P.J. Colando's Blog, page 7

Bad Decisions generate Great Stories

Good morning! Are you ready to carpe the diem today? The sun’s been awake for an hour, ready to shine on the adventures that await –

I look forward to each day’s bad decisions as they give me future insights and assurance that tomorrow will be either the best day or the worst day ever.

Never mediocre because I’m not wired that way. I not only survive, but I rise up and thrive. It’s the Credo to recall amid the crisis: this will make a great story later. The practice reduces in medius res fretting and fosters a roll-with-it attitude. While summer isn’t over here in southern  California, it’s speeding faster than a cannonball into fall. It’s high time to be you forever and a day.

 

Mostly I live in a comfortable bubble, enjoying my morning coffee, avoiding bad news that’s beyond my power to affect, bloody wars raging in Ukraine and Gaza, the hotter-than-normal temperature outside, waves of migrants trying to escape violence and poverty — I am mostly oblivious in my well-insulated home.  ignore my relatives loyal to Donold Dumpster, who are as removed from reality as I am. I enjoy my unfettered daily laughter and naps (there never was nor will there be a bad nap) which keep cranky moods and intentions away, away, away.

As a child, I had a propensity for mischief. In my adult years, I still do. I’m also naturally curious, which may or may not have troublesome results. It’s no wonder that Lewis Carroll’s ‘Through the Looking Glass was one of my favorite books.

Here’s something to ponder deeply, not circumspectly. It’s where a keen sense of mischief and self-esteem comes into play

Huzzah and Hurrah! Hallelujah for you – you can carpe the diem every day! Yay!

In this mode of living, full bore to the core, you may make a bad decision… Life is 100% improv anyway, so it’s bound to happen. Without regret spin the deed into a great story –

I  promise I’ll read it. All the while wishing I’d been with you (wink-wink).

 

 

IWSG

Welcome readers, writers, authors, and bloggers!

We’re glad you’re here! It’s the First Wednesday of the month; when we celebrate IWSG Day in the form of a blog hop featuring members and guests of the Insecure Writer’s Support Group. Founded by author Alex Cavanaugh (Thank you, Captain!) and fostered by like-minded associates, IWSG is a comfortable place to share views and literary news as we record our journeys.

The awesome co-hosts for this month’s posting of the IWSG are: Beth Camp  https://bethandwriting.blogspot.com/ PJ Colando  http://www.pjcolando.com/ Jean Davis http://jeanddavis.blogspot.com/ Yvonne Ventresca  https://yvonneventresca.com/ and last, but never least Alex J. Cavanaugh www.alexjcavanaugh.com

And (drum roll, please) September 4 question – Since it’s back to school time, let’s talk English class. What’s a writing rule you learned in school that messed you up as a writer? As always, the question is optional.

The only writing course I took in college was Expository Comp, It was an honors class and, omg, I was in over my head despite my A in freshman English. As you may/may not know exposition is a style of writing that explains or describes a topic using facts, statistics, or evidence. It’s persuasion. It’s the vehicle for selling, often labeled content in today’s vernacular. I didn’t need to know how to sell to anyone ever, not then or now!

I write sarcasm and satire with a literary bent. I write to entertain.

The writing style of my beloved career as a speech-language pathologist has impeded writing free-flowing and creatively post-career. I’ve written thousands and thousands of clinical reports and some of them contained fabulous fiction. Not to warp the truth, but to get an insurance company to pay.

The professional distance, as typified by “The patient presents as…” There was a guardedness and lack of passion that marked those reports, a thirty-year habit so deeply ingrained that, a dozen years later, I’m still undoing the laces.

Thus, the benefits of write, write, write… until you get it right.

 

 

 

I am a KT Tape Addict

My husband and I gloried along with the Olympians, relishing the individual athletic prowess, the verve and enthusiasm, and the never-say-die attitudes. We basked in the reflected glow of American athletes’ skills and medal rewards for them.

The young athletes had lean, well-muscled bodies earned via thousands and thousands of hours of practice. Add coaches and trainers and weight-training in the best-equipped facilities anywhere. Add training since childhood and support from single-minded parents whose sacrifices nurtured their kids’ gifts.

Back to me, the couch potato watching the Games. While my husband’s a natural athlete, I’m a gimp who plays hurt much of the time in the old-age-is-not-for-wimps years of my life. I rely on something I learned from Olympians: KT tape.

