"The Missing Sock"

When I take dirty clothes into the laundry room, I try to make certain every item makes it from the bathroom to the hamper. When I sort the clothes into their designated piles, sometimes I pair the socks as a double check that each duo goes into the wash together. My laundry room, a petite rectangular four by eleven, cannot provide hiding places for anything. Yet . . . at least once a month a sock vanishes. I’ll shift the hamper out of its tight nook, slide a hanger between the washer and the wall, remove the vacuum and the mops, and scour the tiny room with vigilance in search of a missing sock. I’ll retrace my steps from laundry room through the kitchen, retreating to the master bathroom with eagle eyes peering into corners and under the bed. I’ll check the dogs’ toy basket in case Koi kidnapped a sock from the pile. Nothing. I keep the unmatched sock in the clean clothes basket in the belief that its partner will miraculously reappear during the darkness of night. After another week, the lonely sock gets placed in my drawer, sitting in neglected isolation.

             The hide-n-seek game with the missing sock may continue for several weeks. Yesterday, I stripped my mother’s bedding and shook out the fitted sheet of the clean set. A black sock soared through the air and landed on her dresser, knocking over her Chantilly in playful abandon. I immediately scooped up the wayward footwear and placed it in my pocket with a victorious grin. I felt satisfaction as I reunited the lonely sock tucked in my drawer with its partner. A quick inspection revealed that only one more sock sat segregated from the other sets. Prior experience made me pragmatically predict that days may pass before the wayward companion surfaced. However, yesterday turned out lucky for me. The last missing sock nestled in the arm of one of my mother’s nightgowns. Imagine her surprise when she pushed her hand through the sleeve and captured a sock in her hand!

            I feel smug satisfaction in knowing that when I go to bed tonight, every sock in every drawer nestles closely with its mate.

Copyright 2012 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

"A Rusted Tub"

The Burren Perfumery, County Clare, Ireland--September 2010

         The Burren Perfumery snuggles at the end of a winding road used more by cattle than cars. Even at the end of the flowering season, its gardens hold delightful surprises for the idle traveler. Somehow, among the endless expanse of rock, nature takes root with riotous blossoms, feathery ferns, and ivy clinging to mortar and bark.   

          A narrow footpath takes the wanderer into sunshine standing shoulder high. To the right, the soft morning shadows shelter fern precariously clinging to stone.

           Meandering leads to an old rusted bathtub filled with blossoms and promises. I wonder about bathing in flowers and moonbeams in this mystical land.

Copyright 2012 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

“Don’t Tickle the Dragon”

The Dragon Slayer by David Chapman

She soars above river and ravine in magnificence

while despair and fear play hide-n-seek with her smoky shadow.

With penetrating eyes, she seeks and destroys all defiance.

She melts lives with fiery breath and renders fair fields fallow.

Her arbitrary death paralyzes her innocent prey

by syphoning hope from their simple souls one-drop-at-a-time.

Her teeth and claws razor flesh leaving misery and dismay

As she devours their life-blood—without reason, without rhyme.

On bended knee, mankind prays to the ancient gods for relief

And many brave souls with sword and shield challenge her to the death.

Enflamed by anger, she slays them all—fueled on by pagan belief.

All hope becomes lost to young and old—all fear her scorching breath.

Offerings of their children temporarily satiate her greed,

‘til the young princess stands by lakeside awaiting destiny.

A Christian knight from lands unknown approaches on steady steed.

He vows to slay the beast if all pledge to Christianity.

His lance pierces the dragon’s thick hide with a near fatal blow;

with the princess’s girdle, he leads the creature from the lake.

With Ascalon, he impales the dragon—watches her blood flow.

The people cheer, the king sings praise, and an alter he does make.

From the alter spouts water pure, curing all ailments that grow.

The villagers gather ‘round each eve to dance and sing again

of lessons learned from valley to peak that all children should know—

“Don’t play with fire. Don’t pee in the wind. Don’t tickle the dragon!”

Copyright 2013 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

"Lovely Leading Ladies"

         Equal time must be given to the women of Hollywood. Compiling my inventory of female favorites took longer for me than generating my list of male hunks. The first few names of these beautiful women sprang quickly to mind, but once I started my list, it grew well over my goal of ten names.

         My criteria for the women on my list varied from that of the men. With the women, I had to really enjoy watching them. Whenever I’ve seen them in a film, I’ve thought, “Wow, she’s stunning.” I’ll have to admit that for some of these younger actresses, I couldn’t name a single film that I’ve seen them in, but I remember thinking, “Pretty! Sparkle!” A couple of these actresses have shaved of their tresses and still remained shockingly beautiful. Of course, several of the other actresses have mile long lists of movie credits and represent some of the best acting ever seen in Hollywood!

 

Chapman’s Top Ten Lovely Leading Ladies List (in no particular order):

1.      Katherine Hepburn                          6.  Keira Knightly

2.      Maureen O’Hara                              7.  Judy Garland

3.      Cate Blanchett                                   8.  Barbara Stanwyck

4.      Natalie Portman                                9.  Elizabeth Taylor

5.      Halle Berry                                        10. Gene Tierney

        

I’d love to see the names you put on your list. Feel free to post a comment and share your personal favorites!  

Copyright 2011 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

"Hollywood Heartthrobs"

         Because of Netflix and TCM, I started a mental list of Hollywood Heartthrobs. These splendid actors, with their dashing good looks, draw me into their worlds for about two hours at a time. The other day, I realized that my list of favorites included debonair dudes  dating back to my parent's generation and went all the way to current gents with “bedroom eyes.”

         I began to wonder exactly what combination of traits made me hunger for one Hollywood hunk over another. When I considered my list critically, I realized that voices play a huge role in my criteria for sexy. Looks may come and go, wrinkles and sags eventually get the best of everyone, but voices—well, they stay wonderfully sensual throughout a lifetime.

         My admiration for many of my heartthrobs evolved as an appreciation of their ability to craft their art. The actor playing the same character year after year and film after film didn't make my list. I particularly enjoy watching a performance where I lose the actor within the character he portrays.

         I sat down today to generate an inventory of my Top Ten Heartthrobs, and surprised myself when I crossed several names off of my list. I know my sister will squeal in protest over the deletion of Sean Connery while several other friends will feel disbelief that I don’t have Robert Redford, Mel Gibson, or Richard Gere. Anyway. . . here’s the list:

Chapman’s Top Ten Heartthrobs (in no particular order):

1.       Gregory Peck                             6.  Jimmy Stewart

2.       Cary Grant                                  7.  Gene Kelly

3.      Johnny Depp                               8.  Keanu Reeves

4.      Harrison Ford                              9.  Tom Hanks

5.      Denzel Washington                    10. Orlando Bloom

My curiosity longs to know, who would be on your list? 

Copyright 2011 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman