past the season lights, suspicious neighbours, Uncategorized

Seems It’s Never Too Late For Christmas Lights

So many people have the same problem with the cold. Travelling the side streets, resting Christmas lights are common. It’s too friggin’ cold to take them down. They just hang there, unlit, unremarkable, collecting street salt mist since it’s January 29th.

From my back door window, across the street, a blaze continues nightly. It’s not an elaborate scene, but Christmas lights burning nonetheless. One porch railing has white lights, the other golden, soft white. A wrapping of pine needle rope is decorated with blue, green, and red lights. There’s a wreath in the midst of it. It’s lit up, too. Balls hang off the rope—what’s left of them. Looks like a solitary Santa hanging there as well, clinking against lights when the wind blows. The whole lawn is illuminated by this created light fest.

I’m not in the least bothered by this—because I don’t have to take it all down and find a space to cram it, but I’m amused. I’m in the habit now of looking each night to see if they’ve decided it’s too late for Christmas lights. Seems it’s not ever too late. But it’s late  January now… the Christmas ship has sailed so to speak.

When will they take their Christmas lights down? Maybe they won’t. These neighbours are elderly. Not ancient, but grey poking out from their wooly hats says they probably don’t care what others think. We get to an age when the important issues are: did the bran work?; trying not to forget where we just set down a mug of coffee; when’s my kid coming to show me how to manage the latest technology of the snazzy elliptical needed for exercise; where’s the Tylenol, and who ate the last of the damn ice cream. So let the lights burn. It’s too much to remove them in the cold, and why waste a display.  Live for what’s important.

I suppose if the colours are still lit next month, I should ask if they’d like help. But what if they push me off the porch with a broom. What if they call the cops because I’m trepassing? See? This is the thing. Sometimes neighbours we don’t really know are grateful for help, sometimes they’re too suspicious. I could get my ass kicked by a couple married of forty years. Don’t laugh. These people could own cast iron frying pans. I can barely pick, never mind cook with it.

But if I don’t ask, I may be able to amuse myself throughout the summer with the countdown until those lights are valid once again.

Live and let lights burn. I’d post a photo, but I didn’t want to step foot near the lights for fear of a small, fast dog. Those little ones have a good aim. Their bite surely is as bad as their bark. Haha~ Well, that’s it. All I had to say.

Thanks for reading.

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Human Behaviour, Human Nature, Uncategorized

Flooding in Texas

“There’s a reason for everything,” they say. Humans are too finite to understand the infinite; however, we do understand the outpouring of help to others and how this impacts the human situation.

God bless those who are helping, and those who need the help; humans and their pets.

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Uncategorized

Benefits of Complaining?

When the weather doesn’t suit us, when the roads are too bumpy, when we have to wait too long… who doesn’t complain?

We are risking being sucked down into a spiral of negativity. One complain leaving the mouth open the gates for darkening our minds. Sounds a little over the top, but if you thing about it, it’s true. Perhaps a woman complains to a friend about her husband, when’s the last time it stopped at one issue?

We humans have a hard time waiting. Technology zips things into place in a second. Waiting is an exercise in patience. Nobody likes it. We live in a fast-paced world. This pace makes it even more difficult for those who have mental illness to contend with. It’s the rushing that makes mentally ill people panic and second-guess themselves. Not because they’re slow, rather because they know, innately, urgency produces worry. Back to the spiral again with that. People who are not mentally ill experience the needling emotions nonetheless. Rushing a meal causes hiccups and indigestion. Rushing things in our lives causes panic, oversight.

Personally, I am waiting for something important right now. You are, too. We all are, at different intervals of our lives. All I can suggest is what I have recently learned: complaining slows things down. Being fixated on the time it takes for something, drags out the process in my mind. This can literally be likened, on a smaller scale, to waiting for a kettle to boil.

If we’re waiting for a legal document, it’s far better to engage in reading and learning about said subject rather than allow our minds to become preoccupied with the wait. “All things in good time,” although we fight against the adage as a result of impatience.

Unless we are complaining to bring about a much needed favourable change, it’s best to be thankful for all circumstances. Blessing arise from thanking. Seems too weird to be true? Test it and see, go back and remember hard times that were a blessing in disguise.