Kinesiology Tape, hence the initials KT, was developed for athletes participating in the 2012 Games, around the time I entered the halls of the permanently gimped. Read this blast-from-the-past blog post to see how that went: https://www.pjcolando.com/a-walk-in-the-park-plot-twist/

A famed female beach volleyball duo and Chinese divers wore it best.

In the most recent games, I spied numerous athletes tape-adorned, not as a fashion statement but as a necessity.

Just like me.

Let me share a fact and my personal history, shared in this recent blog post: https://www.pjcolando.com/?s=the+bees+knees%2C+not+mine

This product line has celebrated its success with brand extension extraordinaire. Competing brands have emerged, like the Rock Tape brand preferred by my off-again-on-again PT. However I still to KT, even planning my life sometimes around its stick-tight propensity. For example, I can’t go in the jacuzzi tonight because my KT Tape is new… you see, water immersion adversely affects its adhesion and, well, I’m cheap.

Here’s my current KT, which endures through water aerobics sessions, as well as the humidity that has added its unwelcome to our summertime. The product lives up to its name for it is extremely tough to remove. It’s more expensive but it stays on a week, so math proves its worth.

But, the many colors of KT are cool, too.

I thrive with KT tape. My knees, which are edging toward replacement, feel safe.

Frequent Medical Appointment Miles

I’ve been a breast cancer survivor for nearly sixteen years. Yeah, hurrah, and hallelujah! Say it again – amen!

Because I had a rare, insidious, and aggressive type, we can double down on the yelps and applause – and repeat them as long as we like. I’ve surpassed the average lifespan of a person diagnosed with triple-negative breast cancer over five times. My aftercare is my own concoction and I’ve committed to a tomato/day whereas others do an apple/day.

Because I am prone to special diseases and conditions, docs wanted to test often. I spent a lot of time in a variety of tubes: CT, MRI, etc. – each one seeming to outdo one or the other with the clanging, banging, and jackhammering of the signals sent through various body parts to yield concise and precise information focused specifically to the area to be studied. I’d like to report that that noise was symphonic, but I can’t.

Earplugs and headphones placed snugly over my ears weren’t able to fully mask the noise. But I relied on a mantra found in the Bible in John, re-shaping it so that It sounded like I was in conversation with God and His Son, “You are the Way and the Truth and the Life.”

I’ve endured so many that I should have a punchcard, a system that would offer a free procedure for every ten endured. Or frequent flyer medical miles posted to MyChart, the current tool used by doctors and hospitals to interface with patients.

Here’s a better suggestion, one that suits my lifestyle: travel as therapy could be covered by Medicare and Blue Cross/Blue Shield.

Meanwhile, here are the first and last tunes from my most recent tube appointment. Interestingly, they’re both from the album titled Get Back. This is a message from me to the Lord, “Urge the team of physicians I’m compelled to see help me to get back my full health asap. Please and thanks.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QDYfEBY9NM4

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IKJqecxswCA

A Backyard Animal Fable

No, this is not one of Aesop’s famous fables about the tortoise and the hare. My limerick tale is my creation, a fable I made up as response to another writer’s limerick titled ‘Urtle the Turtle.’

My fable’s title is ‘Sam and Spark’ and it has a message as all good fables do. Read on –

There once was a tortoise named Sam
Who thought our patio and pool were glam
Under his shell
He lived very well
Imbibing bits of lettuce and ham.

One day calamity arrived
And he feared he wouldn’t survive.
A cool dood named Spark
Who loved to bark
And disturb the peace upon which Sam thrived.

Sam pulled into his shell like a rock
So, all the noise and commotion were blocked.
All day it was dark
And the dog didn’t bark.
But the day-long hunger was a shock.

Sam didn’t mind being a recluse.
For tortoises, people had little use.
But when the lawnmower rapped,
Spit rocks and tap-tapped.
He thought he might have to vamoose.

He didn’t want to leave the resort
But he was done with being a good sport
When the people jumped into the pool
And thrashed and splashed like fools
And then tossed him in without thought.

Sam’s shell wasn’t meant to float.
He glugged enough water to capsize a boat.
Everything blurred
Then something softly furred
Jumped to rescue. Now on each other, they dote.

