John was a hearty boy. He filled out his bib overalls and had a little top over the sides. He loved to eat. Every morning , before the sun would rise, John would start with a stack of flapjacks, three eggs, a pound of bacon, a plate of hash browns and a bowl of grits.
Which would satisfy him till noon.
As he normally got finished with his chores he headed into town for his second breakfast at the Cracked Egg Diner.
As he walked in the door the cry went out.
“Maurice, kill a whole pig, lathering em up with sauce and kill 6 baby chickens while you’re at it.”
“Hello Doreen,” he would reply to the woman of his dreams as he sat at the counter.
She would look back at him with her red hair, bloodshot eyes and a body that ten years ago won her beauty pagents. Now, she was divorced, squirting out two kids that she worked two jobs to support.
“Hello, John anything but the usual?”
“No Mamm not at all,” he said as she brought forth two glasses of whole milk. He downed one while glaring down her dress. The “uniform” was not really uniform and no matter how many times she washed that red and white tablecloth looking dress, she could never get the stains out.
“So how’s the crop looking this year” she said while making small talk?
“Well daddy says as long as we gets the rain we need without the hail we’ll be smiling at the end of the year. But as long as that damned run for the hills Ron don’t be calling up no ‘naders.”
‘Amen to that,’ a couple of men around the bar echoed. ‘We don’t need no hail or ‘naders.
As Doreen went back into the kitchen to pick up some orders a couple of the old men sipping coffee at the front of the diner looked around and then motioned to John.
“When are you going to ask her out John?”
John blushed crimson and put his head down where his third chin hit his chest. He said nothing.
Doreen walked through the doors from the kitchen bringing the pound of bacon and six eggs with gravy on top.
“You eat up hearty son,” she said as she slid another glass of milk in front of him.
“Yes M’amm I will,” John said as he started shovelling down the food.
“And you two busybodies, get back to drinking your coffee. Mind your own beeswax,” Doreen said as she started cleaning the counter that was clean only minutes ago.
As she started to wipe the counter down in a circular path John’s eye glanced at hers for a moment. A small smile crept out of the right side of her mouth.
He looked at her as her lean over the counter was more deliberate, more sensual. He was given a glimpse of what the Lord had given her
And John started to turn red and he collapsed to the floor.
Doreen screamed and Blake came out of the back starting CPR. Doreen kept screaming as the ambulance came up and followed with John in the vehicle.
Well tonight Jo and I went to see Brian Regan at the Civic Center.
Funny guy but was more impressed with the opening act Kermit Apio!
Jo and I went to Buffalo Wild Wings cause I was craving buffalo wings and I’ve been good on my diet that I started after the surgery.
We came home and watched the new Burn Notice and decided that Saturday we’d clean the garage and I’d spend 3 hours doing nothing but writing.
I miss writing, but I have been working on some projects and spending more time thinking and writing stuff that I don’t want anyone to read.
The sites on my stomach are getting better I just need to give them more time. I heal fast, but I’m so damn impatient.
Still waiting for my “revised” passport to show up. Still surprised when I sent a New York birth certificate that they would put Lubbock, TX as my birthplace. Hell, I love this place but sheesh.
Hoping my friends are doing well. I’ve been lurking around, busy at work, my busy time of year preparing for my major event. Then I get to go to Ireland.
This weekend was the most frustrating one for me in a long while.
Let me refresh your memory…
When our hero last left you, he was dealing with the staple sites becoming infected.
“Oh yes, Sean, I have you now. I will make you itch and miserable. BRING ON THE PUS AND BLOOD!”
“Now wait a min, I’ve been miserable, 5 years worth, and I don’t think you can do this ole Satan!” I laughed at him.
Now in hindsight, laughing at Satan and trying to go a weekend with infected staple sites wasn’t the best idea.
Joanna and I tried putting Neosporin and covering the sites Friday and Saturday. Now I thought that the misery and tragedy that I had been since the surgery was miserable. I was wrong. Now I had been wearing a large dark shirt double X sized that until I looked at it thought didn’t have any blood or pus on it.
I was wrong.
I was slightly pissed off because the doctor had told me that if I had any seeping from the wounds to call him or go to the emergency room.
Well, there was nothing I could do but wait till Monday afternoon at 3 or go into the emergency room.
