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You might be a little faded. You might be a little dusty. You might spend most of your days perched on a shelf, more decoration than adornment.

If you were a hat.

If you were a hat, you might get picked up occasionally. Spun around. Twirled – up one arm and down another, landing briefly in one perfect moment only to be swept away and tossed to the side as another distraction appears.

If you were a hat, you’d spend a lot of time in boxes or on a rack. Rest is important for the spirit. But there’s a line between solitude and abandonment and, although it’s a fairly thick line, you might not always be able to tell the difference. It’s hard to see the truth of it when truth fades into things just being the way they are.

If you were a hat, you’d be nice hat. There would be nothing casual about you. You might spend a lot of time alone, but there’s no reason that ever had to come up in company. You’d exist to impress and command just a little more attention than others around you. Not enough to be off-putting. Just enough to be hard to ignore.

If you were a hat, your best days would be the ones when you didn’t have to think at all about how you’re only a hat. About how your whole purpose is to make them look good. About how much they love you, right up to the end.

If you were a hat, your worst days would be the ones when being just a hat is all you could think about. About how you only get the special events when you secretly know you’re much better suited to the everyday. About exactly how much time you spend on the table making small talk with the still-smoking ashtray and watered-down drinks while they all go dancing.

Sometimes you think you’re a hat. You make a grand impression, dashing into excitement and leaping to the next joy before any of the electricity has a chance to dwindle. But electricity burns, and who’s going to catch you when that shock jolts you out of the bliss?

If you were a hat, all of this would be fine.

But you’re not.

 

I’m writing 31 days of short stories (or whatever these are). Click to see the master list.

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Day 6 – Roger

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Roger: A Walkie Talkie Production

Jeff: I’ve got a delivery for the director ready. Who wants it?

Cassidy: I’m about to give this family a tour.

Trevor: I have class in five minutes.

Scott: Roger that. I’m on it, boss. Over.

Roger: What? Did someone call me?

Meiya: No…Scott was just letting Jeff know he got the message.

Scott: What? Oh, yeah. Roger that.

Roger: *static noise* What is that? What do I need to do?

Trevor: Nothing, man. Everything’s taken care of.

Roger: Okay. Cool. Let me know if you need me.

Jeff: We’re missing one of the bikes – does anyone know what happened to the red one?

Meiya: I think one of the admins borrowed it for an hour or two.

Scott: No – I have it. I just finished a tour and am heading back to get the director’s delivery.

Jeff: That’s cool. Remember to log your checkouts in the future.

Scott: Roger that. I’ll remember that next time. Over.

Roger: What? I didn’t take it.

Scott: No, I said I have it.

Roger: Oh, I guess I misunderstood. I thought I heard my name.

Cassidy: Scott, stop saying “Roger.” It’s so confusing. We all know you get the message when you respond to it. You don’t need to tell us you got it.

*Pause*

Scott: Roger that, Cassidy.

*Communal groaning*

 

I’m writing 31 days of short stories (although some are more snippets). Click to see the master list.

 

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Lola

One of my proudest moments, getting sworn in. But more on that later.

When I was just a pup, I watched gumshoe movies. My tail would start wagging, and my heart would start pounding. I was always proud when I could guess who the ne’er-do-well whodunnit was, and I think Julie was proud of me, too.

“Lola, who do you think is the culprit?”

The dirtbag would come on the screen and I would bark like crazy, alerting the whole room (and sometimes the whole neighborhood) to my decision. She would pat my head and agree. “Me, too.” Then she would rub behind my ears just the way I like it. “Good girl. Smart girl.” I rolled over to let her scratch my belly, which she seemed pleased to do. “Smartest girl in the whole world.”

I enjoyed those times with Julie. But alas, they were not to last.

Soon, watching the movies wasn’t enough. I wanted to be in on the action. I wanted my own cases to solve.

When it was my time to go outside, I took advantage of it. I would patrol the perimeter of the yard, and alert the family to anything out of the ordinary. Most of them were less enthusiastic about my choice to share my skills with the neighbors than they were when I was performing for treats inside the privacy of our house. The neighbors didn’t seem to appreciate my vigilance either.

“Hey – would you make that dog shut up? People are trying to sleep here!”

I was just trying to root out dangers so that they could sleep in safety, but whatever. No one appreciates a protector. Heroism is a lonely life.

One night, I saw an intruder in the Geraldsons’ yard. It walked with a slink and had a mask embedded in its fur, like a bandit. I’m nothing if not fair, so I decided to issue a warning.

“Hey – you there – those trash bins aren’t yours!” I barked.