In case you missed the message, I’ll tell it to you straight…

Our beloved cool dood, Spark, played Good Samaritan.

P.S.Today is the day to celebrate all things left, including Larry, “the best man alive” who our cool dood adores –

Great Writers Don’t Follow Rules

When I copy-pasted Ernest Hemingway’s 7 Tips for Writing into a Word document, ProWriter’s Aid, an AI tool I’d installed, underlined several sentences, especially the words he spoke!Yikes! What’s a novice to do? Who to believe: a prose master human or a computer-generated fixer of prose? While Hemingway isn’t my favorite writer historically – I’m more of an F. Scott Fitzgerald fan – I think it’s wise to know and ponder his rules, so I’ll list them. I like to think I’ve evolved enough as a writer to make my own choices. What about you?1: To get started, write one true sentence.“Sometimes when I was starting a new story and I could not get it going, I would sit in front of the fire and squeeze the peel of the little oranges into the edge of the flame and watch the sputter of blue that they made. I would stand and look out over the roofs of Paris and think, ‘Do not worry. You have always written before and you will write now.’”2: Always stop for the day while you still know what will happen next.“The best way is always to stop when you are going good and when you know what will happen next. If you do that every day when you are writing a novel you will never be stuck.”3: Never think about the story when you’re not working.“I had learned already never to empty the well of my writing, but always to stop when there was still something there in the deep part of the well, and let it refill at night from the springs that fed it.”4: When it’s time to work again, always start by reading what you’ve written so far.“When it gets so long that you can’t do this every day read back two or three chapters each day; then each week read it all from the start.”5: Don’t describe an emotion—make it.“In writing for a newspaper you told what happened and, with one trick and another, you communicated the emotion aided by the element of timeliness which gives a certain emotion to any account of something that has happened on that day; but the real thing, the sequence of motion and fact which made the emotion and which would be as valid in a year or in ten years or, with luck and if you stated it purely enough, always, was beyond me…”6: Use a pencil.“If you write with a pencil you get three different sights at it to see if the reader is getting what you want him to. First when you read it over; then when it is typed you get another chance to improve it, and again in the proof.”7: Be Brief.https://www.insecurewriterssupportgroup.com

Political Whiplash

If you’d sequestered on a ten-day writers’ retreat, leaving home on Friday evening, July 12, and returning Monday, July 22, the United States’ political landscape tilt-a-whirled.

On July 13, at an outdoor political rally, to which Trump is prone, a young man attempted to kill the presidential candidate, with a live round nicking his ear.  Many, led by President Biden, openly decried the violence while the MAGA throng spouted conspiracy theories and hate. The sympathy for Trump, calls for a full investigation that led to the resignation of the head of the Secret Service, and reprehensible recriminations filled the air.On July 21, aka National Ice Cream Day, President Biden posted a letter on Twitter, expressing his patriotic decision not to seek re-election and handing the reins in the race to his Vice President, Kamala Harris. Shock and awe! Dignity and grace… but a mad scramble to make sense of it all. The presidential campaign did a 180-degree turn.The title of a famed British TV newscast That Was the Week that Was seemed apt: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/That_Was_the_Week_That_Was

And, boom, we have a smart articulate friendly woman who laughs and smiles spontaneously! Her messages resonate. It’s refreshing to follow a candidate who glows rather than glares.

Truth Socially – a Prosecutor vs. a  Felon.

When Old Orange called her a lunatic and said she’d destroy the country, it made no sense, not even in The Villages housing development in Florida, a MAGA stronghold. He talks about whatever floats through the transom of his mind, embarrassingly so, becoming the rambling oldster that he used to call Biden  It only made Old Orange more lamentable in many voters’ eyes. Harris vs. the Harasser starts to look like an unfair contest.

She’s got a future, he’s only got a past. But. We all have to endure 100 days of campaigning…At least we have the summer Olympics to lift our spirits.Positive energy, hope, enthusiasm, camaraderie, inclusion, and competitions in which no one spikes anyone else’s spirit.

Dog Days of Summer

We’re midway into the ‘dog days of summer’ and I’m already well-cooked, ready to be done.

Officially calendared as the period: Wed, Jul 3, 2024 – Sun, Aug 11, 2024, the typically hot and humid period of summer between early July and early September.  Historically, when the star, Sirius would appear in the sky just before the sun, near the end of July, that marks the hottest days until whenever the weather gods chose to end the siege, the Romans referred to this period as “dies caniculares” or “days of the dog star,” which was eventually translated as just “dog days.”

