Storytime Tapestry Newsletter

The newsletter devoted to spreading love and cultural awareness around the world.

April 15, 2007

Today’s Announcements

 On my birthday Tuesday April 10th. I was making a donation to a thrift store. I had gone in several times and was on my way out.  I stepped in a hole that was covered by a carpet runner.  I fell on the left ankle and went down on the right hand.  The outside bone in the ankle is broken.  The bone that connects the ring finger and small finger in the right hand is broken.  It is in a hard cast.  The foot is in   a boot.   The cast will be on five weeks.
No work, no pay. Please pray for complete healing ---I am a diabetic.  I had been
scheduled for knee surgery on Friday the 20th which has been postponed for now. 

Thank you.
Tennie:  tenwinter@webtv.net

Today’s Stories

~**~**~

 Just Painting

Dianna Doles Petry

Like most women, I get into a spring cleaning mood the first time the weather person announces we will have a day with temperatures hitting "the high fifties." After a long cold winter that kind of temperature sounds like a heat wave. All winter long I yearn to be outdoors enjoying sunshine, long walks, mosquitoes....okay, maybe mosquitoes is going a bit too far. Anyway, when the warm temperatures actually appear, I stay inside and start to scrub floors, wash down walls and repaint trim work that has been scratched up by indoor play all winter.

This year I decided to start with my son's room. He is seventeen years-old now and his room needed a total renovation. We have ripped out the old carpeting, selected new drapes and decided that some of the furniture needed to be omitted or replaced. Since my son, Chris, is an avid DVD collector and also collects various special edition action figures and comic books, the one thing we could not part with is his wall shelving units. To update them, we decided to paint them a glossy black.

"We" decided but it was me who got the job of actually applying the paint since it does not agree with Chris' allergies.  (Note to whoever ends up reading this: Asphyxiation by spray paint is not the way to finish yourself off....even accidentally!")

After thoroughly scrubbing the shelves and leaving them to dry, I headed into town to purchase the paint I would need for the job. Since time is always a scarce commodity here, I opted for spray paint. I estimated that eight cans would be enough to complete the job, made the purchase and went home. I changed into old clothes, a Rolling Stones t-shirt, vintage 1976, and the oldest pair of blue jeans that I own in my current size range. I pulled out my old sneakers and pulled my long hair back into a pony tail. I was ready!

Did I mention that it was raining today? Well, it was. That meant I would have to do the painting right there in the room instead of taking the shelving outdoors. I wasn't worried since I could open the windows in the room and close the door that leads into the upstairs hallway. I don't think my son had as much confidence as I did. He came in and started taking his posters down from the walls. I thought he was just going to humor me and allow me to put up wall paper or give the walls a fresh new paint job. He laughed at that idea. "No mom, I don't want Alice Cooper to change colors and the Saw posters look creepy enough without drips of black paint being splattered on them."

I gave him a stern look and starting shaking the first paint can. "Yell if you need me mom, I'll be across the hall," Chris said as he closed the door. "Oh, if I don't hear you moving around I'll call for help." Gee, he acts like I'm always getting myself into trouble or something.

Once he was gone and I thought the paint had been mixed enough I started to spray the shelves. I was singing "The Twist" while I shook the can and danced around the room so surely it was ready after I had completed the song. The first can went on pretty smoothly and soon it was time to open a new can. This went on through six cans of paint and with each can, the verses to "The Twist" seemed to get shorter and shorter. I thought the shelves were looking pretty good and I was feeling pretty darn proud of myself.

Chris reentered the room and said, "My God, MOTHER! You've grown a thicker mustache than I ever could! What in the world have you done?"

I stopped painting and looked into a mirror. Right under my nose was a very thick blob of black paint. My entire face was dotted with tiny splatters of black paint and when I looked down at my arms, the fine hair that is usually unnoticeable now looked like tiny twigs sticking out of my arm. Each hair was coated with black paint that made it look thick and dark. Did I freak out? Heck no, I burst out giggling!

Chris grabbed the can I was using out of my hand. "Woman! You have painted enough for one day. How about if you go take a nice long shower and we'll finish this tomorrow!"  He said this in more of a demanding tone instead of really asking if I wanted to do that. At the same time he was speaking to me, he was pushing me towards the bedroom door.

I came downstairs and into my bedroom to take a shower. I stopped to look into the mirror on the wall by the shower and I had to start giggling again. I looked like a female trying to impersonate Adolf Hitler! I quickly disrobed and stepped into the shower. I could not resist the urge to sing and I must have gone through twenty songs before I finally settled on "These Boots Are Made For Walking." I was still singing with the dogs howling along with me, when the Schwan's man showed up.

Chris knocked on my bedroom door and asked if I would be done any time today. I took a look at myself and decided I wasn't sure. I was all lathered up and what should have been white suds was instead dark gray suds. "Sweetie, can you ask him to come back in an hour?" I called out loud enough for Chris to hear through the closed bedroom door.

An hour later, give or take a few minutes, the Schwan's man returned. I was dressed and had my order list ready. When he got in the front door, he started to stare at me. I was feeling pretty uncomfortable when I finally asked him, "Is something wrong? What are you staring at?"

His face turned a bright red as he replied, "Well, most women wear turtle necks or something when they have a hickey that big on their neck. It just caught me off guard." He lowered his head and pretended to be punching in numbers on his hand held computer.

I walked to the nearest mirror and took a look at my neck. Again, all I could do was to giggle. There was the most perfect looking hickey I had ever seen. It was made from the black spray paint being smudged around and then partially washed away but in the dining room light it looked like a hickey. I started to explain what he was seeing but then I changed my mind. Heck, let him think that I was still that hot to someone at this age. That was a compliment!

