What the hell has Christmas come to? The commercials on TV depict happy people out spending their money like they haven't a care in the world. 'Just come to our store, and all your dreams will come true'. What they don't show is people parked on sidewalks and sleeping in tents so they can push and shove their way through a crowd. They don't show how all the prices are marked up before they are 'on sale'. They don't show the person walking by without a dollar in their pocket to buy a fucking sandwich, wishing they had a place to spend the holiday, or a family to spend it with.
Instead, it's, 'Hey moms, come here for the best toys.' Or, 'Hey dad's, diamonds make everything better, buy one for you wife.' Then what happens? The child plays with the box instead of the toy and the jewelry sits in a box until it's once-a-year appearance on your anniversary.
Here's an idea, if you have the money, spend it on the person without. Or better, donate all the stuff you got last year and is currently sitting at the bottom of your closet and spend the holiday with your family instead of out shopping with crowds of strangers.
Friday, December 9, 2011
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
Journal Week 15
Day 3
Today I accomplished a lot. I feel successful. I textured the walls and got slightly high doing so. At first, I was skeptical about putting texture on the wall, it reminds me of a cheap hotel. I have never seen in anywhere but a commercial building. I didn't really think that was where I wanted to go with this. But since our walls are so shot from nails and anchors well, lets face it, me knowing nothing about mudding and sanding drywall, we decided it was the only option.
So I got up all gung-ho and started spraying. The stuff comes in a spray can, and it comes out web-like, so I kind-of felt like spiderman. It was a childhood dream of mine to have webs at my fingertips, so needless to say, I got the job done quickly. But by the time it was complete, I was more that a little light headed. I didn't even notice the fumes until I escaped them.
After the room aired out, I ended up painting the entire thing, going to Lowes for supplies, and cleaned and showered before Ron even got home. And then I bragged about it. A lot. I guess I am feeling a little high and mighty. Emphasis on the high.
Oh, and it doesn't look like a cheap hotel room, in case you were wondering.
Today I accomplished a lot. I feel successful. I textured the walls and got slightly high doing so. At first, I was skeptical about putting texture on the wall, it reminds me of a cheap hotel. I have never seen in anywhere but a commercial building. I didn't really think that was where I wanted to go with this. But since our walls are so shot from nails and anchors well, lets face it, me knowing nothing about mudding and sanding drywall, we decided it was the only option.
So I got up all gung-ho and started spraying. The stuff comes in a spray can, and it comes out web-like, so I kind-of felt like spiderman. It was a childhood dream of mine to have webs at my fingertips, so needless to say, I got the job done quickly. But by the time it was complete, I was more that a little light headed. I didn't even notice the fumes until I escaped them.
After the room aired out, I ended up painting the entire thing, going to Lowes for supplies, and cleaned and showered before Ron even got home. And then I bragged about it. A lot. I guess I am feeling a little high and mighty. Emphasis on the high.
Oh, and it doesn't look like a cheap hotel room, in case you were wondering.
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
Journal Week 15
Day 2
My living room looks like a cheap daycare. Everything from the bedroom is squished in a space that is too small for it. There are toys and childrens' furniture from wall to wall, piled on top of each other, underneath and behind couches. One wrong move and it's a Lego avalanche. I wonder if this is what my house would look like if I had three children. Grady is going to have to sleep in the living room while we work. I pray it is only for a few nights, he is completely thrown off if his routine is interrupted. And this is a complete upheaval.
So far, Ron and I have ripped the strapping off the wall, pounded the nails, and started mudding. I didn't realize how time consuming taping and mudding drywall is. This is something Ron does often, and has talked about. But I guess I've never given him enough credit, usually he comes home and says something like, 'Uggh, my day was awful, I was doing drywall all day.'
At this point in the conversation, I am typically thinking how nice it would be to have a break from the kids and do some drywall myself. And I suppose it would be nice once in a while, like I am doing now, for instance. But all day, for a week straight? No thanks.
So, props to you Ron, sorry it's taken me so long to acknowledge this. I guess next time you come home after a day of drywall, I wont throw the kids on you and retreat to the bedroom like I would so love to do. I'll give you at least for an hour or so, then they are all yours.
My living room looks like a cheap daycare. Everything from the bedroom is squished in a space that is too small for it. There are toys and childrens' furniture from wall to wall, piled on top of each other, underneath and behind couches. One wrong move and it's a Lego avalanche. I wonder if this is what my house would look like if I had three children. Grady is going to have to sleep in the living room while we work. I pray it is only for a few nights, he is completely thrown off if his routine is interrupted. And this is a complete upheaval.
So far, Ron and I have ripped the strapping off the wall, pounded the nails, and started mudding. I didn't realize how time consuming taping and mudding drywall is. This is something Ron does often, and has talked about. But I guess I've never given him enough credit, usually he comes home and says something like, 'Uggh, my day was awful, I was doing drywall all day.'
At this point in the conversation, I am typically thinking how nice it would be to have a break from the kids and do some drywall myself. And I suppose it would be nice once in a while, like I am doing now, for instance. But all day, for a week straight? No thanks.
So, props to you Ron, sorry it's taken me so long to acknowledge this. I guess next time you come home after a day of drywall, I wont throw the kids on you and retreat to the bedroom like I would so love to do. I'll give you at least for an hour or so, then they are all yours.
Monday, December 5, 2011
Journal Week 15
Day 1
I've been watching those home improvement shows for weeks. Not only is my TV tuned in, but I have been watching videos online like they are going out of style. I could tell you exactly how to cope a piece of crown molding without skipping a beat. But the videos aren't cutting it. It's like giving candy to a crack addict, I am yearning to do it myself.
Everything is planned, they kids are going to Grammy's and Lowes is less than a mile away. I've been there five or six times just to look. Window shopping heaven. My husband and I typically work quickly together so I'm expecting a quick turn-over. The kid's wont know what hit em. A new room overnight. I. Cannot. Wait. Let's get started right now.
I've been watching those home improvement shows for weeks. Not only is my TV tuned in, but I have been watching videos online like they are going out of style. I could tell you exactly how to cope a piece of crown molding without skipping a beat. But the videos aren't cutting it. It's like giving candy to a crack addict, I am yearning to do it myself.
Everything is planned, they kids are going to Grammy's and Lowes is less than a mile away. I've been there five or six times just to look. Window shopping heaven. My husband and I typically work quickly together so I'm expecting a quick turn-over. The kid's wont know what hit em. A new room overnight. I. Cannot. Wait. Let's get started right now.
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Week 14 #1
How many idiots are allowed a driver's license? There should be a limit. Drive down a busy street, it could just be a mile stretch, and here's what you'll most likely find:
1 woman putting on her makeup
15 people talking on their phone
10 people texting
7 people not using their blinkers
1 elderly man riding his breaks
1 person in a junker without any break lights at all
4 people passing on the right
1 person riding your ass
3 people riding other peoples asses
2 teens with their music too loud to hear yourself think
5 people eating
6 people smoking
and at least 1 flip of the bird.
It will be a happy day when car's do the driving for us. Until then, perhaps an IQ test along with the driver's test?
