing.

Identical letters quickly fill my screen, causing a rush of panic.

I’m a prisoner of this madness!

Eventually, I shut the entire system down — never mind the correct way — wait a bit while I reboot the Bluetooth devices, hold my breath, and try again. Sometimes it works; sometimes not.

Domer says it sounds like a Bluetooth issue, but I’ve checked everywhere, and that appears to be working just fine.

I’ve thought of going back to a desktop model but don’t want to. I’ve thought of scrapping the ergonomic keyboard/mouse and relying solely on the laptop; again, I don’t want to.

Help, please? What’s going on, and how do I fix it?

Wordless Wednesday

Autumn is the season of change. ~Taoist proverb

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Something Different

Why fit in when you were born to stand out? — Dr. Seuss

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Red leaves

stand out among

the green and brown colors

of this Japanese maple tree.

How cool!

Note: Poetry form is a Cinquain inspired by Tanka.

Dog-eat-Dog World?

God gives every bird its food, but He does not throw it into its nest.  ~J.G. Holland, American novelist and poet

Recently, I heard a raucous jabbering outside my window and naturally, I had to take a peek.

Some people would claim that’s procrastination, that I was merely postponing the writing of my novel.

I know better: it’s an innate curiosity about the world around me, something every writer needs.

Anyway, I didn’t see much except a splotch on the grass.

Which didn’t appear to be moving.

So what was making all the noise?

I wandered outside, and this is what I found (but I’ve got to warn you, it’s pretty disgusting!!):

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Did you see it? It was a dead baby bird.

Species undetermined.

Maybe it fell out of its nest too soon. Or maybe a cat got it.

My heart broke a little at its de-feathered condition, but I opted to leave it where it lay.

I couldn’t do anything for it, and I nearly retched at the thought of touching it.

I went back inside, and once again, I heard loud squawking (I’m embarrassed to tell you how many times I tried to spell ‘squawking’ here!)

This time, I saw this:

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A blue jay, hunkering in the limbs of a dogwood tree.

Right over the spot where the dead baby bird was.

Okay, I thought, maybe it’s the jay’s baby, and he’s expressing frustration over its untimely death.

Maybe he’s warning other birds about a stray cat.

I watched from the window, curious how this would play out.

Suddenly, the jay swooped down toward the baby and proceeded to eat it!

I kid you not:

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Certain my eyes had deceived me, I ran to my computer to Google ‘blue jays.’

And I learned jays typically eat insects and nuts. However, they have been known to eat eggs and nestlings of other birds.

Barbaric cannibals!

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And you can see he was quite intent on his feast.

Couldn’t have enjoyed it more if he’d whipped out a bib and napkin — and perhaps some lighted candles and dining music.

Yuck!

By the time he finished, I presumed he’d picked the carcass clean (no, I didn’t check!)

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Eventually, I returned to my writing, convinced that jays might be pretty colored birds but I’ll stick with robins, doves, and cardinals.

Who knew Nature was so bird-eat-bird?