Skip to main content

My Memory

Not enough memory
The computer box read.
It was THE DAY
I’d come to dread.
I had more words
Than my system could handle
I kicked it hard
With my old brown sandal.
The message blinked OFF
Then, ON again fast.
I had to do something
My story wouldn’t last.
I saved it to disk
And hoped it wouldn’t crash
I did it quick -
Just under a flash.
The machine gave a sigh,
And it’s final good bye.

Then, I went to the store
And bought more and more,
Computers and hardware
And software galore.
I’d get myself going
I would - I swore -
Even if it took me
One hundred days
Or more.
Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

APOLOGIES....

For those of you who regularly follow my blog, I wanted you to know that health issues and family problems have kept me from my computer lately. Of course my mind has been busy coming up with great ideas to blog about but by the time I sit down late at night to write those lovely ideas have flown out of my head and gone back to wherever good ideas come from in the first place. I miss posting. I miss thinking. I miss resting. I miss just standing and staring, as cows in the fields are known to do. I miss all of you too. Reading about your lives and reading your comments on mine. However, I'm the eternal optimist and I see a teeny speck of light at the end of the tunnel. In two weeks life here should be back to normal, whatever that is. Have any of you figured out what normal is, exactly. I get up everyday and try to live the best life I know how. Is that normal? Or is normal different for each of us. What about a new normal? Are we doomed to live our "normal life" fo
16 comments
Read more

Shingles: not the roofing kind...

Just when I thought things could not get any worse at our house my husband R came down with shingles. On the day I had to be at the hospital in Columbus with one adult daughter in the morning and then go to Cincinnati to pick up her husband after his stomach surgery the day before, R gets up with a rash that had turned to blisters. We made a quick dash 40 miles away to our family Dr. for a check up and yes my diagnosis was correct. Shingles! So armed with two medications we headed to the medical center to see our daughter, then to Cincinnati to pick up her husband and then home to collapse and hope that that's the end of our downward spiral. I'm worn to a frazzle and so is R. No time for writing or fretting about writing. I do feel good knowing that I have some contest entries out (short stories and one novel) and will be working on my novel at least two days this coming week. I have my writers meeting on Monday at Great Expectations Cafe and Book Store and look for
21 comments
Read more

Mother's Leather Britches...

My mother gardened all her life. It was one of her great loves, next to family, God, and country. Because she grew up during the Depression, she learned to use every last item from her garden for canning, preserving, drying or pickling. Every year at the end of the green bean season she made leather britches, dried beans that would keep for the winter. These were the last beans hanging on the vines. The beans inside had grown to full size with outsides a bit withered. They were beyond the stage to can or preserve, or even to pickle. Although her fried pickled green beans and corn bread were the best in the world. (Well, next to her biscuits and fried apples.) Mother started the drying process with clean beans. She would spread a clean white sheet on a table in the wash room and spread the beans out on that, giving them space to dry. Sometime she would carry the sheet outside and put them on a table in the sun to further the process. The next step involved needle and thread
18 comments
Read more