1 woman putting on her makeup
15 people talking on their phone
10 people texting
7 people not using their blinkers
1 elderly man riding his breaks
1 person in a junker without any break lights at all
4 people passing on the right
1 person riding your ass
3 people riding other peoples asses
2 teens with their music too loud to hear yourself think
5 people eating
6 people smoking
and at least 1 flip of the bird.
It will be a happy day when car's do the driving for us. Until then, perhaps an IQ test along with the driver's test?
Week 13 prompts
think about the small and then...work outwards.
62. For want of a nail the shoe was lost. For want of a shoethe horse was lost. For want of a horse the rider was lost. For want of a rider the battle was lost. For want of a battle the kingdom was lost. And all for the wantof a horseshoe nail.
(This is not an invitation to repeat a nursery rhyme or make up a rigamarole; it is a prompt--it has its meaning and possibly is a springboard for a mini-essay of your own.)
I guess this is my true version of 'If You Give A Mouse A Cookie'.
I bought a new curtain rod for my sons' room the other day. It was nice, a good change from the stupid looking white traditional rod that you can get anywhere. This one was more ornate, as much as curtain rods can be I guess. It was on sale.
So I get the rod home and put it up. It looks great. But then the curtain started looking crappy next to it. Then the paint on the wall looked dull. So I conned my husband into re-painting with me. As we are painting at midnight, all tired and delirious from paint fumes, Ron mentioned how the drywall joints could look better if he mudded and sanded them. Later he admitted his regret regarding this statement, but it was too late.
The next thing you know, all the drywall joints in the house are being mudded and sanded. Then my mother comes over. She comes over often, and notices every little change. I could move a picture an inch to the right and she would comment on what a magnificent change it was. She saw the work we were doing and decided it was time for paint at her house. At this point I was thinking, 'You better not want me to help, I have enough to do already. Friggen curtain rod. Why are you so damn good looking next to everything?' She didn't ask for my help, but she did call to tell me her best friend, Fran, was going to paint her bedroom now. And she asked where I got my 'stunning' curtain rod.
Now I am scared to buy anything I like. Will a new coffee mug turn into new appliances? What if I decide to buy my husband a new shirt and it's to 'ornate' for him? How far can this go? A new house. Car. Family. Not only for me, but it's affected my mom, and further. For all I know, the President is painting the oval office right now. And all because of a curtain rod.
It is pretty though. Maybe I should go back and get them for the rest of the house.
One way of looking at these next prompts is to consider that they (somewhat treacherously) invite you to write about four big things--love or physicality; hate or another kind of physicality; beingness without physicality; and eternity or spirit, another take on unphysicality.
So, can topics this big be brought close to home? That's your job--don't gas on in general, vague terms; instead, figure a way to put yourself in.
66. Loosely holding hands, not even aware of doing so, but, still, skin touching skin....
It's funny how love can take years to form, or it can happen in a feverish instant. I think really those who take years are missing out. The lust that comes with 'love at first sight' is unparalleled. Now, I am not suggesting that lust and love are the same thing, quite the opposite. They can exist separately. I love my dog, but I definitely don't lust for her. And there are certainly some things that I lust for, but do not love.
I guess I just feel bad for those who take forever to realize their feelings. Where's the excitement? There is nothing like discovering someone for the first time. I wonder, if couples that have known each other for years before falling in love are like those who have been together for the same amount of time. Is it like being married for years? There is still lust, don't get me wrong, but it's nowhere near those first months. Incomparable.
67. This fist has got pow-pow-POWer!
The things a female body is capable of is phenomenal. It's kind-of alarming to think of all the changes that occur when a woman is pregnant. How is it even possible? From hormone balance (or in-balance) to organs completely re-locating just to make some room. It's a wonder women haven't devised a way to let the men take a turn. But it would probably just be like a million Arnold Schwarzenegger's running around, with a huge belly and no idea what to do with it. Instead they just cater to the prego's and joke about hormones. Which, to be honest, is nothing to joke about. You try to control your temper with crazy hormones, extra blood, fluid, a belly that completely throws off your center of balance, organs shifting around all willie-nillie, and aches in places you didn't know existed.
And on top of all of that, women still do everything they normally would. Go to work, chase their older children, go running.. I'm exhausted just thinking about it. And I'm not even pregnant. Then there's childbirth, which I will not even touch upon. We all know where that baby comes out. Let's just make a point, next time you see a pregnant woman, tell her how great she is. Give her a little respect, she definitely deserves it.
62. For want of a nail the shoe was lost. For want of a shoethe horse was lost. For want of a horse the rider was lost. For want of a rider the battle was lost. For want of a battle the kingdom was lost. And all for the wantof a horseshoe nail.
(This is not an invitation to repeat a nursery rhyme or make up a rigamarole; it is a prompt--it has its meaning and possibly is a springboard for a mini-essay of your own.)
I guess this is my true version of 'If You Give A Mouse A Cookie'.
I bought a new curtain rod for my sons' room the other day. It was nice, a good change from the stupid looking white traditional rod that you can get anywhere. This one was more ornate, as much as curtain rods can be I guess. It was on sale.
So I get the rod home and put it up. It looks great. But then the curtain started looking crappy next to it. Then the paint on the wall looked dull. So I conned my husband into re-painting with me. As we are painting at midnight, all tired and delirious from paint fumes, Ron mentioned how the drywall joints could look better if he mudded and sanded them. Later he admitted his regret regarding this statement, but it was too late.
The next thing you know, all the drywall joints in the house are being mudded and sanded. Then my mother comes over. She comes over often, and notices every little change. I could move a picture an inch to the right and she would comment on what a magnificent change it was. She saw the work we were doing and decided it was time for paint at her house. At this point I was thinking, 'You better not want me to help, I have enough to do already. Friggen curtain rod. Why are you so damn good looking next to everything?' She didn't ask for my help, but she did call to tell me her best friend, Fran, was going to paint her bedroom now. And she asked where I got my 'stunning' curtain rod.
Now I am scared to buy anything I like. Will a new coffee mug turn into new appliances? What if I decide to buy my husband a new shirt and it's to 'ornate' for him? How far can this go? A new house. Car. Family. Not only for me, but it's affected my mom, and further. For all I know, the President is painting the oval office right now. And all because of a curtain rod.
It is pretty though. Maybe I should go back and get them for the rest of the house.
One way of looking at these next prompts is to consider that they (somewhat treacherously) invite you to write about four big things--love or physicality; hate or another kind of physicality; beingness without physicality; and eternity or spirit, another take on unphysicality.
So, can topics this big be brought close to home? That's your job--don't gas on in general, vague terms; instead, figure a way to put yourself in.
66. Loosely holding hands, not even aware of doing so, but, still, skin touching skin....
It's funny how love can take years to form, or it can happen in a feverish instant. I think really those who take years are missing out. The lust that comes with 'love at first sight' is unparalleled. Now, I am not suggesting that lust and love are the same thing, quite the opposite. They can exist separately. I love my dog, but I definitely don't lust for her. And there are certainly some things that I lust for, but do not love.
I guess I just feel bad for those who take forever to realize their feelings. Where's the excitement? There is nothing like discovering someone for the first time. I wonder, if couples that have known each other for years before falling in love are like those who have been together for the same amount of time. Is it like being married for years? There is still lust, don't get me wrong, but it's nowhere near those first months. Incomparable.
