WordPress Question of the Day

What makes you most anxious?

I believe there are different types of anxiety.
If we are talking about psychological anxiety like PTSD my biggest triggers are having a motorcycle fly by me on the highway.
If we are talking about “normal” anxiety my triggers are being repeatedly question about my capabilities. For example, if you asked me “Can you use a screw gun to put up a wooden fence?” and I say yes but then you ask “A screw gun, commercial grade?” Yes. “Do you know how to safely put enough pressure and then let it off so you don’t strip the screw?” YES!!! I said yes at the beginning. That is an umbrella yes! If I didn’t know any part of it I would have said no.

See…just writing it is making me anxious!

The Cat tells the truth

*The Cat in the Hat fan-fiction poetry*

With a dubious look of suspicion
And a growing pain deep in his gut
The Cat saw the pothole ahead there
he would never get out of that rut.

His car sort of bumped off the corner
The fender got only a scratch
He’d hate to tell the kids about it
He thought of a lie he could hatch.

He’d tell them he was a soldier
That he’d been called out to fight in a war
The bullets flew fast all around him
He didn’t get out of his car

He’d tell them that animals gathered
‘Round his car just to take in the sight
That lions jumped up on the tailgate
That they all gave him quite a great fright.

He’d tell them he went to a shindig
To dance until he had to drop
His stomach was full of the goodies
There was ice cream with cherries on top.

He’d tell them he fell off a mountain
But luckily landed intact
He’d pulled out the airbag so quickly
before he crashed he needed to act.

Just then the Cat had a vision
Of telling the kids the whole truth
That he had been picking up takeout
When he slid his car by the booth.

He would say that he slid it in sideways
To wait quietly for his fast food
His patience was quickly degrading
He was trying to keep his good mood.

But when the kids ran outside to see him
They didn’t notice anything wrong
So he got out fast to get playing
While the radio played a nice song.

©2023 CBialczak

Moonwashed Weekly Prompt #134 – 3/14/23 – Dubious https://amanpan.blog/2023/03/14/moonwashed-weekly-prompt-134-3-14-23-dubious/
FOWC with Fandango — Intact https://fivedotoh.com/2023/03/18/fowc-with-fandango-intact/
WOTD – Stomach https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2023/03/18/stomach/
3TC – shindig, dance, fell https://pensitivity101.wordpress.com/2023/03/18/three-things-challenge-m271/

Beauty ~ free verse

This morning on our walk I saw a similar flower, all by itself, mixed in with dead grass and sandy soil. I almost stopped to take a picture because it looks so pretty but so lonely. I almost wish I had now, seeing your photo!


Beauty, breathtakingly hypnotic
Time, a stroboscopic narcotic
Human, relinquish resistance
Rise above dubious existence

For Moonwashed Musings ~ dubious. Sammi Scribbles ~ breathtaking (14 words); dVerse OLN; Reena’s exploration challenge ~ word cloud – hypnosis, trance, entrainment, wavelength,stroboscopic; FOWC ~ relinquish; Cee’s FOTD

Mindfills© 2023

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Fandango’s Story Starter

Jim was hosting for Fandango but Fandango will be back. Thanks Jim for taking the time to fill in.

Things were different back in the day when …

Written for FSS

Things were different back in the day when the world seemed so safe. As kids, we would leave the house in the morning and return only if we forgot some treasure or new tool to use as we built an imaginary world around us. 

“Hey, wait for me”, I remember my best friend saying as she pedaled harder and harder to catch up. We were on our way to the underpass. 

The underpass was I95 which cut through the shoreline and went all the way from Maine to Florida, or so we were told. We would search the sand on either side of the road that traveled under the underpass to look for bird eggs that were maybe jostled out of their nests by the rumbling vibration of the cars and trucks. Once in a while, we would find a blue robins egg, cracked in half like mom’s Sunday morning breakfast eggs, but never a baby bird to rescue. 

“Let’s ride up to the store and buy gum!” my friend said. There was a small store about a mile away.

We would cross the busy street, Route 1, which also supposedly runs from Maine to Florida. Then we would pedal over the East River and cross the town line to finally get to the shop close enough to buy big packs of Grape Hubba Bubba. Chewing happily we would ride toward home, wondering what we should do next. We never told our moms we rode so far. It was dangerous crossing a main road, never a worry about anyone kidnapping us or luring us in some obscene way. As long as we were home for dinner we were free to explore the world around us, and that we did!