A stitch in the eye!

I had intended to enter the Photo Challenge hosted by Daffy and Melissa for Stitch this week, and I am going to use what I planned to. The only thing is, there is an addition and a reason my own Challenge won’t have a detailed review. A bit difficult when you have to keep an ice pack on and your eyesight is a bit blurry. Click the blue words up there for other entries.

Below is the offender.

My son has baseball tryouts next Saturday, and I felt good because of my book being available for pre-order. So I thought I would go outside in the nice fresh air with said son and throw, or actually catch the ball, since he needed to practice throwing. I would underhand toss it high in the air for him to practice. That was easy for me to do. I actually did a good job at catching, until … well …

The offending baseball.

Below is the Offended.

This is the eye about two hours later. I am not showing you the whole area. I thought the color alone of that nice, first black eye in my life, along with that green tinge would be nice to see.

Apparently the ball tipped off my glove and hit a fence behind me, then hit me square in the eye, or round in the eye. But there it is. I yelled in pain once, and said ‘Oh, Gosh!” according to my son. Pretty proud of myself. Goes to show not using profanity or any bad language since the day I found out he was to be born paid off.

The offended.

Ronovan Hester is an author, with his debut historical adventure novel Amber Wake: Gabriel Falling now available for Pre-Order:

Amber Wake: Gabriel Falling on Amazon.com
Amber Wake; Gabriel Falling on Amazon.UK
Amber Wake; Gabriel Falling on Amazon.CA
Amber Wake; Gabriel Falling on Amazon.IN

He shares his life through his blog RonovanWrites.WordPress.com. His love of poetry, authors and community through his online world has lead to the creation of a site dedicated to book reviews, interviews and author resources known as LitWorldInterviews.com.

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Is my face red? How do you Define Love?

I attempted to write an article for my Thought Post, had the idea and everything, but something got in the way. Love. My son’s very first baseball game.

Oh, I arrived home with plenty of time to write the article, but it requires too much brain activity, and that’s something I don’t have at the moment. Why? Love.

I’m allergic to the sun and to heat. My son had to be at the fields at 11:45 for the parade of teams and the first pitch to be thrown out by a future NFL wide receiver expected to be drafted in the 4th or 5th round. “B” as I call my son here in Blog World, was very excited. He actually had him autograph his cap in a specific spot so the signature would not get rubbed and messed up. My son thinks a lot. Not sure where he gets it from.

After 4 PM on a beautiful sun filled day and a winning score of 12-2 I managed to get back to the car. Barely. Very dizzy. And even though I had 50 SPF on I was sun burned badly. Even through my shirt. Yes, apparently my allergy has become worse.

But why did I risk it? Love. I took precautions. I felt the heat, but I always do. I knew I would get burned a little. I knew the migraine I am in the middle of as I write this would be this bad, okay, I didn’t know it would be THIS bad. I can’t say I remember the last one that spiked this badly, but I have a dedication to this blog and my friends for some reason.

My son needed me there his first game. And I WANTED to be there.

That brings me to my question today, and I may compile the answers into a future post.

What is your definition of love? Or, how have you demonstrated your definition of love before?

Leave a comment.

You might also do a post of your own with your definition and example and leave a link to it in a comment below for others to read. But please let it be a new post, not an old post.






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3/4 of a Century

Everyone please visit Meredith’s post today and wish her a Happy Birthday! Yes, one of our Poetic Angels was born on this day. Show her love and appreciation.
Much Respect and Even GREATER Love to you, Meredith.

Meredith's Reveries

cakeLast night Mark, my son, asked me if I didn’t think I’d like to be 100, if only to say that I look old. Truthfully I have no expectations or goals; neither do I have any fears.