67. This fist has got pow-pow-POWer!
The things a female body is capable of is phenomenal. It's kind-of alarming to think of all the changes that occur when a woman is pregnant. How is it even possible? From hormone balance (or in-balance) to organs completely re-locating just to make some room. It's a wonder women haven't devised a way to let the men take a turn. But it would probably just be like a million Arnold Schwarzenegger's running around, with a huge belly and no idea what to do with it. Instead they just cater to the prego's and joke about hormones. Which, to be honest, is nothing to joke about. You try to control your temper with crazy hormones, extra blood, fluid, a belly that completely throws off your center of balance, organs shifting around all willie-nillie, and aches in places you didn't know existed.
And on top of all of that, women still do everything they normally would. Go to work, chase their older children, go running.. I'm exhausted just thinking about it. And I'm not even pregnant. Then there's childbirth, which I will not even touch upon. We all know where that baby comes out. Let's just make a point, next time you see a pregnant woman, tell her how great she is. Give her a little respect, she definitely deserves it.
Saturday, November 26, 2011
Week 12 Prompt
Prompts Week 12. Take some risks with your three responses! There are risky topics, risky ways of writing about non-risky topics, and risky ways of writing about risky topics.
59. The door slammed, and I never looked back.
I sit on our Ethan Allen couch. I like to refer to it as such, even though it's eighties floral print doesn't suggest it's high end. It was given to us by some friend-of-a-friend's in-laws or something along those lines. Either way, here I sit on the ol' Ethan, watching TV when I realize, he's been in the other room for a while. I get up and open the door to see what's up and instantly regret doing so.
There he is, sitting at the computer, whacking his peen. He quickly turns off the monitor, then ducks down under the desk headed to the power strip, and to pull up his pants. I have to hand it to him (pun intended), if I hadn't seen the screen, he might have gotten away with it.
At this point I am so dumbstruck, I don't know what to do, do I say something? If so, it would probably start another fight of the century, and I don't really want to stay at my moms again. I decide I'd rather save the embarrassment for both of us and pretend I didn't see anything. That seems like a solid plan.
I sit in the awkward silence with time to process. Did this really just happen? We haven't fooled around in days. Well, I guess maybe this is this why. I think of all the times he has shut himself in our room and start to get queasy. I'm glad I don't use the computer much, who knows what is on those keys. He would he really rather do himself than me?
Now I'm getting angry. After all the crap I have put up with, this is the last straw. I'm out of here. I mean, we obviously have a problem, we haven't fooled around in days. Now I can't even look at him. Molesting himself when I'm in the next room watching cash cab? Who does he think I am? Who does he think he is?
I don't think I will ever tell him I saw. And it's not even to spare his feelings. I would love to embarrass the hell out of him. Honestly, I just don't want to think about it again. But within a week, my stuff will be out, the door slammed and I will never looked back.
61. I am an English teacher. All English teachers lie. But I am telling you the truth.
I am easily the most annoying person in this class. It must be that it's right after lunch. I'm on a sugar high, and the fresh air and socialization has gotten me all wired. So, with all that, how is it possible that I don't get in trouble? The guy next to me could sneeze and get kicked out. I can barely handle myself, how can anybody else handle me?
I admit, I do get intentionally rowdy to see if I can get a reaction out of the teacher. It never works. Everyone says that he's some sort of pedophile, gawking at girls chests. I don't know if I believe that. He is a strange man, but I don't think he's a pervert. Though, every time I test their theory and wear a revealing top, I could get away with murder. I guess the real test would be to wear a turtleneck and be as obnoxious as I can. If I end up in detention, I might just end these shenanigans.
59. The door slammed, and I never looked back.
I sit on our Ethan Allen couch. I like to refer to it as such, even though it's eighties floral print doesn't suggest it's high end. It was given to us by some friend-of-a-friend's in-laws or something along those lines. Either way, here I sit on the ol' Ethan, watching TV when I realize, he's been in the other room for a while. I get up and open the door to see what's up and instantly regret doing so.
There he is, sitting at the computer, whacking his peen. He quickly turns off the monitor, then ducks down under the desk headed to the power strip, and to pull up his pants. I have to hand it to him (pun intended), if I hadn't seen the screen, he might have gotten away with it.
At this point I am so dumbstruck, I don't know what to do, do I say something? If so, it would probably start another fight of the century, and I don't really want to stay at my moms again. I decide I'd rather save the embarrassment for both of us and pretend I didn't see anything. That seems like a solid plan.
I sit in the awkward silence with time to process. Did this really just happen? We haven't fooled around in days. Well, I guess maybe this is this why. I think of all the times he has shut himself in our room and start to get queasy. I'm glad I don't use the computer much, who knows what is on those keys. He would he really rather do himself than me?
Now I'm getting angry. After all the crap I have put up with, this is the last straw. I'm out of here. I mean, we obviously have a problem, we haven't fooled around in days. Now I can't even look at him. Molesting himself when I'm in the next room watching cash cab? Who does he think I am? Who does he think he is?
I don't think I will ever tell him I saw. And it's not even to spare his feelings. I would love to embarrass the hell out of him. Honestly, I just don't want to think about it again. But within a week, my stuff will be out, the door slammed and I will never looked back.
61. I am an English teacher. All English teachers lie. But I am telling you the truth.
I am easily the most annoying person in this class. It must be that it's right after lunch. I'm on a sugar high, and the fresh air and socialization has gotten me all wired. So, with all that, how is it possible that I don't get in trouble? The guy next to me could sneeze and get kicked out. I can barely handle myself, how can anybody else handle me?
I admit, I do get intentionally rowdy to see if I can get a reaction out of the teacher. It never works. Everyone says that he's some sort of pedophile, gawking at girls chests. I don't know if I believe that. He is a strange man, but I don't think he's a pervert. Though, every time I test their theory and wear a revealing top, I could get away with murder. I guess the real test would be to wear a turtleneck and be as obnoxious as I can. If I end up in detention, I might just end these shenanigans.
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Week 12 theme
It was a massacre. Shit from carpet to ceiling. I could see the look of horror on the teddy bears face. He was screaming for me to remove him from this hell hole. In this state of shock, my first reaction is to turn around and walk out. Isn't there someone to call to take care of this? I can't possibly be the only option. But I have to keep my composure. One wrong move and I will scar Grady forever.
I walk delicately over the the crib. As I step, avoiding little strays strewn across the floor, I keep finding more and more of it. On the wall, the railing, the mattress, oh god, what has he done? I make it to the crib and take a deep breath. In hindsight, a bad idea. Think now, how do I tell him how utterly disgusting he is without making him feel like an utterly disgusting person? A child's self esteem is a sensitive thing. Or at least that's what I learned in my many child development classes.
When I look him over I am repulsed to the point of gagging. It's like he used it as finger paint. And, wait. Really? It's on his face. Right next to his mouth, did he seriously eat his own shit? Thoughts of crazy online videos people reference flash through my head. I can't even stomach the thought of watching one of those videos, now it is happening right here before me. Is that what I have to look forward to? My son is going to grow up to be another appalling you-tube sensation. I won't have that.
