Yesterday, Sunday, I posted the happenings of the day and typed in another short story. But when I finished, I must have erroneously clicked the wrong button, because everything disa-ppeared forever. Now I have not the ambition to retype the short story. We very much enjoyed the visit Sunday of our two daughters. The eldest needed carpentry advice on putting beds in her newly acquired Ford Van. She and two female friends cooperate in garbering (making costumes ) for Medieval Faire participants. These Faires are held over weekends, and it is nec-essary to remain overnight on the premises in the out-of-doors. Motels are either miles away or too expensive. Thus the need for the carpentry work.
The short story: Occasion For Worry:
As she, her husband, and his friend Louie walked through the Patton Museum outside of Fort Knox, she found no interest in the machinations of war. The lighting was poor, and at 70 yrs., trying to read at less than 100 watt illumination made her stomach queasy.
Her husband sensed her restlessness, and handing her the keys to the car, suggested she wait for them outside. Gratefully, she took the keys.
A short visit to the Ladies' room, and a short walk in the fresh air, and she settled to wait in the warm sunshine and a breeze from her open window.
Lulled into a tranquil, half-awake state, she was vaguely aware of the sound of running feet behind the car, then was fully aware when a hand tried the driver's door. It was locked. Instinct made her snap the lock on the passenger side, and she had her window almost closed when a hand tried to come through the opening.
She applied pressure to the knob and succeeded in trapping the intruding hand at the first finger joints.
At a yelp of pain, she moved her head so she could look into the angry face at the window. Expletives flew, but she held the window firmly against his fingers when he tried to force the pane of glass down with pressure from the flat of his other hand against the glass.
A rush of footsteps sounded from behind the car and four MP's surrounded the trapped man.
"You can lethim loose now, Ma'am," an MP grinned in at her by lowering his face to the windshield, "and thanks, he ran us a merry chase."
She lowered the glass and the intruding fingers were pried from it.
"You lousy old bitch!" was her reward for freeing his fingers.
The group was long gone when her husband returned with his friend to the car.
"Sorry we were so long, but we watched a slide presentation in the Auditorium."
"That's okay, I enjoyed sitting in the April sun." was all she replied. Why make him worry the next time she spent time alone?
But she did wonder what might have happened if the driver's window had also been open. Mayve there would have been an occasion for worry.
Publishing the work of I. C. Talbot and K. A. Jordan
Monday, August 31, 2009
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Blog No. Two
Today, Sunday, was quite a day, as both daughters joined us in a carpentry session. The older daughter wanted a bed built into her new vehicle, Ford HeavyDuty Van. She and Coletta are garbers for medieval faires and spend a lot of time at their events, and motels are costly, the van is spacious, and they pull a trailer to house their wares.. Roy has the tools, and they both came to use our shaded overhang as workshop. The weather was exceptional - cool and breezy, and all went well. Our two female hounds went bezerk over having visitors, but luckily the shock wore off quickly.
Here's another short one: Occasion For Worry.
As they walked through the Patton Museum outside of Fort Knox, KY, she was unable to show an interest in the mechanizations of war.
The lighting was poor, and at age 70, any attempt to read at other than the minimum of 100 watts made her stomach immediately queasy.
Her husband sensed her indifference, handed her the car keys, and asked if she wanted to wait in the car, as he and his friend, who had accompanied them, wanted to finish the tour.. She did.
First, she visited the ladies' room, then stepped out into the bright sunshine. A brisk walk in the spring air resolved the stomach problem, and once in the car, the warmth of the sun and the fresh air coming through the open car window lulled her into a tranquil, half-awake state.
She was vaguely aware of the sound of running feet behind the car, then fully aware when a hand tried to driver's door. It was locked. Instinct made her snap the lock on the passenger side, and she had her window almost completely closed when a hand tried to come through the opening.
She applied more pressure to the window knob and succeeded in trappint the intruding hand at the first finger joints.
At a yelp of pain, she moved her head so she could look into the angry face at the window. Expletives flew, but she held the window firmly against his fingers when he tried to force the pane of glass down with pressure from the flat of his other hand against the outside of the glass.
A rush of footsteps sounded from behind the car and four MP's surrounded the trapped man.
"You can let him loose now, Ma'am," grinned an MP, having sized up the situation through the windshield, "and thanks, he ran us a merry chase."
She lowered the glass and the intruding fingers were pried from it.
"You lousy old bitch!" was her reward for freeing his fingers.
The group was long gone when her husband returned to the car.
"Sorry to have stayed so long, Hon, but we watched a slide presentation in the Auditorium."
"That's okay, I enjoyed sitting in the April sun." was all she replied. Why make him worry when next she spent time alone?"
But she did wonder what might have happened if the driver's window had also been down. Maybe there would have been an occasion for worry?
