This publication is the exclusive property of cj Schlottman, and is protected under the US Copyright Act of 1976 and all other applicable international, federal, state and local laws. The contents of this blog may not be reproduced as a whole or in part, by any means whatsoever, without consent of the author, cj Schlottman. All rights reserved.

Please Visit My Other Blogs!

Friday, November 7, 2014

Y is for YAWL

Y is for yawl. It's a contraction for you-all. You may have seen this word spelled ya’ll, but that is incorrect. Here in The Deep South, if you don’t sound the “w,” we’ll know you’re not from around here. It is a plural pronoun. Never under any circumstances should you refer to just one person as “yawl.”

Here are a few examples of correct usage:

“How yawl?”
“What yawl doin’?”
“Yawl been to the new picture show?”
“Why don’t yawl come over to the house for supper?”
“Yawl won’t believe this!”
“Hey, yawl!”
“Where yawl been?”

I want yawl to know that life is good here on Saint Simons Island. It’s sweater weather, perfect for riding bikes and walking on the beach where the migratory shore birds are on the move or for sitting on a bench overlooking the sound and watching the sunshine glimmer on the water. Last night’s full moon pushed the tide up into the rivers and marshes so high, you’d have thought we’d had a flood. I wish yawl could’ve seen it. The last of the warm weather crowds are gone, and the weekenders are a calmer sort. Yawl would love the slow pace and the beautiful tunnels our ancient live oaks form over many of our streets and roads. As winter approaches, the shadows they form take on an almost purple hue. I can’t think of anywhere I’d rather be. Yawl would love it.    

This little piece is linked to Jenny Matlock's Alphabe-Thursday. Please visit and read the other posts. Yawl'll love it.

Saturday, November 26, 2011

Fries @ Small Stories and Stuff

This Centus will be my last for a while.  No, I’m not bailing out for good.  I have a new blog, and I am spending  more time on essays and poems.  I need to get “My Mismatched Life” off the ground, but that does not mean that I won’t be around to read some posts here and try to reply to as many as I can.  Just think of me as part of the wallpaper.  Those of you who have been with me a while, please visit and comment and/or email me constructive criticism - about format, content, anything you see that I can improve.

Now for my contribution for today:

Black Friday had steamrolled over Susan at her job at the Food Court’s most popular fast food spot.  The place was mobbed, her head spinning all day, punching in orders at such lightening speed that her fingertips were sore.
She pulled off her greasy uniform, and without a glance at the shower, fell into bed.  Sleep was a black hole, and she rode it’s winds into oblivion.  
“Bzzzzzzz.  Bzzzzzzzz.  The alarm clock sounded.  She pulled the cover over her head, praying it was a dream.
Then the phone chimed in.  She groped for it, pulling it to her ear.
“Would you like fries with that?”

Monday, October 31, 2011

Can't You See? - A Saturday Centus

look hard  
no   harder  
see them now?  
keep watching
they are there
squit real hard
shiny points
golden twinkles
don’t see them?
don’t you believe?

© 2011 cj Schlottman

Tuesday, October 25, 2011

A Little Story Seed - A Saturday Centus

The Saturday Centus Button on my sidebar isn't working as it should, so to go to the latest entries, Click Here.

I planted a little story seed from Jenny’s garden and watched it begin to grow.  The first shoot was covered in nouns.  Then came pronouns and adjectives, followed closely by verbs and adverbs.  The last leaves to sprout were interjections, conjunctions and prepositions.
The bones of a story stood before me.  My head was overflowing with them, and they began to stream from my ears, eyes and nose.  When I opened my mouth, a flock of adverbs flew out in formation, ready for the page.
Then they all settled on my keyboard and I began to type. 
The End

Monday, October 24, 2011

I Never Did Learn

Trouble in Blogger-Land again.  When I click on any Saturday Centus button, it will only make me to last week's meme.  I finally backed into this week's through another blog, so I'm posting last week's little story here.  Hope you enjoy it.

Jenny's prompt for Saturday Centus last week is this a photo.  

I know it's Monday morning, but I worked all weekend.  That's my excuse, and I'm sticking to it.  Most of you know how Saturday Centus works, but in case you are new, click on the Saturday Centus button on my sidebar to learn all about it.  There you will find the other entries and links to Jenny's other blogs.  Here is my offering, which happens to be a true story:

The contrast of green leaves hanging over the porch and gray unpainted wood was startling.  Grass smelled sweet, was soft under my bare feet as I approached the rickety porch.  I stepped onto the groaning platform, the vision of my grandmother’s washing machine emerging.  
I could see myself, at five, fishing a sock from the water and feeding it into the wringer, my arm following up to my arm pit as my feet left the floor.  
Screams brought Lizzie lumbering from the clothesline, and she unhinged the ringer, freeing my bruised but unbroken arm.
“Child, you’ll never learn, will you?”

Sunday, October 2, 2011

Saturday Centus 10/02/2011

"The number you have reached is no longer in service." 
That is Jenny Matlock’s prompt for this week’s Saturday Centus.  Each week, she gives us Centusians a prompt from which to write a story or poem.  The catch is, we have to produce a piece that is no longer than 100 words, excluding the number of words in the prompt.  So, this week, we have 110 words.  To learn all the rules and read the other submissions, just click on the Saturday Centus Button on my Side Bar.  Thing is, I don’t know what to do with this prompt.  (Happens all the time, but I somehow muddle through).
And I Don’t Care
"The number you have reached is no longer in service."  
More likely, my brain is no longer in service.  That’s the second time today I’ve misdialed the same number.  
Yesterday, I found my Blackberry in the pantry and opened the fridge to retrieve my just cooked Lean Cuisine, which was, of course, in the microwave.
I couldn’t find my debit card, and finally found it in the back pocket of my jeans, which were in the laundry hamper.
I forgot to fetch the mail, got lost on the way to Kroger, and, oh, I forgot to take my medicine.
My brain is no longer in service.  (And I don’t care).

Sunday, September 25, 2011

cj Gets it Right @ Small Stories and Such

“cj, what were you thinking?  It’s not like you to ignore the rules.  I am very disappointed in you.  I clearly stated that the exercise would be in dialogue, and you wrote a fanciful poem instead.  You will have to write, ‘I will always read the rules carefully’ 100 times on the blackboard.”  

“Please, Mrs. Jenny, may I do it another time?  I have softball practice, and Coach will have my hide if I miss it.”  

“Young lady, you are responsible for your own actions and the consequences thereof.  You may be accountable to Coach, but right now, I own you.  Start writing.”   


“Jenny, you’ve had one drink already.  Are you seriously ordering another Martini?”  

“I’m seriously ordering another Martini.  You don’t know what a challenge and a pain in my backside that Schlottman girl can be.   

© cjschlottman 2011