I have to explain to him that this behavior is unacceptable. But he's two. There is no way to portray the magnitude of this abomination.
I leave the room overwhelmed. I have to run him a bath anyway. He will have to soak for at least 24 hours. On the way back into the battlefield, I grab the bleach and a trash bag. I will have to bleach down everything. And throw away his defiled teddy. I'll be doing him a favor, putting him out of his misery because there's no saving him. I carry Grady into the bathroom like he's infected with the plague. My arms out as far as they can stretch, holding under his armpits. I put his clothes in with the teddy, I don't even want to deal with them. I guess he has enough clothes anyway. I drop him in the tub.
While I scrub away the filth, I still can't speak. I'm afraid my raw thoughts will come out. Thoughts that surely would change his life, or at least his vocabulary, dramatically. I decide it is better to say nothing. Later, when I see past this jaded version of my son, I will talk to him about it. For now, I wash away his innocence in a shit filled tub.
I walk delicately over the the crib. As I step, avoiding little strays strewn across the floor, I keep finding more and more of it. On the wall, the railing, the mattress, oh god, what has he done? I make it to the crib and take a deep breath. In hindsight, a bad idea. Think now, how do I tell him how utterly disgusting he is without making him feel like an utterly disgusting person? A child's self esteem is a sensitive thing. Or at least that's what I learned in my many child development classes.
When I look him over I am repulsed to the point of gagging. It's like he used it as finger paint. And, wait. Really? It's on his face. Right next to his mouth, did he seriously eat his own shit? Thoughts of crazy online videos people reference flash through my head. I can't even stomach the thought of watching one of those videos, now it is happening right here before me. Is that what I have to look forward to? My son is going to grow up to be another appalling you-tube sensation. I won't have that.
I have to explain to him that this behavior is unacceptable. But he's two. There is no way to portray the magnitude of this abomination.
I leave the room overwhelmed. I have to run him a bath anyway. He will have to soak for at least 24 hours. On the way back into the battlefield, I grab the bleach and a trash bag. I will have to bleach down everything. And throw away his defiled teddy. I'll be doing him a favor, putting him out of his misery because there's no saving him. I carry Grady into the bathroom like he's infected with the plague. My arms out as far as they can stretch, holding under his armpits. I put his clothes in with the teddy, I don't even want to deal with them. I guess he has enough clothes anyway. I drop him in the tub.
While I scrub away the filth, I still can't speak. I'm afraid my raw thoughts will come out. Thoughts that surely would change his life, or at least his vocabulary, dramatically. I decide it is better to say nothing. Later, when I see past this jaded version of my son, I will talk to him about it. For now, I wash away his innocence in a shit filled tub.
Week 11 Theme
'Of The Blood for 200 please.'
'What is a sibling?'
'Blood 400'
'What is Acute Lymphocytic Leukemia?'
'Four Syllables for 200'
'What is radiation?'
'Syllables 4'
'What is isolation?'
'Character for 200'
'Who is the evil stepmother?'
'Four syllables for 600'
'What is unfortunate'
'Of the blood 600'
'What is next of kin?'
'Blood 800'
'What is a bone marrow transplant?'
'Character 400 please'
'What is noble?'
'Syllables 1,000'
'What is miraculous?'
'Blood 1,000 please'
'What is heart?'
'What is a sibling?'
'Blood 400'
'What is Acute Lymphocytic Leukemia?'
'Four Syllables for 200'
'What is radiation?'
'Syllables 4'
'What is isolation?'
'Character for 200'
'Who is the evil stepmother?'
'Four syllables for 600'
'What is unfortunate'
'Of the blood 600'
'What is next of kin?'
'Blood 800'
'What is a bone marrow transplant?'
'Character 400 please'
'What is noble?'
'Syllables 1,000'
'What is miraculous?'
'Blood 1,000 please'
'What is heart?'
Week 11 prompt
52. There are a dozen stories on every page of Uncle Henry's--tales of divorce, death, wasted money, plans that went nowhere, hopes destroyed only to rise again, dreams deferred and dreams turned into nightmares. And as I read it, I see a million Maine cellars, attics, living rooms, barns, camps, boathouses, garages. Faces, voices, images of people too. You could do worse than Uncle Henry's as a source of writing ideas--how about looking through Uncle Henry's to find a prompt? Find an ad, copy it so we know where you're starting, and speculate on the tale behind it--thinking as you write about meanings beyond the obvious.
Light Blue halter style prom gown size 3 with sequin design top. Paid 250.
Her dad bought it for her, but never saw her in it. She got ready at her mothers, took pictures at the local park and was on her way. She didn't want to carpool, but her friends talked her into it. They all wanted to get drunk before they got there, alcohol wouldn't make it through the doors. They weren't stupid though, they had a DD.
By the time they got there, she already had the spins. Immediately running for the bathroom, she never even saw the dance floor. Amazingly, the dress didn't get a speck on it. She called her mom for a ride and went straight to bed. She didn't ask any questions, but she could smell the booze a mile away.
The next day, the dress went in Uncle Henry's, $20. A $230 loss, but that didn't bother her, it was the evening of memories that she really missed.
53. The things I see as I walk along the street--that's heaven to me. Or is it?
A winter wonderland. The stale air is reason for the chimney smoke from every house. The frozen, lifeless ground is covered in a white layer. A normally windy, yet flat road is transformed into a nightmare for cars. The sky is as blue as ever and the sun beats down on me. I reflects off of the snowy ground and creates a blinding glisten. I start down the driveway and think about the long months ahead.
54. Pick a prompt from http://onemillionfootnotes.blogspot.com/. Tell us what it is and run with it.
3094
He could not wake without sleeping.
He raced as fast as he could down the gloomy streets. His pursuers were gaining on him. Out of breath and nearly out of time, he pinched himself over and over. 'Why can't I wake up', he said out loud. He soon found himself in a dark alley and saw a woman in the shadows.
'Quick, in here.', she whispered.
He was hesitant, but had no other choice. He followed her into a basement. As they walked through the door, he was pleasantly surprised. It was light, and homey, not what he expected at all in an underground hideout.
The woman was kind, she cared for him like a child. Her daughter was small but obviously nourished. She split their tiny amount of food between the three of them, giving herself the smallest portion.
When he was finished eating, his sense of ease lifted. What was the next move?
The woman asked if he would sleep now. He told her it was impossible to sleep, he had to stay alert. She offered him a pill to sleep, and he declined. He wasn't one to take a pill from a stranger. Especially in this circumstance, it seem reckless and stupid. But on the other hand, what would it hurt? He was facing impending doom either way.
Then it hit him, he could not wake without sleeping. He grabbed the pill and swallowed it without water. In a moment he was in a dreamless sleep.
Light Blue halter style prom gown size 3 with sequin design top. Paid 250.
Her dad bought it for her, but never saw her in it. She got ready at her mothers, took pictures at the local park and was on her way. She didn't want to carpool, but her friends talked her into it. They all wanted to get drunk before they got there, alcohol wouldn't make it through the doors. They weren't stupid though, they had a DD.
