“Seven days. Seven black and white photos of your life. No people. No explanation. Challenge someone new each day.”
Thanks, Sandra, for the challenge 🙂.
Today, I’d like to nominate Michelle of The Complete Savorist.
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This month, we’re editing months.
Which makes no sense, if you could see my life right now. It entails zero time to do things I love – namely, converse with my blogging friends and eat enchiladas. I even had to alter my procedure for Six Words to get enough entries this month.
Normally, I invite people by email after I’ve visited their blog – or answer email sent to me asking for the prompt.
This month, I read fewer blogs than I could eat enchiladas. So I sent out word by social media. The response was strong! Once a month, as you know, I ask strangers, friends, bloggers, and strange blogger friends to respond to a prompt in six words.
It’s 12:17 a.m. and this day has gone so long it’s wrapping around into the next.
I have cobwebs on my blog or at least on my comments and if your blogs were my goldfish, you’d all be belly up in algae-riddled muck. I’m the blogging equivalent of the boyfriend who texts you at 2 a.m.
It’s 12:19 now and I should be doing a million other things.
Looking for a job, for instance. Not eating this quarter pounder on a plate, stage right. Boiling water for the sleepytime tea I’ve had every night. Answering comments or brushing my teeth or, maybe even sleeping before my 2.5-hour trip to Raleigh at 7 a.m.
Hayden and I talked fantasy football while I fixed her scrambled eggs Sunday morning.
I know, you’re not supposed to talk fantasy football. Maybe it’s okay with the people you play with? Anyway, Marcus Mariota, you see. He’s projected for mad points this week, but is questionable for the game Monday. Should I stick with him?
I prayed about it last night I told Hayden.
I actually hadn’t. On two other occasions, I’ve prayed for trivial things (that didn’t feel trivial in the moment) only to see them granted. I tried to remember the last time I did actually pray. It might have been in acid-washed jeans.
I coulda been in the Guinness book.
No, really. My plan: To coach soccer for 24 hours straight. Twenty-four one-hour sessions, with kids signed up around the clock. (I’d get college kids to fill the overnight hours.) One boy on my team wanted to camp out and participate in as many hours as possible.
It never happened.
We’d planned it as a fundraiser for a teammate who’d been diagnosed with leukemia. The Guinness folks said if it was tied to a charity, it wouldn’t count. And that’s okay. That teammate? He went into remission.
I keep a drawer of beat-up books that I like to open a lot.
One’s a book of coaches’ quotes. I gain perspective from my sideline squad. Another’s a book of lists for parents. I’ve scribbled in that a lot. Another is a pocket-sized, tattered book called “Father to Daughter.” It’s a collection of advice fathers have given.
Occasionally, I’ll grab one of the sentences in it and expound upon it.
My conversation with a T-mobile customer service rep that turned to fatherhood inspired this. I’d love to hear your take on the topic, from the perspective of a parent or having been that daughter with your father.
Write time has come at a premium lately.
It’s 1:26 a.m. and I ought to be sawing logs. I just watched my Denver Broncos eek out a 24-21 victory against the Los Angeles Chargers. Also, the Colorado Rockies beat the Arizona Diamondbacks and I had nachos.
Can you blame a boy for not being able to sleep?
It’s been awhile since I’ve posted a random-smartphone-pictures post. These are fun because I pick the photos at random. They force me to remember the day, the moment, and tell the story in a snapshot of text.
Behold, the hug.
Is anything in the universe as potentially awkward and comforting as the hug? Humans (or many mammals) have the innate ability to express love or like, congratulations or condolences by simply opening their arms and pressing together their bodies.
I compile a monthly post called 6 Words. Ernest Hemingway inspired it when he said any story can be told in six words. I ask bloggers, friends, strangers, and a few strange blogger friends to respond to a prompt.
Here’s the prompt for August:
It’s not so much what I’m going to do this weekend that stirs the soul.
It’s what I’m not going to do. I won’t put in more seat time than a NASCAR champ. I won’t pry my eyelids open after another late night and early morning wondering when in the hell I’ll get to write on this blog again.
No, there will be seat time – on the couch, with the laptop, watching football, though.
I’ll throw golf discs and I’ll grill. Also, I’ll read. I want you to read too. This long holiday weekend, wherever you are, check out these posts. Each dropped a mic to some degree as I found them (has it really been three weeks?) and you’ll love them too.