Inside the Mind of Isadora


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A Relaxing Afternoon – I think

Woman: “Heelo … can I hep yew?”

Me: “Yes, I’d like to make an appointment for a pedicure and manicure with John. A friend had recommended him to me.”

Woman: “Yew, come now.”

Me: “It will take me 20 minutes to get to your shop.”

Woman: “Yew, come nowww. He waiting.”

Me: “OK … see you in a little while.”

~~~~~~~

I drive my short little 20 minutes to the salon.

~~~~~~~

Woman: When I enter the salon, the woman at the front counter says, “Pic a cala.”

Me: I say, “I have my own color.” (thinking – there could be germs on their nail polish.)

Woman: John???? (shouting and unintelligible exchange)

Woman: Pointing, “You go there.”

I make my way to the pedicure chair. This man motions me to sit.

I grab my phone from my purse and, compliantly, I sit.

I place my feet into a warm soothing bath of salts. Now, I’m ready to be pampered.

The young man prepares his pedicure instruments and puts on his gloves.

Shutting the water off he looks up at me.

Him: “Wata ok?”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Him: Pointing, “Wata ok?”

Me: “Yes, its fine.”

The pedicure takes about 40 minutes.

Silence.

There’s never a word exchanged. Hand gestures are the mode of conversation.

Eventually, he looks up and points to the manicure table.

Like a good soldier, I march to my chair and sit.

He begins removing my old nail polish. Tense from all of this silence, I make a silly remark about my worse-for-wear nails due to gardening. He looks up and nods.

Creepy.

Does he hate gardening? Does he feel I’ve entered his silent zone without permission?

Unable to continue in this silent tortuous world I ask, “Do you work everyday?”

Him: “Yeezz”

Me: “When do you go to school?”

Him: Pointing to his salon license he says, “I finith school. Am tech now.”

Me: “I see that your name Van Nac Tan. It doesn’t say John on there.”

Him: “Me John.”

Me: I want to say, ‘No, your license says Van Nac Tan. Is John the translation?’

Him: As if I needed more clarification he says, “I am tirty yeer ol’.”

Me: “Ahhh … but you look so young.”

Him: He sends me a grimace with his eyes and, I’m sure, from under his mask too.

Me: (thinking) I guess he prefers silence.

I decide he’s a man of few words and a man who does not enjoy a compliment.

Before adding my new nail color he hands me the bill.

Him: “Yew pay now. Tip cash only”

Me: (thinking) Do I have cash? I’m a charge card carrying person. You know the one who gets lots and lots of points if you use your charge card for everything. I give him my card and off he goes to run it through. I look in my purse and find my emergency cash stash. Lucky me or him.

He hands me the charge receipt for signing. He takes it and places it in a draw. I give him his tip. He grabs it and again throws it in the draw. Nods a quick, Thack u, I think?

My nails are polished to a glossy shine. I’m directed to the drying area next and, then, he leaves for the back room without a word.

Me: (thinking) this has been relaxing: I think.

2017©Isadora DeLaVega


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Friday Fictioneers – A Small Stone

He stood at the door of 28909 Rue de Jardin. Memories flooded his mind. He’d never imagined seeing this house again.

Why had his father left it to him?

They hadn’t spoken in forty years. He was ten. His mother had divorced him immediately after she discovered his affair. Her broken heart finally erased by her suicide.

Sitting with Clarice, the now 90 year old mistress, in the large windowed parlor he remembered the park view from his bedroom. The wounds still felt razor deep.

He placed a stone on the gravestone; softly murmuring, “Ikh bin dir mühl. Hasholem Aaron Steinman”.

