Friday, April 19, 2019

Random Story Prompt for Creative Writing group/

An Unwanted Gesture

A recent Dr visit found me still getting to know this young woman. She has once again told me she went to Harvard and pointed to her diploma on the wall."Wow, I said, you must be really smart?
Yes, she said, I worked from the time I was 5 to 17 to go to Harvard.
Then we smalled talked. Her nurse had gotten my vitals before the consultation. Then escorted me into the Drs office. I asked about some medicine we spoke about six months ago, that had never been renewed and approved by Medicare. I had called in my concerns and they still were not answered.

Somehow we segway into how New Jersey is the best state to give and get hugs. I said I didn't like to be touched. OH maybe by good friends and some family but for the most part, no hugs. She did not follow up on that but told me I was eating my feelings. Food releases endorphins into the belly and the body craves hug endorphins. I should hug more. 

Then the visit was over. She had not once listened to my heart. Or looked at my feet and circulation. I am a diabetic. I thought that was weird.

I am hungry now and plan on where to go for lunch, to eat my feelings

As I am gathering my things, she starts to move closer to me.
I said;
 'and she still tries to hug me =even after I told her I don't like it.'

She stepped back.

I held out my hand to shake hers.
Her handshake was weak. I guess Harvard doesn't teach that.


Wednesday, January 31, 2018

creative writing assignment Crime story/Yoga/Purple Bubble Gum and Funny

White Heels After Labor Day by rl simpson 2/1/2018

I didn't mean to kill him, it sort of just happened.

He loved to wear all my silky robes and nightgowns and apparently my yoga pants. We wear the same size in everything except gloves, he has small hands. I really had no problems with the robes and nightgowns, Yoga pants without underwear? Ok, well maybe a little problem. I just liked him to first ask to borrow my things.

He wore the pants to our, all male, YOGA class that night. I was behind him and well gross. Then I saw it -stuck =between his legs -all purple and glob-ie. Five pieces of chewed purple bubble gum -stuck to MY yoga Pants. I closed my eyes, searched for calm and rolled into a downward dog. Purple gum on MY yoga pants?-They were ruined.

After class, we all gathered our stuff and put on our outside shoes. It was almost a month after Labor Day and the weather was getting chilly. That was when I looked down at his feet and saw them. He also apparently had taken to wearing my heels. Tonight, he was wearing my favourite white summer heels. Without asking first.
'You can not ride home in the car with gum stuck to your fanny.'  I said from behind the steering wheel.
He bent over and stuck his head between his legs. and yelled through the open door.: 'Don't worry I will sit on the yoga mat."

I swear the car just shifted into gear and the open door hit him on the back and knocked him under the rear wheel and squashed his head.

I told the Judge I felt bad, but it was an accident. The only crime here was his. Imagine wearing white heels after Labor Day.

I got life and it was worth it.

 312 words

Friday, November 17, 2017


Desert Rose Dishes
A DAY IN THE LIFE by rl Simpson 11/18/27

Thursday is my Day. Helen brought me in 1950. I was part of a set, I think. That story has been lost but I was not and am part of the whole. Most of the year I live in the back of a dark cupboard. I don't mind -safer that way. I am quite large, over 19 inches. We of the Desert Rose patterns are the everyday dishes. I have never seen the other patterns, but 'We' see life with the family. John's breakfast on the Kitchen porcelain table or diner on the big table in the dining room when the children and their families come home. Helen brings me out the day before Thursday and washes me, I am the Turkey Platter. Well, truthfully Helen has served beef roast and pork roast and *gag* Lamb on me, but I like hearing the 'oohs' and 'ahs' when the big Tom Turkey rides on me. John gets his special carving knife and fork and the family all talks while he does the honors. It is my favorite day Even Christmas Ham doesn't compare. When it is over, the food is put away and sometimes an exhausted Helen has help, to wash the dishes. The daughter in Laws and the daughters aren't as gentle with me.
I now live in the dark cupboard of the eldest granddaughter. She cannot cook and rarely uses any of the Desert Rose patterns. She has never used me. I hear she may sell us. I hope we all go together.

Friday, May 5, 2017

When I think of being home

My Place by rl simpson 4/20/2017

I can not decide what kind of a reading chair I want. A wing back chair with exposed legs, and a tall back that pushes back into a recliner.  Or maybe a low back, leather upholstered club chair that also pushes back into a recliner. In my Mother's Florida house, I liked to sit in an old upholstered rocker, but I sold that with the house when they died. I close my eyes and picture myself reading. I sink into an upholstered chair filled with clouds called; down feathers, my feet are on a matching ottoman. Two matching chairs, both filled with clouds, One is covered in silk and the other in leather. One chair sits in a quiet corner near the door to the porch. The other sits in the silent Library, where my NaNa grows her violets and my Grandfather built shelves for books. I smile. I am in my Grandparent's home. I can feel the breeze cool my skin by the porch door. I can hear the quiet in the Library when I close the French doors with the glass door knobs. We are on a rare visit to my Mother's parents. I am eight, he is six. My little brother is in the Tv room with my Grandfather, who has little patience and a few words for a little boy. I have to read as fast as the clock beats until my brother will be banished from the TV room by our Grandfather. Maybe three chapters. He will come with Tinker toys or Lincoln logs to invade the quiet. He brings his little boy energy and the sweet smell of dried sweat, from his hard day of adventures. He is a good little brother, but he never is still and he does not like to read. I close my eyes and sink back into the clouds of down feathers. I am home.

