injaynesworld we're "In Real Life..."

We gathered together, not quite strangers, but not yet friends.   We were single.  We were married.  We were divorced.  We had children.  We had no children.   We were all writers.  Our mutual love of spinning words into tales had initially brought us together online, but on Friday we traded our URLs for an IRL and met each other “live and in person.”

Deborah had flown in from New York to visit her daughter in L.A.  The rest of us are California gals and Deborah’s visit was just the impetus we needed to set our plan in motion.  Britton busted out her minivan and headed north from Orange County, picking up Rossandra in Laguna Beach, grabbing Deborah off the side of the road in Burbank and heading up the coast where Jessica, Becky and yours truly awaited them at the Harbor Restaurant on the wharf in Santa Barbara. 

L to R:  Britton, Becky, Deborah, Jayne, Rossandra, Cabot, Jessica

A hug can tell you a lot about someone and a stranger walking by us as we greeted each other for the first time would have been forgiven for thinking we’d been separated at birth.   Once inside, we were seated at a table overlooking the water where Cabot (that’s him in the photo), our charming and good-humored waiter, attended to our every need and never once called any of us “Ma’am.” 

Rossandra, a wildly funny redhead from South Africa, shared stories of her soon-to-be published memoir, which led to a discussion of all the different publishing avenues now available to writers.  Lovely Jessica, who has so eloquently written of her seven-year-old daughter’s winning battle against leukemia, thoughtfully brought us all little bags of homemade chocolate chip scones.  Becky, whose own voracious spirit of adventure met its match with her marriage to an international photojournalist, recently took some time away from writing about her fascinating life to slow down and enjoy just living it.   Britton, the quintessential California blond beauty and a recent convert to the challenges of Five Sentence Fiction, also writes of fulfilling her roles as daughter, mom, and wife while honoring her own needs.  And Deborah, amazing Deborah, whose exquisitely-written book of short stories, “Shoes, Hair, Nails,” serves as a writing beacon to the rest of us, was even warmer, funnier and more gracious in person than in print.

Our ongoing, raucous laughter may have driven one or two lest boisterous patrons from surrounding tables, but that was their loss.   We could have stayed there for days and still not exhausted the conversation. All too soon our time together was over, but a bond has been formed and future visits promised and looked forward to.  

It’s always exciting when people exceed all your expectations.  If only my online dating had worked out half as well. 

Have you met any online friends In Real Life?   Share a story.  And if you haven't, what are you waiting for?

injaynesworld it's "Singles Night..."

She thought this night would never end.

 

One after another, a blur of faces, but the same look of hope in each of their eyes as they met her own, “Will you be the one?” 

Five minutes with a stranger was a heartbeat. 

Five minutes with a stranger was an eternity.  

She snuggled under the covers, wrapping her arms around the purring bundle of fur curled warmly against her stomach, “He’s got to be out there somewhere.” 

From the Five Sentence Fiction prompt, “Night.”

injaynesworld it's "All About Leather..."

It’s the three-year anniversary of injaynesworld.    The “leather” anniversary.   Yes.  I did look it up.   By sheer serendipity, this also happens to be my 300^th blog post.   I’d hoped to have something smart and witty to say on this occasion, but the best I could come with was “I’m still here.” 

Like leather, I seem to wear well because look – you’re still here, too.   Yes, you.   Some, on the other hand have found me simply wearing and have long since dropped away.   I understand that.  I’ve never tried to please everyone.  

It’s written by those in the know about such things that the third year of a marriage is when a couple realizes the durability of their relationship, hence the symbol of leather with its strength and resiliency.   Having never married, I will just have to take their word for it.  I have, however, formed what I hope will be lasting friendships through this blog, and I continue to marvel at the vastness of talented writers out there who delight, inspire and intimidate the hell out of me on a daily basis.  That you have so warmly welcomed me to your virtual playground has been a wonderful gift for which I am hugely appreciative.  So, thank you.

Like the bull of my star sign, I’m tenacious and have a tough hide, so I’m likely to stick around for a while and I hope you will, too.   It would be no fun without you.      

Oh, and speaking of leather, that Gucci handbag pictured above -- it would make a lovely gift, don't you think? 

injaynesworld we are "Still Haunted By It..."

Stop watching.

I was only a child and they made it sound like so much fun.   I went with them eagerly.

There’s still time.  Turn away. 

How could I have known it would end like this?  

Close your eyes!  Now!  

But I didn’t.   The blast of a shotgun, the look on his face when he knew he’d been betrayed, his body – lifeless in a bloody heap on the ground – all forever burned into the cortex of my brain like the brand of a hot iron.   The scream exploded from the deepest part of my broken young heart…

They shot Old Yeller!

From the prompt “Stopwatch” at One-Minute Writer.   And, by the way, a true story.

 

injaynesworld we ask “Now What The Hell Was I Doing Again…?"

