98 Degrees

In my post ‘Vacation Week‘, I wrote the following –

I am on vacation this week.

Taking a vacation from hospitals, doctors, procedures and chemo.

In today’s post I write the following –

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Image Provided by: en.wikipedia.org

The title of this post may be a little deceiving; this post is not about the boy band, but so I cover all my bases, here are some facts about the boy band singing group 98 Degrees.  Wikipedia.org has the following –

After rejecting a series of names (including Just Us and Next Issue), the group decided on “98 Degrees” describing body temperature and their music.

Okay, enough about them, this post is about me.

My vacation week was nice, in that I felt good enough to take some short travel trips including exploring some surrounding locations.  Tuesday Gary and I drove to visit his mom who lives with his younger brother in a city near our location.  The drive is about an hour and to take time to visit his mom always makes her day.  The following days we took additional short trips to nearby Alabama and visited Orange Beach, Gulf Shores and Fairhope.

Friday came quickly and another short travel trip was taken.  I went to bed my normal time and usually wake 6-7 hours later and move to a recliner for a change of position.  Remember I have tube in my back that restricts me from having many sleeping positions.  Friday night I awakened in 4 hours after going to bed for the night and thought this odd.  As usual I moved to the recliner to sleep the rest of the night away and a couple of hours later I wake to a shivering body; a freezing body.

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Image Provided by: en.wikipedia.org

I make my way back to the bedroom at which time I wake Gary and ask for a blanket.  Then another blanket is requested followed by a third one – I was freezing.  Now we keep our RV quite warm, and Gary was astonished I was freezing and needed all these blankets.

A couple of hours later, the dawn is breaking the horizon and the nausea begins followed by a hot body.  Okay, those may be a poor choice of words, everyone knows I do not have a hot body; I did at a younger age, but those days are certainly over – I digress.  The hot body pertains to my body temperature and Gary proceeds to take my temperature.  99 degrees, not too bad, but then later my temperature is taken again and this time it is 101.4 degrees.  The call is made to the oncology hotline and the doctor prescribes 2 antibiotics.

Sunday I felt better, therefore the final trip of my Vacation Week was taken and that evening the temperature reaches 101.6.  Monday my temperature spikes to 102.6 and I am now in the hospital.

That was the way my Vacation Week ended; no 98 Degrees, but 102.6 Degrees – not a catchy name for a boy band group!

The Good Drunk – another round for all

My category ‘Pictures & Stories’ are posts with me writing a fictional, creative short story about a picture.

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The Good Drunk – another round for all –

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Image Provided by: geoffnatesblog5.wordpress.com

Is she a drunk?  That eye, that smile, they do tell the story of who she really is.  Could she be a mama, looking for her son?  Or maybe she is sober and searching for something or someone.

The bar continues with the usual; the drinking, the laughing, the music playing, but what happened and where is she, and what about the patron next to her?

The next scene is one of her and the eye and the smile.  She sits and laughs about the incident as she recalls the patron next to her would again shock her.  The future that was once in the past is now the present.  The shock from her accident and to her eye were minimal compared to the shock of the mysterious one’s return.  Was he back in her life again after so many years?  Her sadness of years ago seemed to be dissipated and overcome by joy.  The joy of the memory of him in her life is overwhelming and the shock suddenly fades away.  The patron that day, the elbow was his, the man of many years ago that left in the shadows of the damp dim light

The mysterious woman, the mysterious man – they were both back into the scene together once again.  The lights fade and the credits are listed as the musical score reaches its peak, the crowd is happy once again.

The Good Drunk

My category ‘Pictures & Stories’ are posts with me writing a fictional, creative short story about a picture.

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The Good Drunk –

Is she a drunk?  That eye, that smile, do they tell the story of who this woman really is?  What about a boxer?  Could she be a street fighter?  Who is this mysterious woman?

A busy, hectic and demanding day well demanded a drink!  The bar was unusually busy that evening with regular patrons partaking in their usual drinks of choice.  Who were all these other people here for the first time?  Why was the bar filled with people needing a drink or maybe needing each other’s company?  The music is loudly playing the songs of yesteryear from the jukebox and the clinking of glasses and voices of the people consume the space.  Noise is soon replaced with silence as the front door slams and the figure walks out of the shadows.

It is her!  But who is she and why is she here?

As she makes her way to the bar, the crowd begins to play the role of drinkers again and the music once again begins to play.  As she approaches the bar, the bartender asks for her request and quickly proceeds to fulfill it.  The Shirley Temple is sipped slowly as she focuses on the room of drinkers.  Those drinkers are drinking due to a busy, hectic and demanding day.  As her glass is emptied she turns around for another request while at the same time the patron next to her begins to rise from his barstool.  What takes place next will shock them both.

The man’s elbow firmly encounters this mysterious woman’s eye with severe force.  The knockdown takes place with a smash – the good drunk is down.

Who is this mysterious woman?

The Film Noir Star ‘prendre deux’

My category ‘Pictures & Stories’ are posts with me writing a fictional, creative short story about a picture.

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Image Provided by spearfruit.com

The Film Noir Star ‘prendre deux’ –

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Image Provided by worldwidenoir.info

Is he a Mirage?  Or what about the secret agent?  The dark figure, the touch on her shoulder, his response; what is their story?  Is this a movie?  Could he be Zorro?  Or what about the hair stylist?  Maybe he is her father!  Or maybe, hopefully he is her long lost lover.

The next title is displayed and the beginning of the next scene appears with him walking away in the shadows of the damp dim light.  But what about her?  What was left with her that will be a reminder of him and his presence?  Will she continue to wander in sadness of this recent encounter and will their story continue?  But the reunion was short lived and his leaving was again quick and abrupt.  The sadness of their story will continue as he moves mysteriously in the future to another story and another time.

She on the other hand will move on to the next shot, the clap of the cut action is heard and her scene is waiting for the future reel.  But he is gone and the future is still unknown, but the past has been written and the present time reveals him, the mysterious one departing and her, yet to make her entrance out of the shadows.

The Film Noir Star

My category ‘Pictures & Stories’ are posts with me writing a fictional, creative short story about a picture.

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Image Provided by spearfruit.com

The Film Noir Star –

Is he a Casanova?  Those eyes, that mustache, the lips; do they tell the story of who this guy really is?  What about a spy?  Could he be a secret agent?  Who is this mysterious man?

It was a rainy day, late afternoon and World War II was taking place in a land far, far away.  The month is April, and the sky is crying the tears of the lost ones that are scattered amongst the rubble of Europe.  The location is locked down from intruders and the war torn buildings some blazing fire are hazed with the fierce rain and wind.  The summoned crowd of spectators are hurried in their stride with their umbrellas opened to protect them from the heavy rain.

The afternoon of storms has brought those out that must partake in the event, including her.  But she is withdrawn and hidden within the crowd not appearing to be noticed by those around her.  Her life, her day are one of sadness as she wanders in the rain and ponders about that time and about that place.  Will it be gone forever?  Will she be the same?  And what of him, her lost love?

Then he appears almost out of nowhere amongst the crowd of spectators and reaches out to her.  But who is he and what are his intentions?  He reaches to her as his left eyebrow is lifted and responds with a touch on her shoulder.  As she turns around he responds “I am here my darling.”  The picture fades and the words ‘The End’ scroll across the screen.

Who is this mysterious man?