Fun Facts #1


Fun Facts: Horses 

  1. Horses used to be the size of a dog with 4 toes on front and 3 on the back
  2. Existed as far back as 50 million years
  3. Today one toe remains. Known as ungulate
  4. Small growth on inside of legs called a chestnut is theorized to be an evolutionary mark of when horses had 3 and four toes.
  5. Ergots on the the rear legs are also believed to be a vestigial toe or vestigial padding
  6. Domesticated roughly 5000 years ago. Used for food and other uses from remains before that.
  7. Horses existed on North American continent 8000 years ago. Disappeared and reintroduced when Europeans brought them over
  8. Natives thought riders were gods as they had never seen man and horse together
  9. Cannot vomit. Cannot burp.
  10. Horse heart weight around 10 pounds
  11. Famed racehorse Secretariat’s heart estimated to weigh around 22 pounds
  12.  Horses sleep standing but lie down for REM sleep
  13. White horses are actually grey and are born dark brown almost black and lighten over time.
  14. Age determined by teeth
  15. A foal is a baby horse.
  16. A weanling is a foal when separated from its mother (dam).
  17. A yearling is a horse one year of age.
  18. A colt is a male horse 3 and under
  19. A filly is a female horse 3 and under
  20. Gelding-neutered horse
  21. Mare-female horse
  22. stallion-intact male
  23. Mares gestation is 11 months
  24. Foals are standing and nursing minutes after birth.
  25. Foal legs are 3/4 their adult length at birth.
  26. Hoofs and teeth need to be filed down as they grow continuously.
  27. Donkeys and zebras are relatives of the horse


Why We Write


The reasons why you love writing

Writing expresses emotion

Writing expresses experiences

Releases pent up emotions

Describes things I cannot say

Tells a story

Transports writer and reader to new adventures

One writes to express the soul

To invent new worlds

To solve one’s problems

And because a writer loves to write


Never Forget 9/11


Never forget.

Innocent people went to work.

Innocent people died.

Never forget.

Innocent people tried to save lives.

Innocent people made it out.

Innocent people died trying to get out.

Never forget.

Brave souls that went in to help.

Never forget those bravehearts.

Never forget those never found.

Never forget a tragic and heroic day.

9/11 started normal.

Never forget.

The way 9/11 ended.

Never forget to honor this day.

Writing Prompt #5


Closed Doors: What’s behind the door? Why is it closed?

The door is closed.

Why is it closed?

Is it locked? Unlocked?

Is someone in there?

Is the room deserted?

Some terrible secret remained hidden?

Why is my imagination running wild?

Why do people always think the worst?

Could there be flowers in the room?

A child’s room?

A library? A study?

What is in that room?


Writing Prompt #4


“She took the same seat she always does. This time, there was someone with her.”

Everyday, I wait for the subway train. Everyday, I take the same seat. Everyday, I sit alone. Until this one day. A man, not just any man, was seated in my seat. He was more gorgeous than gorgeous. Tall, dark curly hair, long legs, blue eyes deeper than the ocean. It was love at first sight. At least with his physical looks. A gentle smile from his chiseled features. Then he went back to looking at his phone.

Cautiously, I sat beside him. Nothing exchanged between us. I reached my stop and got off. One last glance at him.

Every morning, he was there. And every morning, I sat beside him. Never speaking. Finally, after about a week, I resolved that I was going to speak to him. When I boarded the train, my spot was empty. No one was there. Disappointed I took my seat. Had I lost my chance at love? I felt that I had.

The next day and the following day, he was not on the train. My dark haired stranger. A week passed. Then two. He had not returned. Then I got an answer to my stranger.

A young woman who was always on the train with me. She asked me why two weeks ago I had moved one spot over when my seat was empty. She always took the same seat near me. I gaped at her. I sputtered about the man. Didn’t she see him? There was no man next to me. I was always alone. There was no way she would not have seen this man. He was beyond gorgeous.

Who had my mystery man been? What happened to me? Why had I see him? Why had no one else?

All I knew was that I never saw him again. My ride remained alone and silent as it always had been.

A place back in time- A short story


Imagine a town with no WiFi, no cell phones or cordless phones. Write a short story in which your main character resides in a town with similar restrictions. Is living off the grid a choice? How do the daily tasks and communication of your character differ without the convenience of the tools and technology we often take for granted?


Getting on the bus was the easy part. Getting off the bus was the second easy part. Staying in this backward town was not so easy. I came from New York City. One of the busiest cities in the world. Everywhere one turned there was an electronic billboard or people walking like zombies. Cell phones glued to their hand.

I was so tired of people and their technology. I had even been swept away by it. I had the latest computers, cell phones, televisions and apps for them. I had a smart phone and a smart TV.

Then one day I got tired of it all. I felt mindless. Lost. People online were even more vindictive than people face to face. They always claimed to be available but when I needed them, they suddenly were not. Phones glued to their hand, but they were unable to answer my call or respond to my text. But when I didn’t respond, all hell broke loose.

So, I sold all my high tech devices. Another crock. It costs a fortune to buy these items. Yet selling them, even when they are practically brand new, it sells for a pittance of the original price. I bought an old fashioned flip phone to keep just for emergency purposes.

