Denise E Lindquist
Bio
I am married with 7 children, 27 grands, and 12 great-grandchildren. I am a culture consultant part-time. I write A Poem a Day in February for 8 years now. I wrote 4 - 50,000 word stories in NaNoWriMo. I write on Vocal/Medium weekly.
Stories (680/0)
Beautiful Lights
In the early 2000’s, I was in an art gallery, and there I saw a painting that had something like what I experienced shortly after my reiki master and I had done a reiki circle together. Well, she wasn’t a master yet, as she had just come back from getting a level 3 attunement. She wanted to give me an attunement for level 3 reiki practitioner as she knew I was a level 2. She wanted to practice right away and even though I wasn’t interested I agreed, as I was curious. I received the attunement and then she told me, “Oh, by the way, you will grieve and re-grieve things for about a month, I was told. Reiki 3 is a spiritual healing and that means we have to grieve what we haven’t to get to where we are meant to be.” “You could have told me before I agreed!” I said. She said, “Then you may have said no. It won’t be a big deal. You will see.” So, there we were, in a reiki circle, her teaching me how to send reiki as a group, as level 3 reiki teachers. Not masters yet but working in that direction. Then she said, “I want to send DJ (medicine woman) reiki as she was not feeling well when I spoke with her earlier today. I must warn you though that she doesn’t like cats.” I thought I knew what she meant as my cat Rose was always right there when we were doing reiki. I wasn’t expecting what happened though. We were sending reiki together when suddenly Rose, jumped into the air, hollered loudly, and took off running. “DJ is here” said Katie, all matter of fact. It didn’t bother me that this happened at the time, as I have pushed Rose off many a reiki table and even shooed her away from under the table still other times. It bothered me later. What did she mean DJ was here?
By Denise E Lindquist3 years ago in Journal
The Bronx Bull
“His nickname was the Bronx Bull or Raging Bull. His real name was Giacobbe “Jake” LaMotta.” I didn’t see the movie based on his real-life experience as a boxer and a stand-up comedian. I also didn’t read his autobiography. He lived 95 years and died in 2017. Not that many years ago. “He fought 199 times for 174 wins (109 by KO), 19 losses (1 by KO), and 6 draws between 1940 and 1965, with a break between June 1952 and January 1955, years he dedicated to the festive atmosphere of show business.”
By Denise E Lindquist3 years ago in FYI
The Gift
Stephanie, recently divorced, with three grown children decided to take a trip to California. She couldn’t think of anyone she knew in California, and she thought that would be good, as then she wouldn’t be expected to see anyone while there. She had never been to California, and if anyone asked, she would tell them that. And just maybe how she has always been interested in moving to Hollywood to be in the movies. That would about do it for most of her friends and family. They would for sure think she was going crazy, or minimally having a nervous breakdown with her divorce being final just last week. That was as far as she got though with her plans to travel. Even though she had hoped she could talk the kids into going somewhere on vacation with her, she knew that they were all so busy with their lives, that it would be close to impossible for any of them to get away. All she knew was that it may be good for her to get away for a while. No plans about where she would go in California or how she would get there.
By Denise E Lindquist3 years ago in Fiction
Good grief
I went to meet a friend for dinner and when I got to her, she said, “When I got here, I saw your car and could not see anyone moving in there and I hoped you weren’t in there dead after I had been sitting in here for about ten minutes!” We both laughed! Then I started to think, “what if I were sitting there dead, would she just continue to sit and wait in the restaurant? For how long would she wait?” Such silliness. Or was it? What if it was a premonition of what is yet to come? Well, if I were to die like that, it would be okay with me.
