Hens Lay Eggs
food for thought
A new world order
My elder son died. His funeral was Friday, January 29.
No, I’m not going to talk about it. His obituary is here: https://www.littletonandrue.com/obituaries/Matthew-V-Smith?obId=19735044#/obituaryInfo.
It has been absolutely the worst experience any parent can undergo.
When I got word that my son had passed, I began making many, many phone calls. Several were to clients whose project I put on hold. Except for one client, all were gracious and understanding. That exception sent messages demanding a response, apparently not understanding or believing that my out-of-office message stating I was going to be radio silent due to bereavement wasn’t just an excuse to avoid work.
I haven’t finished making phone calls.
The glimmers of creativity which peeked through the extended creative hiatus of the past half year have vanishes. Who knows when they’ll return? I know I’m depressed: who wouldn’t be? My first born child is dead.
To compound the sadness, our younger son flew back to Alaska today. The military was great at putting him on an airplane 12 hours after receiving the terrible news. They gave him 10 days to mourn with us. Then it’s back to work as usual.
My youngest brother and his wife came that awful day. They took off work and stayed to help us, to keep us company, to provide whatever support my husband, son, and I needed. My other two brothers and their wives were also incredibly helpful. My husband called them “amazing.” My in-laws, too, provided tremendous support and assistance. Strangers offered condolences and kindness.
The outpour of kindness and generosity has been overwhelming and deeply, genuinely appreciated. Our gratitude overflows.
Friday evening hours after the funeral, I was perusing my news feed on Facebook and came across a woman in an equestrian group. She expressed concern for her son’s well being. I could not help but respond.
“If at all possible, go to his place. If not, call him and let him hear your voice,” I responded. “Don’t text. Call.”
“I’ve tried, but he won’t answer.”
“If you have the phone number of one of his friends, call him/her and ask that he/she visit. Or contact local law enforcement to request a welfare check. If they don’t get a response from you son, then escalate the call to a 911 emergency. Otherwise the police won’t go into the premises.”
I know this from recent, awful experience.
If your gut’s telling you something’s wrong, obey that instinct.
I hope her son is all right.
“A Blood Sample?” #MFRWhooks
Triple Burn
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nA lengthy and increasingly unnerving interview lands Ursula a job as the event planner at a foreign embassy. Not until the government hustles her off to a different planet does she realize just how foreign that embassy is. When the U.S. ambassador hands over one of her coworkers during her first event as collateral to seal a trade agreement, Ursula breaks out of the embassy, determined to find a way back home before she, too, can be used as a bargaining chip in this world desperate for females. n |
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Buy Today on Amazon
nhttps://www.amazon.com/dp/B07Q4FV2ZK
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Excerpt
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nUrsula wiped her sweaty palms down the front of her skirt as she walked into the hiring manager’s office for a third round of interviewing. She hoped that having made such progress would result in a job offer. She also hoped her palms hadn’t left smears of dampness on the fabric.
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n“Now, Ms. Cartwright, we’ll need a blood sample,” Mr. Argosie said, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the cluttered surface of his desk.
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n“A blood sample?” she echoed, questioning the odd request.
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n“Yes. We need to verify the absence of any illegal substances.”
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n“Surely, a urine test is sufficient?”
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nHis pudgy fingers steepled under his clean shaven double chin. “Not at this level, Ms. Cartwright. We deal with highly sen-sitive material and a clear and lucid mind is necessary. Besides, a blood test will catch anything remaining in your system for a longer period of time than a urine test.”
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nAlthough reluctant, Ursula agreed because she could not refute his assertion with any confidence. With a small smile, Mr. Argosie called in a phlebotomist who entered and drew a vial of blood with brusque efficiency.
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n“We test for more than the usual half dozen illegal substances, Ms. Cartwright.”n
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Trying to keep up
No, I’m not trying to keep up with the Joneses. I’m trying to keep up with my obligations.
January’s been a super-busy month. I suppose some of that busy-ness comes from months of forced inactivity due to governmental overreaction to the novel coronavirus. (Did you know that Germany will begin forcibly moving people who break quarantine to internment camps? Locally in Yellow Springs, Ohio, people can be ticketed and fined for not wearing masks when they’re outside. It’s absurd, folks. We’ve gone the way of totalitarianism.)
With the economy limping and election shenanigans and a whole lot of dissent and mud-flinging going around social media, I almost wonder how anyone has the time to write. But they do. Some write to remember. Some write to escape. Some realize their writing needs to be edited.
Regardless, a freelancer never takes time off from marketing. We can’t. We load our plates as full as we can to tide us over when work is lean. In the meantime, I’ll enjoy the feast portion of the feast-or-famine cycle. My cup runneth over and I am grateful.
So, what else is coming down the pike? My event plans for last year have mostly been postpone to this year. I don’t think any are scheduled until May, but then I haven’t glanced at my calendar of events this morning. Right now, I’m doing well just to remember to take the cat to the veterinarian for his monthly asthma shot and remember to order the dog’s incontinence medications. (When a Great Dane leaks, you know it.)
With heartfelt prayers that our nation will come to its collective senses and our world will soon acclimate to the reality that we cannot eliminate COVID-19 (we have to learn to live with its presence), I thank you for your attention to the blog and will get back to work.
Author
Hard boiled, scrambled, over easy, and sunny side up: eggs are the musings of Holly Bargo, the pseudonym for the author.
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Karen (Holly)
Blog Swaps
Looking for a place to swap blogs? Holly Bargo at Hen House Publishing is happy to reciprocate Blog Swaps in 2019.
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