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Start of Making Glass Pitcher

Taking First Shape, HOT!

Newpaper Shaping

Blowing Glass

Handle On

10 hours slow cooling

Corning Glass Sculpture

Look into my crystal ball

Glass Knives

Come here ladies!

Writing Prompt: Do you do anything to help the needy?

Word Prompt from The Imagination Prompt Generator

Do you do anything to help the needy?

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     More than a year ago I wrote my first novel, which is currently in the editing stages.  This very question sparked a great deal toward my story.  Not everyone is fortunate to give of their time or resources to help those in need.  But, there are some who give and give for causes of importance, kudos to them.  I am not one, who has the financial resources to donate.  Instead I spend some of my time volunteering at the local school.  I assist elementary students with Language Arts, and Mathematics.  Even though, it is not as worthy as helping to feed or shelter those in need it is still very important to help our youngsters get a good head start on their future education.

     Seems there are many world wide causes to contribute to.  One of my current endeavours to helping in a world wide sense is this site online called, The UN Food Program  where you play a vocabulary game, and for every correct answer you earn 20 grains of rice.  They have sponsors, who pay for the grains of rice you earn to help feed those in need.

     The questions I had were, how much rice does it take to feed a person for a day, and how many grains of rice equal a gram?

     According to the website, “The composition of UN World Food Program (WFP) food baskets varies from country to country and region to region, depending upon the eating habits of the people WFP feeds. In countries where rice is a staple part of the diet, WFP provides, on average, about 400 grams of rice per person, per day (for families, including children and adults). That is intended for two meals that include other ingredients to ensure a minimum of 2,100 kilocalories per day. There are about 48 grains of rice in a gram”. 

     Which means that you can feed one person a day by earning 19,200 grains.  This requires a great deal of time playing in order to earn that amount.  Even though it is impossible to earn this amount in one sitting, it still is worthwhile playing for a couple hundred grains.  Every 20 grains, is worth more than none at all.  It is a great game for writer’s, in particular, because it helps to build vocabulary.  The words become more difficult as you continue to play.  On average, the least I can get is about 1,000 grains in 10 minutes.  Not too bad for only 10 minutes.  So, in one hour I can at least get 6,000 grains.  This also depends on whether or not I get distracted during play.

     Another way that I contribute to the community and the needs of others, is to volunteer my time at a nursing home.  Going in and playing a simple card game, trivia, or volley balloon (yep a balloon) with the higher functioning residents is very rewarding.  For the lower functioning residents, it means a great deal to get them out into the fresh air for a walk, or to just sit in the shade and enjoy the fresh air and beautiful weather. Many times in nursing facilities you will find that the activities (recreation) staff are few.  They need all the help they can get to ensure that the residents are getting the required amount of activities that the state has stipulated.  The state is great about making rules, but slack with giving the funding to achieve such high standards.  

     The giving of ones time and resources really makes a difference to those who are in need.  Although, we aren’t able to accomplish everything alone, it is better than doing nothing to help at all.  I encourage and lead by example, the importance of helping in the community.  Through my volunteer work, I have been offered numerous jobs by those who have seen my skills, especially when working with children and the elderly.  I don’t want to get wrapped up in the politics of working for an organization.  I’ve always been better with volunteering.  I get more reward for volunteering, than with a measly paycheck that can turn me into an employee where rules and regulations can keep me from doing my best. 

     I worked for six years at the NYS Veterans Home, and I learned that you spend more time doing paperwork and less time on the floor with the residents.  The state is absolutely ridiculous!!  Residents are denied basic rights, because they shouldn’t make any decisions for themselves.  They are believed to be too cognitively impaired to make good decisions for themselves.  Yes, there are some who are cognitively impaired and make poor choices.  However, there are many who still have their wits about them and feel depressed from being institutionalized.  They are told what to do every step of the way.  These people go in and stay in, till they die….all are considered terminally ill.  The administrator and administrative staff spend no time at all with these residents, but make all the decisions.  One lawsuit ruins it for everyone else!!!!!

