Wednesday, May 20, 2015


Time Travel: A PUSH INTO THE FUTURE: A PUSH INTO THE FUTURE We know what we want to do, don’t we?  Got a plan lined out, general direction ahead of us.  Then sometime...



We know what we want to do, don’t we?  Got a plan lined out, general direction ahead of us.  Then sometimes we get a shove, a push right into the future.  How many times have we had something wake us up with abruptness?  I have been plodding along, doing some of this and that, but not really accomplishing anything that makes me shout “Eureka!  I’m getting there.”

A small rock changed that.  Because of a small rock MYRTY-TY-LY-KY has begun putting words on to Chapter One.  I have quit procrastinating about writing a book.  The goal has become to write every day, maybe a hundred words or, if I’m going strong, five hundred words, or who knows.

All because of a rock.  We are having fabulous weather in Phoenix.  Mid 80s in May, that is unbelievable.  We usually are over the 100s by now.  We are all loving it.  After my nap, instead of going to the YM to get some exercise, I started out on a walk.  Pedometer, keys and ID in one pocket.  Cellphone in the other.  The time is something after five in the afternoon and I’m following the streets that have sunshine.  I walk at a pleasurable fast pace, keeping a casual eye out for anyone who might be a danger.  All is quiet.

Stoplight shows red at McKinley and 1st Avenue.  I stop, wait patiently.  Then it happens.  A crack on the back of my head.  My first thought pictured a coconut falling on my head, it had that intensity.  I went almost down, came up almost in tears and looked around.

A poor soul, female, much shorter than me, ragged hair, dressed in old leftovers, scrawny arms holding a sack of some kind and swinging toward me.  She had come from nowhere. 

That I was frightened would be an understatement.  I was scared to death.  I ran sideways, not wanting to turn my back on her, holding my head, somewhat crying and hollering at the top of my voice, “Help, Help.”  She followed, dancing around me, that packed something in her hand and I thought she was going to throw herself on me, fighting me.  Cars kept passing by and I could see the faces turned in my direction.  This scene went on for minutes, a scradely being jumping up and down at me, but never getting within actual touching distance again.  It seemed forever before help came.  I moved away from her, continuing to holler, and then my knight in shining green armor arrived – Richard in his green Discount cab.  He pulled over to the curb, opened the back door and I jumped in safe. 

He drove in to the Circle K parking lot and called 911.  The girl remained in the vicinity, sitting on the curb, fingering whatever was there.  It was when we were answering the policeman’s questions that I learned my taxi driver rescuer has the same birthdate as I do.  Really my Knight.  The fire engine crew came and after the medic told me that there was no break in my skin, although a very large hurting bump was obvious, I declined going to the hospital. 

Home was just a couple of blocks away.  I could have walked, but I was given three choices of transportation.  Richard, the cab driver who saved me, or the policeman in a car or the fire engine.  Of course, no doubt about it, I opted for the fire engine.  Four stalwart young good-looking hunks were my escorts and – another coincidence – one had the same last name as my maiden name.  They even, at my request, gave some toots and whistles on the fire truck as they drove me home.  My only disappointment in the stately ride was that there was no one around our apartment front door to see me come stepping out of a magnificent  fire engine into the arms of the fireman. 

All of the excitement over with now.  I went to a friend’s apartment before going home.  She didn’t have any ice so she took a packet of frozen chicken out of her freezer, wrapped it in a dish towel and I held it against my bump.  That and small sips of wine, plus talking it out, calmed me down and I slept fine that night. 

The next morning another friend stopped by to be sure I was OK.  Already the news had magnified itself that I was mugged and in the hospital.   Our Salvation Army pastor Major Pam came over to check on me. 
I told her and others during the day that my guardian angels were taking good care of me.  I have no doubt about that.  Thank you, Ed.  I feel well taken care of.  It is that poor raggedy girl who needs the help. 
Sunday passed as usual or actually even much better than usual.  Four friends went out to eat in balmy spring weather to one of our favorite restaurants. 
I am taking the time to write this blog because I write everything.  That rock brought a reality to me.  Maybe God was telling me something.  I got the message.  Myrt-Ty-Ky-Ly, the fierce dragoness, now has Chapter One with two pages written.  I know where she is going and she will figure out how to get there.
Pictures have been recreated to tell the story.  Blog written and going out into the world.  Now back to work.

Mariam Lewis Heiny Cheshire

Saturday, May 2, 2015

Time Travel: time for High Tea

Time Travel: time for High Tea: Isn’t it obvious where we are? Time for High Tea at Harrods of London.  The way to arrive in style:  Take the Egyptian Escalator to...

time for High Tea

Isn’t it obvious where we are?

Time for High Tea at Harrods of London.  The way to arrive in style:  Take the Egyptian Escalator to the tearoom.  We grandly sweep to our table, which is waiting for us with fine bone China teapot and teacups. 

When the menu arrives we might select Cherry Marzipan tea and cucumber sandwiches.   

Aah, how nice.  Actually Amanda and Mariam are at the Women’s Expo, Phoenix Convention Center.   We had a great time looking over the exhibits, particularly the ones with special made pendants.  Or as Mariam calls them, “pretty rocks.”

We acquired our hats at this event and now we are ready for High Tea anyplace.  Maybe at The Atrium in Dublin next time!  Or Mothers Day at Laura Danieli!

#Mariamlewischeshire  #thealternatesafeworldofsanctuary #myrt-ty-ky-ly