Sarah is our hostess for the Saturday Mix variable challenges. Check it out here This week we are diving into the depths of our thesaurus and exploring the world of synonyms. Same Same But Different Your ‘Same Same But Different’ task is to take the five challenge words and NOT use them in your writing. That’s right, you need to dig out your thesaurus and find a synonym for each word instead.
Your words are:
The jumper I chose was red, black, and green It matched my black pants you know what I mean. The gam of my pants while green on one side was black on the other; my fat calf it did hide. We went for a tour this fine Sunday morn to see if our neighbors were still feeling forlorn. The gravel we walked on was loose and quite sharp I wore the wrong shoes but I don’t like to harp So instead I displayed my most jovial side And continued my walk my love at my side.
1. What did Miss Muffett sit on? Her ass, for too long, that’s why she couldn’t drop the weight. 2. Who tried to gatecrash her dinner? Her diet coach…to no avail could not get in. 3. What did Wee Willie Winkie do? Nothing, he was too small to do anything without parental assistance. 4. How many blackbirds were baked in a pie? None, that is disgusting and they are too hard to defeather. 5. Who sold sea shells on the sea shore? whoever owned the store at the end of the beach. 6. What did Peter Piper pick? his job, his friends, where he lived, what he ate, what clothes he wore, what kind of car he wanted… 7. What ran up the clock? the offense, they didn’t want to risk losing the ball. 8. What was daddy going to wrap Baby Bunting in? He was going to use a blanket but then mommy told him he needed to use the appropriate outerwear for a baby that small. 9. Where did Doctor Foster go? Probably the bar 10. What was the old man doing when it was pouring with rain? Sitting by the door waiting for it to stop
Well, unfortunately I don’t have any creative writing from January 21st of last year. I have a “From my desk” post which I will copy below. I guess it will be interesting to read where I was perspectively a year ago.
From my desk: 01/21/21
Hello WordPress! I miss my blog, my interactions, my writing. I am in Florida caring for my father and stepmother. Stepmother has not been well. She finished a chemo treatment last week that has left her so very sick. We took her to the hospital today because she was vomiting, dehydrated, and her blood count has been so low. She is there for fluids and a transfusion. My father is so unhappy as he doesn’t remember all the details and is so accustomed to her being with him. For anyone who prays, please say a prayer she gets better.
I miss my daughter and my David! I miss Brody and my guinea pigs. I DON”T miss the cold northern weather! Florida has been “chilly”, only in the 60’s mostly. Better than the 20’s!
I started tutoring. The young man I am tutoring is very kind and nice. You can tell he loves his family. The planning is taking a lot of my time as I haven’t been in the classroom in almost two years and even then I was in high school and my new student is in 6th grade. The one super-wonderful part of this is I have reconnected with an old friend who is an Occupational Therapist, who I worked with many years ago, but will be working with again.
I hope to get back more to my writing. I miss the challenges and the interactions. I miss reading all the other great work of my fellow bloggers. Feel free to tag me in a post if you think it is something I would really enjoy. I feel like I am missing so much!
Thanks for following and for reading. I miss this blogging family but should be back “full-time” soon.
I’m so happy to share this book with you today. Please read on for more info about Lucky Jack: Memoirs of a World War 1 POW by Susan Bavey!
Publication Date: November 19th, 2021
Genre: WWI Biographies/ History
“One of the perils of being a sniper during the First World War was the likelihood of a grenade going off right next to you and burying you alive”.
Meet Jack Rogers. Born in 1894, he once locked eyes with Queen Victoria and was one of the first travellers on London’s ‘Tube’. An early car owner, he had many escapades on his days out to Brighton, including a time when his brakes failed and he had to drive through central London without them!
His skills as an entertainer earned him popularity throughout his life, and kept him out of the deadly mines while a prisoner during the First World War. At the tender age of 103 Jack earned the title of ‘The World’s Oldest Columnist’ as he began dictating his life’s exploits to a reporter from the local newspaper.
