All Posts Filed in ‘good luck


I was in a pickle! (or the story of the Symphony Number 3)


Many years ago, I worked as an intern in a radio station making interviews and reporting about culture. I had to fill a space of three minutes with news about the music events in the city. One day I had prepared an interview with the conductor of an orchestra who was going to perform that evening the Brahms Symphony Number 3. But he failed me at the last moment. I was in a pickle! I had three minutes empty to fill with whatever.

I decided to search in the archive of the radio station the record of the Symphony and talk a little about it and about the orchestra, but the archive was very messy. Plus I have a kind of dyslexia, so instead of looking for the box with the label Brahms Symphony number 3, I was looking desperately for the label Symphony number 1.

The clock was ticking And I heard from the archive my boss on air saying: “…and in a few seconds our contributor Olga will tell us the lasts news about culture in our city”.

So I prayed with all my strength: dear God let me find the record! …And suddenly I saw it! The box with the label I was looking for: the Symphony Number 1.

I took it and went running to the studio, gave it to the technician and sit down next to my boss, ready to talk at the microphone. When I checked to my notes, I realized in dismay my mistake. But just then, the technician put on the record and the music that sounded was the Symphony number 3 . The one I needed. The record was inside the wrong box! . I had would never found it if I hadn’t made that mistake with the numbers.

I really think my prayers were heard that day.

Ragtag Daily Prompt: Pickle



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Yesterday morning, the wind opened violently a window, and the curtain swept everything  that was on the table. A vase with flowers, two photos, a bottle with soda and a glass. Sharp pieces of glass were everywhere,  the pictures ruined by the water, papers soaked, the floor sticky because of the spilling soda… a total chaos.

Later, the fruit rack collapsed and I had quite a situation in the kitchen, with the oranges,  apples, apricots and peaches rolling on the floor.

Finally, when I was transferring  my mom from her bed to her wheelchair, the brakes failed and she fell down to the floor. We were alone. She got between the bed and the wheelchair. I had managed to grab her with all my strength to avoid a hard hit, but she was in an impossible position and I had no strength to lift her up. So I had to go to ask for help to my neighbours. Luckily, I found at home the two sons of my neighbour Julia, who are like two towers. They came immediately, lifted up my mom, and placed her in her wheelchair. Thank God, other than some pain in her legs from being too much time on the floor, she was OK. But… what a day!


Saved by the Bell


Tell us about a time when you managed to extract yourself from a sticky situation at the very last minute.

Last minute escapes from harm are my speciality. I already wrote in this blog about some of them. Like when as a child I get trapped with my younger sister in an elevator with an abuser. It was an old wooden elevator in a cage structure . A neighbor heard me crying for help, opened his door asking what was going on, and the man fled without harming us.

In other occasion I was alone waiting for a bus when a drunk man came of nowhere to molest me. I had nowhere to go and then just in time, the bus arrived and saved me.

When I was twelve I had a lot of problems with my right feet. They decided to make an x-ray study. The doctor saw a shadow in my tibia and decided to do more x-Ray shots so he discovered a tumor that thanks to his intuition was treated in time and completely cured.

I already told the story about when I was Reporting about a trial against some drug dealers and when the family members of one of the defendants discovered that I was a journalist and I was going to publish an article about the trial get mad and began to insult me. I was used to that. But suddenly I heard noises at my back. I turned and I saw a clenched fist at an inch from my nose. A police officer saw the father of the defendant coming after me and stopped him just in time.

In other occasion a mad driver trapped me on a bridge for a while and finally tried to throw me making me crash against the barriers fortunately a third car appeared and the mad driver fled.

And these are only a few of the times I’ve been saved by the bell

Once in Washington DC I got lost in a middle of a snowfall in a dangerous neighborhood in the late nineties. There was not a soul in the streets only a group of boys with chains and a not so friendly. I was scared. Suddenly I heard a deep voice from the other side of the street asking me if I believed in guardian angels. It was an old black man walking his dog. I said yes. He said it was his turn and gave me directions to find my way avoiding the place were the group of youngsters were gathering. He told me : – “Did you see guardian angels exist? Today it was my turn”. Since then I like to think that my guardian angel looks like an old black man walking his big dog. What I know for sure is that is a busy guard angel. Busy and effective.


Saved by the Bell.





Tell us about the time you rescued someone else (person or animal) from a dangerous situation. What happened? How did you prevail?