His face turned red every time he looked at my neck, which was frequently, and he was trying to hide a grin when he left.

My daughter called a few minutes later. "What are you doing today, Mom?" She asked.

"Oh, nothing sweetie, just painting. What about you?" I smiled just thinking about the next project coming up. I have more painting to do!

©Dianna Doles Petry

dianna59@suddenlink.net

03/15/2007

Dianna Doles Petry is an author from Fayette County, West Virginia. She has self-published a collection of short stories from her life and her poetry is very well known. Her work has been featured in several publications and she is a Senior Writer for Storytime Tapestry, an online EZine with a staff of writers from many different areas of the world. Ms. Petry is proud of her membership with the West Virginia Poetry Society and also the West Virginia Writers.

http://diannapetry.tripod.com
http://members.tripod.com/~poemsbydianna/PoetryofLife.html
www.womenwithauniquesoul.com
www.myspace.com/diannawv

~**~**~

~**~**~

Poetry Corner

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This one I wrote right at the start of the fighting between the Israelis and Hezbollah.

I Saw Her Running

Abram Friedland

She was running

The day was ending

The shift was extending

Beyond my reckoning

Of what someone can do

She was tired

I was wired

The work left my heart fired

With a drive not to leave this place mired

In the blood that enemies so desired

So I rolled up my shirt

And asked what I could do

To ease the hurt

Of the wounded clogging the avenue

She gave me an apron

And when she punched her card

I stayed on into the dark

Of a chaos so stark

And a worker’s art

Of healing the wounds amidst fighting still so hard.

Abram Friedland

abramfriedland@videotron.ca

~**~**~

This one is also concerning the war in Israel, but it takes the perspective of a volunteer in a hospital there, in admiration of the healthcare professionals and paraprofessionals who have a dirty job to do, cleaning up wounds, manure, and anger as the rockets keep coming.

Citytown

Abram Friedland

Hebrew Edith came rolling in

From the underground on a pickup

Riding shotgun on crates with canned food packed in

Through the dark city before the moon came up

She told Super Eddie at the wheel

Where to turn and when to stop

And he had a stake in this, his cross he could feel

Around his neck as the moon cleared the hilltop

The refugees came swarming out

The government said, “they’re no better than roaches”

But you’ll never wipe them out, not here, not now

So they come walking, running, on bikes, from the approaches

To the square in the city slum

With hungry hearts and much experience

From centuries of trial and wisdom

To show struggle, hope, and light in all their magnificence.

Abram Friedland

abramfriedland@videotron.ca

 ~**~**~

This one I wrote with the idea, “what if worse comes to worse?” What if Israel goes down, what if Jews are persecuted and anti-Semitism becomes the institution again, even here? What will happen if Jews are herded into ghettoes? How will we survive this time? We will need help. Super Eddie represents the non – Jews who understand what anti – Semitism is really about, and Hebrew Edith would be from the same line of heroes as Mordecai Anielewicz, one of the survivors from the Warsaw Ghetto. I read the last letter he wrote there.

And if You Were the Priest?

Abram Friedland

Listen to him, up there at the pulpit

I wonder if he’s having a fit

Warning us that the end is nigh

From up upon his cloud so high

Like an a – bomb in the sky

He sure makes me mad

As he says we’re all so sick and sad

In our world where leaders are all bad

While he directs his bombers, and they can’t even add

And prays to G-d who must be steaming mad

But while he stands there on foreign TV

With cameras and videos for his followers to see

He’s got his holy scriptures, that he can’t even read

Because he’s a fraud, lecturing before  the rising sea

Telling everyone to kill as the waters flood over our country

Well, I don’t like it anymore, do you?

Someone, one of us needs the courage we once knew

To get up there from the endless pew

And be a new priest for every faith, old and new

Before someone with an a-bomb turns our city’s blood into stew.

This one is about the preachers, the clerics, and the priests who summon their people to kill indiscriminately, to blow themselves up, for the glory of G-d they say, but since when do they really understand what G-d wants?

Abram Friedland

abramfriedland@videotron.ca

Readers Feedback

 Re. Suddenly I’m an Adult.  Thank you Jastine.  This is beautiful!  Louise

Cudos and many thanks to Joe Mazella for telling it straight (A Better Life) in the April 14 edition of Storytime Tapestry.

We would all have a much better chance at a life truly worth living if we followed his suggestions instead of living in the fantasy world that most of us do.

I have received Joe's permission to reprint his article on my blog so that more people will read it.

Cheers

Bill Allin
'Turning It Around: Causes and Cures for Today’s Epidemic Social Problems,' a book about real and inexpensive solutions to personal and community problems most people think are inevitable evils of modern society. They aren't. We just have to look in the right place.
Learn more at http://billallin.com
Contact author Bill Allin at turningitaround@sympatico.ca

Joe, I have "A Better Life" every time I read your "love one another" messages. Thank you!

Jastine, "Suddenly I Am an Adult" was a "been there, done that," ah huh, and head nodding read. Soooo true!

            Having recently moved into a senior housing apartment, I was given an "Elder Discount." I appreciated the discount,

            but me being elderly?!?!?! Mature, experienced, even senior... I'm not ready for elderly. Then this evening my 5 year

            old grandson asked, "Why is everybody that lives here old like you, Gramma?"

            Like you, another milestone, whether I am ready for it or not.

            Enjoyed your thoughts put into words. Thanks!

Constance Gilbert

For inspirational Christian reading see:

http://www.consheartstrings.blogspot.com

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