CHAPTER 37 –A N A S T Y B I R T H D A Y S U R P R I S E
On my 24th birthday, March 21st, 1918, at around 5.00 a.m. a terrific noise began – the German barrage had started. You could hear nothing but gunfire. It shattered my eardrum. Eight of us, all snipers, including my mate Charlie, were in the extra trench, which had been dug by the Royal Engineers. We had been in the trench since the previous night. It was quite some way beyond our frontline and we had been given orders to keep it defended at all costs. Suddenly the Germans started pouring out from their trenches. As German soldiers were shot down they were replaced by others. They advanced towards our front by hiding in small pockets, which they had weakened by constant bombing, not in a straight line as we had expected. They were shelling heavily to the left and right of us, but somehow, miraculously, not on us. Waves of German soldiers flowed past us, just yards in front of us we could see a group of fifty soldiers and another group the same distance behind us, but luckily they didn’t come anywhere near us, as we hid, terrified, in our trench,
watching them. The British soldiers were in full retreat and from our slit in the ground, all we could see was the backs of the German soldiers, as they continued forging ahead. We stayed in our trench like that, surrounded by all of our equipment and everything we owned. We had expected to be in the thick of the fighting and instead there we were hiding in a small trench. At around 11 a.m, a group of Prussian soldiers appeared, part of the ‘mopping up’ party sent to finish off or round up any survivors who had been missed the first time the soldiers went through. They threw some ‘tater mashers’ (hand grenades) into the trench, which luckily missed me, and then came rushing down into our trench. By some good fortune, neither Charlie nor I were killed. We decided we had no choice but to put our hands up and surrender under the circumstances. By now, it was 11.30 a.m. and we had managed to hold the trench since 5.00 a.m. We were terrified and completely exhausted from the adrenaline and extreme emotion. Frank Richards had been hit by a piece of tin between his neck and shoulders and he was bleeding and holding his head. One of the Prussian Guards was a big, fierce looking man with a moustache. He jumped into the trench next to me, with his bayonet fixed and pointed at my stomach. I was convinced my last hour had come. I was absolutely terrified. I said “Goodbye” and waited for his deadly thrust. Instead of thrusting his bayonet into me I heard him say softly, almost gently, “Zigaretten, Kamerad?” He wanted cigarettes.
Sue Bavey is an English Mum of two, living in Massachusetts since 2003 with her husband, kids, a cat named Midnight, a bunny named Nutmeg, a leopard gecko named Ziggy Stardust and occasional frogs and salamanders.
“Lucky Jack is the first book I have written and is my grandfather, Henry John Rogers’ biography. Grandad lived with us when I was born, until we moved when I was six years old. Then he came back to live with us in my teenage years and we were very close. He was my father’s father, but my Mum diligently collected the newspaper columns he dictated to a local reporter, and kept them in scrapbooks in her attic, where they gathered dust and yellowed over time. A few years ago I moved my Mum into an apartment and found all the scrapbooks in the process. I wanted to get all of those stories into a book for my kids to read. That was the germ of an idea which – thanks to my having time during Covid lockdown – has now resulted in the life story of my grandfather, Jack Rogers being written.”
Before I was able to think about writing I saw the word “kiln” and thought I would share my first pieces of pottery from the class David bought me for my birthday. Not great but I am happy with them. It’s hard to really capture the colors since I’m not setting up any fancy photoshoot!
I am not keen on the color design I used on the “ashtray-looking” piece. I didn’t know that how it would look when it was finally out of the kiln. If I leave it outdoors it will eventually grow some sort of algae that looks like kelp. I just haven’t decided where to put it. Maybe even a coaster for under a plant.
I love Thursday Doors Photos and when I see them I always kick myself for forgetting to snap pictures when I see them. I didn’t really have any “good” door to post but I thought this would be a good idea. The picture is of my “new front door” of the home David and I live in now. I want to redo a bit including power-washing the walls, changing the color of the outside of the house and moving the door to a new location, so I can have some sort of a mud room. Anyhow, I thought this could be my “before” picture…
Welcome to the tour for Roger Stark’s historical fiction, They Called Him Marvin. Read on for more details and a chance to win a signed edition of the book!
They Called Him Marvin: A History of Love, War and Family
Publication Date: June 14th, 2021
Genre: Historical Fiction/ Historical Romance/ Based on True Events
Young lovers trying be a family, but duty called, interrupting them. He answered. She, with child was left behind. The war did end, but he never returned.
“They Called Him Marvin” is a history. A history of war and of family. A history of the collision of the raging politics of a global war, young love, patriotism, sacred family commitments, duty and the horrors and tragedies, the catastrophe that war is.