I’m not a hero. I don’t remember rescuing somebody from a dangerous situation. Only once I saw a little kid in a tricycle going towards the door of a garage when a car was starting to exit. I stopped the kid just in time. It was an automatic reaction. I saw him and I grabbed him firmly before he reached the car’s path. I guess I saved him because the driver didn’t see him. It was a scary situation, but thanks God nothing happened. The driver didn’t even look or stop. I guess he never realised what had happened.

In other occasion I stopped a dog from crossing the traffic on a busy street. The dog was astray. Again it was an automatic reaction. I saw the dog was going to jump into the traffic and I reached for his collar. He was obedient and calm, thanks God. No sight of the owner. The dog waited patiently with me. The problem was that he began to follow me and I didn’t know what to do. I wasn’t ready to bring him home. It was a big dog. A german shepherd. Beautiful. Well trained it seemed. It was dark at night. Fortunately his owner appeared shortly after looking for him, called him and went away saying nothing.

I was more often than not in the other end of the equation. I already told some of the stories here. My photographer rescued me from a vandal’s attack during a report I was doing as a journalist. A police officer rescued me from a punch in my face during another report. My dog Cisca rescued me once I lost my balance and fell in a forest. She stood by me and helped me to stand up and to return home. I believe God rescued me from bigger dangers I experienced in my life. I can remember at least a couple of close calls. So I’m grateful for being alive. I give thanks every day.

Daily Prompt: Daring Do.
Rescue posts by other bloggers on the next page:


Wet, Fresh, Alive


Textures are everywhere: The rough edges of a stone wall. The smooth innocence of a baby’s cheek. The sense of touch brings back memories for us. What texture is particularly evocative to you?

Wet. Fresh. Alive. Salt water all over me. The sea. I’m feeling the freshness and the density of the water in constant movement. Swimming. Floating. Diving. Playing with the waves. Bright colours everywhere. The breeze on my face. I’m with my brother and my sisters. Mom and dad are watching, playing and swimming with us. It’s summer. No school. Dad has some vacation days and can be with us all the time. Beautiful days with a lot of time to spend together. Long talks. My dad’s wonderful tales. Laughters. The sunset. No worries. We are safe. We are happy. We are together.

Daily Prompt: The Power of Touch.
Textures posts by other bloggers on the next page:


Molotov cocktail


Tell us about a bullet you’re glad you dodged — when something awful almost happened, but didn’t.

The police had detained some known supporters of a terrorist group. I was reporting about that in the street where it happened. Suddenly more supporters appeared with their faces covered throwing stones and molotov cocktails to the police and journalists. I was in the middle of the street battle.  Trying to find a safe place. Scared. I hate violence. Everything was happening fast. In a given moment I found myself alone in the middle of the street. A young man appeared in front of me. His face covered. Brandishing a molotov cocktail and yelling at me:

– “You, coward!, I’ll throw it to you!, I’ll kill you!”

From the safety of a nearby house two of the leaders of the group I knew encouraged him:

– “Do it!” “To her!”, “She is a Journalist!” “A manipulator!”

I didn’t know what to do. I stayed still looking intently to his eyes, the only part of his face uncovered. I didn’t dare to move an inch. I didn’t want to provoke him. I thought that if I moved he would react throwing the bottle to me.

Then Xavier, my photographer arrived. He came from my back. Slowly walked around me until he was between the boy and me protecting me with his body. Began to get ready with his camera.

At that moment the boy turned and ran away.

Xavier told me:

– “Come with me slowly because I heard them talking that today they are going after you.”

He accompanied me to his car and then we left the dangerous area. He saved me that day.

Daily Prompt: Close Call.
close call posts on the next page:


His fist and my nose


Tell us about a time when everything seemed to be going wrong — and then, suddenly, you knew it would be alright.

The trial was routine  At least I thought so. A question about drug trafficking. Three defendants. I had to report about the trial for my newspaper. I have done it before. But this time one of the defendants was from a known family and when they saw me taking notes began to harass me. They  didn’t want the name of their son and brother on the paper. I told them It wasn’t my fault he was trafficking with drugs and that I only was going to report about the trial.

When we were exiting the court room the mother was hysterical yelling at me. Her husband and her other son were assisting her. Everybody was looking at us. I decided soon it was no use to try to calm her and the best thing I could do was to leave.

I was in the exit corridor when I heard people running and screaming at my back. I turned and I saw a fist coming against my face. I closed my eyes and mentally prepared for the punch. Never came.

I opened my eyes and saw the fist still there frozen, unable to reach me, at an inch from my nose. A police officer intercepted the defendant’s father at just the right second.

Finally the police and the lawyers succeeded calming down the family and we all could left the Court House safely.

