Beat the Heat at the Library on the 12th!

Saturday, August 12th!

Hobnob with local authors next weekend--

or

if you're the shy type and socializing isn't your thing, at least come 

say hello to me---Eve Gaal--I'm the author behind this blog--Intangible Hearts and the previous one: The Desert Rocks. I'll be showcasing and signing my novel

Penniless Hearts and a short novella: The Fifth Commandment.

I will also have on hand copies of an

 anthology about women, titled

 Theories of Her which features three of my poems. 

 Libraries are treasure troves 

of information and discovery.

 Create a family experience by 

meeting other immensely

 talented authors of 

children's books, young adult books, non-fiction, poetry,

 local history, non-fiction, even fantasy books. 

Readers of all ages are welcome!

The event is at the Feldheym Central Library 

at 555 W. 6th St. 

San Bernardino

1:00 p.m. to 5:30 p.m.

Hope to see you there!

Degrees of Ahh--(A poem)

Night Swimming

Fiona the wild rescued Chihuahua sent away the ducks but they kept coming back. They were sneaking in at night for moonlight swimming in our lap pool.

It sounds romantic but they were also not using Charmin bath tissues or even those newfangled flush-able wipes. The pool guy would clean around the gluey mess at the bottom and insist on higher fees for managing the indelicate mess. The bacteria level made it a risky swim akin to jumping in a toddler pool after lunch. And the area around the pool became dangerously slippery and downright disgusting.

 Finally, after many silly ideas such as a scarecrow which didn’t work and looked ugly, and a small toy crocodile in the shallow end that also didn’t work, because California ducks have never seen crocodiles, thus have no reason to fear them, we came up with a creative solution. We found a metal sculpture of a menacing peacock. Once painted—it looks realistic and bam—no more ducks. 

Dog Days!

 Dog Days of Summer!

This is Pinky and Fiona sitting in the pleasant morning rays.

Did I mention it’s the dog days of summer around here? I am super appreciative for a daytime high of only 112 here, as opposed to the scorching heat at my previous residence located in the Coachella Valley, where I recall heat-waves over 120 degrees. We lived in the desert town of La Quinta for over eight years and what made it difficult was that it often doesn’t cool down at night. The surrounding clay mountains suck up the heat and radiate it back out during the entire evening. It sounds lovely in theory but I remember 95 at midnight. The adjacent city is understandably called Thermal. The temperatures out there are so high that the meteorologists don’t even mention it on the Los Angeles news channels, because then no one would want to play golf, and few would want to visit the gorgeous resorts.

Of course those same forecasters talk it up in winter, attracting snowbirds from the coldest part of the planet.  Unbelievable as it may sound, La Quinta’s weather occasionally competes with the highs in Death Valley. I think where we now reside is probably located half way between both of those places.

Lucky for me, I prefer warm, dry heat and thus Desert Rocks— is the name of my creative writing company. We all have limits and there's also something called a heat index that describes how humidity creates an ugly heat that feels hotter than mere degrees. Here’s my dry weather meter:

1.       75-Perfect weather for almost every outdoor activity. (Especially dining Al fresco).

2.       85-Nice but don’t ask me to do any gardening. (Honestly, I don’t pull weeds or do windows in any weather.)

3.       95-Let’s go swimming!

4.       105-Maybe I’ll read a book or take a nap. 

5.       110+Plus--Put on the air-conditioning and no one gets hurt.

REMEMBER;

 NEVER LEAVE A CHILD

 OR PET IN A HOT CAR!!!

 

Pinky is becoming overheated in this picture.
Her tongue and body language indicates
 that she needs to go inside where it's cooler.

How about you? What’s your limit? 

Abundant Love and Crosses

Luke 15:7-“Likewise, I say unto you, there is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner that repenteth.”

One at a Time

Eve Gaal

Imagine my bewilderment at coming across this

collection of crosses probably made in China.

The cynic in me laughed--

maybe my dark side.

While the best in me hailed it as an achievement

here in our egocentric

capitalistic society.

A display of blatant commercialism

necessitated by

those who thirst for life.

But does it matter?

If even one human being

perhaps while making these crosses,

painting them, packing them, stacking them

begins to believe?

If one sailor on a

giant freighter crossing

through the Panama Canal

lifts one of these boxes and peeks inside.

