In honor of Good Friday, please share a hobby/activity you enjoy.
The only rule is this: it must have nothing to do with publishing or writing. Not to say your hobby/activity doesn’t feed your storytelling brain cells, but if you have one unrelated to writing, this is the day and the space to share it.
And . . . go!
Oh! Me first? You got it!
Target shooting’s my game–if it fires a bullet, I’ll try it.
Okay–your turn, TKZers. What do you do when you’re not writing/reading/editing/marketing?
Let’s talk about buckets. Or, more specifically, bucket lists.
From Wikipedia: “The term “bucket list” refers to a list of things a person wants to accomplish before they die, derived from the phrase “kick the bucket,” which is a euphemism for dying.
“Nuff said there, I think.
Next, what does your bucket look like?
The one above? Or this…? If you’ve got a lot left you want to do, this might be the one you need.
To the point, what’s in YOUR bucket that you want to accomplish before you move on to the next sphere?
Me: I hate flying, but when I was about 12, my friend’s dad was a pilot and owned a small plane. He took us up one day and flew around our small valley here in central Washington. At one point, he handed over the controls to me. And I’ve always wanted to do that again.
TKZers, it’s your turn. What’s inside that bucket you’ve been carrying around?
And, just because I couldn’t resist . . . isn’t she cute?
Entertaining question to kick around today.
If you could rewind your life to any age or year and relive it, what would it be?
I’ll go first. (Mine might have something to do with rewinding back to public civility and party lines…)
But, I digress.
When I was 10, I got to do two things I’ll never forget. If I could go back, I would in a heartbeat.
I got my first real bike. My dad gave it to me by riding it out of one of the bays at the service station he owned at the time.
Picture big guy riding small blue girl’s bike. Priceless memory.
The second thing we did was visit the Space Needle for the first time. My parents had a birthday tradition back in the day. They didn’t have a lot of money, but on your day, the birthday boy or girl got to pick the place for dinner.
Yours truly picked the Space Needle. (The Space Needle was only ~two years old in 1964.)
You should’ve seen their faces when I announced that’s where I wanted to go. But, it was tradition, so we all piled in the car on my birthday and drove the 150 miles to Seattle. We rode to the top, and had steak dinners—all five of us, plus one on the way.
Another precious memory I’d like to relive, more so now since there’s only two of us left.
Okay, Killzoners, your turn. What does your Life Rewound look like?
***
How would you live today if you knew you had no tomorrows left?
Follow Annie Lee as she navigates what she believes is her last day on earth.
Walk in her shoes . . . and ask yourself the same question. Will your answer be the same one Annie discovers?
I know, I know, it’s Friday the Thirteenth.
But this isn’t about that. Or is it? Read on…
As authors, we sometimes interview folks, or we are interviewed ourselves . . . or, we interview our characters. Let’s flip that on its head for a moment.
If you could, by some magical wave of your Yoda hand, choose one animal or insect to interview, what would it be?
He just looks like he’s got something on his mind, right?
I can guess which one some of you might choose, like our own Sue Coletta. Crow anyone?
For me, it’d have to be this fellow. What interesting tales he might tell!
How about the rest of you? Any of these tickle your fancy? Do tell…
(This post was born on my own website, and I thought it would strike a chord with the TKZ folks also.)
What’s the most recognizable part of the human body? The thing that defines who we are to each other? Other than fingerprints and DNA.
Our bodies have similarities. People are designed with two arms ending in hands, two legs ending in feet, twenty digits, a head, neck, and torso. Requisite musculature and frame to make everything work, surrounding and protecting our inner organs.
Aside from those born with health issues and anomalies, the human race looks and moves pretty much alike.
Except for the face. The human face. Infinite variety.
We could say the same about all species. But we, more often than not, cannot tell others of a different species apart by looking at the creature’s face. Perhaps individuals in that other species can recognize a face within their species, but evidence points to other indicators. Like the zebra baby who knows its mother by her stripes.
