Mirror Opposites by Bonnie Le Hamilton

Every time I tell people Konnie and I are mirror twins, somewhere in the back of my mind, I remind myself that we are not complete mirror opposites. Complete opposites would be the stereotypical good twin/bad twin, which, as I’ve mentioned before, I hate. It is so wrong!

I have yet to meet a set of twins who are polar opposites in personality, and as they run in our family, I’ve met quite a few.

In fact, one time I went to a family reunion held in a city park and while we  were there, someone walked up to a group of us, which happened to mostly be of twins in the family, chatting about where the missing twins were, and she asked if this was a twin convention. There wasn’t that many of us! Konnie wasn’t even there.

I swear there were more missing twins than twins present at that reunion, but since most of the twins in our family identical, it would be easy for an outsider to make the mistake.

Somewhere in this world there exists a photo taken when Konnie and I were about six of all the twins in our family at that time. It was three sets of identical girls and one set of fraternal boys. Konnie and I were the youngest.

There are not so many sets in the generation after us, and I have no idea if there are any in the newest generation, yet, but they exist in our family, big time. So, I can honestly say mirror twins are not mirror opposites in personality.

Which isn’t to say that our personalities are exactly the same. For instance, Konnie never had much of an issue with a temper, to the point that the one time she flew off the handle and really laid into the oldest of our brothers, she scared me so bad I hightailed it out of the house until she calmed down. And let me repeat, that is the only time I’ve seen her fly off the handle. We were like seventeen at the time.

There was one time prior to that I heard her use foul language, but she was mad at a cat that time. Then again she shocked not just me, but several neighborhood kids. I clearly remember some of them staring at me in the yard, and toward the house where Konnie had disappeared in total disbelief.

“Wait a minute, wasn’t that Konnie?”

“You’re Bonnie, right?”

“What just happened?”

They were all of the opinion the world just turned upside down because it was Konnie, while I was still trying to digest that Konnie used such language.

These days, her kids don’t believe she’s ever used such language. It happened once. I promise. In our early teens.

I guess that means that she lost her temper twice. I’ve flown off the handle so many times, people who have known me for decades are surprised when I manage to keep my calm so easily today.

(There are benefits to menopause. 😊)

But the fact is, I threw fits regularly even before I “became a woman” my temper was only intensified by PMS. And it is also true that after years of living with a loving and patient husband, I calmed down considerably before menopause kicked in.

Then again, I am not living with anyone these days, so it might be that I don’t have anyone around to annoy me.

Then there is Konnie. Her husband and her kids constantly test her patience. And she has a house full of pets too. All in all, I’m surprised she isn’t bald from pulling her hair out. One week at her house is about all I can handle, and it’s not me they’re calling for constantly.

As for her husband – well let’s just say, I have often offered to whack him up the side of the head with a 2X4, not that I ever would, I did offer. I have scolded him, but I haven’t lost my temper with him. He can be annoying and I’m glad I don’t spend a ton of time with him. I might just attempt to strangle him.

But Konnie and I are not polar opposites. We do have the same standards, morals, and such. And of course, we both write. We do some of the same crafts, And I guess I could point out how well she did in math and biology while I excelled in English, despite not being able to spell. And I absolutely hated Algebra and geometry. I only managed to tolerate biology because our teacher was funny.

Anyway, I have work to do, so happy writing everyone. 

Of Space Wars and Privacy by Konnie Enos

Years ago, I got my first laptop table as a solution for having no desk space and needing someplace to work.

It was mostly wood but didn’t have adjustable legs so the height was an issue. I had a pile of pillows behind me for back support but it couldn’t help when I was leaning forward all the time.

Then something happened to break the right leg off the thing.

The next time I found a metal one, with adjustable legs. It took some trial and error but I finally found the exact right position for the legs to keep it steady and allow me to sit up while on my computer.

One of the dogs jumped onto my bed landing squarely on the right leg, breaking it off.

