Everything Changes—Everything Stays the Same

Everything Changes—Everything Stays the Same

by | Dec 14, 2012 | Muses

Photo of Skateboard by Warren R.M. Stuart

I remember when I was a kid, sometimes you’d give a girl a ride on your bike. She could sit on the handlebars or side-saddle on the main bar. If you had a book rack, she could sit on that too which was really nice because she’d put her arms around your waist. Two teens met in front of my house as I sat at the computer working. He had his skateboard and as she approached, he showed off a little. As she walked up to meet him, and the musing began…

The Muse
Jordon put his foot down and stopped the skateboard’s forward progress. With a deft toe stomp, he flipped it up and caught it with his right hand. Perfect.

Kerri saw Jordon and wondered what he was doing, just standing there and showing off. She was going to the park to meet up with friends and hadn’t expected to run into Jordon. She liked Jordon, but wasn’t sure if Jordon liked her. As she approached, he put the toe of the skateboard on the ground and leaned against it.

“Show off,” Kerri thought.

“Hey Kerri, where ya goin?”

Kerri closed the last few feet between them and stood about two feet away. The cell phone in her hand vibrated―probably a text from the friends waiting for her. She ignored the buzzing phone and smiled at Jordon instead.

“To the park. We’re gonna hang out.”

“I was just there. Tina and Erin are over there watching them shoot buckets.”

“Yep. I was gonna meet up with them. We might go to the mall later.”

“So what are ya gonna do this summer?”

“I dunno. Depends on what’s going on.”

Kerri’s phone vibrated again and Jordon glanced at her hand. “Boyfriend?”

Kerri looked at her phone and shook her head at the same time. “I don’t have a boyfriend. They’re wondering what’s taking me so long.”

“I could give ya a ride.”

Kerri pointed at his skateboard “On that? Right.”

“No really. Come on.” Jordon dropped the skateboard, pointed it in the right direction with his toe and held it in place with his foot. “Just put your foot on, hold my hand and step up when I push off.”

“I dunno,” Kerri said and looked dubiously at the brightly painted skateboard. Her father said they were dangerous and she’d seen more than a few kids take a spill on them. Still, Jordon was good with his board and she knew he hung out at the skateboard park a lot.

Tentatively, she put her right foot on the front of the board.

“Are you sure we won’t die?” she giggled.

“Usually not,” he answered. Jordon suddenly had a problem. He wasn’t sure where, or even if, he should hold Kerri. He looked at her a moment, then made up his mind as she glanced back over her shoulder.

“Here we go,” he said. He put his hands on her waist to hold her, pushed off with his right foot and they wobbled uncertainly for a moment, then as they gained speed from a second push, the board steadied and they were off.

Images
A flash of blue caught my eye and I looked up from my monitor. They were about fourteen and appeared in my view out of nowhere, just as most of the scenes out my window do. One came from the east, the other from the west. Where there were going I have no idea, but the park two blocks away seems like a logical destination, or it might have been someplace else. They talked for a moment, then he steadied the skateboard and held her hand as she stepped up. He looked as pleased as punch and then his smile faded. His hands wavered and his head cocked, then he made up his mind and held her waist. A push and then another and they disappeared from my view.

Copyright © 2012 MJ Logan Writer All Rights Reserved

No republication without expressly written consent.

The Tangled Mess

The Tangled Mess

by | Dec 14, 2012 | Muses

The tangled mess of yarn as Muse envisioned when my boss declined help with her computer.
Photo of Tangled Yarn by Artethgray Licensed 2012

The mind’s eye creates images in less than an instant. You see something, you hear something and the picture forms, and then it never leaves. Eventually something triggers the memory and you remember and new images form new thoughts and Muse writes and if you’re lucky, it won’t be a tangled mess…

The Muse
“I’m never going to get back. I’m stuck and I may as well shut it off and lose everything. But if I shut it off, will I get out? Will I be done? Is it over?”

Jeanie stared at her monitor and the menu displayed on it. She was hopelessly buried in a tangle of menus nested so deep, she’d never find her way back. The menu was surrounded and wrapped in squiggly lines that represented the tangled mess she created by going from one menu to the next and trying to find her way back to where she began.

“Damn that MJ. He promised me this wouldn’t happen. Now I can’t find my way back and that spreadsheet I was working on is lost forever!”.