I had a disturbing dream last night. In the dream, I moved through groups of people—people who talked to each other. In an office, a hospital, a grocery store, on the streets and sidewalks. Everywhere I looked, people were talking to each other. Some argued, some spoke words of love, some asked those mundane questions we ask of each other upon meeting. Just everyday conversation.
But something was very wrong, as often happens in dreams. No one faced each other. Each group of two, three, or more faced away from each other, standing back to back as they spoke. I began to cry when I saw two of my friends speaking to each other, but not looking at each other. I thought, how sad. Is this where we’re headed?
Let’s bring back the face. Lest we forget what we look like to each other.
Your comments are most welcome!
“I tell would-be writers that there are three things to forget about. First, talent. I used to worry that I had no talent, and it compelled me to work harder. Second, inspiration. Habit will serve you a lot better. And third, imagination. Don’t worry, you have it.” — Octavia Butler
What are your thoughts on the mix of talent, work, and imagination?
What is your all-time holiday movie favorite?
Here’s two of mine:
It’s A Wonderful Life
And a third one…I’m not sure this is a Christmas movie, but I watched it a few years back while caring for grandchildren for a few days around holiday time.
What a snorter! And it’s a good thing it was so funny, because the youngest grand-dude insisted on watching it with me at least twice a day! 🙂
Zootopia
I don’t remember ever laughing so hard at a cartoon, even as a child. (I think this sloth scene was the best…)
Over to you, Killzoners! Your favorite holiday movie…
This is my last TKZ post for 2025. See you in 2026…and I hope you have a safe, peaceful, and joyful holiday season, my friends!
I was trolling on Facebook the other day, and ran across this meme posted by our friend, Chip MacGregor.
I hope the words are clear enough for you to read.
Shakespeare didn’t just entertain us with poems, stories, hilarity, and villains–he added to our everyday language we’re familiar with today. On one website I found, it states the Bard supplied us with over 1700 words still in use today.
One I discovered is “addiction” from Henry V. The meaning as it was used then was “inclination” or “tendency”. Sound familiar?
I was wondering…can you add to this list? Let’s put our wordy heads together and come up with a few more, shall we?
The Bard . . . 4/23/1564-4/23/1616
He’s waiting . . .
This post is taken from one I wrote a couple of years ago on my own website. Thought it fit nicely in today’s world. You can read the original here.
When Did The Music Stop?
I get up every morning at about the same time, drink water and coffee, talk to my husband, pet my dog. Then drink more coffee.
Then what do I do? Usually the biggest mistake of the day.
Open the news media sites.
Then say to myself, “When did the music stop?”
Yeah, you too?
Those media sites are cluttered with other kinds of people. The ones who yell at each other, redefine life on planet earth in their own image, put God on a paper airplane and throw him to the wind, then sit in his chair.
The planet they live on is not the one I want to live on.
Where have all the real people gone? You know, the ones who go to work, take care of themselves and their families, mow their lawns, fill up their tanks, and shop for groceries? And, dare I say, go to church on Saturdays or Sundays?
Kids on tricycles and bicycles and skates—the kind with keys—zooming up and down the sidewalks, playing kick the can and hide-and-go-seek, with parents and grandparents and neighbors cheer-leading from their front porches is the planet I’m from and want to get back to. Back to where some things were just not confusing . . . ya know what I mean?
Back to when homework was the first thing you did after school . . . after the peanut butter, mayo, and bologna sandwich, of course.
When talking to someone happened without a screen between you.
And people cared. About each other, about animals, and a smile didn’t hide an agenda and didn’t need a mask. A smile was just a smile, the way God intended it to be. A handshake meant something and we weren’t afraid to touch someone else’s fingers.
Back to when we watched the TV–not the other way around.
Where did that world go? It slid away from us a long time ago and maybe hit a few snags along the way, like when Woodward and Bernstein were on it BlueBonnet . . . but now here we are. And we don’t even know where here is.
Again, when did the music stop? Okay, take a breath, Deb.
I think it’s still there. We just have to listen with better ears.
After I get some more coffee, I’m going outside to see if I can hear it.
See ya out there!