They’ll decorate walls,

lonely  halls or

the side of roads where hate may have raged.

One mind that reconsiders,

forgives—

a family kept together--

a marriage saved.

A tribute to the fallen--

a comforting memory,

a marker of love.

If only one,

eye rests on the symbol and prays?

If one teenager who loses a friend to drugs

takes a tearful gaze

at the commemorative cross

reflecting on ‘why’.

If one life is saved,

from the clutches of doom—

the fire and fumes--

and one heart has turned toward God--

He will rejoice and be glad.

John 6:35

Jesus said to them, "I am the bread of life; he who comes to Me will not hunger, and he who believes in Me will never thirst.”

Social Media Hearts--(A Poem)

Look at the world,

where varied types of hearts commingle.

Some seem fully oxygenated,

gassed up

ready to whirl over others like a lawnmower.

Delete key overload,

parental controls,

a pack of unfriended hearts--

who had once made us smile.

Adult supervision lingers as

spiritual guidance,

legal representation,

group administrators,

and an authoritative boss.

Assisted living pulls hearts into

managed care and hospice.

One end is another beginning.

Wary hearts meekly gasp for air,

a word,

perhaps a meal.

Some are fearful and alone--

they kick--

act embarrassed—

ashamed of the past.

Sad hearts often find themselves mortified to be human.

They feel the species is regressing--

it does sound rather depressing.

And science invented a pill,

increasing serotonin--

flowing with emotional  dopamine

numbing like legalized cannabis.

Look away, look away, look away Dixieland.

Watch the news—hear the fire and the missiles--

see handsome soldiers break their mother’s hearts.

There are evil hearts that stab with knives made of sarcasm.

Sometimes they crawl into the recesses of their ventricles

pushing their own bloody convictions

behind an alias,

a nameless heart.

Cowardly hearts that prey

without a spine.

Waiting for a payoff?

Or simply inebriated?

Unattached and disloyal knights

who don’t care about anybody’s heart.   

Courageous hearts peacefully march for rights.

They proudly protest unfairness.

Stomping out bad hearts with vocalizations,

banners and communal prayer.

Like a roller-coaster—hearts can skyrocket at the medical center.

Hearts come and go.

On foot or carried on a stretcher.

Some have stitches and stents--

some turn to God and repent.

Wild ones twirl like overjoyed ballerinas.

Some people paint dreams around their heart like a picket fence.

They weave through clouds on multi-hued fantasy creatures,

and sing or write poetry about grateful hearts.   

Some are volunteering,

rescuing, knitting or putting out fires.

Millions of magnificent hearts connect into a loving tapestry.

But can honest hearts keep the good from unraveling?

Can we manage the truth behind our limitations,

while guarding innocent hearts?

In Time of Harmony by Paul Signac 1893

#

by Eve Gaal

Can I Be of Service?

Whether blogging or posting anywhere on social media, today is a good time for me, and all of us in fact, 

to ask these all-important questions:

You know I'm experienced
 if I still have this on a shelf!

Who will listen? Who cares?

How do I reply? 

Am I too harsh? 

Repetitive?  Too boring?   

How can I make others care? 

Do I sound immature or unprofessional?

Is spelling important?

Can I be misconstrued?

What are my intentions?

Is there a better way to reach my goals?

Top Seven Questions.

1.       Am I making a difference?

2.       Am I being original?

3.       Am I being honest?

4.       If no one reads my post, will I be upset?

5.       Have I helped anyone including myself?

6.       Is my message or comment important?

7.       If a tree falls in the forest and no one hears it, did it fall or not?

 Of course it did. So if no one is listening or buying, does it mean you're invisible?

I don't know, are you? 

Find out more at: http://evegaal.com

Need help communicating? Want heartfelt ideas and descriptive posts that create action? Maybe what you need is more humor and wittier tweets with fewer typos?

I have written ad copy for major newspapers selling every type of product from automobiles to multi-million dollar homes. I have award-winning sales experience coupled with a background in creative writing, a degree in English literature and also a graduate degree in Human Behavior.

 My words may help your business sing and achieve revenue growth!

 (Reasonable flat fee—retainer style pricing available)

Contact Eve Gaal, M.A. at Desert Rocks Creative Media to clarify and simplify your messages, your advertising and everything you need for social media today! (evegaal@gmail.com)