We writers are notorious for writing in our pajamas and bathtubs au naturel…
And we love to give our heroines a killer wardrobe…and those stilettos, wow!
But what about her underwear?
You’ve heard of the red shoes…why not the red bra?
When I found this ultra sexy photo on www.Dreamstime.com, I knew I had to write a poem about a lady’s obsession with her underwear…
The Red Bra
Intrigued am I by underwear
A subject we don’t often dare
We wiggle and shake, squeeze and tug
Hoping our lover will not shrug
But search for his prize
Best,
Jina
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John buying his new motorcycle |
You may know that my husband John was in a motorcycle accident four months ago. He broke his leg badly but, as I’m fond of saying, his brain and internal organs are all in their original packaging. He’s alive, and that’s all that really matters to me.
That being said, I was on a major writing roll when the accident happened, and I’ve written very little since. I had my year planned out with my production schedule, speaking schedule, etc. all posted on my calendar in color-coded sticky notes. Those of you who have taken my goal setting and time management class know what I’m talking about. And you also know what I have to do now – hit the restart button and move all the stickies to new dates.
The thing is, that’s not the only hard thing that has happened this year. John’s current project ended (he works in the entertainment industry); we’re packing up our apartment in preparation to move to the next job even though we don’t know when or where that will be; our car decided it can’t go on any longer; and we had another death in the family so we had to put plane tickets on a credit card. There are days when, as blessed as you know you are, life just sucks.
But then one morning as you’re lying in bed trying to figure out how to juggle the day’s tasks, you remember that despite not having been on some of these roads before, you do know what to do. You accept that accidents happen in life – life happens – and you hit the restart button.
You remind yourself that you only have to move through the now. You don’t even have to be sure how you’re going to handle the afternoon. You only have to decide the first thing to do today. Maybe even the first three things. You tell yourself that you choose to be positive in spite of life’s difficulties – because we all know that going through difficult times with a bad attitude only makes it worse.
You keep doing the next thing that needs to be done. On a To Do list that feels a mile long, when you don’t know which is the most important thing to do next, you just choose one. You keep moving. You remember to be grateful for the things that go well, no matter how small. And before you know it, you’ve made it through another day. Not just survived, you had a few moments of thriving – you smiled at a stranger, had a short but nice conversation with a friend or neighbor or family member, you got a few things done that needed to be done.
And soon, you realize that a week has gone by, a month, four months, and you’re still standing. The things that haven’t gotten done, including the book that was to be published months ago that still isn’t finished, they will be done eventually. Life has ebbs and flows, sunny days and storms, accidents and accomplishments, and you have what it takes to get through them all.
You do.
Kitty Bucholtz decided to combine her undergraduate degree in business, her years of experience in accounting and finance, and her graduate degree in creative writing to become a writer-turned-independent-publisher. Her novels, Little Miss Lovesick and Unexpected Superhero, and the free short story, “Superhero in Disguise,” are now available at most online retail sites. Superhero in the Making will be released this summer.
Hi. This is Linda O. Johnston.
It’s July already, and I’m a bit obsessed about how quickly time has been passing this year. Not that it hasn’t in other years. But I also blogged this week on the same topic at one of my other blogs, Killer Hobbies.
Isn’t that a remarkable word?
I was sitting with a writer friend–a literary type–and we were talking about things in general, delving into personalities, actions, motives, assumptions…speculating on scenarios. And in the midst, she noted, “Perhaps I wonder too much.”
Hmmmm. Well for her, in many ways wondering was her job, as it is for most writers.
And I have to admit, I wonder too. Life is filled with so many mysteries, so many different perspectives, so many different layers of truth. Such richness. Indeed, such wonder. Can there be too much?
Well…it depends how much time you have to spare wondering. Because it can be a fairly time consuming habit! Indeed, it can expand to encompass all time.
Here’s my most recent wondering experience (alas, not a nice one):
Yesterday, I had the unpleasant–I think almost entirely female experience–of going to the Womens’ Room in a restaurant and sitting on a wet toilet seat (lighting was low).
Now I have spent years wondering why a woman who clearly is overly obsessed (in my opinion) about GERMS would decide the right thing to do is urinate all over the toilet seat such that someone else may sit on a seat they have fouled.
Really? You couldn’t lift the seat with your foot and hover over the bowl? It’s excellent for tightening those flabby thigh muscles! Or just use the often available toilet seat cover?
The good news is that urine is almost always sterile, so as disgusting an experience as it is, the likelihood of any harm (aside of rather strange wet spots on the back of one’s pant legs) is minuscule.
But the hypocrisy of this germ-phobic human dumping her waste so that others may sit in it just boggles my mind.
Perhaps it’s an aggressive act? Like a hacker sending a computer virus just for the fun of messing up strangers’ lives? That at least offers me some logic. Perhaps the world is filled with angry souls, acting out in small ways. Perhaps, as I wipe myself, I should send a silent pitying prayer to the offender, rather than a not-so-silent curse! Perhaps….
Though I have to admit, I am, in general, very pro-germ. If I pause to reflect (yes, OK, wonder) on where obsessive cleanliness will get you, it is not a place I want to be. I want my body trained–like an athlete–to handle germs easily, without breaking a sweat.
Hey, I eat things I’ve dropped on the floor, and I’m still alive. No, I’m not allergic to anything–my body is a finely tuned germ-ingesting instrument! For me, the germ phobia road leads to a version of becoming David, the bubble baby.
I celebrate a world filled with good things and bad things. And I wonder….
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More info →A Slice of Orange is an affiliate with some of the booksellers listed on this website, including Barnes & Nobel, Books A Million, iBooks, Kobo, and Smashwords. This means A Slice of Orange may earn a small advertising fee from sales made through the links used on this website. There are reminders of these affiliate links on the pages for individual books.
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