This morning was like any other.  Rise, pee, drink coffee, pee, check e-mail, pee, begin work on a new post – Oh, wait.  I have to pee.   I’m beginning to suspect that all this loss of bodily fluids may now include a considerable seepage from my brain.   It was bad enough when I was unwillingly drafted into the “Can’t Remember Shit” brigade, but now my simple daily-living skills appear to be under assault, as well.

My right eye is red, bloodshot and feels like I dumped sand in it – because I pretty much did just that.  I’ve been wearing contact lens for more decades than I care to admit.   I know full well that the bottle with the red cap contains the corrosive cleansing solution that should never, ever, ever go into your eye, while the bottle with the blue cap holds the oh-so-comforting wetting solution.   And yet this morning my brain, clearly believing I should have this chore on auto-pilot by now, was engaged elsewhere.  Holy mother of  f*^king God!!  

As I quickly grabbed for the tiny plunger to pluck the shard-like lens from my painful and tearing eyeball, I realized that this kind of thing has been happening with greater frequency lately.  My brain leaves me to my own devices while it goes off to ponder why Mitt Romney won’t release more tax returns, or where I can find the best deal on a case of Skinny Girl Margarita.

Meanwhile, something as simple as making coffee can go horribly awry.  I realize that the container needs to be filled with water BEFORE hitting the “on” button lest I burn out the whole damn unit.  Conversely, I know that putting water in the container without any coffee grounds in the top will only get me hot water.   Yet I’ve done both.  

I routinely walk to my car and settle inside only to realize I’ve left the keys on the kitchen counter and then, upon returning home later, driven right past my own driveway. 

I write grocery lists and neglect to take them with me.  I remember to take my reusable bag only to pull my cart up to the checkout stand and find I’ve left it in the car.  I’ve gone to the store for one thing – just one thing – oh, let’s say toilet paper – and come home with a whole bag containing everything but that.   You’d think I’d remember something as important as toilet paper what with my penchant for peeing and all.  

Recently, I read that eating of blueberries can improve brain function – at least in rats.  Good enough for me!   I’ve committed to eating a whole carton of the wonder fruit every day – that is, if I can remember.  

If my pee turns blue, you’ll be the first to know. 

injaynesworld it's "The Bridge..."

We had grown up together but, at 75, the years had not dimmed her beauty one bit.  I smiled as I recalled all the times her magnificent scarlet span had seen me safely to and from my busy life in the City so many years ago.   It was fitting that she should take me on this final passage home. 

I gave the old girl a kiss, and as I leapt into the cold, fierce wind, one delicate shaft of sunlight broke through the clouds, illuminating the top of the bridge’s south tower with such beauty that I longed for just one moment more.

But I could not turn back time.

This post is in response to the Five Sentence Fiction prompt “scarlet.”  

injaynesworld we reveal "Our Celebrity Crush..."

Oh, come on.  Don’t try to tell me that you haven’t fantasized about hanging out with a celebrity.   It’s worth it for the discarded swag alone.  I mean really, how many free bejeweled iPhones does one person actually need? 

At first I went the high-brow route with Hillary Clinton or Rachel Maddow, two gals I admire the hell out of, but let’s face it, while they might find me amusing for an hour or so, after that I would bore the crap out of them.  I require someone with much lower expectations.

Besides, my special someone needs to share my love of gossip, shopping, good food, good wine and, above all, laughter.   Oh, sure.  Loyalty and honesty are important too, but that’s why I have a dog.  It’s laughter that seals the deal.   So while George Clooney and Ryan Gosling are super hot, my celebrity crush is super cool. 

Ross Matthews

I mean, seriously.   Look how adorable he is.   I just want to pinch those cheeks, which I know would totally mortify him – because bffs know these things about each other – so I would never ever do that.   

Right off the bat, I was struck by how much we have in common.

I would totally watch Clay Aiken sleep on a plane for six hours or steal a hair from Angelina’s head.  I would!   I might not actually pluck it from her scalp because it’s my understanding that Sky Marshals have no sense of humor, but you can bet I’d comb every inch of her seatback as soon as she got up – and then I’d sell it on Ebay – something I’d like to think Ross would do, too, but probably under an assumed name. 

Ross and I would make great bffs.  He likes to cook, while I’m happy to wash dishes.  He has a cute little dog named Louise.   I have a cute little dog named Dixie.   He has a place with a pool in Palm Springs.  I would like to have a friend who has a place with a pool in Palm Springs.   Oh, what a match we would make.

But the very best thing about Ross is I’d want to be his bff even if he wasn’t a celebrity.   He strikes me as a warm, caring person who, as a bonus, just happens to be hysterical.   There doesn’t seem to be a mean bone in his body and every time I watch him on TV, he makes me feel good.   Plus he loves “Nurse Jackie,” and I’m pretty sure he’s a Democrat.   

Seriously, how can you not love this guy?

So, Ross, if you’re reading this, give me a chance.  Sure, I’m an old straight broad, but clearly we both have a strong belief that maturity is vastly overrated.   

Okay.  Spill it.  Who would be your celebrity bff?  Leave a comment or write about them on your own blog and leave a link.