A reviewer explains: “I am a fan of historical fiction, and this story did not disappoint. It was sweet, tragic, personal, and moving. Gradually and almost imperceptibly, the story of two wartime sweethearts begins circling the drain of a tragedy you know is coming. The book begins with the ending, but by the time you get there you have convinced yourself that it can’t possibly be the case. I enjoyed every moment, even the ones that left me in tears.
The letters between Connie and Dean provided a fascinating glimpse into wartime life. Reading the experiences of people both at home and abroad was very engaging. I found myself eagerly awaiting the next letter, right along with the young couple!
Lastly, the book left me with an overwhelming acknowledgement of the universal trauma and tragedy of war. The Sherman’s are not the only family we meet in the book and the weaving together of several different narratives added a depth to the story that’s hard to put into words.
… I want to help you with your problem of not knowing any one in Salt Lake. Tomorrow I am going to my girlfriends house, come with me, she would love to meet you and then you will know two people here.” Dean answered, “I could be talked into that.”
“We are going to meet up at church and then go to her house.”
By the end of church the following day, Dean would actually know three people from Salt Lake City. This because Stan’s girlfriend, Carol Woffinden, happened to be the best friend of Constance Avilla Baldwin, who also just happened to attend the same Waterloo Ward of the Mormon Church, who also didn’t have a boy friend, and who was also more than happy to make a visitor feel welcome.
Dean innocently walked into all of this.
Mormons have a special interest in non-Mormons, or Gentiles as they call them. You see, a Mormon is never far from, or without, his missionary zeal. If you’re not a Mormon and you’re going to hang out with a Mormon for very long, you’re going to get zealed. For Dean Harold Sherman, it was to be a life altering dose of zealing.
Dean and Connie exchanged 67 letters (50 written by Dean) the night (unbeknownst to him) that his son Marvin was born Dean wrote:
18 February 1945
Good Evening Peaches:
Hello sweet girl, I sure have been thinking of you lots these days and wishing so much that I could be around to take care of you, and be holding your nice soft hands and giving you lots of moral support, and see your pretty face and look in your eyes and without saying a word, tell you millions of wonderful things that you mean to me. You do too, Honey, mean so many wonderful things to me. All the wonderful things a beautiful girl can be and my best companion ever along with being the sweetest wife any guy ever could love. Those are just a few of the things, Darling, which make me love you more every day…
Goodnight Peach Blossom,
On the day Dean was shot down Connie Wrote:
14 May 1945
My most wonderful man,
I’m in a rather odd mood tonight Honey, and it is most all about you and Marvin and me. I have been trying to decide whether or not I would write to you tonight most all evening. I wanted to, but I didn’t know if I could express my feelings as I would want to, and, as I feel them. As you can see Honey, I have made up my mind to try. How well I succeed remains to be seen…
Then I was thinking of Marvin and wondering just what his talents are going to be. To have a Daddy such as you, Honey, he will be kind and good, even as you are, a wonderful man. Honey, I’m really just beginning to realize what a great responsibility we have in teaching and caring for Marvin. We just have to do it to the very best of our ability. I know you have lots of ability, Honey, and I hope I have…
I have a hard time, the past seems like such a thrilling dream of love and happiness. I wonder if it all really happened, but then I know it did. And Oh! Honey how I do love you now and forever and ever ever after with all my heart and soul. Honey I just can’t express how deep my love for you is. Its an impossibility. I love you always.
Good night my husband,
10 December 1944, The Same Damn Movie
… In Puerto Rico the crew was quite happy to watch the new release The Lady Takes a Chance starring John Wayne and Jean Arthur. Coincidently when they reached British Guiana the same movie was featured. Not to be deterred the crew again enjoyed the film. When they got to Brazil and it was again the featured picture show, some murmuring occurred. The Corporalies, were feeling cheated.
When they found the movie would be playing at their fourth stop also they complained to Dean.
“Sir, ain’t the Army got any other movies?”
“We know the lines better than the actors.”
“We know John Wayne is going to eat the lamb chops because Jean Arthur cooked them for him even tho he is a beef man.”
“Maybe there will be something new at our next stop,” was the consolation Dean offered. After crossing the Atlantic The Corporalies showed signs of giving up on the movies.
