Monday, September 17, 2012


Image courtesy of BeerStreetJournal
So check it out.  My 17th Anniversary is today.  In honor of that very cool number, write a story with the number 17 in it.  Bonus points for a happy ending. 


  1. Happy 17th!

    a little poetry...because I said I never ever do it again...

    Ahh School
    It's full of rules
    of ever sort
    But the one things they will NEVER EVER get rid of
    is the creative kind of sort

    My lucky number 17
    17 pens, (gotta have the, am I right? :D)
    17 scissors
    a pack of 17 crayons *scribble scribble*
    a class full of 17 beaming
    wide eyed
    happy children

    1. Thanks. I thought I swore off poetry, becuase I just didn't have the skill. Now, I just thought that maybe I would try a taste of it.

  2. Definitely a happy ending...and maybe a happy beginning too?

  3. OK, So I am new at this thing - I saw the 'seventeen and went with that without waiting for my dial-up to load a picture (did not realize one was coming...) No sure on the Bonus points!

    FF -“SEVENTEEN” --- SEPT. 17, 2012

    --Maddy did not say anything as she gathered the buckets and put them in the truck of the car. She did not have to say anything. Her Aunt Flow talked enough for a dozen people. Once she got onto a subject she just kept going – pounded it into the ground.
    --“Hurry up Maddy. The plums will be rotten before we get them picked. We will fill all the buckets. That will give us enough plums for eighteen jars of fruit. You know that I must have them done and ready for the guild on Thursday. Come on Maddy, Move it.”
    --Aunt Flow sat in her throne in the passenger seat of the old battered car she refused to part with issuing orders.
    “Careful how you back up.”
    “There’s that stop sign – slow down.”
    “Left at Pine Street – turn your signel on.”
    “Not so fast – we’re not on a race track.”
    “Did you get all the buckets? We need enough for 18 jars. I always take 18 jars to the sale.”
    “Why are you pocking along so slow? We do not have all day.”
    On and on......
    --With relief Maddy later carried the buckets of plums into the house, then returned to help her Aunt Flow to her back bedroom. Aunt Flow needed a nap. Maddy was not sure why she needed a nap, the only work she had done all day was work her mouth. Maddy did the driving, the picking and the totting. For sure Aunt Flow did get out of the car once and took a few plums from the tree. Then returned to the car to eat them. – But, she could say she helped pick the plums......
    --Aunt Flow’s mouth was still working as Maddy closed the bedroom door. “Don’t you go fooling around now. Those plums have to be in the jars right away. Don’t you go eating them either. There are just enough plums for 18 jars. I have to have 18 jars. I always take.....”
    --Maddy turned out the drone of Aunt Flow’s voice.
    --She set out the jars, rings, seals, sugar, canning kettle. It would take the rest of the day to get the job done. Hopefully, Aunt Flow would sleep the whole time. Running water into the sink Maddy dumped the first bucket of plums and waited for the sink to fill. Watching the plums roll in the water, she reach for one and absent-mindedly ate it. They were quite tasty.
    --Maddy looked around the kitchen. All the work to do and they would sell for about twenty-five cents a jar. No one would pay more.
    --Aunt Flow would brag about all her work and contribution, and come home with whatever baked goods she could bum at the end of the sale.
    --Methodically, Maddy washed, dried, cut prunes, filled jars. Awarding herself now and then with a plum. Once the syrup was ready, she added it to the jars, sealed the jars and set the first batch of jars into the canning water to process.
    --While the water in the canner came to a boil, Maddy slowly cleaned the kitchen. Once they were finished processing, and set on the counter, Maddy placed the second batch of jars in the canner and then took the buckets outside, cleaned them and returned them to the shelves in Aunt Flow’s shed.
    --The third batch of jars were being set on the counter as Maddy heard the door to Aunt Flow’s room open.
    --“You got the canning stuff out. Put the kettle on, I need a cup of tea before we get started. All that picking is exhausting. I trust you have not been eating the plums”
    --Maddy carried the canner to the sink, dumped the hot water, rinsed the pot and placed it in its assigned place in the cupboard.
    --“You can help me with the canning now. I just needed a couple minutes of rest. We can get the 18 jars of plums done in no time if you don’t doddle. We’ll be done before we have to cook dinner.”
    --Maddy turned to look at the filled jars, counting them as her Aunt Flow hobbled to the table.
    --1- 2- 3- 4- .....15- 16- 17- Maddy suddenly felt sick.

    By Marjory M Thompson

    Any way here goes....

    1. Marjory, I didn't know you were from my neighborhood. You've just described one of our neighbors to a tee. Oh, yeah. Not good to be one short.

      Great little story. Enjoyed the memories it brought back, too. Thank you.

  4. Thanks Clauds, Memories are fun.
    You might guess - Friday we picked plums! Hubby said he would can them - I am letting him. :) Since he is a very s l o w mover, the job is not done yet. I've been outside doing yard work. :)

  5. Thanks Clauds, glad you enjoyed it.
    You might guess - last Friday we picked plums. Hubby said he would can them. I am letting him :) Male-liberation here. He works slow so the job is still on going. Me. I have spent the day working in the yard!


    Janis Ian had it correct.

    You learn the truth at seventeen. Not the absolute truth. Just your truth. What you believe is pretty much assured by then. At seventeen years of age or in just seventeen years. Truth is your gift.

    My truth came is small sips. Everything I thought was right, was wrong. The love of my life was long gone long before my marriage was seventeen years along. And it all fell apart on a song. Years of tapping out tunes appreciated by everyone but my inspiration had left me cold, and lonely. And alone.

    All that marriage had to offer was very not textbook stuff. It was "do you take this woman to fly by the seat of your pants with"? It had gotten old. And going separate ways came at a price. And that's a truth.

    All of the things I had forgone because I duped myself into thinking I had what I wanted, was left behind with everything else. Gone to find myself. Gone to find what was missing. Gone, without a trace. And another truth came like a slap in the head. When you quit trying so hard, the truth finds you. And so does the love of your life.

    Old flames left smoldering can rekindle, but needs plenty of fuel the next time around. And I found myself burning out on the demands of this new life, sans wife and kids, and a relapse of cancer well hidden. I understood her need to not die cold and lonely. Or alone. So she wasn't allowed to be.

    But that was wrong as well. When her life was snuffed out, she got very cold. And I was again lonely. And alone.

    But, at seventeen you learn the truth. That the greenest grass grows under the feet that you had nurtured and rooted. You come to your senses. You take your muse and use it for good; you use it to mend fences until re-love commences.

    So your best option is to stay the course, and of course find your truth. It was the best thing I could have done.