And I moved. To a small town that banned all electronic devices. Everything was done like it was before the invention of cell phones. Landline phones. Handwritten letters. Neighbors visited each other. Cars were simple too. None of those fancy computer chips. No touchscreens. No Bluetooth connections or WiFi. No internet was allowed in this little quiet town either. People here lived a simpler life. I had grown up with the technology boom. Could I survive without it? I was about to find out.

Hours later, I had settled in my rented and furnished home. Kitchen appliances were simple but worked. There was a television but it looked like it came out of the 70s or 80s kicking a screaming. It was one I vaguely remembered as a child. With a huge stand encasing the TV. There was a remote and when I checked, it only got the basic channels. No cable.

My first days were easy. I got up, had a bowl of cereal for breakfast. Dressed and went to work as a grocery stocker. It was simple work and I didn’t interact with people other than the odd customer not sure where an item was located. It didn’t take me long to know the regulars from the visitors.

At night, I came home had dinner, watched a little TV or read a book and went to sleep before repeating the process the next day.

Neighbors came by and introduced themselves. I was polite but kept to myself. They stopped coming around and even stopped trying to say hello to me if they passed me on the sidewalk.

After about a month, the withdrawal from the instantly connected world was getting to me. Other than newspapers and the local news reports, I had no idea what was happening in the world. It would be easy for me to hop a bus and go to a neighboring town that allowed technology on my day off, but the whole point was to push through this. And if I did, I would be tempted to use technology in this forbidden location.

People lived thousands of years without the technology of today and they survived just fine. One could argue it was that you couldn’t miss what you didn’t know, but they survived all the same.

Like a drug addict, I cracked. Two months later, I boarded a bus. Went to the next town. Bought a cheap laptop and used smart phone. The rest of the day, I spent in a coffee shop getting my fix. Then I returned home. My items hidden in my bag like contraband.

Soon, I was fully addicted. I was sneaking around my house using the technology. Blinds pulled tight. While there was no WiFi in this town, there were limited cell phone towers. Mostly at the edges of town to catch people driving by and not into the town. I was able to hook up to my mobile network and get a weak connection. Many times, I packed the technology away. Buried it deep in the back of my closet. But to no avail. It was soon out again.

Then the inevitable happened. There was a knock on my door. I knocked over my glass of water. Luckily it missed my computer. Peering out the peephole, I saw the sheriff and his deputy. Dashing around, I quickly hid my banned electronics before opening the door.

I was told to pack all my things. They were taking me to the bus station. I was to board the first bus that came and never return. When asked why, they showed me documents that traced illegal cell phone use to me at this house.

While they waited in the living room, I packed all my clothes which was all I came with into my suitcase. I put the banned equipment in the suitcase as well. Then I was escorted by police car, no sirens, to the bus station. People were outside watching our progression. It almost felt like a funeral. Mine.

I bought a bus ticket and boarded the very next bus. Back to New York and the loud busy life for me. Getting off the bus into the loudness of the city was almost a culture shock after the quiet of the small town.

It had been a hard lesson learned. I would never go without technology, but I did learn to curb it and not let it control me. I controlled it.

Writing Prompt #3


Write a story from the point of view of a 100 year old mirror.

I am 100 years old today. Quite a long life I’ve lived. The thing is that I can live for hundreds more years. Because I am a mirror. Yes, a mirror. My frame was craved from an old oak tree. The tree itself was ancient and so it was chopped down to be used for other things. My frame included. Parts of the tree were turned into a claw toed cabinet. For many years, we lived together. Me on the wall. The cabinet below me. Holding various items both on the tabletop and in its many drawers.

Then the day came we were separated. Probably forever. Through my glass, I watched as the chest charted away and out the door. Lots of other items went that day. Estate sale was the term I believed I heard.

As for me, I continued to hang on the wall. Forever seeing and reflecting what looked into my glass. I witnessed families coming together and breaking apart. One such break left a mark on my original glass as a man threw his phone toward a woman he was fighting with and she ducked. The phone hit me leaving a crack. I was nearly 90 years at the time. All original glass and frame. Now I was cracked. The man’s phone cracked too. As it tumbled away from me, I saw an identical crack on it’s glass face. The phone was repaired or replaced. I was left to hang with a crack.

100 years. I lost track of how many people peered into my glass. How many people confided their deepest secrets to me knowing I would forever hold those secrets trapped inside my sand blasted surface.

100 years. I witnessed every emotion possible for a species to do. Happiness, sadness, anger, frustration, fear, silliness, vanity, surprise, envy, excitement, pain, regret, embarrassment and everything in between and more.

10 years. I have hung with the crack going diagonally along my top left center down to the left center side.

100 years. My frame has remained intact. My mirror still clear as the plains on a sunny day. I have remained in the same spot I was placed 100 years ago.

100 years. Dozens of families. Hundreds of people have traipsed by my glass. Some look. Some avoid. Some are tempted.

100 years have passed. 100 more will pass and I will remain taking in everything and revealing only what the seer wants to see.

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