By Denise E Lindquist3 years ago in Fiction
The Suspicious Looking Package
The suspicious package wrapped in brown paper What ever could it be? Well, could it be a caper? The small, pickled flower buds with a distinctive salty taste. Very tasty and not available to most, and that is such a waste. Is that what is in the box, covered in brown paper, a caper? Someone else said, I thought caper was capering around. The children were capering, or dancing without sound. Or how about pulling off a caper, or I am too old for this caper? You can read about it in the paper! So lets get back to what was in that package? I love a great surprise, will it be the best ever package? But who is to judge? I have been getting packages from publisher’s clearinghouse for many months now. I never know what is coming, as it always looks better in the add than it does when it arrives, well anyhow. Time to write out the checks for the packages I have already received. I am getting older and it is so much easier to be deceived. I thought the PCH drawing was months ago. And I am still waiting to hear the winners you know. My favorite package is the tennis racket looking bug zapper gizmo. As when we went camping it zapped many a mosquito. Because of the pandemic many more people are ordering through eBay and amazon. I have ordered less than many and the husband has not ordered any, as he is busy mowing the lawn. Here comes a big sigh and a big, big yawn. Suspicious packages wrapped in brown paper remind me of the girly magazines that used to be in the magazine racks and are in the mail that way. So, what else comes that way, I say. I hear the US mail and UPS discourage packages wrapped in brown paper and brown paper with string. I am sure it is okay if you want to carry it to its destination, all the brown paper that you can bring. My very favorite suspicious package wrapped in brown paper, was so light weight, with no indication of what was in there, with no name. My niece had bought me some great looking sunglasses that I had admired on her and they were just the same. At the time I was looking for a nice pair of glasses and complimenting every pair I saw that stood out. She did not say anything, when all of a sudden she sent a picture of her in her glasses that were glasses just like mine, and lookout as I did shout. I was so pleased and so excited to see her in them and to know who I could thank for my sunglasses at last. What a blast!
By Denise E Lindquist3 years ago in Fiction
Better Than Sex Cake
When I was first dating my husband, he got mad at me when I said that the chocolate cake my mom made was better than sex. He did not know that the cake was called that. My mother said her friend called the cake Robert Redford. What surprised me is how my mother would make that cake every week until no one was eating it any longer. She did that with pineapple upside down cake too and other deserts, pies, cookies, and fudge. She would get a recipe she liked and wear it out. Also, mother would eat her desert in the morning for breakfast. Her logic was that she had all day to work it off. That was probably fine before she was diabetic, and not so good as a diabetic. Once she was diabetic, I remember her telling me that she would sometimes chew up her desert and then spit it out. She said that way she could still taste it but she didn’t get all of the calories. I remember thinking, is my mother bulimic? Then I never thought about it again, as I never saw her do that.
By Denise E Lindquist3 years ago in Fiction
The Cowgirl that Wasn't
When I was just a young girl my mother would always talk about how her cousin Wally Ann always wanted to be a cowgirl. She wore cowboy boots, a hat and gloves with a belt and buckle. Mom said, it was always the cowboys and cowgirls that won the battles and got everything on television. I know she thought that was why her cousin wanted to be a cowgirl. I remember thinking that it might not be a bad idea to be that rather than an Indian. In the town I grew up in Indian’s were not treated very well. Today it is called discrimination and racism. That was the most racist town I ever lived in.
By Denise E Lindquist3 years ago in Fiction
Storytime at 820 Clausen Avenue
My mother always read bedtime stories and there were many. I do not remember everyone, and it is even difficult to remember some of them at times. When she did not have a book handy, then she would tell a story. Stories she heard growing up. She talked about the Gaga. She never said it was a man. It was always described as more of a monster, although she never said that either. Once the story was told, it was easy to say, make sure you are home before dark or gaga will get you. Or stay in bed or gaga will get you. Most of the stories she told had a lesson. A moral or value involved, and many were not given a beginning, middle and end as stories are written and told now. It was up to the listener to figure out the end to the story especially. To figure out what was meant by the story. My mother was living when my children were told about the Gaga. They would get home before dark, and they would stay in bed once they went to bed. I was thinking how unnecessary and still they both love scary stories and movies. So maybe it was just me that did not like that as I do not like watching scary movies and have not as a child or as an adult woman.
By Denise E Lindquist3 years ago in Families
The End of the World or A New Beginning
Hello NASA, is anyone there? This is Apollo 20, returning from our extended stay on the moon. Is anyone there? Come in NASA… No response. What is going on Captain? It is more of our same experience from the moon, and we thought it had to be our communication devices. We made the decision to complete our required duties on the moon and then to return to earth as scheduled because we thought it was just our communication pieces. Now, it is more of the same, with the devices that are on the shuttle. The same no response, like it was on the moon. In the space shuttle, no response, and now it is time to worry. What happened to earth? To the people? No news. No communication now and it has probably been a couple months from our last message.
By Denise E Lindquist3 years ago in Fiction
The Mystery of the 215
Adapted from the BBC News: “A mass grave of 215 children found at Kamloops Indian Residential School in British Columbia, that was closed in 1978. Prime Minister Trudeau said it was a “painful reminder” of a “shameful chapter of our country’s history”. Causes and timings of the deaths are not currently known. The loss was never documented by the school administrators.
By Denise E Lindquist3 years ago in Criminal
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