Growing up, a point of pride to my parents existed in the empty lot next door to our house. It made our half acre into a whole and to us kids, provided a flat open space to play baseball. A gray boulder, about the size of a breadbox, made up home plate. We spent many summer days playing impromptu games, often with only a pitcher, batter and an infielder. I loved pitching and batting but not so much fielding.
The love of baseball carried on into my adult years and morphed into the idea I could play for our bank employee coed team. Despite the pressure to hit and the terror of not being able to outrun a ball to first plate, I discovered a new terror on the field. Being lost in the weeds. Yep. Our brilliant ex-marine captain took one look at me and declared left field. Left field is lonely. It also happened to be choked with thigh-high weeds. Taller people might have overcome and sprinted around like a gazelle leaping away from a pursuing lion. Not me. Those weeds were determined to tie up my feet, take my shoes and pull me down. Fly balls flew by as I landed on my face, spit weed stalks and hoped to disappear in humiliation. The catch-phrase of the game became, “Hit it her way, she can’t get it.”Continue reading →
Doesn’t blogging sound like something a swamp dweller would have to do to travel from one mucky place to another? Put one rubber-footed boot down and the “mud too thick to drink and too thin to plow” would make a splooshing sound. Pull the other foot out and it makes a burping, sucking sound as it tries to pull the rubber boot off. Continue reading →
Beware. The light at the end of the tunnel is an oncoming train. Isn’t that a shame, and here I thought writing the last chapter of my book would be reason for celebration. Seven years have gone into writing the first draft and I’ve given myself until the end of the year to have all the editing done and ready to upload the beast onto Create Space. I am nothing if not optimistic. Continue reading →
My friend, Sandy, could bake up a storm. She could look at a recipe and know immediately that she could make an award winning copy of whatever confection she had just read about. She was young and knew that there was nothing culinary she couldn’t accomplish. Continue reading →
“Blog, BLOG, Blog, blog” bleeped my phone at eight o’clock this morning, warning me I have a blog post due today. Great! I thought, only it didn’t come out an excited great but more like a sarcastic-couldn’t-I-put-any-more-angst-in-it kind of great. (Being a writer encourages the sarcastic bend I am forever struggling into straightness. I think of it as blogging on and on.)Continue reading →
I wrote the following ‘letter’ to Writer’s Block during a writing prompt on Saturday morning at one of our weekly PCW meetings. This in no way portrays anything in real life, it was clearly just for fun. Enjoy!
A few months ago I introduced you to my beagle, Willie. He’s a rambunctious creature, stubborn and sweet—sugar and spice as they used to say. He, like most of us, has his faults, but we chalk them up to personality disorder (probably a result of feeding him table food) and move on. Continue reading →
As you know, we writers of Paddle Creek, are working on a round robin story. When it came time for me to write my installment however, I got sick and have been ill for several weeks and got behind on all things writerly. I am doing much better now and have finally written the last installment of our story. Enjoy!
(Here is part 3 — written by Susan Korich. Stick around for part 4!)
Perched on the stool behind the cash register, my eyes still wide with incredulity and my mouth following along with its own version of can-you-catch-flies, it took me moment to notice a man standing at the edge of my counter, clearing his throat.
“Ah-hem, excuse me, ah-hem, um, Miss?”
Hopping off my stool, I closed my mouth, and pasted on my most professional smile and look of laser concentration. It would be bad for business for word to get around that I ignored customers and hung around staring after others.Continue reading →