“Come on Jeanie, you can do this,” she thought.

“No, I can’t do this. Just call MJ and he’ll fix it and you’ll be done.”

Jeanie pressed the “X” key to exit the current menu and return to the previous one. The computer gave a warning beep and displayed the message “Invalid Key Press. Press Any Key to Continue.”

“Swell,” Jeanie grumbled. She scanned the keyboard, but there was no “Any” key. She looked again and followed each row of keys from left to right, top to bottom and double checked the function keys and control keys. None had the word, “Any” on it, but she did notice the “Esc” key and remembered the class MJ had given―the “Esc” key escapes things. Jeanie pressed it and was rewarded when the “Press Any Key to Continue” message vanished.

“Alright, now let’s see,” she mused, almost as if she was writer. She scanned the menu choices and noticed none of them were labeled “X.” One was labeled “Q” for quit, but if she quit, didn’t that mean her spreadsheet with the pretty little graphs she had worked so hard to create would be lost? Jeanie groaned and reached for the phone to call MJ, but pulled her hand back.

“Screw this,” Jeanie sighed. She pushed the “Q” key. The screen cleared and then displayed a new menu. A piece of the squiggly line disappeared and she breathed a sigh of relief.

“Okay so do I go back again now or did I have to go into another menu off of this one?”

Her finger hovered over the “Q” key, but she didn’t press it.

“Now what? How did I get here and why? This is all MJ’s fault, just call him!”

“Don’t call, he’ll think you’re stupid and use THAT voice.”

“If he does, fire him, you’re his boss, right?”

“Before or after he laughs at you for talking to yourself again?”

Jeanie pushed the “Q” key, but nothing happened.

“Oh no. Oh no you don’t. You better not have locked up on me!”

Frantically, she pressed the “Q” key several times, then the Escape key followed by the “X” key and the entire row of keys beginning with “Z,” but nothing worked. The NumLock light would not go on or off either.

“I’m gonna kill MJ,” Jeanie grumbled. “I’m gonna kill em and then I’m gonna fire him and throw his butt out the door.”

Jeanie picked up the phone and dialed MJ’s extension. “I need you now!” she nearly yelled into the phone when he answered. Then she hung up.

It took MJ about five minutes to appear in the doorway, since he stopped to fill his coffee mug, chat with the office manager and smile at her pretty young assistant.

“What’s up?” he asked.

This damn thing is locked up and I can’t get back to my spreadsheet. If I shut if off, I’ll lose all my work!

MJ frowned, “Didn’t you save it?” he asked.

“I don’t know. Look at this mess.” Jeanie pointed at the monitor and the menu with the tangled, squiggly lines around it.

MJ walked around her desk to look over her shoulder. “That’s some tangled mess,” he commented.

“So now what? I lose all my work?”

MJ reached around her and pressed the “U” key. Like magic, the tangled mess of squiggly lines disappeared, the menu cleared and her spreadsheet reappeared, complete with all the pretty, colorful new graphs.

“Oh my gosh! How did you do that? What did you press?”

“I pushed “U” for Untangle,” MJ told her. “Remember class?”

Images

It was 1986 and there was no such thing as “Windows.” Personal Computers used DOS, an unfriendly environment to those not familiar with computers. Jeanie―not her real name―was my boss and often called me to help her out. Jeanie did not want to use a computer and knew nothing about them, but her boss wanted her to create and use spreadsheets to help her manage the small company where we worked.

Since I was the main guy when it came to computers, I was volunteered to give classes to those who needed to use a computer. Jeanie was… let’s call it testy… to be nice. One day she called me in and the screen was filled top to bottom with “bad command or filename” and she was mad. Later she told my boss I hadn’t taught her well enough (translation―”I was working on the production schedule while he was teaching class.”)

Jeanie’s “problem” was addressed in the following Monday morning meeting and I volunteered to create a menu system tailored just for Jeanie and the things she did, even to point of loading her spreadsheets automatically.

Jeanie did not want a solution and was more than willing to make me look bad in order to get out using the computer. “I’ll just get all tangled up in something like that,” she retorted. And from that the image of Jeanie hopelessly tangled up in her menus was indelibly etched on my mind.

Copyright © 2012 MJ Logan Writer All Rights Reserved

No republication without expressly written consent.