Writing Prompt: Hiding

Weekly Prompt from Wordclay (Writing, Self-Publishing, Book Marketing)

Hide and go seek. Think about the last time you hid from someone or something. Perhaps a time when you played as a child, or maybe the time a bill collector came knocking at your door. Where did you hide? How did your hiding place mirror your experience or claustrophobia? Now, write a story or poem that explores the emotions of your particular instance of hiding and how you emerged.

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     Jill hide the drugs under the toilet.  She had been cautious, prepared for the worst.  Her brillance would pay off.  She had slowly cracked all of the cauk around the bottom of the toilet, then she smeared what looked like excrements all around the cauk to make it difficult to see that it had been tampered with.  Then she hide in the attic where she had purposely placed a chest full of clothing for just such an occasion.  Jill hid under the chest in her escape tunnel, that she had cleverly made.  There was enough room under the floor for her to hide.  Even if they moved the chest they wouldn’t find her.  At the bottom of the chest it had a door which was also crafted in disguise.  The hardest part was getting in the box with all the clothing to open the hatches after closing the box so that it would latch securely. 

     She had seen the cop car pull up along her sidewalk adjacent to the front of the house.  Someone had reported her for selling cocaine, it was obvious.  For years since she started her illegal business, she had been planning this very instance.  She had practiced and timed herself over and over again.  It had been a daily rountine to be sure her reaction and timing were at best when all hell broke loose. 

     She couldn’t hear anything while in the box, but she was going to wait it out for as long as possible.  To keep her mind occupied she spent time thinking about her stash of cash and her other problems.  They weren’t going to find her money stash.  That was tucked safely in her loose floor boarded attic.  It would take a real genious to figure out where it was actually located.  Since under the boards the insulation was providing enough stability for the loose floor.  Then for a moment she started to wonder whether or not they were still in the house searching or if they were gone.  If she were a cop and there was a home that supposedly sold drugs, the last thing you’d expect is to come up empty.  She had to stay positive for a bit longer.

     It hadn’t been an easy life for her, living this way.  She lived in constant fear of being raided on a daily basis, also her physically abusive ex showing up to give her a lesson for leaving, and the worry of being killed over the drugs.  There wasn’t any possibility of working an ethical job, that could give her the same income her own business provided.  Jill had tried to work several jobs and sooner or later she was fired because of her cleptomania.  If there was a way to obtain the money from her bosses she took every opportunity. 

     Her jail record showed the signs of her problem.  All the jobs she applied for after her last conviction, 5 years ago, denied her employment.  Her formal education ended in the 10th grade, as soon as she hit 16.  She didn’t need an education with boring teachers, who were way too critcal of her work.   Jill had moved out of her parent’s house and she had rented an apartment with her now ex-boy friend.  She had put up with his madness for more than 8 years and enough was enough, she had to break free.  It was the only way she was going to stay safe and sane.  Of course, her ex, Michael had tried to kill her after only a day of absence.  He felt ownership of her life, and if he couldn’t have her no one else was going to either.  So she hid out for a long time at a friends home, hoping he would eventually think she had moved to another town or state.

     It had worked, but she still worried about his threat to kill her.  Michael was always true to his word.  As she found out when he beat her so badly the first time she couldn’t see straight for a week.  He had said before he acted, that she would be sorry when she couldn’t see for a month.  She had been sorry alright, sorry for thinking he was a real man.  Now that she had scars from his many rampages against her, she didn’t see any point of having a real relationship with another loser.  Jill kept her distance from any would be boy friend.  It had been tough, but she kept relationships to one night stands.