 “Give your entire attention to what God is doing right now, and don’t get worked up about what may or may not happen tomorrow. God will help you deal with whatever hard things come up when the time comes.” Matthew 6:34 MSG

The day began like any other day until I pressed the switch on the computer. Then the shower began. First Gogglebirthday12-thp opened up with an array of cakes to spell their appellation, and as I passed the mouse over it, a personal greeting. I felt so special. Then my phone began chirping it’s signal for texts and posts. I’m blessed by family and friends who remember and celebrate with me.


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A boy’s promise. A father’s joy.

When his son was 8 years old he promised his dad that when his dad became 57 he would give him his dream car, a 57 Chevy Bel-Air. Enjoy.


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© Copyright-All rights reserved by ronovanwrites.wordpress.com 2014

Bragging and Ranting. How I came up with a Blog Post.

I wanted to write an article about a Blog Tip today. I thought I would play off of my “How to come up with a book idea” article from the LWI site and do “How to come up with a blog post” but the juices just didn’t flow in that direction and I’ve basically done things like that.

Instead I am going to simply brag a bit.

I am not overly boastful. Yes, I seem to  brag about being humble and not seeking attention. I am not sure how to exactly understand the boasting of that but I am sure that it is boasting somehow. Anyway, people may have noticed I haven’t done any announcements about number of followers or views in a while. Not that there is anything wrong with that. I think it’s fine when you do it to sincerely thank followers for achieving those milestones. I have a friend that does that. Most of us never even expected but a handful of people to ever even see what we post. I am still surprised people show up here. Sure some days are slimmer than others, and weeks are slimmer then other weeks.

So what am I going to brag about?

‘B’ the Athlete

My son. My boy ‘B’ is awesome! He recently started basketball, his first try at sports. He’s 10 and was walking into the gym and the high school head football coach saw him, looked him up and down and smiled. “Have you ever thought about playing football?” A humorous conversation followed. ‘B’ is approaching 5 feet tall and is 100 lbs. And he’s not a chubby kid. There was visible droolage on the coaches face.

I am proud of how ‘B’ acted during his first practice. He’s serious about it and wants to learn and do well and he’s a team player.

‘B’ the Scholar

‘B’ is smart. I’ve mentioned that before. How smart is he? I’ve never mentioned that. A package came to the house from his school. Apparently he has been selected by one of the top 100 Universities in the world to take part in their gifted student program.

People don’t know about that at school, as in the other students, but tonight he came home and said he is considered one of the nerds in school. I suppose that’s because he makes good grades and knows answers in classes. So what if he is 10 and blew the Science teacher away by not calling a ‘beneficial relationship’ between animals a beneficial relationship, the dumb down version of the high school answer and instead called it a symbiotic relationship. And what if he did give the example of said relationship as being the warthog and mongoose and so what if the teacher had to look it up and was blown away and made a big deal out of it. And so what if that is not the only time it’s happened.

‘B’ watches educational programSmart Boys . . . on his own. ‘B’ checks out non-fiction books from the library . . . on his own. Wonder where he likes that knowing facts from? So what if both his parents happened to have been gifted students. One thrived and was a Star Student. The other was told to kick back when transferring schools in the third grade until the rest of the class caught up and the month that took led to that parent checking out of caring about learning and didn’t care again until in their twenties.

What am I proud of?

I am proud that ‘B’ is still moving forward even though he’s misunderstood as teachers don’t know how to handle a gifted child that can do math in his head and does not understand why he has to show work in the way he doesn’t come up with the answer. People think a gifted child has it easy. No, a smart child can have it easy. A gifted child sometimes has to work twice as hard because he has to learn two ways of doing the same thing and he doesn’t get the help and support he needs.

I understand that students need to know certain things, but as a teacher I also believe and did this myself, as a teacher you pay attention and recognize how each student learns. Too much? I don’t want to hear it. I know it’s difficult, but if you only became a teacher because you want a couple of months off during the summer and you thought it would be an easy job, then go find something else and let the real teachers who love their subjects and have a desire to have a student understand and learn get the job you don’t deserve.

I don’t want anyone thinking I am talking about my son’s teachers. I am talking about things I have experienced and witnessed. The phone-in teachers who haven’t changed a test they give in 20 years.

