I just discovered a WordPress blog by Linda G Hill with a post called “Stream of Consciousness Saturday”. I think she might have started this in March of 2014, it was the oldest post I could find although I confess I didn’t read all of the posts she’s written since then. In her own words,
I always have a hard time coming up with a blog post on the weekends. So I’ve been doing something for the past month … called “Stream of Consciousness Saturday.” I’ve decided to try to make it a “thing,” to see if people want to join in. By doing so, you can link your post back here, or to my post on any given Saturday, and other bloggers will be able to see it and read.
So I read some of the posts that people had written for the last two Saturdays. They were fun! Linda’s post for this week was about ‘sharpening’ her resolve to spend her time wisely. Some posted poetry, others posted about how the word is used. Lyn Crain https://lyncrain.com/ wrote about a singer named Kevin Sharp. Some posts were obviously not pure stream of consciousness, but others were, and they were delightful. So I thought I might give it a try for awhile.
The rules and prompt for this week’s rendition (tagged SoCS, which is merely coincidental to my interest in SOCKS this week, hehehe) can be found at Linda’s website here. https://lindaghill.com/2020/09/04/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-sept-5-2020/
For my contribution, the word prompted thoughts about sharp claws and who owns them. Here’s an unplanned, unedited story that came to mind when I began thinking about “sharp”.
The cat was back. It jumped up onto the porch railing and sat there, staring at her through the window, its sharp eyes catching every movement. She watched it for a moment, contemplating. This was the third day in a row and she still didn’t know where it came from or where it went when it left.
She finished running the material under the machine needle. It was loosing its sharpness anyway and she needed to change it. The quilt would wait a little while longer while she took care of this unexpected guest. At least, she hoped it was a guest. Usually the only visitors who showed up at the front door were salespeople who dressed sharply and tried to impress.
She glanced out the window again. The cat was still there. For a moment, their eyes met. She nodded, and the cat began washing a paw with its sharp pink tongue.
Well.
She stood and went into the kitchen. It had been so long since she had a pet, she wasn’t sure what she could offer. Milk – cat’s liked milk, didn’t they? No, she’d read somewhere that milk gave them indigestion or something. It wouldn’t be nice to offer a treat that would only cause sharp pain later. But the refrigerator was almost empty. A little leftover soup sat on one shelf, still in its can, the sharp cut of the edge covered gently with plastic wrap. A tub of butter. No, can’t give a cat that. Her mind might not be as sharp as it used to be, but she wasn’t stupid!
At the back of the middle shelf was a small block of sharp cheddar. She’d gotten it from a Christmas present, one of those boxes with sample sizes of smoked meats and nuts and cheeses that people give when they don’t know what else to give, but want to give something. She didn’t like cheese very much but didn’t want to waste it.
Did cats like cheese?
Placing it on the counter, she found a sharp paring knife and carefully cut the cheese into tiny chunks. Opening the cupboard, she searched until she found a broken saucer, the one that was chipped last week, leaving a sharp piece on the counter that had knicked her hand. She couldn’t bear to throw that out, either; the plate itself was still usable. She placed the chunks neatly on the plate.
The front door squeaked sharply as she opened it. She’d been a little afraid that the cat would no longer be there, but there it was, still sitting on the railing. It turned its head to watch her.
Slowly, she placed the plate on the porch floor. Then she sat in the rocking chair next to the door. It had been a long time since she’d used that chair, a long time since she’d been anywhere except the sewing room, her bedroom, the kitchen. A long time since the kids had grown up and her husband had passed away.
A long time since she’d had someone to talk to.
The cat stretched, offering a long bow in her direction, its delicate front paws clinging to the railing with tiny, sharp claws. Then it jumped down with a soft thud onto the porch floor. She watched it sniff the plate cautiously before sampling a bit of the cheese.
She smiled.
Hello to the fellow SOCS writers who found this post! Is it just a coincidence that this week my regular post was about knitting SOCKS? (yes, bad pun there).
If you’re new to Stream of Consciousness Saturday, visit Linda’s page and join in on the fun!
originally posted at annettezimmerman.com