I didn’t have the money to go and wait for them to tell me that they could pull the staples and after consultation with an EMT and a nurse, I decided to wait until Monday.
Well I do have a set of three sites that just want to excreter pus and blood. So tomorrow I am looking forward to the doc telling me that he is going to pull the staples. Then I am going to rip into his staff for the whole she bang about not having adequate post operation information and misdating my prescription for my pain meds till three days after the surgery.
So I’ve had a blood and pus weekend.
The writing process Sean style…
I’ve had a great weekend throwing out 2500 words onto the computer and self editing it down to 1700 for the prologue. Some people write the damn thing and then edit but I feel more comfortable editing while I write. I give myself the ability to write on and on but then don’t worry about the loose ends until after I’m finished. Then I write notes to myself of what I have laid down in the chapter and the progression that I want to take.
After the process is over I look over my notes to see if I have left out any of the themes, characters or red herrings that I want to leave in the pages. I insert those in what is my second edit. Then I leave it alone, not touching the writing until 30 days after I have finished the final chapter. Thus I can look at anew and see if as I read and edit for the third time anything pops up at me that is faulty.
Finally, I let someone I trust read a portion of it. Now in the past I’ve let Pauly, Al, and Mrs. Riggstad read the second edited material. With this new portion I’m soliciting a new set of three to read along as I write. I know Pauly doesn’t have the time and I really didn’t give him the material in a time when he could read it, but I will send him along a copy of the final so he can rip it up.
Why get into the writing process?
I really enjoy constructive criticism but can not stand critics who give me “I don’t like it, I don’t know why.”
When I let some people read the book that were friends of my good friend Kerri, they ate it up , but came back with, “I liked it.”
What I am looking for is someone to mentor the writing process that can encourage, and yet criticize.
Why you might ask?
Because I’ve come to the conclusion that the only way for me to make my dreams possible is to to polish up The Castle while writing Sands of Life and then send them to as many publishers as possible. I can handle the denial. I used to not enjoy denial. It was painful and miserable.
But its a part of life. It’s a part of growing. And I have been stagnant the last year. I had something that I loved and I held it where no one could see it. I held it too close, and I am smothering it.
For me to be truly happy, I have to say that I took a shot.
I’m a lucky man and there are good things to be taken out of this weekend. I started writing again, and I found passion inside me, as well as, pus and blood.
Today, I did something for me. Now some people will be concerned, some will be mad. Personally, I really don’t care. Because I booked today a trip out of the United States of America. No, it wasn’t to Canada, I was tempted to see my friends north of the border, but instead I think I may go over the pond to see ancestors.
Dates and further notices to be announced at a date when I give a damn, but right now I want to tell you story:
The princess slept as this prince slept near her, guarding her, for no one would hurt his sister on his watch. The princess dreamt of presents and of finding the one man of her dreams, the prince dreamt of mighty battles and vanquishing evil.
And the King watched over his two charges and looked with a smile and a tear. His charges were not small anymore, they tried to solve their problems without involving the king, but sometimes their arguments brought down the house.
The Princess was the oldest and wanted all of the things done first because, she was the oldest and that’s how it was supposed to be, and of course she was a tween.
The Prince was the youngest and wanted all the things for him done first, because unlike the princess, he never knew his father, just coming over twice a year didn’t build a relationship with him.
The King tried his best to make their time with him in his kingdom a happy time, some times he ruled for the princess, and some times he ruled for the prince.
But he saw his time on this earth coming to an end, not today, tomorrow but years down the line. He wanted to make sure that he taught his charges the right from wrong and helping others.
Times the old king dreamed would come faster, seem to come at a price. Each time he saw his princess and prince, he was older, wiser and greyer. His prince was handsome, and his princess a wonder and all he thought was the times he wasn’t there, running his kingdom, trying to help out the prince and princess. Each time they came it felt like it would be the last.
But then one day as he lay in the infirmary, he knew that he wouldn’t be there forever and tried to tell them often how he felt.
But then sometimes young princes and princesses hear the words and yet don’t understand the true meaning.
I love you my prince and princess. May your dreams be filled with treasure, learning gallore, may you find the one who loves you without pause and may you find everlasting happiness with your charges.
I went to the Dallas Ft. Worth International Airport today with a smile in my heart. I went to pick up a pair of precious cargo but as always in my life, nothing ever goes the way it should.
