Toad Challenge

 Mary challenged at Toads to write a poem about the ordinary.  Her assignment:
Think about some of the ordinary tasks, items, aspects, annoyances, joys, etc.  of your life.  Write about one of them.

This one came fast and furious, as I am running on little sleep and fumes of Iced coffee...weak Iced coffee...Starbucks you disappointed me today!  We usually have our coffee date, Saturday morning.

Hubby said," Let's drop daughter off at school, go get coffee and hit Lowe's.  I need a ladder and you wanted some dirt."   I leave in a foggy disarray.  He bet me I couldn't get ready in 20 minutes.  He was wrong...
I get to the coffee counter and I mutter, "Help"....  Their brew was watered down muck. Can't someone stir the iced brew, before they serve it. One day I must of got the end of the jug, because I thought I had drank deep, dank coffee wine. Whoa, it tasted of wet earth, coffee grounds and twigs. It tasted fine at first, till we arrived at Lowe's. It was weak, so I needed gunpowder tea when I arrived back home.(poem time).  At Lowe's I was so tired, I hid with some magazines, in a gazebo they had set up. Every one smiled at me. A lot of women came over to me and  said, "good idea, I'm going to go get coffee and come back and do the same."

One  clerk, kept coming by and commenting, "Are you enjoying yourself ?"

I replied, "Yes,  I really work here.  I am causing people to notice the new display, lol."  I had a cushy, green padded chair and was reading "Real Simple Magazine"  I had entered the Life Lesson contest. I had to read who won the grand prize $3,000, a trip to NY, and tickets to a Broadway show. The woman, who won saw her husband die suddenly. She was thirty at the time.  The story reminded me of my Dad. My Mom was thirty-nine, when my Dad died suddenly in his sleep. He had a massive coronary.  It was painful to read, but well written.

 I wrote about my Uncle Larry who died young, twenty-seven yrs old, with Leukemia. His wife was 8 months pregnant. He never saw his son born.  The contest was to write, when you first understood the lesson of love. I was 9 yrs old and had to stay with this horrid girl and her family. My Mom and her brother were like twins. She born the last day of summer. He was born three years later, on the first day of fall. Dad n' Mom, left my brother n' I with a family of my Dad's friends. This woman bad mouthed my brother and told me I was fat, every chance she got.  I remember the feeling, all too well. I also knew my Mom was desperate to see her brother. Her whole family was in New Hampshire. My Dad's family wouldn't take my brother. They were going to split us up. My brother was hyper and my grandparents couldn't manage.  This girl picked on me at school. I had to stay with her, in her, newly inherited Sea Captain's home. She thought she was Queen Sheba. She slept in a full size bed, while I had the floor.  Yeah, good times. I remember my Mom's face when she had to leave us and knew I had to do this for her and my Uncle.

This is what my wax paper, ground tea poem says:

Fractured thought blocked 

against

distilled dreams

boiling point

reached

tea kettle screams

cold thoughts cloud

Muse's mist

until

gunpowder green tea

balances

linear vapors

arrive

bitter moisture

contained

This poem is about returning home still in a zombie like state. I got online hoping to write and husband cranks TV so loud, I can't hear myself think.  My Muse is distracted and irritated. He is on leave(vacation).  How am I going to write anything?  augh... I can't think!  I have two prompts, an article and a story to write. I'm going to need some more gunpowder, tea that is ;D