First order of business… There’s a postcard challenge open while two Moms of the Apocalypse are off having fun at Imaginarium in Louisville, KY. I’m the stay-at-home mom, a role I’ve worn for most of my adult life. So! email for a prompt image, and then write a 50-word story, format per instructions, and submit it. It’s a great little exercise in whimsy and it could wind up being published, you never know.
It’s a little odd, that whole Mom thing. Last Sunday was my baby’s 18th birthday. He wandered around for half the day muttering ‘I’m an adult! I’m an adult!’ and I didn’t disabuse him of the notion. He’s still living at home, at least until he’s completed his welding degree. He works a little, only pays one bill, and I’m the one buying groceries. But yes, he’s an adult… and I’m very proud of the directions he’s heading in, even while I pick up his dirty socks from the most improbable places.
Last night he called me as he was headed home from work “get your camera and meet me at the car.”
I grabbed the camera, waited for him to come in, expecting he had an interesting bug, and he dragged me off to the lake to see a cool flock of birds, instead. He may be an adult, but he’s still willing to indulge in my whimsies.
There’s a famous quote I often return to, about this.
“Critics who treat ‘adult’ as a term of approval, instead of as a merely descriptive term, cannot be adult themselves. To be concerned about being grown up, to admire the grown up because it is grown up, to blush at the suspicion of being childish; these things are the marks of childhood and adolescence. And in childhood and adolescence they are, in moderation, healthy symptoms. Young things ought to want to grow. But to carry on into middle life or even into early manhood this concern about being adult is a mark of really arrested development. When I was ten, I read fairy tales in secret and would have been ashamed if I had been found doing so. Now that I am fifty I read them openly. When I became a man I put away childish things, including the fear of childishness and the desire to be very grown up.”
― C.S. Lewis
I’m approaching a Certain Age. My children are mostly grown and gone, with one anxious to be out and doing big things as soon as he can possibly manage. And then, I shall indulge in more flights of whimsy.
At least, I hope there will be more room in the empty nest for me to do the things I’d like to do. Right now, I barely have time for the things I must do. It makes progress on writing slow. At least the art is happening, even if most of it looks like this…
Cover art is a language of it’s own, and I’m getting to the point where I seem to comprehend it. I’ve got my hands full of work doing graphics at least through August! and more literally, my hands full of Toast. I don’t remember what I was going to say here. I’m off to play with the kitten who is demanding all my attention and both hands.
Don’t forget to email for your prompt image!
Mad Genius Club 
5 responses to “Flights of Whimsy”
What kind of birds? Given the known reaction of chickens to their ducklings going swimming, I doubt it was chickens.
Canada geese. There was a whole bunch of Canada Geese at the local park. LOL – he was disappointed I wasn’t impressed.
Ever wonder why “childish” is a word but “adultish” isn’t?
I hope First Reader continues to mend. Badger him to exercise, he needs to do that. I hope you are both enjoying porch time before the weather gets too hot in the day.
The internet ate my comment so I’ll just say I hope y’all are well and getting in porch time before the day is too hot. Jolie LaChance KG7IQC