World Travelers: Friday Fictioneers

Published July 18, 2014 by rochellewisoff

Every week at least one hundred global writers shorten the distance by sharing their flash fictions based on a single photo prompt. I have the honor and privilege of hosting the Friday Fictioneers challenge created by Madison Woods three years ago. I’ll probably never meet each one face to face, although I’ve been able to meet up with a few.

This past week, Friday Fictioneers Bill and Janet Webb had lunch Sandra Crook and her husband Neville on their boat in France.

From left to right: Neville and Sandra Crook, Janet and Bill Webb (who resembles neither zombie nor zed).

Also among our world travelers is Dawn Landau who lives in Washington state met with fellow fictioneer Björn Rudberg for lunch in Stockholm.

I love putting more than faces to names, don’t you?

The Gift

Published July 3, 2014 by rochellewisoff

For the first time in over two years I took a two-week break from Friday Fictioneers. The reason being that I had some special out of town guests and I wanted to devote as much time to them as I could. Many of you know these two stellar writers, Janet Webb from Naperville, IL and Douglas MacIlroy from Kamuela, HI.

Since Doug planned to be in town for a couple of disc golf tournaments I invited him to the “Fields Bed and Breakfast.” Naperville isn’t far from Kansas City so I extended an invitation to Janet. One of the perks of having more than one guest room is that we can accommodate more than one guest.

It was nice to relax and get in some recreational reading. I think I was waking up from a recreational nap when Doug snapped the photo.

Doug sitting at my desk.

One of the high points of the visit was a trip to Joplin where we had lunch with Russell and Connie Gayer. Since they live in Arkansas we met in a somewhat central location. On the way we stopped for gas in Webb City, MO. Doug snapped the next photo. Too good to pass up.

Janet Webb in front of that Webb City water tower.

Connie and Russell Gayer. A rather serious expression on one of our favorite humorists.

The man behind me is my husband, Jan. Connie took the picture.

We celebrated Doug’s victory in his division of the KC Wide Open.

One of Doug’s favorite Kansas City sites. A disc golf shop downtown. The photo’s a bit blurry but the expression on his face says, “I’ve found Paradise.”

Selfie in a reflection. Doug had to snap this one so you get an idea of the differences in our heights. (One of us has some.)

While Doug was in Columbia for his second tournament, I managed to break my toe, the second in two months. You can read all about it here.

Y’all come back now. Take your shoes off…at your own risk.

Toemageddon

Published June 29, 2014 by rochellewisoff

LIGHTNING STRIKES TWICE

I’ve often claimed to be my own anecdote. But if I can’t laugh at myself…and so on and so on and Scooby dooby dooby do.

Although I don’t like to share my physical trials and tribulations, sometimes a situation presents itself that’s too ridiculous not to share. For example, some may recall post about my minute clinic excursion for a mouth ulcer last year that led to a trip to the ER for an abnormally low heart rate.

My story begins during the last week of April when I slipped and stubbed my left big toe before going of to work. I thought nothing much of it as I donned my shoe. No bruise, no swelling. It was uncomfortable but not unbearable the rest of the day. Imagine my shock and amazement when I removed my shoe that afternoon.

X-rays showed that I’d fractured it at the top joint.

A month later, another x-ray showed that my poor broken digit hadn’t healed. My sentence was another four weeks in the stylish, open toed “oxford.” Ironically I haven’t had much pain with this one. For this I’ve been thankful.

This brings me to this past Friday morning. As I blissfully stepped out of the tub after a refreshing shower I banged my right toe against the sliding-door track. Sharp pain. But I’ve done that before many times over. Nothing to worry about, right?

Instead of subsiding, the pain grew steadily worse as did the swelling and discoloration. By yesterday morning (Saturday) it had swollen more. My husband insisted on taking me to the local ER.

Before all was said and done I warned the ER nurses about my heart rate which for me is normal. (49 for those curious readers.)

A tech came in and snapped four different x-ray views. I prayed for a diagnosis of simple bruising. Go home put ice on it.

No such luck.

The PA came back and showed me one of the x-rays on her iPhone. A lovely little fracture in the middle of the joint where foot meets toe.

So I look forward to returning to work Tuesday wearing not one, but two, ortho boots.

Sigh. Off to take my pain meds.

L’chaim.

Dancing into Writing

Published August 19, 2013 by rochellewisoff

As a mime and interpretive dancer I’ve had some interesting opportunities over the years, from performing at outdoor festivals to prisons.

How would this lead to writing? Perhaps my title is misleading.

The following video, now on You Tube, was the introduction to a play I co-wrote with my cousin, Kent Bonham, entitled The First Nights of Hanukkah. Both of us took on many roles ranging from actor to director. The dance number, filmed by Kent, opened the production. If you look through the black and white blur you might recognize the dancer.

Act one of First Nights is set in 1930. Hence, the reason the banner at the beginning of the film says “Kansas City 1930” (I’m not really that old).

Our somewhat rough collaboration was an exhilarating experience. Hours of character development and dialogue writing over Greek food and Turkish tea with a side of laughter heralded the beginning of my writing career. My first novel Please Say Kaddish for Me was originally to be a prequel to the play. As often is the case, the characters wrote themselves in quite another direction. Hopefully the manuscript, in my agent Jeanie Loiacono’s capable hands, will soon find a home while I edit the second novel, From Silt and Ashes.

Meanwhile, after eight years, my passion’s unbroken, my yearning’s unending.