The reprobate turned to me and grinned. He grabbed an apple core off the pile and let the bin slam shut noisily as he sauntered over, clearly taking his time. “Aw, aren’t you cute, all riled up and huffing in your cage? What’s your name, sweetheart?” He flicked his prison-striped tail back and forth, giving him even more swagger as he approached. I noticed he also made a point of stretching out his legs so I could see his sharp claws.

I’m not one to be intimidated, so that got my dander up. I gave him a low growl as I ruffled up my coat and stood up as straight as I could. “I’m Lola, and this is my neighborhood, and I know you are up to no good. Now you just need to move along.”

He looked up at me and tapped his claws on the chain link fence between us. “And what are you going to do if I don’t?”

I bared my teeth. He wasn’t the only one with built-in weaponry. I let the silence sit so that he could get a good, long look at them. “I don’t expect that will be an issue. You’re going to leave while I’m still asking nicely.”

He snorted. “Well, that’s a cute little assumption, seeing as how I’m over here, and you’re over there, just where your rules and regulations say you have to stay. So as long as I stay over here, I don’t see how this is any of your business, and I’ll just keep doing what I like.” He turned his attention to the apple core, inspecting it. Then he looked me straight in the eye as he took a bite off the top that still had some of the peel left. That blasted scavenger!

I growled again and pushed the whole of my body up against the fence, causing it to bow slightly toward him. My nose pushed through one of the holes made by the chain link.

He seized the opportunity he had been waiting for. He dropped the apple core and swiped my face with his right paw. I felt a sharp pain and yelped in surprise as I drew back. I tasted blood when I licked my wound. I tried to shake off the sting with a few tosses of my head, and I looked up to see him trotting off as he snickered.

I lost it. I dashed far enough away from the fence to get a running start and then sprinted forward and leaped over it like a gazelle. I was on him before he knew what was happening. I returned the favor of the ripped snout and gave him a couple of retaliatory bites on his back and legs. He broke free and fled the premises as I barked after him, “And stay gone!”

I felt pretty proud of myself until I saw the Geraldsons’ back porch light go on. I tried to hide in their rose bushes, but it’s one of those biting shrubberies, so instead I stood very still, hoping that the darkness would be enough to hide my trespass onto their property.

It wasn’t.

“What are you doing here? Get back in your yard!”

I didn’t know how to do that without adrenaline, so I remained where I was. I bowed my head, hoping an act of submission would plead my case for me, since the humans don’t seem to understand canine and they were apparently already annoyed by my conversation with the intruder.

The Geraldson went back in the house, and I thought the coast was clear. Then I heard Julie at their back gate.

“Lola! Come here now!”

I knew I was in trouble because she was using only short words. I think she thinks she’s speaking canine when she does this, but I’ve never been brave enough to call her on it.

(To be continued…)

 

I’m writing 31 short stories during the month of October. Click for the master list.

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[Microfiction is any story told in 300 words or less, by many definitions. I suppose “micro” is in the eye of the writer/reader.]

I didn’t mean to do it. Not really. But there it was – the incriminating welt on Gerald’s head as he was loaded into the ambulance – so I couldn’t pretend it didn’t happen.

It all started on the day of the first accident. Stephi broke her ankle two days before the season began, so I had about a minute to take over as captain of the golf team. Our name – the Bedford Bettys – was a little outdated, so our first order of business was to come up with a new one. Thinking “A” was a good grade and a hole in one was the best thing that could happen on the course, I suggested “A-holes.” There were snickers all around, but I figured they just thought I was clever.

Gosh, was I wrong.

Gerald, captain of the guys’ team, was the first to congratulate us on our new name. He walked up and interrupted our conversation, “Sorry to butt in, ladies, but I can’t wait to see you wipe the green with your opponents in your first tournament.”

Laurel rolled her eyes and told him not to be a jerk. Naively, I jumped to his defense, which made him laugh and say, “Yeah, Laurel. Don’t be an a-hole.”

I saw my mistake, but it was too late. The shirts had already been printed.

The torment continued the rest of the week. By the time the tournament rolled around, I had had it. Right there in the parking lot, I dropped a ball, took my 9-iron, and let it fly. The next thing I knew, Gerald was on the ground moaning.

It was a pretty good shot, all things considered.

 

I’m writing 31 stories during October. Click to see the master list.

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The Case of the Missing Pen
(that was just here one ^*&#%!@ minute ago)

I have learned in my short year of being a cubicle dweller that there are very few things in life that you can count on. Officemates cannot be trusted to make a fresh pot when they finish the last cup. Drawers and cabinets will be inexplicably left ajar. That report will not be on your desk on Wednesday at 1:00 p.m., even though you desperately need it to be there in order to review it in time and not look like an idiot at the 1:30 meeting.