     Finally, she heard some movement up in the attic.  They were really trying to find the score she had hidden in the house.  It surprised her that they had stayed so long searching for what wouldn’t be found.  Soon she heard the latch on the trunk and then the lid opened up.  It was an adrenaline rush.  She heard the officer disheveling the pile of clothing in search of the illegal substance.  It wouldn’t take them long to find they had come up empty.  But her heart hammered in her chest all the same.  She heard the lid of the trunk slam shut and the voice of the cop swearing.  Then he shouted into his walkie talkie that the attic was null of drugs.  The cop said, “I think the perp got wind of our coming and escaped with the drugs, cash, and her life”.  The other cop replied, “I think you are right, lets wrap it up and get out of here.  Obviously the informant lead us on a goose chase”.

     As soon as the officer reached the exit of the attic he received a call over his radio.  The dispatcher belted out, that a domestic dispute on Sares Street was just called in by a worried neighbor.  The cop uttered another curse before slamming the attic door shut.  Jill breathed a sigh of relief, and she laid there a bit longer steadying her heart rate.  The plans she had divised had paid off, and she had gotten away with it.  Now that she knew they were waiting for her, she would have to find another place to live and be very sneaky about it.  The thrill of success enthralled her at the moment.  Slowly she removed the panel from the floor and lifted the trap door of the chest.  She poked a wire hanger through the key hole and popped the latch open.

     Just to be sure they had left she peaked out the window to see if the police cruiser was gone.  It was gone, and she felt victory.  For once in her life she had succeed when all odds were against her.  She smiled as the joy crept through her being.  Now she had to grab a few things, such as her already packed suit case, her cash, and her stash of drugs.  Then she would head off to her safe house for the next couple of weeks, or atleast until the heat of the police had subsided.  Quickly with her rations she snuck out the back door, and escaped through the neighborhood undetected. 

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Authors note:

     This story was pure fiction.  The only time I ever did any hiding was as a child during hide and seek games with my siblings and cousins.  I do not recall the emotional response to hiding nor the fear of getting found.  As children we tended to find places that were easy for discovery.  

     In this story I chose a woman who had nothing to really lose, a sneaky disposition, and with a clear head on her shoulders from the years of experience.  I didn’t want her found, so the ideas of hiding drugs, money, and her person was great fun.  Although I do not condone the use of drugs or the selling of them, it is something that happens every day in the U.S.A. and for a moment I put myself in Jill’s shoes. 

     Thank you audience for taking the time to read the quick anecdote. I hope you enjoyed it!

    

10 Reasons You Shouldn’t Write Your Life Story

This prompt came from  Creative Writing Prompts

Come up with 10 good reason you shouldn’t write your life story

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There are so many good reasons, but here are the top ten on my list.

1.   It’s personal
2.   It’s a long story
3.   I’d lose a few friends
4.   I’d gain enemies
5.   I’m too honest
6.   I’m very shy
7.   No one really cares
8.   My mother would cry
9.   My Therapist would lose his job
10.   So many personas too little time

Sensory Prompt

 

Writing, Self-Publishing, Book Marketing

Write what you hate – at least the writing will have emotion and energy behind the prose. For example, if the sound of clanking silverware or tinfoil sends shivers down your spine, start a story or poem with that intense reaction to outside stimuli. You’ll be surprised where the aggravation over something so common can take a writer, and you might even come to terms with those sounds or smells that annoy you.

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Alcoholic Scent

Zoe Force

Repulsive odor

Memory donor

As a child

Your drinking not mild

Out all night

Get into a fight

Came home intoxicated

Smelling as if you deficated

Get away from me

And let me be

I’m tired of living your hell

Trying to ignore the smell

Resonating from you essence

Get out of my presence

Smelling you is painful

Down right distainful

Quit drinking and be a Dad

Like the one I’ve never had

I’m grown

Still you’ve shown

You’ll never change

You live in a shooting range

Sweat mixed with beer

I was like a seer

Knew it would end

Because of a friend

You didn’t care

It all ended in a dare

Balsam Bar

You wrecked your last car