2017©Isadora DeLaVega

 

Genre: Flash Fiction
Word Count: 101 words
Photo Prompt: Janet Webb

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to join in click here

~~~~~

*****I forgive you in Yiddish – ikh bin dir mühl

*****Rest in Peace in Yiddish – hasholem

***** Within the Jewish faith, it is customary to leave a small stone on a grave. Placing the stone on a grave serves as a sign to others that someone has visited the grave. It also enables visitors to partake in the mitzvah tradition commemorating the burial of the deceased. Stones are a fitting symbol of the lasting presence of the departed life. info©shiva.com


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December 30, 2012


Icy rain poured on the cops.

The grim chaos didn’t surprise them. It was a safe haven for the regulars. A place they could shoot up.

“Overhere, Carl”.

“What da we have?” asked the coroner.

“DOA, female, white, blond, maybe 20, looks like an overdose.”

“Damn, these young people. They think they’re invincible.”

Gagging, Sarge nodded his head.

“Yeah, looks like heroin. She’s got teeth; that’ll help. Get her down to the morgue, ASAP.”

~~~~~

“Frank, she’s back here.”

“Seeing her, he screamed, Myrna.”

“God no, he wailed. Man, that’s my sister.”

“She’s been missing. She’s no junkie. She was kidnapped.”

2017©Isadora DeLaVega

Word Count: 100 words
Genre: Flash Fiction
Photo Prompt: j.Hardy Carroll

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Nurture Yourself – Have Faith in Your Other Hand

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Jenny’s Pearls

mermaid-screen-shot-2017-02-07-at-7-01-40-pm

Five year old Jenny was a pretty blue eyed, blond, angelic looking child.
She was sweet, loving and caring to everyone she met. Her mother and father
were very proud of Jenny’s big heart and giving nature.

One day, Jenny was shopping with her mother. They were passing a glass case when Jenny noticed these beautiful plastic pearls.

“Can I get them Mother?” Jenny asked.

“It is a very pretty pearl necklace but it is expensive. The cost is $2.50.” she calmly told Jenny.

She could see the disappointment Jenny’s face.

Feeling her sadness she said, “If you would like to do chores to pay for the pearl necklace I will get them for you today”.

“Oh, yes,” Jenny said.

“Well, we can make a chore chart when we get home”, her mother told her.

Jenny agreed and her mother purchased the pearl necklace for her.

As soon as the chart was up on the refrigerator, Jenny started to do her chores. A week later was her birthday. Her grandmother gave her one dollar as her gift. Soon, she had paid for the beautiful pearl necklace.

Jenny adored her little pearl necklace. She wore it all the time; except when she showered. She wore it to the store where it had been purchased and everyone admired it. She was smiling each and every time someone commented on its beauty.

Jenny’s daddy loved her very much; as much as Jenny loved her pearl necklace. When it was bedtime he would read her one of her favorite bedtime stories.

One night when he finished the story, he said, “Jenny do you love me?”

“Oh yes, Daddy, you know I love you.” She said hugging him tightly.

“Well, then, give me your pearls.”

“Oh, Daddy, not my pearls,” Jenny said. “But you can have Rosie, my favorite doll. Remember her? You gave her to me last year for my birthday. And you can have her tea party outfit, too.” “Okay?”

“No, darling, that’s okay”. Her father said as he brushed her cheek with a kiss. “Good night, little one.”

A week later, her father once again asked Jenny after her story, “Do you love me?”

“Oh yes, Daddy, you know I love you.” She hugged him tighter than the night before.

“Well, then give me your pearls,” he said.

“Oh, Daddy, not my pearls, Jenny said. But you can have Ribbons, my toy horse. Do you remember her? She’s my favorite. Her hair is so soft, and you can play with it.
You can braid it and everything. You can have Ribbons, if you want, Daddy,” the little girl said to her father.

“No, that’s okay,” her father said and brushed her cheek again with a kiss. “God bless you little one, sweet dreams.”

Several days later, when Jenny’s father came into her room to read her a story, Jenny was sitting on her bed and her lip was quivering.

When her father asked, “What’s wrong princess?”

Jenny said, “Here, Daddy.” She held out her hand and when she opened it her beloved pearl necklace were inside. She let it slip into her father’s hand.

With one hand her father held the plastic pearls and with the other he pulled out of his pocket a blue velvet box. Inside of the box was a strand of real pearls. They were glistening with shine. He had them all along. He was waiting for Jenny to give up the plastic ones so he could give her the real ones.