But in KhartoumThe Corporalies forced into the NCO Club by the searing heat and therefore ‘forced‘ to drink cold beer all day had a terrible yearning, near evening, for a movie.
“Howell, go see what’s playing at the movies tonight.” ordered his fellow Corporalies.
By virtue of being the youngest Howell was often the brunt of such requests especially after three or four beers. He had given up protesting that he was the same rank as them. In fact as the Central Gunner, he was in charge of the other gunners in combat, but as the youngest of four boys at home he felt a strange comfort in re-playing the role with his combat brothers.
“And damn it, don’t come back if it is The Lady Takes a Chance.”
Of course, he discovered that The Lady was indeed tonight’s special feature. On the way back to the NCO Club with the sad news that John Wayne was again eating those lamb chops even here on the edge of the Nile Rivers, he met his Airplane Commander.
“Sir, they are playing that same damn movie here, oh sorry sir, that same John Wayne movie is playing here. We are sick of it, Sir, ain’t the Army got any other movies?”
“Evan, the reason that movie shows up everywhere we go, is that we have been tasked with delivering it to our final destination while allowing each layover airfield to use it.”
Howell stared at his Airplane Commander as his cognitive impaired brain tried to process. The light finally came on for him, a bit dim, but it came on. “Oh, Sir, I see Sir, I’ll tell the boys.”
And off he wandered, not in the direction of the boys, but in the direction of his bunk, taking his comrades threat to not return with bad news seriously.
I am, by my own admission, a reluctant writer. But there are stories that demand to to be told. When we hear them, we must pick up our pen, lest we forget, and the stories be lost.
Six years ago, in a quiet conversation with my friend Marvin, I learned the tragic story his father, a WW2 B-29 Airplane Commander, shot down over Nagoya, Japan just months before the end of the war.
Bill Clinton has famously said: “They were the fathers we never knew, the uncles we never met, the friends who never returned, the heroes we can never repay. They gave us our world. And those simple sounds of freedom we hear today are their voices speaking to us across the years.”
Such a man was Marv’s father. A father he never knew. The telling of the story that evening by this half orphan was so moving and full of emotion, it compelled me to ask if I could write the story. The result being “They Called Him Marvin.”
My life has been profoundly touched in so many ways by being part of documenting this sacred story. I pray that we never forget, as a people, the depth of sacrifice that was made by ordinary people like Marvin and his father and mother on our behalf.
My career as an addiction counsellor (CDP) led me to write “The Waterfall Concept; A Blueprint for Addiction Recovery,” and co-author “Reclaiming Your Addicted Brain.”
After my counselling retirement, I decided I wanted to learn more about the craft of writing and started attending classes at Portland Oregon’s Attic Institute. What I learned is that there are an amazing number of great writers in my area, and they were willing to help others improve their skills. I am grateful to many of them.
My next project is already underway, a memoir of growing in SW Washington called “Life on a Sorta Farm.” My wife of 49 years, Susan and I still live in that area.
We raised seven children and have eleven grandchildren. We love to travel and see the sites and cultures of the world. I still get on my bicycle whenever I can.
I haven’t visited the Pub in so very long! I was happy to see this challenge as I love my Thesaurus! Check it out here
There were two prompts to choose from – this is the first choice Write a SOUND POEM which includes AT LEAST ONE from EACH of the FIVE HEARING CATEGORY SELECTIONS below: (reference the hearing words you chose in your post).
The bellow I heard was a dissonant sound I could feel the loud blabber through the dirt on the ground Poetically troubled and embellished with horror My mind tried to grasp that the man was a snorer Instead of just sitting and feeling the wrath I imagined myself getting in a hot bath This helped calm my mind and clear all the clamour Even though my deep voice continued to stammer I walked right away trying to keep myself happy Realizing listening to this was like a bad, dirty nappy.
This is the second choice: Simply write about the Thesaurus, as the above poets have – what it means to you; describe it, have fun with it. Let the synonyms flow, or antagonise with antonyms.
There are no restrictions on poetry style or meter but those of you who like Acrostics might want to make a nine liner for THESAURUS.
The Cat brings a Thesaurus
So the Cat in the Hat came back to the house with a book in his hands too big for a mouse He loved this great book since its loaded with words he couldn’t wait to show them since the amount was absurd He knew that the kids would love a book such as this Like the Swiss love the alps there’s not one word to miss.