By the time they got there, she already had the spins. Immediately running for the bathroom, she never even saw the dance floor. Amazingly, the dress didn't get a speck on it. She called her mom for a ride and went straight to bed. She didn't ask any questions, but she could smell the booze a mile away.
The next day, the dress went in Uncle Henry's, $20. A $230 loss, but that didn't bother her, it was the evening of memories that she really missed.
53. The things I see as I walk along the street--that's heaven to me. Or is it?
A winter wonderland. The stale air is reason for the chimney smoke from every house. The frozen, lifeless ground is covered in a white layer. A normally windy, yet flat road is transformed into a nightmare for cars. The sky is as blue as ever and the sun beats down on me. I reflects off of the snowy ground and creates a blinding glisten. I start down the driveway and think about the long months ahead.
54. Pick a prompt from http://onemillionfootnotes.blogspot.com/. Tell us what it is and run with it.
3094
He could not wake without sleeping.
He raced as fast as he could down the gloomy streets. His pursuers were gaining on him. Out of breath and nearly out of time, he pinched himself over and over. 'Why can't I wake up', he said out loud. He soon found himself in a dark alley and saw a woman in the shadows.
'Quick, in here.', she whispered.
He was hesitant, but had no other choice. He followed her into a basement. As they walked through the door, he was pleasantly surprised. It was light, and homey, not what he expected at all in an underground hideout.
The woman was kind, she cared for him like a child. Her daughter was small but obviously nourished. She split their tiny amount of food between the three of them, giving herself the smallest portion.
When he was finished eating, his sense of ease lifted. What was the next move?
The woman asked if he would sleep now. He told her it was impossible to sleep, he had to stay alert. She offered him a pill to sleep, and he declined. He wasn't one to take a pill from a stranger. Especially in this circumstance, it seem reckless and stupid. But on the other hand, what would it hurt? He was facing impending doom either way.
Then it hit him, he could not wake without sleeping. He grabbed the pill and swallowed it without water. In a moment he was in a dreamless sleep.
Thursday, November 10, 2011
Week 10 prompt 47
47. Nature red in tooth and claw. The Law of the Jungle. Survival of the Fittest.
I step onto the peak, I've made it. This is the highest point I have ever been. It is certainly an unexpected triumph. Two weeks ago I had no idea what this might feel like. Two weeks ago, I had no idea what I was getting myself into.
***
An announcement comes over the intercom, 'Only one week until the Outing Club leaves for Big Bend!' I am sitting in homeroom and getting excited. This will be the first time I have been past Massachusetts, my first plane ride, and my first hiking trip. It is going to be great. Some of my best friends are going too, we are shopping for hiking gear after school.
***
This is the day, we are finally leaving for Big Bend! I have no idea what to expect, just that it will be so much fun to be on vacation for the first time. I envision hotel rooms and restaurants. A few hours hiking here and there. We take bus to Boston then board a plane. I am ecstatic.
***
It's our first day and we don't waste any time, tents are set up, and we are off for the hike. Our first mountain is only a few miles up. Everyone is talking about it like it will be a walk in the park, literally. I organize my pack and fill my Nalgene bottles. I think I'm ready.
***
When we return from our second day of hiking, everyone is amped up to play soccer. There is a perfect flat area not too far from camp. I am embarrassed to say no, but there is no way I could run with these blisters. I take off my shoes to see the new skin and band-aids I covered them with are at the bottom of my socks. I wonder how long it took for that to happen, 5 minutes? That's how my feet feel. I don't know how I am going to continue this for another 5 days. I am lucky I have been an athlete my whole life of I would never be physically ready for this. Hiking all day in the desert, over 100 degrees everyday, miles away from the comforts I am used to. And to think, blisters are whats holding me back. I have five days to heal these heels before our biggest hike. 16 miles.
***
Today is the day. 16 miles ahead of me. My blisters haven't healed, but I've gotten used to them there. Like dogs have been nipping at my heals to motivate me up the mountains. This is the most exhausted I have been this whole trip. Why did we save the biggest for last? But I am determined. I will make it to the top even if I have to crawl there.
A few hours into climbing, I find myself alone. But there are people just out of view ahead of, and behind me. I'm at a fork in the trail, I continue on the path I have been on. About a half hour later, I can't hear the singing that has been annoying my the whole time. The girl behind me must have fallen back. Maybe she stopped for lunch. I keep going, determined to make it to the peak.
I have been alone for too long now, I think I am lost. I must have chosen the wrong path at the fork I came to. What did I do? I am alone on a mountain and don't know which way to go. I realize the only way to go is down, that's where everyone will end up eventually. But I don't want to give up. I have come to my own fork. Turn back to find my group, or continue on to conquer this mountain on my own?
I decide to push on. This journey is a lot more difficult when you don't have support from another human being. Now it is a personal battle. I have to make it to the top. At this point, it is closer to a rock climb than a hike. The breeze is stronger than before, I must be getting close.
***
I hear voices. Lost on a mountain for a few hours and already I'm going mad. I step up onto a plateau and see most of my classmates gathered at the top of the mountain taking pictures. This is it. I make my way over and wait my turn to climb the tallest point to have my picture taken.
I give my teacher my camera and step onto the peak, I've made it. This is the highest point I have ever been. It is certainly an unexpected triumph. Two weeks ago I had no idea what this might feel like. Two weeks ago, I had no idea what I was getting myself into. But now that I have made it, I wouldn't change a thing.
I step onto the peak, I've made it. This is the highest point I have ever been. It is certainly an unexpected triumph. Two weeks ago I had no idea what this might feel like. Two weeks ago, I had no idea what I was getting myself into.
***
An announcement comes over the intercom, 'Only one week until the Outing Club leaves for Big Bend!' I am sitting in homeroom and getting excited. This will be the first time I have been past Massachusetts, my first plane ride, and my first hiking trip. It is going to be great. Some of my best friends are going too, we are shopping for hiking gear after school.
***
This is the day, we are finally leaving for Big Bend! I have no idea what to expect, just that it will be so much fun to be on vacation for the first time. I envision hotel rooms and restaurants. A few hours hiking here and there. We take bus to Boston then board a plane. I am ecstatic.
***
It's our first day and we don't waste any time, tents are set up, and we are off for the hike. Our first mountain is only a few miles up. Everyone is talking about it like it will be a walk in the park, literally. I organize my pack and fill my Nalgene bottles. I think I'm ready.
***
When we return from our second day of hiking, everyone is amped up to play soccer. There is a perfect flat area not too far from camp. I am embarrassed to say no, but there is no way I could run with these blisters. I take off my shoes to see the new skin and band-aids I covered them with are at the bottom of my socks. I wonder how long it took for that to happen, 5 minutes? That's how my feet feel. I don't know how I am going to continue this for another 5 days. I am lucky I have been an athlete my whole life of I would never be physically ready for this. Hiking all day in the desert, over 100 degrees everyday, miles away from the comforts I am used to. And to think, blisters are whats holding me back. I have five days to heal these heels before our biggest hike. 16 miles.
