Like desperadoes waiting for a call

  

 


From deep in the tunnel of the dream world the lonesome harmonica sang of rusted rails and tangled barbed wire. And then no more. No thunderstorms, no sleet, no itchy wool blankets. No way to find that abandoned mine.

All quiet except for the school bus huffing at the curb. Awareness dawns slowly. The blues harmonica is my phone. So very far away. Under the bed somehow. Or down some mine shaft. And would it ever offer another mournful morning wake-up so I can pinpoint its whereabouts?

And why-oh-why was I supposed to get up on my day off? To leave for Bolivia with Butch and the Kid? To repent a life of judging people who lose or misplace things? To actually wish Beto O'Rourke would call to ask for money so I can find my phone?

Thanks for visiting this wild west dream of locomotives, gunslingers, and bank robbers with twinkly eyes. And, yes, ranch dressing is always good for dipping cold pizza for breakfast.

© 2013-2019 Nancy L. Ruder

Time-shifters and singing crawdads

If you check out a library book today, it won't be due until Spring. When will Spring walk in and drop your book in the return slot? In a couple weeks, but beware, Spring, in its toga togs,  must pass the Ides of March first to slide any DVDs you have borrowed into the book drop. I bet even Brutus, whom you knew et tu, was sometimes tardy with his graphic novels.

The library will be open two evenings a week beginning this Tuesday. That's one hour sooner than necessary due to Daylight Saving Time. Going to work later on Tuesday adds more time for my annual vehicle inspection which is on some completely altered space-time continuum. I swear I just sat there in that grungy waiting room with its moisture-damaged Field & Stream magazines holding my "new" purse on my lap just a week or so back while my Buick was inspected.

Back behind the curtain with the man to whom you pay no attention, I was shifting time on behalf of the singing crawdads. Delia Owen's book, Where the Crawdads Sing, is in high demand with book club members. Our little library has fifteen patron requests for four copies. Et tu? Are you on queue?

Cue the crawdads!

Crawdad choir director

© 2013-2019 Nancy L. Ruder