Here's another short one: Occasion For Worry.
As they walked through the Patton Museum outside of Fort Knox, KY, she was unable to show an interest in the mechanizations of war.
The lighting was poor, and at age 70, any attempt to read at other than the minimum of 100 watts made her stomach immediately queasy.
Her husband sensed her indifference, handed her the car keys, and asked if she wanted to wait in the car, as he and his friend, who had accompanied them, wanted to finish the tour.. She did.
First, she visited the ladies' room, then stepped out into the bright sunshine. A brisk walk in the spring air resolved the stomach problem, and once in the car, the warmth of the sun and the fresh air coming through the open car window lulled her into a tranquil, half-awake state.
She was vaguely aware of the sound of running feet behind the car, then fully aware when a hand tried to driver's door. It was locked. Instinct made her snap the lock on the passenger side, and she had her window almost completely closed when a hand tried to come through the opening.
She applied more pressure to the window knob and succeeded in trappint the intruding hand at the first finger joints.
At a yelp of pain, she moved her head so she could look into the angry face at the window. Expletives flew, but she held the window firmly against his fingers when he tried to force the pane of glass down with pressure from the flat of his other hand against the outside of the glass.
A rush of footsteps sounded from behind the car and four MP's surrounded the trapped man.
"You can let him loose now, Ma'am," grinned an MP, having sized up the situation through the windshield, "and thanks, he ran us a merry chase."
She lowered the glass and the intruding fingers were pried from it.
"You lousy old bitch!" was her reward for freeing his fingers.
The group was long gone when her husband returned to the car.
"Sorry to have stayed so long, Hon, but we watched a slide presentation in the Auditorium."
"That's okay, I enjoyed sitting in the April sun." was all she replied. Why make him worry when next she spent time alone?"
But she did wonder what might have happened if the driver's window had also been down. Maybe there would have been an occasion for worry?
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Hey, I have a Blog!!
Welcome to ICY Road.
I am a senior citizen, 86, who invested in a SONY Reader, and I would like to recommend it to all senior citizens or anyone who likes to read if not just for the adjustable print size, then for the fact that it fits in a purse or pocket. I use it for long waits in doctor's offices. Everything considered, I believe the price is reasonable for the Reader
There are numerous stories that can be down loaded for free - and I have found that Henry Rider Haggard wrote very interesting stories about the middle East which give an insight into their rulers, life styles, etc., that have not changed over the millenium. We are trying to force a democracy on a country which first should be educated to the extent that Christians are. People cannot be forced to change, they must desire it.
Now I have to learn what one does with a BLOG. I write short stories and perhaps I should put one here. It's really short and probably will draw a lot of criticism. Let's see: how about "America's Favorite Game":
Billy stood squarely at the plate the way his Dad instructed him, his bat on his shoulder, body turned slightly toward the plate, his eye on the ball in the pitcher's hand.
The hand moved, the ball flew, Billy's bat connected squarely. A low, line drive, right into Mrs. Walton's back yard where she sat on a bench in the shade, shelling early peas.
Splat!
The ball caught her on the back of the head. The peas fell to the ground, Mrs. Walton's lifeless body landing directly on top of them.
So much for America's favorite game! The End
As you can see, I'm a great sports' fan. Why raise youngsters with a yen to stand out in the hot sun for hours, waiting for a turn at bat? Doesn't sunburn cause skin cancer?
I am a senior citizen, 86, who invested in a SONY Reader, and I would like to recommend it to all senior citizens or anyone who likes to read if not just for the adjustable print size, then for the fact that it fits in a purse or pocket. I use it for long waits in doctor's offices. Everything considered, I believe the price is reasonable for the Reader
There are numerous stories that can be down loaded for free - and I have found that Henry Rider Haggard wrote very interesting stories about the middle East which give an insight into their rulers, life styles, etc., that have not changed over the millenium. We are trying to force a democracy on a country which first should be educated to the extent that Christians are. People cannot be forced to change, they must desire it.
Now I have to learn what one does with a BLOG. I write short stories and perhaps I should put one here. It's really short and probably will draw a lot of criticism. Let's see: how about "America's Favorite Game":
Billy stood squarely at the plate the way his Dad instructed him, his bat on his shoulder, body turned slightly toward the plate, his eye on the ball in the pitcher's hand.
The hand moved, the ball flew, Billy's bat connected squarely. A low, line drive, right into Mrs. Walton's back yard where she sat on a bench in the shade, shelling early peas.
Splat!
The ball caught her on the back of the head. The peas fell to the ground, Mrs. Walton's lifeless body landing directly on top of them.
So much for America's favorite game! The End
As you can see, I'm a great sports' fan. Why raise youngsters with a yen to stand out in the hot sun for hours, waiting for a turn at bat? Doesn't sunburn cause skin cancer?
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