***
Today is the day. 16 miles ahead of me. My blisters haven't healed, but I've gotten used to them there. Like dogs have been nipping at my heals to motivate me up the mountains. This is the most exhausted I have been this whole trip. Why did we save the biggest for last? But I am determined. I will make it to the top even if I have to crawl there.
A few hours into climbing, I find myself alone. But there are people just out of view ahead of, and behind me. I'm at a fork in the trail, I continue on the path I have been on. About a half hour later, I can't hear the singing that has been annoying my the whole time. The girl behind me must have fallen back. Maybe she stopped for lunch. I keep going, determined to make it to the peak.
I have been alone for too long now, I think I am lost. I must have chosen the wrong path at the fork I came to. What did I do? I am alone on a mountain and don't know which way to go. I realize the only way to go is down, that's where everyone will end up eventually. But I don't want to give up. I have come to my own fork. Turn back to find my group, or continue on to conquer this mountain on my own?
I decide to push on. This journey is a lot more difficult when you don't have support from another human being. Now it is a personal battle. I have to make it to the top. At this point, it is closer to a rock climb than a hike. The breeze is stronger than before, I must be getting close.
***
I hear voices. Lost on a mountain for a few hours and already I'm going mad. I step up onto a plateau and see most of my classmates gathered at the top of the mountain taking pictures. This is it. I make my way over and wait my turn to climb the tallest point to have my picture taken.
I give my teacher my camera and step onto the peak, I've made it. This is the highest point I have ever been. It is certainly an unexpected triumph. Two weeks ago I had no idea what this might feel like. Two weeks ago, I had no idea what I was getting myself into. But now that I have made it, I wouldn't change a thing.
Week 10 prompt 44
44. You write a story which ends with the words, "...and then I woke up and it was only a dream." And then you wake up.
I wake up alert, and my pregnant belly gets out of bed first. This is my third pregnancy, and it feels the same as the first two. Physically it feels the same, mentally, not even close. My sister has been yearning for a child for a long time, and I feel it is my responsibility to help her.
***
Now I am in the hospital, the doctor hands me a newborn, and I immediately give it to my sister. I don't feel the same attachment to this child as I did my own. I suppose it is because I have been preparing myself for this moment. The moment when we part ways.
***
My eyes open, I'm in my bed. Instantly, my hands move to my stomach, no baby. I wake up Ron unintentionally with my movement. I keep telling him we need a new bed, he could wiggle his big toe and it would wake me up. He rolls over and says, 'Did you have the dream again?' while rubbing his tired eyes.
I answer, 'Yup, I'll never get back to sleep now.' As I lay there, trying to get back to sleep, I think about the day when my sister found out she won't be able to have children. Is this dream a glimpse of the future? Will I be as strong as the dream version of me? The only way to tell is time.
I wake up alert, and my pregnant belly gets out of bed first. This is my third pregnancy, and it feels the same as the first two. Physically it feels the same, mentally, not even close. My sister has been yearning for a child for a long time, and I feel it is my responsibility to help her.
***
Now I am in the hospital, the doctor hands me a newborn, and I immediately give it to my sister. I don't feel the same attachment to this child as I did my own. I suppose it is because I have been preparing myself for this moment. The moment when we part ways.
***
My eyes open, I'm in my bed. Instantly, my hands move to my stomach, no baby. I wake up Ron unintentionally with my movement. I keep telling him we need a new bed, he could wiggle his big toe and it would wake me up. He rolls over and says, 'Did you have the dream again?' while rubbing his tired eyes.
I answer, 'Yup, I'll never get back to sleep now.' As I lay there, trying to get back to sleep, I think about the day when my sister found out she won't be able to have children. Is this dream a glimpse of the future? Will I be as strong as the dream version of me? The only way to tell is time.
Week 10 prompt
3. The pin pricks your skin. You feel nothing.
'It was weird for me to be with a woman in labor who wasn't in any pain. I have never experienced that. She seemed very calm and in control. She even took a nap. It was a relief to be in the room this time though. Last time, she wouldn't let me in and nobody told me what was going on. I was at the hospital from 6 a.m. to 2 a.m. and I only saw her once. It was agonizing being so close to the room and not knowing what was happening. Nobody told me anything. This time was much nicer. I was able to stay with her most of her labor.'
'It was friggen weird having her mother in the room at first. Those silent moments when you don't know what the hell to say. A few times I went to get something to eat and I wasn't hungry. I just had to get out of there. My dad was in the hospital too, he had surgery the next day, so I went to visit a few times. It was way better than last time, she was relaxed and could sleep. She wasn't hellbent on no epidural. If I had to push a human out of me, I would want the drugs.'
'Everything was going well until she was fully dilated and the doctor asked her to push. Nothing happened. The baby wasn't dropping and there was nothing they could do for her. I felt so bad for her, she didn't want to have a c-section. They stopped the drugs to prep for surgery and that's when her pain started. I didn't know what to do with myself. My baby was in pain and I couldn't help. All I could do was try not to cry until they took her away. I wanted to be strong for her.'
'It was fine until about hour 21. She just laid there, her eyes were closed and her knuckles were white. She had a death grip on those railings on the side of the bed. I asked her what I could do, but she didn't say anything. I just kept telling her it would be over soon and he would be here. What the hell else could I do? My job was easy last time, just wet the cloth and put it on her forehead. I couldn't even friggen do that. She was shaking like crazy, I thought she was cold but the nurse said it was from the drugs. I thought she didn't have anymore? Jesus, look at her, it doesn't look like she's got any painkillers! I just wanted to get her the hell in the OR. Get this over with.'
'It was forever until I could see her. I actually saw the baby first. Ron walked him into the nursery and I looked through the glass. I asked Ron how long it would be until we could see her, but he didn't know so I sat in the waiting room. It felt like it did the last time, nobody could tell me anything, and I couldn't see her. The only surgery she's had was her wisdom teeth, and even that was nerve wracking.'
'I had to wait outside the OR for a few minutes before I could go in. That sucked. I didn't want to think about her in so much pain without me. The stuff I had to wear was pretty ridiculous too. When they let me in, I saw her on the table and felt like I was gonna hurl. There she was, still shaking like crazy. She kept telling the nurse she was going to throw up, I don't know if they didn't believe her or what, but she did. I had never seen her so vulnerable before, not even the last time. Last time, she was so strong it blew me away. This time just scared me. Surgery sucks. She couldn't even hold the baby when they brought him over, she was shaking so bad. She told me to go with him, but I didn't want to leave her. I couldn't fight with her though.'
'It was weird for me to be with a woman in labor who wasn't in any pain. I have never experienced that. She seemed very calm and in control. She even took a nap. It was a relief to be in the room this time though. Last time, she wouldn't let me in and nobody told me what was going on. I was at the hospital from 6 a.m. to 2 a.m. and I only saw her once. It was agonizing being so close to the room and not knowing what was happening. Nobody told me anything. This time was much nicer. I was able to stay with her most of her labor.'
'It was friggen weird having her mother in the room at first. Those silent moments when you don't know what the hell to say. A few times I went to get something to eat and I wasn't hungry. I just had to get out of there. My dad was in the hospital too, he had surgery the next day, so I went to visit a few times. It was way better than last time, she was relaxed and could sleep. She wasn't hellbent on no epidural. If I had to push a human out of me, I would want the drugs.'