In fact, the only thing I can truly depend on is that, if I am not in my seat at 9:00 a.m., I will get a cheery text from Megan that reads, “Are we meant to experience the pleasure of your company today?” Which I guess is nicer than “Get your @$$ to work, you &$^#(*! slacker.”

What I really wish I could depend on is that when I leave my pen in one place that it will remain in that one place until I need it again. Alas, that is apparently not a reasonable expectation.

Eleven months ago, when I placed my first supply order for my desk, the office manager read over it and cackled. Once he recovered from his fit, he scratched out my naive order of three different pens, patted me on the shoulder and said, “I’ll just order you two boxes of each. For starters.”

He may have saved my life.

On a typical day, I lose three to five pens. I will put my pen down, but it will not be there when I go to pick it up. I don’t quite know how this happens, but I am committed to getting to the bottom of it.

First, the suspects. Usually, this loss occurs when I have walked away from my desk, so it could be any one who has access to my workspace. Coworkers. Supervisors. Passersby from other departments. Customers on their way to meet with the bosses. It could be anybody.

Second, the motivation. Do my coworkers see my absence as an invitation to come and hang out by my desk, during which gathering one of them will inevitably have a thought they can’t afford to lose and therefore grab my pen and scurry away with it, scribbling furiously on a notepad? Is there one lone offender who covets my pens so ferociously that a pen lingering unattended on my desk is too much temptation to avoid? Does the thrill of petty theft make customers who wander through feel alive?

Third, the evidence. Gathering proof is tricky. I could enlist an accomplice who watches my desk when I’m not around, but the drawback is that for all I know, I could be asking for help from the perpetrator. I could set up a hidden camera, but I’m sure legal would have issues with that. I could take my pen with me everywhere I go, but then who’s to say other things wouldn’t start to go missing?

I imagine all my pens hanging out together, somewhere, trapped and afraid because they know they’re not where they’re really supposed to be. Do they think I’ve abandoned them? Forgotten all about them? I most assuredly have not. Why, just this morning, I was about to read this report when…what’s that lump under there? Hey! My pen!

Case solved. Until next time.

 

During October, I’m writing a short story a day. Click to see the master list.

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31 Days ofShort Stories (1)

Once upon a time, there was a young writer who started a book. It was National Novel Writing Month, and she wondered if she could do it. Write 50,000 words in one month (she could, but that’s another story). She didn’t make it to 50,000 words that month, but she did create a cast of characters who refused to leave her brain. They grew in her imagination, and every once in a while she would write down things they said and did. Pretty soon (in the grand scheme of the universe), she had a book.

Now she’s a young-for-her-age (jury is still out on whether that was meant as a compliment or not, but I’m going to count it as one) writer with a finished rough draft of a manuscript. Because it’s only a rough draft, though, and she is a perfectionist, completing this step didn’t give her quite the satisfaction she had hoped it would. Also, she forgot to celebrate properly. Others celebrated her, but all she could think of was how much more there was to do and how the darlings she had nurtured would fare during the process.

One of the characters is a storyteller. He makes up stories on the spot to entertain and delight (and sometimes sadden or provoke – storytellers are a tricksy bunch). So the writer decided that an appropriate way to celebrate this stage of writing is to do the same.

And they all lived (well, sort of…most of them) happily (eh…in a way) ever after.

All my 31 Days series in the past have been practical, how-to series. This one is a celebration and a glimpse into what I really love to write. I’m going to be telling short stories. I have some prompts, and I suspect I’ll have a few to-be-continueds to pick up on a subsequent date. I’m open to others. So if you think of something you’d like me to write, comment, email, DM, carrier-pigeon it to me, and I’ll try to give it a go.

I’m going to aim for 300-1000 words a day, but I don’t promise to stay within that range. Sometimes dialogue gets away from me. You may also see recurring characters or titles (written in a different style or with different characters). And each Friday is going to be a different story written from a Tumblr prompt that went around for a while.

In other words, I’m gonna have some fun with this.

I’ll keep the master list of posts here for reference:

Day 1 – Overview
Day 2 – The Case of the Missing Pen
Day 3 – Autobiography of a Real A-Hole (A Microfiction)
Day 4 – Lola Panter, Private Eye
Day 5 – Soulmates (Part 1)
Day 6 – Roger
Day 7 – If You Were a Hat

I’m also linking up with the Write 31 Days community. If this sounds like something you’d like to do, jump over and join us (to include your link to the blog or social media account you’re using to participate, see the dropdown under “linking up”). Or just linger and read. We like that, too.

