My Flameless Pants

This post was originally published on Medium and more of my work can be found over there @karenfayeth.

Chalk Therapy

This post was originally published on Medium and more of my work can be found over there @karenfayeth.

A Writer Tries and Fails to Find A Metaphor in The Mud

Onion Scented Inspiration

 

Image by Mabel Amber from Pixabay

When historic levels of rain and snow came through California this past winter, phrases like “atmospheric rivers” and “bomb cyclones” became just another Tuesday for those of us living in the Bay Area.

After each crazy storm ended, I would put on my muddin’ boots and find my way out to the wild and unkempt backyard to assess the latest damage.

I live in a rental home, and our yard has been neglected for years by several generations of tenants so it’s a bit wild and untamed. I like to garden and I work on it a little at a time, but it’s a lot.

As I pull back the layers of abandoned trash and weeds, I keep finding little surprises. Nature does have an admirable way of prevailing, even when we humans don’t keep up our end of the bargain.

One such little surprise arrived when I moved a plant pot that had sat in place for many months. In the soil underneath I found a tiny snakelike creature.

The conversation went like this (because yes, I talk to the wildlife), “Oh, let’s see, what are you? Are you a worm? Wait. You have arms and legs? WHAT?!”

Turns out I had found something called a California Slender Salamander. I have since found three more. Cute little things. A little creepy. But also cute.


The Odorous Discovery

After carefully returning the salamander to its home, and going about my business dumping water out of several overloaded plant pots, I finally got around to draining out a very large bucket that was filled with a variety of garden items.

I poured out black water, oh my did it stink. In addition to the rotting and molding funk, I could smell the very distinct aroma of onions.

I wondered to myself “Did that water get so gross it now smells like onions? Is that even possible”

As I continued to tromp around the yard, I kept smelling what was a fresh oniony smell and not a rotting leaf sort of oniony smell.

It took me a while but I finally looked down between my rubber boots and saw ’em. Green onions. In my yard. Everywhere.

The rains had come and apparently brought onions to the yard.

I didn’t remember onions being in the yard last year. Did birds or squirrels poop out seeds in our yard? Did the heavy rains wash onion seeds down the hill? Were onion seeds buried deep in the soil and the heavy rains brought them out?

I had no idea. What I did know was that I had several patches of green onion all over the place.

As I yanked them from the muck, I had a moment of clarity. “Oh,” I said aloud to the scrub jay supervising my work (I told you, I talk to wildlife), “That’s why the British call them Spring onions. It makes sense. I’d always wondered.”

There were a lot of onions and since onions’ main defense mechanism is their aroma, the more I yanked, the more my yard smelled like onion.


But where’s the metaphor?

Since I am a writer and observer of the world, I thought that these unasked for and unwanted onions were perhaps a good opportunity for a metaphor.

I envisioned a whole neatly written, clever, and profound essay where I tied the onions to something in my writing mind.

Say, for example, surprises grow among the clover. You never know what you might find when you explore the wilds of your brain.

Or maybe, be careful tromping around in the wilds of your brain, you might stumble upon something stinky and eye-watering.

Perhaps, you might plant green grass but be ready for green onions instead.

Nah, you know, none of those really seem to work. I’m pressing here.

I really thought I could be writerly and make a metaphor happen.

I guess sometimes an onion is just an onion.

And sometimes when I want to write something profound, what I get is squappity**.

So I guess I’ll keep exploring the wilds of both my yard and my brain trying to yank out both the real and the metaphorical green onions.

Tears are optional

** Squappity is one of my favorite made up words meaning nothing, nada, the mental equivalent of TV static.

This post was originally published on Medium and more of my work can be found over there @karenfayeth.

Love My Links

A collection of my most recent stories, in easy clicky format.

Photo by Dan Dennis on Unsplash

These days I am doing most of my writing over on Medium. For a little while I was also publishing the individual stories here on the ol’ blog, but to be honest this blog isn’t aging well. I’ve been hacked more times than I can count and WordPress has made changes to how editing works and sometimes its a bit more than I can handle.

I know, I  know, I need to just hire someone to revamp the whole site, I really do. But until then, I wanted to share the links to my most recent writing over on Medium. These are all friend links so you should be able to read without a pesky firewall getting in your way.

 

Smoke Covers Fire – an essay contemplating a morning swim under skies blotted out by smoke from recent California wildfires

 

Prince Charming with a Handicap – My response to the prompt: prosthetic eye. I got a little weird on this one and had a lot of fun. It ended up being an editors pick for The Hinged publication which made me very proud.

 

A Writer Looks at Ted Lasso – Hardly groundbreaking to love this incredibly popular show, but for me, the writing is everything and the Ted Lasso writers do it well.

 

The Heart of Our Home – The prompt was: hinge, and I really like this story. Though I must confess I wrestled to get it out and onto the page. The words fought me a little. It happens. In the end, I’m very happy with the results. This one was also published in The Hinged.

 

Make Hay While the Sun Shines – The prompt was: harvest season and I wrote this for the Lit Up publication. Now this story told itself, one of those incredibly satisfying experiences when words flow like water. This one might be based on some things that happened back in my college days at NMSU, and I just love how it turned out.

 

My Grapes are Sour and Difficult to Digest – I’m pretty good at dealing with my writing being rejected, but a recent rejection stuck in my craw and I had to write my sour grapes.

 

Better Than The Original – My first story for The Riff publication and it’s a fun one. Based off of the question I saw on Twitter “What’s a song you fell in love with, not because of the original, but the cover version?” I pick three but there are plenty more. The commenters added a few of their own, too.

 

You’re Gonna Miss Me, Little Baby – An ode to the late, great San Francisco blues legend, Johnny Nitro, on what would have been his 70th birthday. This one also found a home with The Riff.

 

If you like what you’re reading on Medium and would like to sign up, I’d be much obliged if you would do using my referral link. I get a little kickback if you do, and thanks!

I Went to a Hipster Dentist

And I’ve never felt more like George Washington



This little bit of goofiness was written in response to a satire writing contest and I must have been in some sort of weird state of mind. I had a lot of fun writing it. My story didn’t go anywhere in the contest, but it found a home on Medium and I wanted to share it here.


Image for post

Photo by Nathalia Belfort on Unsplash

After working four years and six months at my Angel Investor-backed, cash-infused, market-disrupting employer, I finally qualified for benefits. Whew! I know, I know. As far as unpaid internships go, that was on the short side.

After unironically eating too many Flintstone gummy vitamins from the company breakroom, my back tooth started to ache, so I found a company plan-approved dentist in the rapidly gentrifying part of town.

Okay, it was the only approved dentist, but no matter. I have insurance!

Well, color me delighted when I arrived at Dr. Ethan’s one-room office in the backroom of a nail salon and was greeted by the sight of so many archaic dental implements scattered about. What a collection!

Never in my wildest dreams did I think he’d actually use the hand drill on me. But he did. Without novocaine.

 

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An illustration of dental keys for tooth extraction from Savigny’s catalog of surgery implements, circa 1798, and found here

I guess the screaming upset the mani-pedi customers, so Dr Ethan handed me a half-empty fifth of gin and an old Iomega at Comdex giveaway stress ball to squeeze. It was all very Old West and I feel honored to be a part of the vintage dental ways.

I can’t believe people actually lived through this! I bet my brother — the one with good job — has never experienced anything so cool.

After the rotten roots were properly canal’ed, Dr Ethan offered me a wide range of replacement teeth in many colors, none of them white and porcelain.

Oh, I could have chosen a gold tooth (not covered by insurance), an amalgam of something toxic and something radioactive (also not covered by insurance), or a nice assortment of wooden teeth.

I don’t know if it was the gin or the blood loss, but I was pleased to have the chance to choose between a knotty pine, a beautiful mahogany, or a nice hard teak.

Well, I chose mahogany that day and haven’t looked back. Sure, the varnish is seeping into my salivary glands and small splinters of tooth fly off when I eat oatmeal, but I am now the coolest, most throwback guy in the office. I can hardly wait for the next tooth to rot out of my head! And for this infection to go away.

The only downside: My urge to chop down cherry trees has never been stronger.

This item first appeared on Medium, find more of my work @karenfayeth over there