'Everything was going well until she was fully dilated and the doctor asked her to push. Nothing happened. The baby wasn't dropping and there was nothing they could do for her. I felt so bad for her, she didn't want to have a c-section. They stopped the drugs to prep for surgery and that's when her pain started. I didn't know what to do with myself. My baby was in pain and I couldn't help. All I could do was try not to cry until they took her away. I wanted to be strong for her.'
'It was fine until about hour 21. She just laid there, her eyes were closed and her knuckles were white. She had a death grip on those railings on the side of the bed. I asked her what I could do, but she didn't say anything. I just kept telling her it would be over soon and he would be here. What the hell else could I do? My job was easy last time, just wet the cloth and put it on her forehead. I couldn't even friggen do that. She was shaking like crazy, I thought she was cold but the nurse said it was from the drugs. I thought she didn't have anymore? Jesus, look at her, it doesn't look like she's got any painkillers! I just wanted to get her the hell in the OR. Get this over with.'
'It was forever until I could see her. I actually saw the baby first. Ron walked him into the nursery and I looked through the glass. I asked Ron how long it would be until we could see her, but he didn't know so I sat in the waiting room. It felt like it did the last time, nobody could tell me anything, and I couldn't see her. The only surgery she's had was her wisdom teeth, and even that was nerve wracking.'
'I had to wait outside the OR for a few minutes before I could go in. That sucked. I didn't want to think about her in so much pain without me. The stuff I had to wear was pretty ridiculous too. When they let me in, I saw her on the table and felt like I was gonna hurl. There she was, still shaking like crazy. She kept telling the nurse she was going to throw up, I don't know if they didn't believe her or what, but she did. I had never seen her so vulnerable before, not even the last time. Last time, she was so strong it blew me away. This time just scared me. Surgery sucks. She couldn't even hold the baby when they brought him over, she was shaking so bad. She told me to go with him, but I didn't want to leave her. I couldn't fight with her though.'
Sunday, November 6, 2011
Week 10 theme
I walk into the bar without expectations. There's a seat open, so I take it and place my order. A long island. I have no idea what is in a long island, just that it is mostly booze, which is exactly what I need right now. I look towards the screens lined up behind the bar, but don't watch them. They're filled with sports events that would normally hold my interest, but tonight they're not on the agenda.
I open the bar menu but don't know if I'm actually hungry, or just bored. This 'night life' is new to me, so I'm not sure what to do with myself. I see through the mirrored wall, a man walking through the door. He is handsome, so I wait for his significant other to follow, but nobody comes. He must be meeting someone here. He walks over and asks the bartender for a grateful dead. I remember from somewhere long ago that a grateful dead is similar to a long island. Here's my chance, I have a random fact, and a smile. I think that's all I have to do right? Smile?
Throughout the evening, our conversation flows from current events, to movie preference, but never gets too personal. He is obviously hitting on me. I had forgotten what that was like. It feels nice. My body tells me to reciprocate his advances, but I play hard to get. Guys like the chase. So I've heard.
We get our bills and stay well after we've payed. I don't know what happens next, do I give him my number? Does he ask me to leave with him? At this point, there's no way I can drive, so it would be nice if he offered to give me a ride. Before I can say anything, he asks if I need a ride home. His hand touches my arm and a tingle shoots up my spine. Ahh, now I remember that feeling. We walk out of the bar towards his car and his hand takes mine. The memories rush through me, it feels exactly the same as it did before. The anticipation is driving me mad.
We pull into the drive way and I feel like a teenager again. We sit there for a good 15 minutes just making out until I suggest going inside.
We get through the door and go into the living room to my mother feeding the baby his bottle. I ask how her night was, how the kids did. They were great, she had fun. Grady fell asleep a few hours ago and Jack just woke up hungry. But it's late, and she is ready to go home for the night. I give her a hug and thank her for babysitting. When she leaves, Ron and I put the baby down together and peek in on Grady. Even though it's been only a few hours, we both missed them like crazy.
We brush our teeth, get into our pajamas, and get into bed. It has been a good night.
I open the bar menu but don't know if I'm actually hungry, or just bored. This 'night life' is new to me, so I'm not sure what to do with myself. I see through the mirrored wall, a man walking through the door. He is handsome, so I wait for his significant other to follow, but nobody comes. He must be meeting someone here. He walks over and asks the bartender for a grateful dead. I remember from somewhere long ago that a grateful dead is similar to a long island. Here's my chance, I have a random fact, and a smile. I think that's all I have to do right? Smile?
Throughout the evening, our conversation flows from current events, to movie preference, but never gets too personal. He is obviously hitting on me. I had forgotten what that was like. It feels nice. My body tells me to reciprocate his advances, but I play hard to get. Guys like the chase. So I've heard.
We get our bills and stay well after we've payed. I don't know what happens next, do I give him my number? Does he ask me to leave with him? At this point, there's no way I can drive, so it would be nice if he offered to give me a ride. Before I can say anything, he asks if I need a ride home. His hand touches my arm and a tingle shoots up my spine. Ahh, now I remember that feeling. We walk out of the bar towards his car and his hand takes mine. The memories rush through me, it feels exactly the same as it did before. The anticipation is driving me mad.
We pull into the drive way and I feel like a teenager again. We sit there for a good 15 minutes just making out until I suggest going inside.
We get through the door and go into the living room to my mother feeding the baby his bottle. I ask how her night was, how the kids did. They were great, she had fun. Grady fell asleep a few hours ago and Jack just woke up hungry. But it's late, and she is ready to go home for the night. I give her a hug and thank her for babysitting. When she leaves, Ron and I put the baby down together and peek in on Grady. Even though it's been only a few hours, we both missed them like crazy.
We brush our teeth, get into our pajamas, and get into bed. It has been a good night.
Friday, November 4, 2011
Week 9 Prompts. 40. The best part of this story is the part I can't tell...
She makes her way over to the hill. She feels this uncontrollable desire to sit directly in front of the stage, but can't explain it. Normally a very self-conscious person, she doesn't care about the crowds of people all around. When she finds the perfect spot, she lays her jacket down to sit on. It is a cold October day but she doesn't feel it which is strange because she can feel everything.
***
She moves to the music without effort. She can feel it in her bones, it doesn't just permeate her ears, but her entire body. The notes flow through her so organically, she isn't thinking about anything else. She has never heard this song before, but it feels like she has. She can anticipate the next riff before it even happens. Her hands weave in and out at exactly the right moments. Her body sways as she lets the music overcome her.
***
What seems like minutes must be hours as the sun falls and the moon rises. The man in front of her dances in an impossible way. She thinks to herself, 'How can he move like that?' It is unnatural. She can't bare to look at him, yet can't look away. It seems as if he is going in fast and slow motion at the same time. She decides it must be time to find the tent and lay down and does so, but she doesn't sleep. Lights flash through all sides of the vinyl tent and they fascinate her. She hears the tent zipper but doesn't look away from the zooming neon lights.
***
She moves to the music without effort. She can feel it in her bones, it doesn't just permeate her ears, but her entire body. The notes flow through her so organically, she isn't thinking about anything else. She has never heard this song before, but it feels like she has. She can anticipate the next riff before it even happens. Her hands weave in and out at exactly the right moments. Her body sways as she lets the music overcome her.