I started to head for the airport from my parents house, trying to leave so I could get to the airport in plenty of time. There is nothing in this world that excites me more than this day. But as I left Norwood and headed on Airport Freeway I was stunned to see back to back traffic for miles upon miles. There was an accident and there was nothing I could do but wait.
But I couldn’t, I had to get there with plenty of time, so I exited and started down back road #1 to the airport, but a couple miles down the road I was stymied with yet another accident and I backtracked to my third alternate route. As I called the airline to verify the gate, I could feel the sound of my heart pounding in my head. I arrived at the gate after the joy of waiting in line for the plane.
But there was a plane still being boarded. A plane to Sacramento. “Final Boarding Call to Sacromento!” I was excited but I thought I could watch the plane come in. I could watch the plane pull in. My smile was beaming, INCREDIBLE, radiant.
As I sat by the window, I felt a presence, another man was next to me watching the plane.
“Waiting for your kid,” he asked.
“Time of the year, when divorced men come together to meet their kids because of everlasting love,” I responded.
“Is that the plane,” he asked as he motioned to the plane that we both stared at.
“Think so,” I said as the plane sat on the tarmac.
Minutes went by and we both continued to stare at the plane.
“You buy both ways,” he asked.
“Nope, just one way,” I responded.
“Lucky man,” he answered as we both continued to stare at the plane.
Then the plane started to rev its engines and we encouraged the plane sitting at A29 to move. But the plane that we thought was the plane from Louisville started to roll away from where we watched it. We watched it in horror hoping that it wasn’t.
We walked to the board hoping that the plane was delayed, hoping that another plane would show up. But as we went up to the board our worst fears were confirmed.
GATE C20.
ARE YOU KIDDING ME? SERIOUSLY?
We both looked at each other and started a dead run to the train. We ran up the stairs three at a time as we watched the plane move further and further away. We caught the train to terminal C and we continued to just stare at each other.
“We’ll make it…” I said as determination hit my face.
“Oh hell yes,” he said.
As the doors open, it was a fast break sprint to the gate… and as the first passenger comes off the plane we look at each other and smile.
We shook each others hands and stood next to each other.
As the first group of Unaccompanied Minors came off a look of terror came over our face. None of the kids were either of ours. But a second group came and I looked as I saw a tear roll down his face. It was his daughter that caused the tear. I patted him on the back, but he didn’t notice. But I continued to wait, and the final group of unaccompanied minors came striding up the ramp.
And Ryan let the way, and Shelby was close behind. And they screamed Daddy!
All the pain I have felt in the last couple of months went away.
Today I saw into my soul, deep where love and hate fight. I saw anger and envy, joy and happiness all together.
They looked at me and paused.
“What’s HE doing here?”
“Self examination,” wisdom said.
“Why would he need to examine us? Are we getting fired,” Panicked and Worried chimed in.
“No, it is that time,” came from a voice from the darkened corner.
“Why are you here Sean, don’t you have more important things to worry about” yelled Anger.
I said nothing and yet looked around. How parts of my psyche were hidden in corners, especially those I thought were my strengths, with all my weaknesses in the light, controlling me, surrounding me, taunting me…
The water, moved in motion of the acivity of the deck.
Electricity was in the air. Pheremones and egos clashed in a time tested pattern. Eyes looked across from the table, to friends, family, lovers and those who wanted to be.
He looked across the table and she glimpsed at him beforeturning away before their eyes met. Her auburn hair framed her face like the great ones framed their masterpieces. The glasses on her face were decoration as she didn’t need them. She saw perfectly but the image she portrayed was a ploy. She knew what he liked, what he wanted, what he desired. She had a mission. She had to get into his heart, into his soul, into his head. For once she was there, he was hers forever.
She wet her lips with a slow motion of her tongue. And their eyes met. She had him.
I was driving on the way to pick up my kids and the skies opened up. Down the rain came, washing my car but making it impossible for me to make any progress. I pulled over to the side of the road and saw a man.
I drove up to him and as the rain continued to pour; my eyes were amazed as he sat on the only dry area around. It rained everywhere I set my foot as I got out of the car, but he remained sitting surrounded by bluebonnets.
“Why are you sitting here? And how are you staying dry,” I asked as the rain poured down my face?