 

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What I’m always into is the book stack on my bedside table.

This month is the last month Leigh Kramer will be hosting her What I’m Into link-up. I missed the deadline for linking up, but I wanted to take a moment to mention how much I have enjoyed this community of bloggers. Even on the months I didn’t post, I would read through the posts linked there. I love reading about what other people love. This group has multiplied my to-read list, improved my skin care regimen (whoever recommended Acure’s Brilliantly Brightening Day Cream? I am forever indebted.), added to my recipe repertoire, improved my taste in wine, and given me more movie and television recommendations than I could ever finish in three lifetimes. I’m going to miss it, but I’ll still post monthly(ish) updates on what I’m into and, since I follow a lot of the people who were a part of it, perhaps I will link to their posts so you can reap the same benefits I have (albeit on a smaller scale). I’m so grateful to Leigh for hosting for so long!

Right now, I’m getting back into the swing of things as the regular schedule picks back up. Church is busier because all my groups (choir, writer’s group, book club, etc.) are meeting again and also because this year is our 50th anniversary, so we’re planning shenanigans for that. Our service project got rained out last Saturday, but maybe we’ll reschedule on a weekend I’m free.

Speaking of book clubs, I’ve joined yet another one, this time at work. Tomorrow is our first meeting, and we’re discussing Evicted by Matthew Desmond and Housekeeping by Marilynne Robinson. I have read Housekeeping before but Evicted is newer. I recommend both, and I’m excited to talk about them tomorrow.

August at work is super busy, but it’s slowing down now. We got the residents moved in and are shuffling them around as we find spaces that aren’t booked and are able to accommodate requests and fill in some off our waitlist. We should be pretty full by the end of September.

I hosted my annual Hemingway party (where the food is good yet simple, like his prose, and the party is alcohol-laden, like the author himself) late this year, so the crowd was smaller. We still had a good time. It’s always fun to catch up with people.

This month, I’m looking forward to the Denton Blues Festival (this weekend!) and having a little time off from work.

 

What are you into these days?

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Friday Five2

A quick *wave* and hello as I zoom through the afternoon. The full-time job is busy; SEO writing is busy (because payment issues from the full-time job…grr…glad to have a fallback plan but it really sucks for those who don’t). So there are these things:

  • Jeanette LeBlanc wrote a love letter to writers and my response is *makes flirty eyes*
  • I love libraries for all these reasons (and more) and agree that articles (all articles, really) should be written by someone who knows what they’re talking about and also maybe a more thorough job by an editor would have caught that as well but I digress. Yay, libraries!
  • I love Hännah Ettinger’s writing, and this piece took my breath away.
  • I have never in my life been this excited about a graphic novel – Pamela Ribon’s SLAM!
  • I love this NYT article about the joy of missing out (or for those who like acronyms, JOMO – “FOMO’s benevolent younger cousin.”).

 

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Coffee? Check. Delicious rye for sandwiches? Check.

Large stack of books that I absolutely will not get through and – let’s be real – will probably forsake for audiobooks while I knit or jog (indoors, because Texas is stupid hot in summer) or one of the four ebooks I am about halfway through? Check.

This is one of my favorite ways to spend a weekend. Reading. Sleeping. Eating. More reading.

It’s not too late to join. You can sign up at the 24in48 website.

Or you can just read with reckless abandon, and not just this weekend. That’s an anytime thing. You don’t have to sign up to do that.

Now on to the books! I think I’ll start with Molly Wizenberg’s Delancey.

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Not Friday Five

My most recent newsletter (click to subscribe) outlines a little bit about my reasons for being quiet around these parts lately. I’m restructuring some priorities, to put it mildly.

It’s no wonder then that the links in my inbox that catch my eye talk about change and restlessness and anxiety (also, that’s just pretty much the nature of my inbox in general, but I digress).

The words that have resonated recently:

  1. What if the work we see to do isn’t a burden but the way we were meant to be in the world? What If by Austin Channing Brown.
  2. Jenny Lawson is one of my favorite people on the planet. This post makes me out-of-my-mind happy. I want this so bad for her (and the rest of us).
  3. Maybe you’re going through (or thinking about initiating) a major life change. Adjustment disorder is not so rare. Consider talking to someone about it.
  4. The only business plan that matters? Keep going – from Over the Rhine.
  5. Wil Gafney’s sermon on Michal is exactly what I needed to hear. Maybe you do, too.

24in48 is coming up next weekend, so I’ll see you again then, if not before. I hope you’ve had a great weekend!

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