Willy’s Spaghetti

Willy’s Spaghetti

by | Dec 14, 2012 | Muses

Willy, short for Willy The Wonderful Waterdog Leaps off the boat to chase a throwing dummy. The still picture lacks the proper perspective as his tail never stopped wagging, even when he leaped or swam. Photo by MJ Logan.

Willy’s Spaghetti

Willy was a member of our family, my best buddy, and will forever remain alive in my heart. He left us for the rainbow bridge last year and while he was alive, he changed forever how I perceive and understand the way some animals think and act. One day, when Willy was about nine months old―almost but not quite full grown―Marg made spaghetti for dinner and as on so many other occasions, what ensued next woke up Muse…

The Muse

Willy, the Black Labrador Retriever Patiently Laying on his side and Watching“Boy oh boy does that smell good. I can’t wait for dinner. She’s been cooking that stuff all day and I just can’t wait for dinner. Mike ALWAYS shares with me and I can’t wait.”

“What’s she doing now? What’s that funny looking stringy yellow stuff? Looks hot. All steamy and hot and probably yummy. I love yummy stuff. Mmmm my mouth is watering, just look at the puddle of drool. Mmmm Mmmm Mmm!”

“Now what’s she doing. She’s mixing the yellow stringy stuff with the red yummy smelling stuff. Man that smells better than bacon. I wish I had some bacon right now. I do. If I had some bacon, I’d eat it and Mike would give me more. Then Mama would give me some and my tummy tum tum would be happy happy!”

“Now she’s going in the fridge. Lot’s of good stuff in the fridge. Mike brings it home and puts it in there. I keep trying to figure out how to open the door, but I don’t have hands. I’ll get it someday. I will. What’s that? Ohhhh cheese! Good cheese and I like stuff with cheese in it. Cheese is almost as good as bacon and…”

“Oh goody goody she’s putting it on the table. I get some too! Don’t forget me!

Mama?”

“HEY! WHERE’S MY SPAGHETTI?”

“She forgot to give me some! I’m right here, can’t she see me drooling? Mama?”

“I can’t believe she forgot me. Mike will share though, he always does and I’ll get some. Just wait and have patience. Mike always says patience. Patience patience I’m tired of having patience I want some yummy tummy spaghetti now!”

“Wheres MY spaghetti Mama?”

“Wait. What’s she doing? Where’s she going? Downstairs…. Ohhhhh! Willy be good. Don’t even think about it. No don’t think about it. But… but… Mike always shares and he won’t mind if I have just a little bite. This is his chair and that’s his plate. Can I reach it? Maybe if I put my feet on the chair…”

“Mmmm this is yummy mummy yummy in my tummy this is so good Mama is such a good cook and I love this spaghetti. Yum yum yum yum!”

“WILLY!”

“ARRRRRHHHHG Oh no!”

“WILLY WHAT ARE YOU DOING!”

“Uh oh Uh oh Uh oh I’m in trouble with Mama. Big trouble. Mama is mad when did she come back up the stairs? How did… eat fast. Eat really fast you’re in trouble and you might as well eat it all now. No going back and chomp chomp gobble gulp faster eat faster.”

“GET OFF THE TABLE!”

“Eat faster gulp and another bite here she comes and..”

“GET DOWN!”

“Gulp gobble Run! Run for my life! Where’s Mike. Here he comes! Oh No! Oh No! What did I do I ate all Mike’s yummy spaghetti!”

“Hide! Hide! Where To Hide! The bedroom. Run for the bedroom and…”

“Willy what did you do? Were you a bad boy?”

“Honest Mike I only wanted a bite and she didn’t give me any. It’s her fault. It’s all her fault.”

“Look guilty. That always works. Roll the eyes up, head down, tag barely wagging. That’s right, that’s right.”

“Mike Mike I didn’t mean to. Honest Mike I only wanted a bite a taste a smidgen and then it was gone. Oh Mike I’m so sorry. I am I am I am. Please please please forgive me.”

“Big sigh he doesn’t look too mad. Mama’s talking to him listen, be good be very good be extra very good good I’m a good doggie. The best doggie. I’m Mike’s best buddy and …”

The Images

Like any other nine month old puppy, Willy was still learning the rules. Marg went to the top of the stairs that lead to the lower level of our raised ranch to call me for dinner. And as you’ve already seen, Willy helped himself to a taste. Except… it wasn’t just a taste.