Inside a Bubble

The assignment was to write about being inside something:

By rl simpson 4/15/2017

My breath has taken me away.
I am inside a rainbow called a bubble
Lighter than I am, I rise
I float.
I marvel at the patchwork
of the world below me
No longer afraid of heights
I float with the clouds and
Reach out to shake hands with
No problems, no sounds.
 The beauty of my world
Takes my breath away.

Just like that, it all disappears
I float into a million pieces
And become all that I see
All that I am
All that I can be.

Sunday, November 27, 2016

Wrapped in tissue paper and nestled in my Mother bureau drawer, I found a beautiful Christmas scarf with tags still on. My Mother had not been out to shop in over two years before she died in March. It may have been a gift from a friend and yet, I claimed it as my own. An early Christmas present from my Mom, I will wear it and think of her. Miss you.

Wednesday, November 2, 2016

2016 My parents died 20 weeks apart. I am the executor. It has not been pleasant.

Executor                                                                                                    by rl simpson 11/3/2016

My sister is in FL now -taking what she wants before our parent's double-wide vacation house is sold. We are leaving things we do not want; it is how they do it down there. Our brother and sister and I, can not afford to keep it as a vacation place or ship the stuff back only to get rid of it here.  My sister insisted on her time. 
My brother and I had gone down earlier in the month to shred papers, throw away underwear from the drawers and donate all our parent's clothes. We sold the old car, they left in Florida, put the house up for sale, noticed the floor needed to be replaced and got some estimates. I decided not to spend any more money on a vacation home we could not keep. I put up FOR SALE BY OWNER signs in the park and got one inquiry but no offer. So after ten days, I listed the house with the over 55 park management company. 
My sister insisted on the extra time and to be allowed to travel down at the end of the month to cull what she wanted, from the house.  Believing the advice of the listing agent, that the house would never sell at that higher price, I agreed to lower it from the initial amount asked when we were selling it ourselves. The estate would pay the ridiculous ground rent fee until it sold. Two days after I left to come home, the very low offers starting coming in.  All day long, I turned each of the offers down. By day's end, we got the full listing price offer. I later realised the price was very low. It sold in that week. The management company kept a commission, and we listed it 'as is'.
The potential buyer asked that we settle the following week. I said no, my sister had to get her things. They were aware of that time frame; it was part of the listing agreement. The sales agent said the buyer would walk. I said fine. At this point, I was so annoyed I wanted to tear up the listing agreement and raise the price. But my brother said no, wait a week. I did, and the buyer signed. We also did.
My sister was not happy; she felt we should put the $20,000.00 it would cost to fix, into it and sell it to her for a dollar or rent out the property for the high season. She could not afford the monthly ground rent and the high season rent would not cover all twelve months ground rent. My brother was not happy that she insisted on going down, costing the estate a month of ground rent we did not need to pay and did not come with us to clean out the house. I was upset the listing agent mislead me. But it was sold, and we never have to worry about hurricanes and pest control and nagging homeowner association maintenance letters, again. 
Then, the agent gave the buyer a key to go into the house, alone. I had my spies in place, and they called and told me. I had the sales acceptance ready to fax when we found this out. When the sales agent called to ask why the forms had not been sent, I handed the phone to my angry sister -who had been working herself up to murderize me and hire her own lawyer. The buyer has not trespassed since.
Our sister and her husband drove down to gather the things they wanted and left at the house from the twice a year they visited. My brother in law had purchased a rocking chair from an elderly resident, who had bought it from a chain restaurant. He had planned to take it apart and transport it home to Pennsylvania. My brother, a knowledgeable woodworker, saw it was glued and suggested our brother in law bring a rubber mallot to knock it apart, but doubted if it would ever be the same when putting back together. The decision was made to give it to the next door neighbor. My spy, ah I mean neighbor, assured us my brother in law could visit and sit in the chair whenever he was in Ft Myers.
It was only ever a vacation house, filled with leftovers and thrift store finds, duplicate clothes and an accepted risk of being destroyed by a hurricane or severe weather. But still...   My Mother brought some old pink towels down from when her brothers and sister, broke up their family home; in the 1970's  -I remember her Mother, our NaNa, drying us on those dusty rose color towels. After all these years -they still looked good. It was hard to say goodbye, but they were the scratchiest towels -then and now. Only in NaNa's hands did they seem like love.
  We now have the Pennsylvania house to clean out and sell. My sister lived there most of her life, but when she married 11 years ago, she moved into his condo and never had the room to move any of her things. My parents allowed her to use their house as a giant storage locker.
Our sister claims all the things inside are hers because Mother incorporated them into her home. I remember my Mother being stressed because my sister would never get rid of anything,  She kept it all at their house. Downsizing was not an option for my parents, my sister's things held them captive.
My brother and I have agreed, she can have anything she wants, just remove them from the house. So I drive two hours every other week to Pennsylvania to handle estate business. My brother is handling the house maintenance and going thru generic things to discard. My sister has rented a storage unit, that will bankrupt her. We can not call an appraiser in until her things are removed. She is working on that. She had told me before she left for Florida, it may take her ten years to settle this, and if she gets through this ordeal without killing someone, we will be lucky.