Daily Prompt: Exhale.

Good ending posts by other bloggers on the next page:


A wonderful surprise


Why did you start you blog? Is that will why you blog, or has your site gone in a different direction than you’d planned?

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAThis blog has changed not only direction, but even language. I’ll explain, although it’s already written in my “about this blog” page.

I have a veteran blog named Blognovic’s weblog  about world news with comments and news in English. But the world is a complicated place these days with a lot of bad and depressing news and I decided to open a new one in Spanish to post only good news and enjoy. The problem was that I couldn’t find a single one in a month and I get discouraged. I thought about closing the blog.

Then I discovered the Daily Prompt and began to take part. I have another blog, “From five to fifty”, more private, in which I post now and then some of my memories. Because of the variety of the topics I couldn’t use blognovic or From five to fifty to post about the prompts, so the natural place was this blog, then named in Spanish: “Vivir, que no es poco”.

Because I’m posting in English, recently I decided to change the title from “Vivir que no es poco” to “Life is Great”. I don’t know if it was a good decision or not, but I noticed there were people coming to my blog expecting something in Spanish to find all in English. I was trying to avoid that kind of problems. I would like to know your opinion.

This blog is now open to a variety of topics and is always a challenge to me. And best of all, I’m enjoying every day with it. I like being in contact with other bloggers around the world, all writing about the same topic, exchanging ideas from different points of view. I didn’t expect that when I opened my younger blog earlier this year, certainly not when I was thinking it was a failure and was going to close it. A wonderful surprise to me.

Daily Prompt: Origin Story.

More blog stories in the next page:


An unorganized visit to Croatia

Dubrovnik/Mario Romulić & Dražen Stojčić

Dubrovnik/Mario Romulić & Dražen Stojčić

When Mom hit 87 she began to say: I don’t want to die without seeing home once more. We didn’t have the money to travel to Croatia from Spain then, but we wanted to fulfill her will. Then suddenly  something never happened to me before (never after) arrived as a gift from heaven. I won a price in a Christmas lottery consistent in a two people trip to Cuba. I asked if I could change the destination and they said yes!

So we went to Croatia that year in an unorganized trip. I hate organized trips. We just wanted to get lost. Mom wanted to see home. She is from Senj, a little town North near the port of Rijeka, close to the Croatian biggest Island, Krk. The town was leveled in WWII and most of its ancient buildings have disappeared except the castle of Nehaj. But the town is still known because of its history and its strong winds: the “senjska bura” that sweeps the sea between the Island and the mainland and in winter use to form ice in the coast. In summer the water is clean, transparent, and beautiful.

We went to Krk to the town of Punat to visit a little island inside a bay of the big Island, Kosljun. This little Island has only a franciscan monastery in it and we went there to visit a friar who was my mom’s friend from youth. Father Mavro. We went to Kosljun in a little boat named St Anton. We spent several days there. It was the most peaceful site I remember. An island only for the franciscans and their guests in a beautiful scenario. Silence, nature, the monastery and nothing more.

Krk has a lot to historic and natural places to see and enjoy. It was great.

Then we headed south to Dubrovnik, a very known medieval city because we wanted to go to Kotor, in Montenegro, were my father was born. Again, Dubrovnik is a popular touristic destination, but is great being there with time to get lost when is not the hot season and you can walk freely through the main street stradun, sit down at the Onofrio’s fountain, go to some little restaurant in one of the narrow side streets, visit the ancient pharmacy of the franciscans or the ducal palace or if you can (we couldn’t because of the age of my mom) take the steps and go up to the walls of the city that fall down to the sea and give you astonishing views. We took a boat and surrounded the walls. It was great. Then back at the hotel a “Klapa” or group of men signing folk songs sang for us in an open air dinner close to the sea. In Dubrovnik the sea was also clean and transparent and beautiful.

Finally we cross the border with Montenegro and went to Kotor another medieval city with Croatian population where my father was born, which is at the end of a beautiful bay of the same name. We were able to visit my aunt and uncle and my cousins and we went with them again to get lost in the city and enjoy the bay surrounded by high mountains, the water calm, with its little islands inside.

Finally we went back to Dubrovnik and then the last day the “klapa” sang to my mom a song dedicated to her. Her name is Anna and the Lyrics goes “Anna, my little Ana, may soul, my heart”. With That song in our hearts we went back to Spain and that was her las visit home.

I would like to come back to get lost in the Croatian Adriatic coast again by myself, visit more cities and places we were dreaming to see, and remember those days with mom.

Daily Prompt: Tourist Trap.