When Marg turned around, his mouth was full of spaghetti and it was hanging down on both sides and in front like some caricatured red-streaked beard. When Marg yelled, Willy ate faster, trying to gulp down what he already had in his mouth before it was taken away.

Marg was upset, but also amused. For me, it was just another highlight of life with my best buddy.

Photo of Willy by Margaret Williams – Copyright © 2012 All Rights Reserved.

Copyright © 2012 MJ Logan Writer All Rights Reserved

No republication without expressly written consent.

The Bathroom

The Bathroom

by | Dec 14, 2012 | Muses

Once upon a lifetime ago, I was a remodeling contractor. I used to meet all kinds of people, go into their homes and tell them how to make them more beautiful or help them fix their problems. I’d size up the cars in the driveway and the exterior of the house, make note of the neighborhood and figure out what kind of job it would be―extravagant, modest or cheap.

Now you might figure that the best neighborhoods were the most desirable to work in, but it simply wasn’t true. No one will nickel and dime you as well as someone who can afford a few extra dimes and nickels. One day as I was driving from one potential customer to another, the phone rang and I answered it. “Ms. Potential Customer” spoke and in less time than it took you to read this sentence, Muse painted a picture in my head.

Something like this, only more…

Swimming Pool in a Bathroom

The Muse

“Now over here I want the heated whirlpool hot tub, big enough for two of course and I don’t want some cheap plastic thing either. All tile with seats and jets and of course I want to see some original designs. Heart shaped would be nice, but so would an oval with two seat backs.”

“Sure,” I answered and tried to suppress the smile. I took a couple of measurements―just to look good―and scribbled in my notebook. I was drawing a rough layout of the bathroom.”

“Now over here,” she continued on, “we need a vanity with a marble top and two sinks. I want mahogany linen cabinets on either side to match the mahogany vanity. Custom, solid wood cabinets. None of that particle board or plywood crap you guys try to pass off as good stuff.”

“Yes Ma’am.” I nodded, smiled and measured the wall and listened to her at the same time.

“Two water closets over here, each with an exhaust fan and good commodes that actually work with one flush. Solid wood, six-panel doors to match the other doors in the house. A little vanity with a sink in each water closet. Mahogany to match the others of course.”

“I wouldn’t think differently,” I told her as I made more measurements and drew in my notebook.

“Good. Now on that end, I want the pool. Not something huge, just enough to fill in that space.”

“A pool.” Pools are problems. They weigh a lot, especially when filled in with water. They are also VERY expensive. “We can do a pool, what’s under this end of the house?”

“Just the basement. Don’t make it too deep. Say just four feet or so. I don’t want anyone to drown in it.”

“That would not be a good thing,” I agreed and noted the depth.

“The sauna goes over there,” she said and pointed. “Big enough for two people of course, no one but my husband and I will use this bathroom, so don’t go overboard here.”

“Cedar sauna,” I said and made notes. She smiled at the word cedar and then I realized I was making a small mistake. “I meant redwood,” I said. “That’s the only wood for a sauna.”

“Good thinking,” she told me and waited while I made more notes.

“I’m sure there are things I’m forgetting,” she mused, and then glanced at me out of the corner of her eyes. It was my cue.

“You should really do a shower,” I said. “Something nice. Large, natural stone tiles, three or four shower heads and body sprays. Probably a rain-shower head over the center. A pair of matching stone seats…”

She interrupted my thought, which was perfectly fine by me. “Oh I like that. That sounds nice.”

“Do you like clear glass or opaque?”

“Can we have those glass blocks for the walls that aren’t stone?”

“Glass block walls.” I wrote it down in my notebook.

“We could put a balcony out there. Knock out that wall…” I pointed at the wall, then added, “or a small deck. We’ll put in large glass doors and…”

“Oh I don’t know. We have neighbors and…”

“Not even a problem,” I told her. “A nice high privacy rail to screen off those who shouldn’t see, but it won’t spoil your view of the river or the bluffs.”

“Lovely!” she exclaimed and clapped her hands gleefully. “My friend was so right to have me call you. I know I’m going to love this bathroom.”

I looked around the 1500 square foot area and wondered what else I could squeeze in without having to squeeze it too much.

I wondered just how far she was willing to go. “One thing I’m sort of surprised you didn’t mention was a fireplace,” I said.

