2018 July 07 2018

2018 July 07 2018 Saturday in Grimes Iowa

62° and clear before sunrise. 77° by noon.

Coffee with the gang at the Cutty’s Fireside Cafe. Topics of the day: 4th of July, illness & injuries, Card Jackpot, Bingo, and dogs. No major world issues were settled. However, on the plus side, no new world issues were started by the group.

When a group like this (old people) you have the story tellers, the correcters, the listeners, and the distracted.

Ted, Stoney, and I are story tellers with Keith occasionally joining in. Sue, Nancy, Jean, and Ella are the correcters. They are the Frances ones who correct session session join the details of the stories and keep us honest (more or less). Sandy and Francis listen but seldom him in. If he does, Francis will likely start with, “I’ll grant you this …” We always manage to start the day with a laugh or two.

Ella had called some prescription refill to the Walmart pharmacy yesterday. This morning we went to pick them up. Only problem was that the refill order was sent to our Walmart pharmacy in Texas and we’re in Iowa. It took 1/2 to 3/4 hours to get straightened out. And one still needs a doctor’s approval. That will have to wait until Monday. And of course, it was the one that she is completely out of.

I burnt some steaks for supper.

I am nearly finished with the cover for the pickup.

A short story about writer’s block.

Writer’s block
Writer’s blockage
Vowel blockage
Bowel blockage
Constipation of the brain
Cod liver oil
God lives in soul
Good lives in us all
Just keep typing and something will come pouring out of your fingers.
Even if you have nothing to say, you still have to say it.
People are waiting to read.
They are hungry to be fed, to be led.
An empty page is an abomination.
A-bomb a nation.
And Japan again.


is an empty page?
Empty page.
Empty stage.

What kind of stage?
No actors or no riders?
Maybe this is only the first stage.
Maybe this is only the beginning.
Big inning.
No baseball thoughts.
I can’t think of the little stitched ball so much like Frankenstein’s monster.
So pale and held together with blood red stitching.
Not alive, the stitches never heal.
Beat that monster with a stick.
What a bloody game.
So base.
It is certainly no ball.
Masked ball.
Fancy dress ball.
I’ll wear a tux but I refuse to wear a dress!
A dress

Gettysburg address scratched on the

back of an envelope on the way to the battlefield.
Written in haste because of writer’s block.

Visit my daily devotions blog.


And my sermons blog


All content (except quotations) © 2018 Thomas E. Williams



Published by Tom

husband, father, grandfather, great grandfather, and Santa

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