“I sit here because I can,” he said, “and I am dry because I choose to be.”
I looked at the freak, but something is not right.
“You choose to be? It’s pouring out rain; you can see the people, all on the side of the road. How is it that you are in the only dry spot around for miles?”
“Because I am dry and I choose to be.”
The rain began to let up I walked back to my car as I couldn’t make heads or tails of this man.
I got in and started to think.
I couldn’t figure out what he meant. My trip continued and the sun finally came out as the rain faded away.
I drove on and on with not a sign to tell me where I was, or where I was going.
Mile after mile I drove, looking at the gas gauge and seeing it was still full I continued.
After what seemed to be hours I looked again and it was still full. I saw a sign for fuel and pulled off the highway to this small grocery store in the middle of nowhere. There was people everywhere as I tried to pull up to the gas tank.
I watched as a girl of ten, wearing a pink dress and her hair in pigtails came up to my car.
I rolled down my window and said hello to her.
“Welcome, my friend. My parents will be glad to take care of your needs.”
I was tired, hungry and wanted to check my gas tank because it felt like I had driven for days.
I was directed by the girl to an empty pump and was surprised to see a boy of 17 in a white uniform come out.
“Full it up and top off the fluids sir,” the boy said as he started to take the gas cap off?
“Take care of it son. Where can I get a bite to eat?”
“Inside sir, mom’s cooking up a helping of Love Loaf,” the boy said to me
“Love Loaf?”
“Yes sir, she puts a lot of love in that Meat Loaf, so everyone calls it Love Loaf!”
“Can you tell me where I am son?”
“You are off the highway sir, at the station of the Henry’s. We’ve been in these parts for years.”
“And what state am I in son?”
“Denial,” he said as he popped the hood.
I looked around and was puzzled, but didn’t think to answer his confusing answer with another question. I went inside and sat down at the counter. My senses were on overload. The colors were so vivid, the smells so wonderful.
“Can I get you something son,” the grizzled old man said to me as I sat in a stool that was ripped from a 30′s diner?
“What’s the special?”
“Well that would be Mama’s Love Loaf, best in the entire county!”
“The entire county? Which county are you speaking of?”
“Denial County, the best county nobody ever thinks of.”
I sat puzzled and ate the meatloaf that was presented to me with a heaping serving of mashed potatoes and brown gravy.
“Hun, did the loaf fill you up,” an older woman had come in front of me asking? “I make it fresh every day.”
“Sure, I guess.” I had ate the entire plate but never really remembered swallowing anything. I felt full and it was just what I needed. “How much do I owe you?”
“Well hon, you can get the bill from Minet, over there. Come back now ya hear”
I walked over to the cashiers stand and saw her. Her eyes were black as the night. Her black hair cascaded near her high cheekbones and tanned complexion. Her body wasn’t made for sin, but for pleasure and the glasses she wore on her head framed her face perfectly. The only thing that didn’t make sense is that it was raining over her head.
“Excuse me? Is there something wrong,” I asked as I looked at the clouds that shadowed her.
“Wrong, why would there be something wrong? Why does everyone think they are something wrong?”
I looked at her, took the bill from her and paid.
“Have a nice day,” sarcastically she said as I walked out the door.
I got into my car and started to try and find the onramp for the highway. But it was nowhere to be found. I took the feeder roads around and watched the sun slowly start to set.
Hours I drove, next to the highway looking for an entrance and I was exhausted.
I drove up to a hotel and got a room.
I couldn’t sleep. My mind was going a mile a minute and I didn’t understand anything, or everything.
I took a shower and dried off. The lone tear that fell from my face couldn’t be stopped.
I laid down and fell asleep.
When I woke up I checked out of the hotel and found the entrance of the highway. I got back on and started to drive.
Slowly, the signs that were blank yesterday were filled with words, but none of which I could understand.
I filled up the car and drove the day, without a reason in the world, and without knowing where I was. I drove to keep going, not knowing what I was running to or running from.
Finally the signs started to make sense to me and I arrived right where I had intended to be.
Then I looked up and saw my gravestone.
I wasn’t looking at the date of birth, but of the date of death. It moved and changed, like an old airline departure board. It moved forward and backwards, went blank and started over again. It slowly came to a stop… when I woke up.
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