Instead of a story that night, Jenny’s father told her why he had asked her to give him the pretty pearl necklace:

He explained that in life there will be things that she will want to hold onto. These could be things that are harmful or will keep her from having a happy life. It could be a partner, a relationship, a friend, a habit or obsession. These things could bring her danger and could be impossible to let go of. He wanted her to believe that with her own inner strength of love of self she could let go of these things and still be whole.

When something is wounding – let go.  Something more precious could and will come along. She needed to have faith that within her all things were possible. Because, the most important part of who she was could always be found deep inside.

Sometimes, it will be hard to see what’s in the other hand but do believe this; one thing is true they are always working together …..  2017©Isadora DeLaVega

 

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Namaste
I honor the place in you
in which the entire universe dwells.
I honor the place in you
which is of Love, and of Truth,
of Light and of Peace.
When you are in that place in you
and I am in that place in me.
We are One.

~~~~~

Becca @ On Dragonfly Wings with Buttercup Tea
hosts Nurturing Thursday
to join in click here

 


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Friday Fictioneers – Pop Pop’s Antique Car

This is an encore of a previous entry for Friday Fictioneers. Our Purple Goddess has granted permisson to repeat our story since the photo prompt is having another go-round. Enjoy ….Friday Fictioneers - 2:26:2016 - al_forbes

The parade was on Sunday.

Nana was excited. She’d be driving Pop Pop’s antique car.

He’d purchased it at an auction. It took him 8 years to restore her.
Sadly, he never got to show her off.

“Will you be able to see, Nana?”, I asked.

“I’ll be dazzling wearing my wide brimmed yellow hat”, she beamed.

“But, the ophthalmologist said to limit your driving.”

“Lily, I wouldn’t miss showcasing your Pop Pop’s car for anything.”

She slept soundly, with a dazzling smile, that night.

I drove the car wearing her wide brimmed yellow hat.

She would have been proud.
2017©Isadora DeLaVega

Genre: Flash Fiction
Word Count: 100 words

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Friday Fictioneers – The Window

friday-fictioneers-jan-212017-dale-rogerson2

Harry stares out the window. He sits and stares since his Ruby’s brutal murder.

He’d taken her to the museum; then, a dimly lit dinner. She was beautiful.
Harry noticed the waiter leer at her. She provoked men with her beauty.
Her eyes the color of emeralds.

Now, he sit and stares.

He doesn’t care if he leaves the room.

He doesn’t pay bills; watch television or knows who feeds him.

His life is whatever passes outside the window.

All he sees are changing seasons, joggers, passing cars and Ruby’s ghost.

But, there’s no window.

Padded cells have no windows.

2017©Isadora De La Vega

Genre: Flash Fiction
Word Count: 100 words

Photo Prompt:Dale Rogerson

 

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Pencil Parable

images[5]

Sister Mary Annunciata handed out the list of things we had to bring to school by the end of the week. It was September 15, 1953. It was the first week of 1st grade. Although I had attended kindergarten at the same school, I was scared. The thought of filling a list of things to bring to school was intimidating. I wanted to make sure I got it right.

After school my mother sent me out with my older sister to get the supplies on the list:

a) a notebook

b) 2 – #2 pencils

c) a pencil sharpener

d) a pencil box

e) an eraser

f) a ruler

 

images4574PYC7I was excited as I picked out each item. The pencil box was made of smooth pale wood with a flat surface that slid the box open when you pushed on the notch. Everything fit inside of it perfectly. The next day I was ready with all of my items. The students who brought all of the items to class received a gold star next to their name. I was proud. I smiled all the way back to my seat. You see, we got to put the gold star next to our own names.

imagesDHOSP21DDuring the first week we received our catechism book, prayer book, rosary beads and a laminated bookmark with an image of a saint on the front and a prayer on the back. We were supposed to mark where we were in our catechism book with it. We were to recite the pray to the saint on the back of the bookmark whenever we found ourselves in a moment of weakness or loss of faith. I often did as I always found myself in a state of fear of not meeting up to getting that gold star again.

cath%20BN156_BN156M[1] Sister Mary Annunciata was angelic in her features. She was petite and had a pretty smile. A stiff white material surrounded her face showcasing her pink skin and white teeth. The black habit covered her all the way down to her ankles. Tiny black leather tips from her shoes stuck out.  Long rosary beads hung from her waist and jingled as she walked. All of this meant nothing, since her harsh tone could let you know, instantly, if you were not in her favor.

imagesZHL4X2RBThe second week of school we were going to learn how to write the letters of the alphabet. Eventually, we would be learning to how write our names. I was thrilled. I wanted to learn how to write so much.

First there were rules we needed to know:

1) No pointing our pencil at anyone

2) We could not sharpen our pencils unless we raised our hand and asked

3) No erasing what we had written

4) No writing on our desks

Finally, after waiting and waiting, we were going to write. I took out my #2 yellow pencil and held it in my hand. It fit perfectly. Now, I was going to be a writer. My journey was about to begin.

No other instrument has had as much influence on my life as that pencil did. There was something powerful in that first encounter. When I read the short inspirational parable below I felt all of the same feelings I felt when I first held that # 2 yellow pencil.

I hope you can remember your feelings when you first became enamored with the art of writing.