I tried two additional metal trays similar to the first.

Guess what happened and to which legs.

You got it, something happened to break the right leg off.

I’ve pretty much given up. Not because they aren’t nice or don’t work but because I can’t have the bed to myself.

Every time either someone landed on it or I was constantly trying to push my tray to the right so its left leg would be on the bed rather than falling over the edge. There was always something/someone on the right pushing me and my laptop table off the bed.

Always.

Still is.

Not to mention whenever I try to get any paperwork done my husband has fits because he wants to take a nap and my stuff is in the way. I make every effort to keep my stuff on my half the bed the problem is he tends to sleep in the middle. Meaning he gets three-fourths and I’m lucky if he leaves me all of the other fourth. I had more bed space when we were trying to share a single sized bed.

Now, with my latest laptop table broken, I am yet again trying to get comfortable writing when I can’t get my laptop propped high enough to not have to lean over. I can’t get my pillows in the exact right configuration to support my back. And my only choices for my legs are folded or stretched on either side of what I do have supporting my laptop. (On my legs are just too hot.)

Thanks to the bed space wars, my legs being on either side of it often means my left leg ends up hanging over the edge. Which, in and of itself, it’s bad, but I’m short. My leg is literally hanging because I’m not tall enough for my lower leg to reach the ground. Even stretching my foot all the way I can barely tap my longest toe on the floor.

Definitely not comfortable. Sitting cross-legged for very long isn’t either. And finally, stretching my legs out can only be comfortable for so long.

And my choices are still lean forward without all that back support or have difficulty getting the keyboard closer than arm’s length away.

My only conclusion is I need a desk and chair, both at the perfect height for me.

I do have a desk, one which was gotten specifically for me. You have one guess who has long since taken it over. And there isn’t any other spare space in this currently crowded house to fit another desk/office space.

So when a friend on Facebook posted about she sheds, all I could think about was how nice it’d be to have my own space. Someplace with a desk and chair the perfect size for me. Someplace where I could have all my books and most especially everything I need from time to time, in easy reach rather than buried, hidden or outside my reach.

But most especially someplace where I had a door to lock with a sign saying “Do Not Disturb”. Preferably one that is sound proof so I can’t hear them beating on it when they insist they need to talk to me.

Of course it would mean turning off my phone, or at least ignoring them calling as much as possible.

But man, how nice to have a space all my own to decorate as I pleased and to get away from bedlam for a while.

Yes, children are planning to move out and I’m currently dreaming of turning at least one bedroom into my private space since I sincerely doubt I’ll be able to put in a she shed, but one can dream.

Oh, and Happy Pioneer Day today. (Ask me if you don’t know what that is.)

Smile. Make the day a brighter day.

Writing Matters by Bonnie Le Hamilton

Recently, in one of my Facebook pages (a page for writers) one of the members asked the question, “Why do you write?”

It is an interesting question with a variety of answers. I was reading some of the answers she got, and one of them jumped out at me. She said she started writing because she thought it would be an easy way to get rich, and now she couldn’t stop because she was hooked.

If she hadn't mentioned being hooked, I’d have commented that she was in for a huge letdown. For every J. K. Rowling there are thousands of unknowns who only manage to sell to their family and friends, if at all. So, for anyone out there thinking of getting into writing to make quick mega bucks – don’t bother.

There is nothing quick about writing. Poems even take time. Admittedly, I used to be able to crank out a polished poem in two or three hours, maybe a little more, which seems quick compared to taking ten weeks to crank out a novel’s rough draft. (And believe me, there is a major difference between polished and rough.)

The best poem I ever wrote took at most a half hour to write. (I was inspired.) And I had it polished within an hour of that. The best novel I ever wrote took me ten weeks to crank out the rough draft, and I’m still editing, polishing it. I won’t mention how many years ago it was that I started this novel, but well, my niece, who is now a mother, wasn’t even in junior high yet. Yeah, that was a while ago.

