11/5/14

Not Really One Hour More: Daylight Savings Time According to Pets

On Saturday night we turned the clocks back. Which was supposed to mean another hour of sleep on Sunday morning. However, my pets’ tummy alarms were still set on old time. I usually get up at 5:30. On Sunday morning, the pets started stirring at 4:30. (That was 5:30 old time.) I ignored them. By 4:45 their persistence (scratching at the door to the bedroom by the cat and whining next to my ear by the dog) pushed me out of bed and upstairs to feed them, and shut them up. Oh, I went back to bed after the feedings and walk, but by then I was awake. My body, too, was still on old time.
Each day since has been a little better as their systems adjust to the “new time.” I wonder what farmers do who have cattle, chickens, or pigs to feed; cows to milk; and eggs to gather. Did those animals have to wait an hour longer on Sunday morning? I get up and it is lighter when I walk the dog, but by the time Nick gets home, it is nearly dark. By 6:30 I feel like it’s time for bed! And I have dinner to prepare and eat, dishes to do, and TV to watch yet! The animals don’t like the time change, and neither do I!

BAMorris

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11/10/14

Marysville-Pilchuck High School; Part Two

Another student has died from the Marysville-Pilchuck High School shooting in Washington State. Five of the six who were shot are dead.
All school shootings affect me, but something about this one has sunk its teeth into my heart.
Perhaps it is because this young shooter appeared to have been successful in his life. Good academic record. Well liked. On the football team. On the Homecoming court. Obviously, looks are deceiving.
Maybe it is because the people he shot weren’t people he hated. They were his family and friends. They were people he wanted to take with him. And that is a new twist on teenage mass murderers.
As a writer, I always wonder about the back-story, and the untold story written between the lines. I can go off on tangents others don’t seem to see, and ask: What if? Why? How? On one of my tangents, I wondered what our shooter said to his victims when they arrived on the other side. And what did they say to him?

BAMorris

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Bailey’s Shoes

14 Nov 2014

11/14/14

Bailey’s Shoes

I remember Bailey’s shoes.
Ratty, dirty, beat up:
Pushed down in the back
So he could slide his feet
Into them easily.
Clunking walk. Struggling
To hold them on each step.
Comfortable and
Easy going like him.
Not serious. Irreverent.
Rolling with life as it flowed.
Clown shoes to go with his
Jester personality.
I remember Bailey.
And I smile at the memory

BAMorris

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