#HAWMC 17: my great uncle is Rod Serling


You unlock this door with the key of imagination. Beyond it is another dimension: a dimension of sound, a dimension of sight, a dimension of mind. You’re moving into a land of both shadow and substance, of things and ideas; you’ve just crossed over into the Twilight Zone.


Taking my family and friends into consideration, there were only three choices for a TV show that reflects my life: The Addams Family; Outer Limits; or (original) Twilight Zone.

My great-uncle is the perfect Rod Serling. Finding episodes that match up with aspects of my life would be relatively easy.

ME TV (Memorable Entertainment Television) is running Rod every weekday night. I’ll watch it as “home work” for #HAWMC 2014.

It will be like looking at old family photographs, revisiting friendships, remembering trials and triumphs (oops, that’s not a prompt until tomorrow), places I’ve been, things that I’ve seen, events and circumstances that are as true today as when great-uncle Rod invited us all into the Twilight Zone.

#HAWMC 15: taglines


Since my blog title gives no clues as to the contents, I’ve had several different taglines over the years.

My current one: “pain, poetry, bipolar, prose (and a little whimsy on the side)” was an attempt to sum up what happens on my blog, and with me.

#HAWMC 15’s prompt is to come up with a tagline for your blog or your health condition/issues. I’ve a mix of chronic illnesses taglines and potential blogs titles and taglines.

Bipolar 2: I’m not “crazy,” the disorder is!

Chronic Pain: I have chronic pain, it doesn’t have me.

Chronic Illness Warrior Princess: battling dragons, demons and every day life

X-ray glasses: “seeing” invisible illness



mlm’s menagerie wordle 4: the soul eaters



She furrowed her brow; she had only made it to the stairway. The old steam-run equipment was a shadowy playground. She could hear their bellows, imagine them salivating at the thought of prey; a body to tear apart. They were in pursuit, their running feet echoing through the abandoned factory.

Why hadn’t she listened to the warning. The stranger banging into her on the avenue, and then whispering in a lyrical voice: “They have your scent. They will find you. They will eat your body and your soul.” As the stranger disappeared into the crowd, with me dodging in between the sidewalk horde to catch up, I called after him. “Who are they? Why do they want to eat my body and soul?”

He had melted into the streetscape. Soon she would know.


PS: Still working on Wordle 3, I promise!