I have loads of excuses, mostly that I got distracted by other stories, which is my biggest problem, but there is just plain life getting in the way. I didn’t write or edit for about six months after my husband died, and I didn’t do much of that for the two weeks between when we learned he was sick and the day he died either, too worried and upset about what was happening with my husband.

Writing just didn’t matter at that point.

Now, what is getting in my way is too much of getting out of the house.

Why oh, why did I want a car again?

I mean really, when I didn’t have a car, I had a valid excuse to stay home all but once or twice a week. The problem was, I also had no way to do all the things I wanted to do. Like make sure my sister-in-law got to all her doctor’s appointments or to do a service mission here in town. Let alone all the writing meetings I was missing.

I wanted a car, and I’m doing all those things now, but that also means I’m getting up and out of my house most everyday of the week, meaning I’m not staying home and writing, or editing.

There is a payoff for everything. Yes, I have more freedom to do things I want to do, but now I have less time to write, after all there are only a finite number of hours in a day, and a body has to sleep sometime. Too bad mine doesn’t seem interested in doing that at a descent hour.

So, anyway, why do you write? What happened that set you on this path? For that matter, what do you consider success?

Personally, I’ll consider getting my post up on time a win, since at this rate, I may be sleeping then.

Well happy writing everyone, and good night. I hope.

Transportations the Issue by Konnie Enos

Growing up I was quite used to the idea of only one car per family. With only one parent there was no need for two cars. Then we went to live with our dad and his wife, though we still had only one car with two working parents and several kids in school. I’m thinking the only reason it worked was because it was a small town and their respective places of work were within walking distance of each other.

The point is, I don’t remember any long drawn out conversations about who had to be where when or who was able to do the driving to get whoever it was to where they needed to be.

Now forty years later I know of families which have multiple cars. At least both parents have their own and sometimes one or more of the children do too.

Admittedly there have been times when my husband and I had our own cars, like when we first got married. Which of course we needed since we both worked about 30 miles from our home and in opposite directions.

However most of our married life we’ve only had one vehicle at a time. When we’ve had two it was because Jerry needed one for work and I still needed to be able to get things done (like grocery shopping). But then most of the time we had two cars it was because neither one of them had enough seats for our whole family.

There were a couple of times where we had only one car and it was at least one, if not two seats shy of holding all of us. One of those times our only vehicle was a five passenger stick shift. We were a family of seven and I can’t drive a stick. I’m positive my husband got sick of it because he replaced it with a van fairly fast.

Currently we have a five passenger sedan.

Since only one of our children has moved out, we’re a family of six (not counting fur and feather babies).

Now this in and of itself isn’t bad because we don’t really all go someplace together. In fact I can only think of a couple of times we’ve had more than three people in the car and maybe one of those did we have five.

So no, we don’t have a problem trying to figure out how to get all of us someplace at the same time simply because it just doesn’t happen.

What we do have an issue with is figuring out who needs to be where when and who exactly is available to do the driving.

The real fun part is when one child needs to be at point A on the hour and another child needs to be at point B (clear across town) on the half hour. It’s at least a half hour drive without traffic. There is always traffic, especially when we’re rushed/in a hurry.

Seriously. It comes down to, “This trip will take this much time and this one will take this much time, so the overlap means someone has to drop off/pick up people for several hours straight.” I’ve mentioned my being in the car for hours on end before.

Recently however, getting one child to her doctor’s appointments would require the car being unavailable to other members of the family for several days.

One child was totally not inconvenienced by the prospect.

The other two were like, “Wait! What? How am I supposed to (insert whatever they would need to get to or from in that time period).”

My son finally decided his best option was staying with a friend for those few days.

My daughter railed, fought and argued about it until she finally pointed out we had not two, but three drivers in the family. She then offered a solution which didn’t leave her stranded or the family without a driver or vehicle. (Jerry does have a truck, but he’s the only who can drive it.)