Well, there is my brag and a rant. Now you know how to come up with a Blog Post. Start writing your life and see where it leads. You’ll end up finding out a lot about yourself along the way.

Much Respect





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My Boy ‘B’ and the ‘Safe Room’.

My boy ‘B’ was hysterical yesterday morning.

You know, kids are the greatest things ever when you have them. Not everyone has them, you know. So really I can’t say they are the greatest thing ever for everyone. For me they are.

Imagine alarms going off and you’re 10 years old and being rushed into a safe room.  Yes, a ‘safe room’. And you are 10 and you know it is called a ‘safe room’. ‘B’ is smart. I’ve mentioned that before. Now when I say smart, I don’t just mean the kind that every parent talks. The boy is actually gifted. Freaky smart. He does math in his head in a way that just freaks me out. He tries to explain it and I just stare at him and nod.

He had a teacher that said never try to fix what isn’t broken. He has a gift for it so leave him alone. No problem there, dudette.

But you know what? He’s 10 years old. We forget how our kids are kids these days. They are pushed to be older. People say, “You can’t protect them forever, you have to let them grow up sometime.” or “They can’t watch Public Television forever.”

Pardon me as I revert to a full blown parental mode for a moment. “Shut up, you freakin’ jerks!”

I’m better now. Can you believe I was told that I should let my, what, maybe 4 year old watch shows with guns in it, like violent cartoons and play with toy guns? That he had to learn sometime about guns? That is when my calmer Dad side came out, “When he is old enough to know the difference between real guns and toy guns, one that kills and one that looks real but squirts water, then he might play with toy guns or watch TV shows with a touch more animated violence.” The conversation ended there. It was made clear that parenting of my son was my business.

Do you want to know what ‘B’ watches on his own? He watches Public Television, yes the cartoons, because they are educational. Yes, he likes to learn about animals and dinosaurs and books. And guess what? He likes to watch This Old House and Antiques Road Show. I will walk through the room and he’s watching them discuss  a Civil War rifle and he starts telling me about it.

A child is a parent’s life. At least until they leave the house after graduating. At that point, so long, don’t come asking for money, and keep your laundry to yourself.

But at the age of 10 and 45 minutes from you, in a ‘safe room’ with alarms constantly sounding? The child is your life.

Yesterday . . . here, I was mostly fine . . . in this location. My son however ended up right in the line of fire . . . of a Tornado. Fortunately he got there before the bottom fell out of the sky.  Actually the bottom fell out before he got there but was close enough.

Of course my day was spent watching the weather maps. Checking for what it was like when it was time for him to leave. He left his school about 20 minutes before another Tornado came through. Fortunately he was picked up about 30 minutes early.

Why am I telling you all of this? Well this is my blog, and this is where I share things. I used to keep all of this inside so he wouldn’t see the worry, and I still do. You see I am the calm one. I am the one that doesn’t make a big deal out of things. How that is, I have no idea? But apparently I have this thing with kids, even though I never really liked them much. Unless you are a child that I call my own, I tend not to really like you much. No, that’s not quite right. I simply do not seek out your attention.

So what happens? I am like that person that can’t stand cats who visits a person with a cat. The cat can tell something is not right. It knows you are paying it extra attention for some reason so it decides to give you extra attention.

When I would be in a classroom of 1rst grade students, if I sat down there would be one in my lap in seconds. Now I love little girls. What man does not want a little Daddy’s girl? But that’s a big uh uh. So here I am, Fibromyalgia and Osteoarthritis, not knowing any of that yet, and having to stand for 8 hours.

Yes, I look like a big red teddy bear.

So I have rambled a bit longer than I intended, not that I intended to ramble. And now I am at the end.

Kids are great. When you get mad at your kid, and you know you will, think of ‘safe room’ and your child being led away to a ‘safe room’. Then decide if you are still mad.


Much Respect

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