What were they????

2017©Isadora De La Vega

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Pencil Parable – an Inspirational story

The Pencil Maker took the pencil aside, just before putting him into the box.

“There are 5 things you need to know,” he told the pencil, “Before I send you out into the world. Always remember them and never forget, and you will become the best pencil you can be.”

1) “You will be able to do many great things, but only if you allow yourself to be held in someone’s hand.”

2) “You will experience a painful sharpening from time to time, but you’ll need it to become a better pencil.”

3) “You will be able to correct any mistakes you might make.”

4) “The most important part of you will always be what’s inside.”

5) “On every surface you are used on, you must leave your mark. No matter what the condition, you must continue to write.”

The pencil understood and promised to remember, and went into the box with purpose in its heart.

Now replacing the place of the pencil with yourself. Always remember them and never forget, and you will become the best person you can be.

1) You will be able to do many great things, but only if you allow yourself to be held in God’s hand. And allow other human beings to access you for the many gifts you possess.

2) You will experience a painful sharpening from time to time, by going through various problems in life, but you’ll need it to become a stronger person.

3) You will be able to correct any mistakes you might make.

4) The most important part of you will always be what’s on the inside.

5) On every surface you walk through, you must leave your mark. No matter what the situation, you must continue to do your duties.

Allow this parable of the pencil to encourage you to know that you are a special person and only you can fulfill the purpose to which you were born to accomplish.

Never allow yourself to get discouraged and think that your life is insignificant and cannot make a change.

2017©Isadora DeLaVega

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Namaste
I honor the place in you
in which the entire universe dwells.
I honor the place in you
which is of Love, and of Truth,
of Light and of Peace.
When you are in that place in you
and I am in that place in me.
We are One.

*****

Becca hosts Nurturing Thursday
to join in click here

                    I’ve been having some computer issues but it looks like I’ve had a bit of writers block too. Rereading this post brought back my first writing memories. Although I’ve posted this one before, I thought it might help someone else who may be having a difficult time getting back in the saddle of writing.

****For those who haven’t seen it …. ENJOY !!!
****For those who have seen it …. ENJOY !!!                                                                                                                                 ****Google Images

 

 


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In Need of Humor? Cinderella at 75

Cinderella was now 75 years old.  After a fulfilling life with the now passed-away Prince, she happily sat upon her rocking chair, watching the world go by from her front porch, with her cat named Alan for companionship. One sunny afternoon, out of nowhere, appeared the Fairy Godmother.

Cinderella said: “Fairy Godmother, what are you doing here after all these years?”

granny-rocking-chair-image001

The Fairy Godmother replied: “Well, Cinderella, as you have lived a good, wholesome life since we last met, I have decided to grant you three wishes. Is there anything for which your heart still yearns?”

Cinderella was overjoyed, and after some thoughtful consideration, almost under her breath, she uttered her first wish:
“I wish I was wealthy beyond comprehension.”

Instantly, her rocking chair was turned into solid gold. Cinderella was stunned. Alan, her old faithful cat, jumped off her lap and scampered to the edge of the porch, quivering with fear.

Old-fashioned chair on black background 3D render

Cinderella said: “Oh thank you, Fairy Godmother!”

The Fairy Godmother replied: “It’s the least I can do. What does your heart desire for your second wish?”

Cinderella looked down at her frail body and said: “I wish I were young and full of the beauty of youth again.”

At once, her wish became reality, and her beautiful youthful visage returned. Cinderella felt stirrings inside her that had been dormant for years. And long forgotten vigor and vitality began to course through her very soul.

Beautiful Girl in Fantasy Mystical and Magical Spring Garden

Then, the Fairy Godmother again spoke: “You have one more wish, what will you have?”

Cinderella looked over to the frightened cat in the corner and said: “I wish you to transform Alan my old cat into a beautiful and handsome young man.”

Magically, Alan suddenly underwent a fundamental change in his biological make-up, that, when complete, he stood before her a boy so beautiful – the likes of which – neither she nor the world had ever seen – so fair, indeed, that birds began to fall from the sky at his feet.

granny-prince-image004

The Fairy Godmother again spoke: “Congratulations, Cinderella. Enjoy your new life!”

And, with a blazing shock of bright blue electricity, she was gone.

For a few eerie moments, Alan and Cinderella looked into each other’s eyes. Cinderella sat, breathless, gazing at the most stunningly perfect boy she had ever seen.

Then Alan walked over to Cinderella, who sat transfixed in her rocking chair, and held her close in his strong, youthful arms. He leaned in close to her ear, whispered, blowing her golden hair with his warm breath:

“I bet you regret having me neutered now, don’t you?”

Screaming woman. Isolated over white background.

 

******Google Images

*****A friend sent me this funny Cinderella tale.

I think we all could use a little humor right now.


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Rendezvous

Flash Friday Prompt pix 8:22:2016 - photo-20160821095532483

The phone rang.

“Hello,” she whispered softly.

“ Nereida, meet me at our usual spot on the beach.”

