Overcoming Bloglessness


Let’s Consider The Potential Socio-Econmic Impact of Unrestricted Tunnelling

Daily Prompt  Tunnel Vision.

You’ve been given the ability to build a magical tunnel that will quickly and secretly connect your home with the location of your choice — anywhere on Earth. Where’s the other end of your tunnel?

Dear Daily Prompt,

Please be informed that, due to conscientious objections I decline to participate in today’s Magical Tunnel offer.

Sure, we have the ability, but we must ask ourselves, Is it wise, everybody tunneling willy-nilly through the earth? Is it prudent?

Do we fully understand the impact our tunneling would have on the planet? Would our intersecting paths weaken the earth’s layers, causing landslides and sinkholes, earthquakes and tidal waves? What if a tunnel intersects oil or natural gas? How will tunneling effect the earth’s molten core?

What rights do property owners have, should someone’s tunnel terminate on their private property? What rights do Tunnelers have and what regulations must they abide by?
What safety equipment will be mandatory for Tunnellers? Who will be liable when Tunnellers are injured?

What immigration laws will apply? Will arriving Tunnellers be tested for contagious diseases?

What about national security? What types of searches will Tunnellers be subjected to?

Too many questions remain unanswered. Too much is at stake. Please, reconsider and withdraw your reckless offer.

Susan B. Raven

Funny Girl


Daily Prompt  Uncanned Laughter.  A misused word, a misremembered song lyric, a cream pie that just happened to be there: tell us about a time you (or someone else) said or did something unintentionally funny.


Four year old Ellie and I were eating jellybeans when she said, “I wonder what would happen if we planted these jellybeans?”

That set me off.  “Maybe a giant jelly-beanstalk would grow way up, through the clouds, up to the sky and….”

“No,” she says.  “I think they would just get dirt on them.”


Smart kid.


One day Ellie and I were blowing bubbles on the front porch when she took notice of the triangle shaped dinner bell and thought it would be cool if we could use it to make triangle shaped bubbles.

“That would be cool,”  I said.  “What if we could make square bubbles?  Or rectangles?”

Ellie got excited and her eyes got big.  “Or dodecahedrons?!”

Dodecahedrons!   Yes, of course!

The things they learn in preschool these days!



In A Timely Manner

Daily PromptOff the Shelf.
Take a look at your bookcase. If you had enough free time, which book would be the first one you’d like to reread? Why?

I want to reread all those books I loaned out and never saw again. My Susan Jacoby books and my Ingersoll book that I loaned to Marcia; my bird books, loaned to Karin.

 It’s my own fault.   I’m too eager to share good books with people I like; people with similar interests. I loan books to people who I’m sure will return them. People who, I assume,  live by the code of always returning borrowed things in a timely manner.  

But stuff happens. Marcia had to escape a psychotic roommate. I couldn’t ask her to go back in for my books.

Karin asked me if I needed my books back and I said, Oh, that’s okay, take your time. I keep thinking she’ll have them, next time I see her.  I don’t think she’s reading them.  I wonder if she even knows where they are. 

I want to keep all the books I really like, even if I never do re-read them.  

I’m telling you this to avoid writing a book report.



Daily Prompt The Name’s The Thing. Have you ever named an inanimate object? (Your car? Your laptop? The volleyball that kept you company while you were stranded in the ocean?) Share the story of at least one object with which you’re on a first-name basis.

We were fond of Harry, the can-opener named after Harry, of Harry and Olga, who’d left it behind. We called it by name, whenever we needed to punch a hole in a can of sweetened, condensed milk or Hi C. If I had a can of pop to open I rummaged through the drawer, looking for Harry.

Harry got me in trouble one day. Not the can-opener, but the name, Harry.

Mable, my step-mother’s mother, was staying with us. She was a tightly curled sort, very proper and not overly fond of moi, a mere step-granddaughter.

Dad and Dee, Mable, my step-sis and I were seated at the table. Cans of pop needed opening. Harry the can-opener was mentioned and my embarrassing performance began.

“Harry’s a dumb name,” I started. “How could anyone name a cute little newborn baby Harry?”

I was 12, which made the name Harry sound like Hairy, which really is a ridiculous name. My diatribe went on; I mimicked a mother calling her little Harry.

“Hairy! Hairy! That’s just weird!”  

The room got very quiet. Dad and Dee shot stern looks my way.

“My husband’s name was Harry,” Mable said, stirring her tea.

Shut my big, dumb mouth.

Why didn’t I remember that?

Her husband, Harry,  Dee’s father Harry,  Libby’s grandpa Harry had died just two weeks ago. 

I’d been to his funeral.

Stupid, stupid girl.

Logging Lake




When I first saw Jumbo on the trail to Logging Lake, he was sunlit and perfectly posed, about 40 yards ahead.  I froze in my tracks.

“Bear!” I whisper-shouted to Mr. Raven. “Bear, bear, bear! Up ahead; see it? Get the bear spray!”

The huge black bear didn’t see us, until he heard the riiiip of Velcro as Mr. Raven removed the bear spray from it’s holster, just in case. Jumbo looked right at us.

That was the shot I missed: the perfect bear-in-the-woods photo of my dreams. I suppose it was adrenalin that caused me to fumble the camera, accidentally pressing the button that makes the screen go blank. By the time I’d re-set, Jumbo was nonchalantly ambling into the shadows. We didn’t have to use the bear spray.

We gave him time to move away before we proceeded, talking loudly, whacking the brush with our sticks, trying to sound large. Mr. Raven wanted to put the spray back in it’s holster, but I volunteered to carry it in my hand. Just in case.

“You won’t see another one,” he says.

“Famous last words,” says I.


It’s 4.4 miles to the lake with an elevation gain of 373 feet. Mr. Raven and I were rather proud of ourselves, hiking to the lake on such a hot day, meeting a bear on the trail and not getting dead. Yeah, we’re rugged! For our age.

Then we meet a father and son team at the lake with a canoe. They’d hiked in with a canoe! They carried a canoe above their heads, wearing backpacks packed with sleeping bags, food and cooking gear, fishing gear and toothbrushes. Furthermore, they were planning to paddle to the end of Logging lake and portage to another lake.

Okay,  we’re not that rugged. I tried to imagine carrying our canoe on the trail.  I might be talked into carrying an inflatable pool toy, but even that would be too cumbersome.  And how do you watch for bear with a canoe on your head? I suppose a bear would be too taken aback to be a danger.

We ate our sandwiches, rested and cooled our feet in the lake awhile, bracing ourselves for the hard part; the hot hike back.


A doe, cooling her feet in Logging Creek.

It must’ve been alarming for hikers starting out, all fresh and perky, to come upon the two of us, slumped on a log near the trailhead; sweat drenched, dirty, deety, bug-bit, tired old hiker-zombies. Maybe 8.8 miles on a 90 degree day is nothing for them, but we were done in.

“We saw a bear,” we told them, upping our wilderness creds.

On the way home I noticed the expiration date on the bear spray. It expired last summer.

So much for wilderness creds.


Daily Prompt

New Wrinkles.


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