If situations were not overtly blessings, then they were lessons for our own progress in this fallen world. Those lessons are gruelling; however, not one meaningful accomplishment is borne of our comfort zone.

Thanks for reading, God bless—cheers~

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Uncategorized

A Poem about Summer Slovens

AS IF ANGRY

She began as if friendly,
That pretty day,
To mother the throng in the park,
To permit their play.

No angst and no reason to abandon their plans
To line up for climbs, twists and plummets
On steep skeletal frames.
For some, a summertime dare to prepare
For psychotic amusement—pitch dark to unnerve
—Silent ghosts appear to touch, taunt and scare.
On this sumptuous day,
Perhaps paltry prizes
For enduring game gamblers,
Or one could gorge on sweets, greasy ribs
And fat burgers.

Crushed pop cans, foam cups, candy floss holders; Waxed wrappers, wasted serviettes, lost tickets,
Even striped straws smeared with lipstick…
All was well for the trash-dripping humans
Creating weak Ozone—no concern.

She began as if nurturing, that gentle day.
But her breath was the warning,
Tenacious and damp,
As if to blow on a long cake
Too large to guess age or count candles.
No other caution she gave,
Not even to musicians plugged into the band shell.
She came as if angry.
Somber mood and thunderous steps;
Blew down a few tents;
Knocked over a petite human guest.

She brought with her a bruised sky.
Bright spikes from those crowded clouds
Tore through steel-grey’s supple flesh.
And then, her stern rain.

Mama-atmosphere at first had smiled,
Endorsing their frolic outside,
Yet it seemed she had lied.
She chastised once more,
An emotional tone,
And let her cold tears pour,
Forcing the throng to clear
Allowing her to cleanse the Slovens’ playpen.

For this is Planet Earth;
First hers, not theirs.

Alas, the humans would be back;
Litter scattered.
Disrespect.

And so she brewed…
She’d be back, too.

L. P. Penner

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Uncategorized

Ladies, would you help me?

I need opinions, that’s all, and I know women love to help one another. I will not find you and spam you, I absolutely promise.

I’m preparing my novel for marketing in the traditional publishing setting, and my most interested beta readers are women. My synopsis is only 140 words. Would you please indicate if indeed you can imagine yourself curled up with this realistic fiction?

They All Wore Black concerns a traumatized, hushed up family struggling to learn it’s okay to cry out:

Brad Fadden trudges with his head down and his guard up. His deviant father died, but Brad aches with raw, nauseating secrets. Haunting memories. His haggard mother is reticent about it. His protective sister fled eight years ago because of it.

It’s 1988. Ganja, cocaine, pills—easy scores. Even so, fifteen-year-old Brad’s illusion of escape does not subdue his crippling emotions. He’s off to harass his dead father’s socially inept boozing pal who guards the pivotal truth, and that fearful sot may be the only one who knows it.

A peculiar old man intermittently appears to caution Brad about addictions and fact seeking, leaving him to think he’s hallucinating, but the kid won’t stop prying. They say, “The truth will set you free.” They’re wrong.

Thanks for your help, ladies.

Lynn

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Cat lovers, Human Behaviour, Uncategorized

Passwords Lockouts

It would seem that I neglected my blog page, and I have. Sort of.

Password lockouts have kept me from blogging. I don’t claim to understand why my password stops working, but here I am after what seems like being held down by a size 15 shoe on an athletic foot which of course would be on the connecting leg. That’s as far as my mind film goes.

I’m all right. I have survived worse. Like being pinned to the couch by my seventeen pound cat. They know when we have a full bladder. They prove their mysterious cat knowledge by kneading the bladder.

In the meantime, when I’m not trapped on my furniture, I have noticed new readers and followers, so thank you for  keeping me alive! If the password gods have mercy, I’ll blog again soon.

The sun has graced my part of the world with its occasional grin today. It’s been grey for a month. I must get out there.

Thanks again, and have a sunny day.

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Uncategorized

The Last Stretch

Oh-so-human Trials

Don’t despair if someone is resisting your goal. Perhaps celebrate it as a sign that you’re closer than you thought. No matter what you’re heading toward, keep driving your efforts until you can stab a flag in it.

Lynn P. Penner

Thanks for reading. 🙂

 

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