~~~~~~

Memories rapidly flooded her mind. She remembered the first time they’d met. He was walking with his metal detector along the shore. She was photographing the hazy afternoon sky. He had glanced her way.

“Do you always photograph people passing by?”, he said.

“No, only the good looking ones,” she replied.

Thus, the beginning of what would turn out to be a whirlwind romance.

He’d found an antique timepiece that day. It would be her wedding gift.

~~~~~~~

“I’ll bring the bordeaux,” he quickly added.

“I can’t wait”.

She hung up the phone and smiled.

“I wonder who that was”.

2016©Isadora De La Vega

 

 

Word Count: 116
Genre: Flash Fiction

 

 

Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers
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***** Photo Prompt: ©The Storyteller Abode


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Sunday Song – Carlos Santana

carlossantana[1]The first time I heard Carlos Santana he was playing ….. Maria Maria

Influenced by his Latin roots, Carlos Santana is an award winning Hall of Fame guitarist and rock bandleader. H’s been active in the blues and pop song culture for over 40 years.
Santana was born in Autlan de Novarra, Mexico on my birthday July 20, 1947.
His sound is powerful and transports the listener to unimagined heights.

His newest song/video is a collaboration with Jaunes called ‘La Flaca’.

Santana – La Flaca ft. Juanes

~~~~~~~~~

Photo - juanes

Juan Esteban Aristizábal Vásquez was born August 9, 1972. He’s better known as Juanes.

It’s a contraction of his first and second name. He is a Colombian musician who was

a member of the Acoustic Rock band Ekhymosis and is now a solo artist. info:wikipedia

~~~~~~~~

La Flaca Lyrics

En la vida conoci mujer igual a la flaca
Coral negro de La Habana
tremendisima mulata
Cien libras de piel y hueso
40 kilos de salsa
y en la cara los soles
que sin palabras hablan.
que sin palabras hablan.
La flaca duerme de dia
dice que asi el hambre engana
cuando cae la noche
baja a bailar a la tasca
Y bailar y bailar
y tomar y tomar
una cerveza tras otra
pero ella nunca engorda,
pero ella nunca engorda.
Por un beso de la flaca
daria lo que fuera
por un beso de ella
aunque solo uno fuera.