After having been away and having lapses in my blogging, I was missing posts I had faithfully followed in the past. I have been Googling and re-following favorite bloggers to get back on track.
Yesterday, quite by accident, I discovered almost ALL of the bloggers I follow had been filtered into my email junk folder which I never peruse. What irritates me most about that is the email system forwards true spam to my inbox daily, but email I intentionally subscribe to never makes it to my inbox.
Venting for a moment, Reader is not much better. I have been using reader to try and catch up. It does not move posts I have read elsewhere which means I must page through them over and over again. It is tedious.
I apologize if you thought I just didn’t read your blogs. Hopefully all will be rectified this week.
So, over the coming days I will be unsubscribing and resubscribing to many of you in an effort to get things delivered as they should be.
For fellow bloggers that follow a lot of people, how do you manage staying on top? Do you read every post from everyone you follow or do you pick and choose? Do you depend on email delivery or do you use reader? If you have another method, please share.
Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “impress” Use it as a verb, use it as a noun, use it any way you’d like. Enjoy!
I read Linda’s post last night and went to sleep thinking about the word and almost decided I would skip SoCS today. But bright and early this morning, I changed my mind.
My post title might be a little misleading. That’s because it was intended to be. It is part of the backstory of a country song that came to mind as soon as I opened my eyes this morning.
Shania Twain had a song called “That Don’t Impress Me Much”. The song is about how men who think they are special didn’t impress her. (I cannot recall another song at the moment that contains the word impress…hmmm.)
The back story is about why she included Brad Pitt’s name in the lyrics. It seems there was a scandal when Playgirl magazine published paparazzi nude photos of Brad Pitt. She was referring to the fact that we see naked people every day and didn’t find that fact impressive.
So there you go. That’s it for me. Time to go get ready to meet my friends for a Saturday morning coffee! Have a great weekend everyone.
This is a work of fiction written for Dan Antion’s Thursday Doors Writing Challenge 2026. The photo I selected was by fellow blogger Willow. A link to her blog is in the caption of the photo. Thank you for the inspiration Dan and Willow!
The Manor House
“That’s creepy.”
Marci was never at a loss for words especially when it came to complaining.
“Good gracious, what now?” I rolled my eyes as I dug for the key to get into the quaint brick building we rented for our stay.
”That witch sitting on the doorstep. That’s creepy.” She pointed to the doll nestled in the doorframe.
”It’s a doll, not a witch, silly. She’s here to welcome us to our Airbnb. She’s cute.” As I stepped toward the doll, I heard Marci shriek.
”Leave it! No way that thing is coming in here.”
Marci would not be happy to know that doll was the reason I chose this place. It reminded me of the kitchen witch my mother kept in her too small kitchen. Mabel the kitchen witch hung beside the window overlooking the garden. Mom swore she was the reason the roses always bloomed and the reason her little cottage always smelled like lavender.
Once inside, we read the lovely welcome letter from our hosts. They provided a gift basket containing a bottle of wine, fresh croissants, and chocolates wrapped in shiny gold foil. It was the type of welcome my mother always tried to give her guests.
It had only been six months since mom passed away suddenly. She was only 59 and I thought she would live forever. She was happy, healthy, and always on the move. I was so shocked to hear ‘natural causes’ from the doctor. What is natural about a healthy woman dying at the age of 59? I shook my head in an attempt to dislodge the thoughts.
“Good Lord, will you look at this?” Marci’s voice snapped me back to the present. “Who puts chenille bedspreads in an Airbnb?”
There was a reason I brought Marci along on this trip. There would be no time or opportunity to wallow in my sadness with Marci along. If she ever experienced grief she never showed it. She believed in picking up the pieces and moving on — and you better do it quickly!
”It’s charming.” I could not help but laugh out loud. The raised flowers with yellow centers and coral petals were awful! How perfect for her crabby temperament. “Maybe it will ward off the ghosts.”
I had been upfront with her about the house being haunted. The building once served as a makeshift hospital and prior guests had sworn it was haunted. I didn’t believe in such things, but why not see for ourselves. Even Marci was game.
After dinner and enjoying a glass of wine and a piece of chocolate we both retired early. It had been a rigorous day of travel. As soon as my head hit the pillow I was fast asleep. Sometime in the early morning hours I heard heavy rain hitting the roof. My thoughts immediately went to the doll on the doorstep. She would be soaked. I tiptoed out of my room and across the house to the front door. I shined my phone’s flashlight on the doorstep, but the doll was nowhere to be found.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Marci and I were up around the same time. I was glad to see the coffee waiting. We each enjoyed a croissant and took our coffee outside – still in our bathrobes – to enjoy the morning sun.
”She’s still here!” Marci shook her head. “Creepy.”
There on the doorstep was the doll. I reached down to pick her up. She was perfectly dry. I guess I just hadn’t seen her in the darkness, or maybe I dreamed the whole thing. I decided not to mention my nighttime escapade to Marci. She would think I was crazy. She might be right.
”Marci, let’s get dressed and go explore.” She nodded in agreement. “And, hey. Thanks for making the coffee this morning.”
“Yeah, right. You know I don’t make coffee. Nice try, but I am not falling for your tricks.”
I put the doll back in the corner of the doorstep. As we walked back inside I couldn’t help but notice the whole house smelled like lavender.
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“Stop trying to create a current when the sea is still.” —Brittany Burgunder
I really like her company but she talks constantly. Never shuts up. Can’t read the room, but still I am rather fond of her. Even in a quiet room she whispers under her breath. Sometimes I can barely hear her and sometimes the thoughts slip into the conversation, completely unbridled.
You guessed it. It’s me. I am the one with the mind that is never quiet. There are constant thoughts, unhinged conversations and meditative thoughts all fighting for their place in the sun. My brain never shuts off.
My daughter thinks I may have undiagnosed ADHD. I have mentioned it here before. Maybe she is right, but at my age, I am not keen to find out. I have learned to live with this sometimes unwelcome friend, but there are times when I don’t know what I would do without her.
I think this may be why meditation never really worked for me. Inside my head the conversation goes on. I have gotten used to the noise over the years. It is my own personal sound machine.
I wonder, too, if a completely quiet mind would be unsettling. It might make reading easier, but the quiet might be a little too loud.
If you would care to share, I am curious if I am the only one whose brain chatters constantly going on and on about everything and nothing. If you share this, do you have tricks to find a few moments of inner quiet? I am curious to hear.
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