Ergo, the Ogre

Author: Ergo, the Ogre

  • Share Your World | #47

    Share Your World | #47

     

     

    SusanWritesPrecise

    What are you grateful for in regard to:

    Your home life?

    I’m grateful that I have a home. When I lived in CT, I almost didn’t have one due to numerous mistakes on my part.

    Your family?

    I wish more of my family members were alive, but I am grateful for the time I had with them. I am also grateful for those who are still here, for extended family, and for my good, good friends.

    Your blogging community?

    I’m grateful for the other writer’s who read my stuff, and even leave comments once in a while. Thank you!

    Your city or immediate area in which you live?

    I’m grateful for Birmingham’s comparatively affordable cost of living.

    The regional area in which you live?

    Boiled peanuts, and the fact that there was an actual autumn this year, and the leaves are still colorful.

    The country where you live?

    OMG. Don’t get me started. Having lived in Saudi Arabia, I cannot extol the United States enough. With all its faults, the USA is aces.

    You?

    Well, let’s see. I am grateful that I haven’t irreparably snapped yet, and still have all the moving parts I was born with. I also appreciate my warped sense of humor, even though many people do not. :-)

  • As Seen on TV

    Today’s writing prompts at The Daily Post is the word, scorched.

    ℵ

    I was cursed/blessed with naturally curly hair. During the 1970s when I was a teenager, this was not cool. Older people told me how lucky I was and  that I’d never need a perm.

    “Don’t worry,” they’d say. “Curly hair would be back in style someday, and then you’ll be glad.”

    Someday? Who cared about someday? I’d probably be dead by then.

    I needed straight hair now.

    Keep in mind that we didn’t have the products that are available now. My options were limited to and ironing board & iron.

    Having watched an old episode of Patty Duke, Gidget, or some such, I knew all I needed to know. If it worked for the chicks on TV, what could go wrong?

    Heh. Lots.

    First, I filled the iron with water (steam couldn’t hurt) and set it to “cotton,” its hottest option. Next, I found an old pillow case to place  between the styling tool and my kinky locks.

    When the iron started sputtering, I got into position and man,  was it an awkward one. Of course I couldn’t see what I was doing, crouched down with my head level with the ironing board, but that didn’t deter me. The price we pay for beauty, no?

    Sizzling, singeing, and scorching ensued—not only my hair, but my scalp and fingers.

    By the time I decided enough damage had been done, the pillow case was permanently tattooed with couple of deformed brown triangles, and what was left of my hair was fried.

    There was no hiding any of it from my mom. She took me to the beauty shop where I ended up with a pixie cut.

    I was also grounded until I learned the proper use of an iron.

    Eventually I made peace with my curls, and “they” were right.

    I’ve never had to spend money on a perm.

     

     

  • Eradication/Assimilation

    Eradication/Assimilation

    The writing prompt today at Our Random View, asks us to explain how we would survive a zombie apocalypse.

    **

    Good question.

    When I lived in Connecticut, my neighbor was a member of the local Zombie Response Team. His vehicle is pictured below.  I didn’t have to worry about the ZA  then. Travis had me covered.

    Now, however, I live in Alabama and have not seen one Zombie Response vehicle. Not one.

    After asking around, most folks think a good dousing of Holy Water is more than enough to eradicate the zombies. Well, okay…but I’m Jewish. Would Holy Water work for me & my Tribe?

    I am doubtful.

    Stabbing them in the left eye with a broomstick works well, according to The Walking Dead. But that squishing sound  skeeves me out. No can do. Besides, how many times can you use the same broomstick?

    So, I have two plans. One is to kill them with kindness, so to speak. Perhaps all these poor undead souls need is a bit of understanding and empathy. Who knows? Maybe in time we’ll all be holding hands, dancing & singing  Hava Nagila.

    Or not.

    Should this plan fail, if you can’t beat ’em, join ’em, I guess. Sometimes assimilating is all you can do.

    Yuck, though.

     

    TheAbjectMuse/SusanWritesPrecise
    Zombie Response Team

     

     

  • Good Enough

    Good Enough

    Five days ago…The Daily Post writing prompt was the word fish.

    **

    My dad had his heart set on a boy.

    From what I understand, he did not hide his disappointment well.  When the nurses brought me out to the waiting room and asked if he wanted to hold his daughter, Dad quickly shoved his hands in his pockets.

    Our father/daughter relationship went downhill from there.

    He tried to turn me into a pseudo-buddy by making me watch sports. I hate football to this day. For Christmas one year, he bought me a fake gun and some cardboard ducks so I could practice shooting. When I got good enough, he informed me, we would go hunting. Fortunately, I never got “good enough.” The idea of shooting the cardboard ducks made me cry, even before he started yelling at me for (purposely) missing the targets.

    His last ditch attempt at turning me into a buddy was fishing.

    And I was good at it!

    And I liked it under these conditions:

    1. I got to pet the fish
    2. we threw them back

    This was one hell of a compromise for my dad. But, apparently it was better than nothing because that’s the way it was.

    Until I was seven-years-old we lived in IL. Every summer my parents would rent a cottage on Cranberry Lake in Eagle River, WI for a week. That was our summer vacation.

    SusanWritesPrecise/TheAbjectMuse
    Cranberry Lake, Eagle River, WI

     

    One time, my dad agreed to take me out in the row boat for an afternoon of fishing. He wasn’t crazy about the idea since there were huge Muskie to caught. With his luck, he’d catch one & have to throw it back because of me. I’m pretty sure my mom insisted that he take me because she needed some alone time.

    So, off we went.

    I let my arm drag in the water and asked question after question about anything & everything as Dad rowed the boat. He was getting annoyed, but I couldn’t stop talking.

    Eventually I brought my arm out of the water to find four or five leeches attached to it. I couldn’t believe my luck!

    “Look, Dad! They like me!”

    Well, dear ol’ Dad flipped out and much yelling and tears ensued. After plucking my new pets from my arm, he immediately turned the boat around.

    I was dropped off at the cottage and spent the afternoon playing Hi-Ho-Cherry-O with my mom.

    TheAbjectMuse/SusanWritesPrecise
    pinterest.com

     

     

  • Cee’s Odd Ball | 46

    Cee’s Odd Ball | 46

    SusanWritesPrecise

     

    SusanWritesPrecise/TheAbjectMuse

     

    SusanWritesPrecise/TheAbjectMuse