Duckisodes

The thing is, you never know what will trigger a creative thought and where that creative though will take you. But the real magic happens when the noise falls away on the inside and you hear the pitter-patter of little webbed feet. What happens if you let your inner duck wing it on your computer?

Today, my quinoa is mouthing off at me as if I had the time to deal with a duck right now. The White crew will be here at 9:30 and the actors are scheduled to start arriving at 10. Unless the imminent duck knows how to remain “Quiet on set”, she will have to wait until after we wrap for the day. Ring ring ring. It's only 9AM. Who could be showing up 30 minutes early?

I must admit that I had a dream of walking the red carpet myself but not as a giant face on the sliver screen (Eech! That thought gives me chills) but as the artistic talent behind a visual masterpiece that ensnares the senses of the science fiction/fantasy aficionado. Of all The Ducks that Are Quacking, there is but one duck who holds the answer to the question. Do you know the question?

As I became engrossed in the writings of Napolean Hill, the engine assisted aerial performers seemed to slip into another dimension…or was it I who tapped into a parallel universe— a universe where Earth was pristine, intact, and peaceful, where people pushed around wheel barrows filled with gold. Was this the gold he spoke of?

Some ducks even go so far as to disguise themselves in a way that makes them repulsive to anyone who is desperately searching for an invitation to the Gangnam procession of their own minds. I wonder if they are just afraid of being bitten. You know that old idiom once bitten, twice shy? So will an otherwise shy duck chance a visit?

Whoa that was a frackin’ bizarre dream I just had. What time is it? 5 AM? I’ll take the wake up call as a good omen. Rising before the crack of dawn to Richard Simmons with the body of a duck in short-shorts, a wife beater, leg warmers, and a bandanna is not up there in my life’s bucket list, but at least he gets my day off and running…running away, far away. Is he my duck for the day?

I had just made it past the covered pedestrian walkway when I slammed into the invisible dog-not-moving-anymore wall. I turned around and saw Lola’s paws planted firmly on the pavement and her body rigid. “Here comes more teendog attitude,” I thought to myself.  But I couldn't have been more wrong.

Head set on...Plugged in...Listening to relaxing music blended with the monotone drone of the engines...and flying high. At 36,000 feet to be precise. Just another 3 1/2 hours and I'll be landing in the ocean side paradise of San Diego. Good time for a Sunday duckisode. Who will show up this time?

I had asked a question and the question had brought me to Ancient Egypt where people of all nationalities had journeyed great distances to hear me speak. The crowd below me radiated with hope and love. They knew that I had an important message to share, but the question that brought me there was still looping behind my teary eyes: Why am I here?

Apparently cats and dogs aren't the only creatures that fall from the sky in stormy weather these days. A cool breeze off the lake teases my Tina Turner coiffed dancing poodle with the scent of a duck landing. Lola rings the "Gotta-go" bell and we're off to investigate. Who will show up this time?

I saw a pair of dark, intense eyes popping in and out of my periphery.  The more I research and analyzed, the more frequent and more daring those eyes became, until, in an act of sheer desperation they parked themselves above the top edge of my computer screen and seemed to say...

I was standing here with a stack of stickies, a marker, and bright coloured poster boards strewn across every conceivable surface strategizing the WomanNotWaiting.com vision. I was excited. I was driven. I was compelled to pour inspiration after inspiration onto yellow rectangles when I got distracted. Was that a quack I heard?