“I knew I was forgetting something!” She fairly beamed and I just smiled and kept on writing…

Images

“Um excuse me. Hello?”

Her irritated voice brought me back to reality. “Sorry I said, I’m driving.”

“That was funny?” she asked, and then I realized I had chuckled. Chuckled because the first words out of her mouth after I answered the phone had been… “How much to remodel a bathroom?”

Never mind how big it was or what she wanted, just how much was it?

And of course, my imagination soared. I didn’t get the job, I didn’t even want it. Her expectation was a set price for any bathroom and it would cost X amount of dollars. She didn’t want to talk about it, just needed a price. If I couldn’t do that, then I must not know what I’m doing. At least, that’s what she told me…

Photo of The Pool by sarangib at Pixabay.com

Photo of Pool by Richard Gillin at Flickr.com

Copyright © 2012 MJ Logan Writer All Rights Reserved

No republication without expressly written consent.

Almost Awake

Almost Awake

by | Dec 12, 2012 | Muses

Dreaming Photo (Licensed 2012) Credit Hartwig HKD 

Inspired by and dedicated to my Father-In-Law, Paul.

Ever have those moments as you wake up when the momentary images of dreams slip from your grasp like wisps of clouds or sand through your fingers? I’m sure most people have those moments. How often have you thought, “I was dreaming, but I can’t remember what,” in the moments after you awoke?

There is a place between conscious and unconscious where dreams and reality meet. A place where the unreal seems real, and the real is unsubstantial. Maybe you’re not sure what is real and what isn’t.

Or maybe you confuse the real with the dream.

Our subconscious incorporates stimulus into our dreams to keep us asleep so we receive the rest we need. Those last moments before we become fully awake are often warm fuzzy moments and nothing seems better than snuggling into the comforter and making it last as long as possible.

The Muse

The white stripe flashed and then again. Over and over. “What is that?” he wondered. Dimly he heard the low whine that existed only as background noise and wished it would go away. It disturbed, pecked at his conscious mind and made him want to look up and around to see what it was. But that was the last thing he wanted to do. He was warm and comfortable and wanted that feeling to last forever.

Last forever, like he wanted the love between himself and his wife to last forever. They were newly married, far from home in another state where he worked at an army base. Life was a struggle and their small apartment cost more than they could afford, but they eked out a living as best they could.

The white lines kept flashing and the whine persisted, continuously intruding on his half-slumber dreamworld.

“What are those?” he wondered in irritation. Nearly awake and still, the white lines flashed and flashed, one after another in a rhythm as steady as a heartbeat, or distant tribal drums in the jungle. Something pressed against his head, hard and cold and unforgiving. He thought about moving his head away from it and didn’t. He just wanted to sleep and that stupid, endless whine and the flashing white lines kept him from slipping completely into a deep slumber.

A sudden bump jarred him from that almost asleep, dreamlike state. The white lines flashed, the tires whined and the engine grumbled. The button on his shirt pressed annoyingly into his chin and the glass of the window flattened the side of his face. All those were sudden, glaring clues to Danger! Danger!

With a start, Paul came fully awake and jerked his head up. He was barreling down the right side of the road, the speedometer needle buried, out of sight, heart pounding. He took his foot from the accelerator. Gradually the needle reappeared and settled down to a feeble 50 miles per hour. The truck tires whined and the center line markers on the road flashed by, one after another. The rhythmic beat tempered by the decreased speed of the truck.

 

The lonely road stretched on before him and he wondered how long he’d been half asleep, or even asleep. Was it possible he’d actually slept? Had he been sleeping? For how long? All questions he could only speculate at.

Images

My father-in-law was drafted and after basic training, was sent to an army base where he drove trucks and tested missiles. At the end of a double shift, after days of pulling double shifts, he was sent out to deliver supplies from his base to another base. The road was deserted and the broken white lines that marked the center of the road were mesmerizing. He came fully awake with his head down, looking at the white lines as they flashed by.

Most memories of that half-awake sleep state escape us. We just can’t hang on to them. But that memory was one that my father-in-law never forgot as long as he lived. He only told me of the white lines flashing endlessly by until somehow he woke up, but it was enough to help Muse write the rest of the story.

Copyright © 2012 MJ Logan Writer All Rights Reserved

No republication without expressly written consent.