But the term is supposed to apply elsewhere, not in our typically mild climate. Not in California! My husband and I feel betrayed…

Even our dog dislikes the ‘dog days of summer’. He lies prone throughout the day, understanding that he won’t be walked until early evening. Because he’s wearing a fur coat, we think he gets the gist.

Sparky is a cool ‘dood – our favorite because he’s ours.

While we bristle and complain, we force ourselves to recognize that we are blessed in this fine state. It’s often worse weather elsewhere, with swings between extremes, while our weather stays the course, hovering between 75 – 85 degrees. Casa Colando benefits from the late-day ocean breezes which cool the air.

We’re not moving elsewhere any time soon.

We agree that Casa Colando is the best place to be.

Not in the super-heat-addled Midwest from when we moved.

So I commit to an attitude adjustment and

a promise to stay in the shade and hydrate, hydrate, hydrate.

Larry and Sparky agree –

 

 

 

 

 

The Orange County Market Place

It’s the middle of July and we are not doing something we used to do a lot: go to the Orange County Swap Meet for hours on Saturday morning. For example, it was one of the places we took our Midwestern family members who came to visit. For example, my father and Larry loved to peruse the tools. My mom searched for inexpensive souvenirs for friends and grandkids back home. Preferably tiny things to fit in her already jam-packed suitcase.

It was novel, a hallmark of a great tourist attraction.

The Swap Meet was founded in 1969 on the vast flat parking lot of the Orange County Fair, which was only held for for four week out of 52. Vendors operated within the confines of the pre-marked parking space. It’s doubtful that these sellers had permanent space in a mall.

One could buy small kitchen appliances and utensils, fruits and vegetables, and, on occasion, a car or a fur. As the huge sign in the photo states, one could buy fresh bread at the swap meet. Fresh flowers and plants and decorative containers in which to place the plants. Fake plants, too.

 Hair products and perfumes, inexpensive tee shirts for men and boys, dresses, tops, and skirts for women and girls. Inexpensive jewelry and handbags. Each year I purchased a stylishly unique handbag from a vendor who called himself The Beverly Hills Bag Lady.

In recent times, a new owner of the weekend shopping treat renamed the swap meet. With the new manager’s moniker, the Market Place upscaled. Permanent eateries and restrooms were centered among the hundreds of stalls. Beer and wine and freshly lemonade and snow cones were offered to the clientele. Of course, the entry fee increased. That’s when we began to go less and less. Further, my dermatologist admonished me to reduce my skin’s exposure to the sun. Finally, we didn’t need weekend entertainment or things.

Covid strictures closed the place for several years.

Covid also forced me into Amazon purchasing and, because of the convenience, I haven’t let the practice go. If one of us did go shopping, we’d opt for air-conditioned stores, not open-air hot-and-sticky in the relentless California sun.

What are your swap meet memories? Or, are you going to the Orange County Fair sometime in the next month, parking your car in one of the spaces?

 

 

I’ve been to the Big House and I’ve dined in Hell

My husband and I have traveled to all 50 states of the USA. While it may appear to be a brag, it’s humble.

We most recently returned to Indiana and Michigan where longtime friends and family reside. The Midwest is a wholesome heartland and we had a great time there, filled to the max with love and hugs. And food, which our dear folks equate with love. Have you ever tried rhubarb cobbler? It’s divine. I swear you can see traces of the find food I devoured – it’s the fat clustered anew on my middle. I may be as plump as the Pillsbury Dough Boy, proving I am loved.

I’m not posting my current photo and I beg you to not let your imagination go wild.

Each state has a shape, as you may/may not know. For example, Indiana flipped left-right is roughly the same shape as California, but about a fifth of its size.

Michigan is shaped like a mitten, which is appropriate because mittens are handy when the weather is chilly. But an appalling heat wave covered the state during our visit. Oh well. we enjoyed our visits with friends. We visited the Big House, the pop culture name for the University of Michigan’s football stadium, which holds more fans than the Rose Bowl and we dined in Hell, enjoying a down-home meal and beer with friends. We also participated in the local karaoke show – a first! Look for the two landmarks on this Michigan map – note that they’re near.