Her solution may have solved her transportation issue but it created another problem.

Now we have to leave our fur babies in the care of my husband and our youngest son. I’m thinking we will have to be calling them at least twice a day to remind them to get food and water to the poor things. Maybe more than that because the dogs will need let out and the cat’s litter box will need cleaned.

Yeah, it’s going to be an interesting trip.

Smile. Make the day a brighter day.

Happy Birthday by Bonnie Le Hamilton

Okay, here goes, I still need to work on setting writing time, but this week has been a bit difficult because 1) I get paid this week, so I also have to pay bills this week 2) there is a holiday coming up 😊, lots of things will be closed Thursday including the banks, and finally 3) Friday is my birthday.

And yes, before anyone tries to remind me, it’s also Konnie’s birthday. I’m hardly going to forget that! Especially because of all the fights we had growing up about our birthday parties.

And believe me we fought.

First there was the cake. Konnie likes German chocolate cake with all those pecans and coconut. I’m not much for nuts in most of my sweets and I can’t tolerate coconut (it’s the texture – hate it) let alone the cherry on top (can’t stand cherries either). I always wanted an apple-spice or carrot cake, or a simple white cake with chocolate frosting. Anything but German chocolate, please!

Second there was the guests. At first, Konnie didn’t mind boys being at our parties, mostly because the majority of the guests were family, but about the time we turned ten she wanted a slumber party – as in no boys. My best friends were boys. One was even our cousin.

You get the picture.

As we moved into our teens, I did make friends with girls, but by then I also wanted boy/girl parties with dancing and music involved. Konnie still wanted a slumber party.

By our late teens we were having two parties, my boy/girl party during the day and her slumber party at night, and generally neither on our actually birthday. I usually got the week of our birthday, and she took a week later.

Actually, she was smart. Very few people were ever available for my parties because they always had plans with their family, whereas those same girls could make Konnie’s slumber party.

But that caused other problems. You wouldn’t believe how many people showed up at either party with just one present! Like they forgot there was two of us, or they expected us to share, and just as bad were the ones who got us identical gifts.

I know I mentioned our 6^th birthday when Konnie ended up with cactus tines or spines or whatever they’re called in her hands, and I had to open every gift, but have I mentioned our eight birthday where one aunt gave us a badminton set, our mother gave her a doll and me a teddy bear, and everyone else gave us identical gifts.

Maybe I have mentioned it.

But I also remember more than one of her slumber parties where the guests showed with just one gift in hand then the instant they saw me, they were like, “Oh, man I forgot!”

How can you forget someone is an identical twin?

Okay, now I can see it, when no one I know now is faced with having to tell us apart on a daily basis, but I’m talking about back when we still lived in the same house! Most of these people only saw us when we were together, yet they forgot there’s two of us?

Which seems weird now, because back then I was the one being forgotten, but now I tend to get more birthday greetings than Konnie does. Don’t ask me why. The last birthday party I threw for myself, on our birthday no less, only two guys showed up but neither brought gifts. (No one had RSVP’ed, though I’d asked them to.) And a week later several of those absent girls showed at our place for Konnie’s slumber/birthday party, but only a couple had two gifts. Yet now I have more friends then family who wish me a happy birthday while Konnie gets birthday greetings mostly just from family.

Why is that?

Now we don’t have the same friends, we don’t live close enough together for there to be overlap, but now I’m the one getting more birthday greetings.

Though I might add, I'm only getting greetings (mostly on facebook) and not many gifts. In the gifts the department, she probably gets more, because, let’s face it, she doesn’t live alone. Then again, maybe not. I do get gifts from a few friends whereas she doesn't.

And I could say more about our birthday, but the more important birthday is tomorrow, not Friday. Independence Day, our country’s birthday.

And with that I’m going to say, “Have a great weekend!”

Happy Birthday America, and Konnie.