***
What seems like minutes must be hours as the sun falls and the moon rises. The man in front of her dances in an impossible way. She thinks to herself, 'How can he move like that?' It is unnatural. She can't bare to look at him, yet can't look away. It seems as if he is going in fast and slow motion at the same time. She decides it must be time to find the tent and lay down and does so, but she doesn't sleep. Lights flash through all sides of the vinyl tent and they fascinate her. She hears the tent zipper but doesn't look away from the zooming neon lights.
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Week 9 prompt: 39. I came, I saw, I conquered.
I feel as though a rubber band snapped inside me. It didn't hurt, it's just never happened before. It must be another weird thing my body is doing to me now. I don't open my eyes. Then my leg gets warm. In a second I realize, it's not only warm, but wet. I jump up as fast as my body will let me and run into the bathroom. I'm glad my mother helped me clean or I would never have made it without falling. I can't see a thing. I squint my blurry eyes at the bathroom clock. 6:15. I sit down on the toilet because it seems natural, but nothing happens. Maybe I was mistaken. I stand to return to the bedroom, it must have been a false alarm. Then it's like a flood on my bathroom floor. No warning, just water everywhere. I hop into the shower and stand there for a while. This is really happening. When the water finally goes cold, I get out and start packing. I don't wake him. He deserves a few more hours of peaceful sleep.
***
I am unexpectedly happy. I keep thinking, I can handle this. So far everything is perfect, and I have this overwhelming feeling that it will remain that way. My body is strong.
***
Shit, shit, shit. I can't handle this. Everything is wrong. Nothing is going as planned. And soon it will be over. I should be elated that it will be over, but I'm not. Can't I just hit the rewind button and go back to yesterday? It was like waiting for Christmas morning as a four year old. The wonderful feeling of anticipation. I want that feeling back.
***
I should be sleeping but I'm too hopped up. Ron sleeps next to me, he's never had a problem getting his 8 hours, not matter what's going on. I don't want to leave this place. Everything here is about us. People are ready to wait on us hand and foot, all I have to do is press the little button. I want to stay here forever.
***
I place him on the bed and feel like it's all over. Everything I have been waiting for is over. I lay next to him and close my eyes. When I wake up, he is crying for me and I realize, this is just the beginning.
***
I am unexpectedly happy. I keep thinking, I can handle this. So far everything is perfect, and I have this overwhelming feeling that it will remain that way. My body is strong.
***
Shit, shit, shit. I can't handle this. Everything is wrong. Nothing is going as planned. And soon it will be over. I should be elated that it will be over, but I'm not. Can't I just hit the rewind button and go back to yesterday? It was like waiting for Christmas morning as a four year old. The wonderful feeling of anticipation. I want that feeling back.
***
I should be sleeping but I'm too hopped up. Ron sleeps next to me, he's never had a problem getting his 8 hours, not matter what's going on. I don't want to leave this place. Everything here is about us. People are ready to wait on us hand and foot, all I have to do is press the little button. I want to stay here forever.
***
I place him on the bed and feel like it's all over. Everything I have been waiting for is over. I lay next to him and close my eyes. When I wake up, he is crying for me and I realize, this is just the beginning.
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Week 9 prompt: 42. A list of random things about me
1) I eat in bed every night
2) I'm an artist, though I feel like everyone else is too
3) I don't know how to knit
4) I hate vacuuming
5) I name every car I own. Currently I have Candace and Ruby.
6) I find it hard to talk about anything but my children
7) I don't like bananas, but eat them anyway because they're good for me
8) I'm not a good swimmer
9) I will say no to anyone who asks to dance with me with one exception, my two year old
10) I hold my nose when I sneeze
11) I don't like to be the center of attention
12) I have seen the movie Hook over 500 times, by choice
13) I used to have a large half dollar collection until I got desperate one day
14) I cut my own hair
15) I have a insane passion for french fries
16) I love algebra
17) My parents are divorced
18) I can drive a stick
19) I love making lists
20) I am fascinated by extreme couponers
21) I am a groupie for The Blast Addicts (their drummer's dreamy)
22) I lost four close friends in high school to separate car accidents and other tragedies
23) I don't like mustaches, except Magnum P.I.'s
24) I love getting the mail
25) I miss my dog, Rikkah
26) I found out I was pregnant the day before my 21st birthday
27) I like cookie dough better than cookies
28) My favorite number is 28
29) I'm really good at puzzles
30) Sometimes I wear colored contacts
2) I'm an artist, though I feel like everyone else is too
3) I don't know how to knit
4) I hate vacuuming
5) I name every car I own. Currently I have Candace and Ruby.
6) I find it hard to talk about anything but my children
7) I don't like bananas, but eat them anyway because they're good for me
8) I'm not a good swimmer
9) I will say no to anyone who asks to dance with me with one exception, my two year old
10) I hold my nose when I sneeze
11) I don't like to be the center of attention
12) I have seen the movie Hook over 500 times, by choice
13) I used to have a large half dollar collection until I got desperate one day
14) I cut my own hair
15) I have a insane passion for french fries
16) I love algebra
17) My parents are divorced
18) I can drive a stick
19) I love making lists
20) I am fascinated by extreme couponers
21) I am a groupie for The Blast Addicts (their drummer's dreamy)
22) I lost four close friends in high school to separate car accidents and other tragedies
23) I don't like mustaches, except Magnum P.I.'s
24) I love getting the mail
25) I miss my dog, Rikkah
26) I found out I was pregnant the day before my 21st birthday
27) I like cookie dough better than cookies
28) My favorite number is 28
29) I'm really good at puzzles
30) Sometimes I wear colored contacts
Week 9 theme
The phone rings. I don't answer as usual, just let the machine get it. They hang up and I am reminded why I don't pick it up. I go back to my lego tower and the princess in peril. A helicopter swoops in and rescues her just in time. By looking at the joy in his face, you would assume she was in actual danger, not just threatened by a plastic dinosaur. He's the hero once again.
***
I know these roads like the back of my hand. I've been down them everyday for years now so 75 mph is nothing. The car hugs the road as I see every turn, every pothole seconds before it occurs. My little Civic masters the tight corners as I look down at the phone. I know she said not to turn it on, but I know something's wrong. Why can't I just call him and ask? I press the power button as hard as my finger lets me, the anticipation is killing me. I hate it. Just like I hate surprise birthday parties, or not knowing whats for dinner. Just tell me already.
***
I open the door to my mother sitting at the table with nothing in front of her. No newspaper, no food. This is serious, I must be in trouble or something. My mind searches for excuses to all the miss-behaviors I may have had in the last month or so. But I don't panic, I know I can talk my way out of anything. But that's the problem, what am I talking my way out of? I sit down hesitantly and wait for the accusal. When I look up, I notice her face is not angry. It's not disappointed. It's sad. Like she doesn't want to be having this conversation. What is happening right now?
***
I have called everyone in my contact list. Where is he? Why would he choose now to disappear off the face of the planet? I slam the phone on the seat in anger. I am still driving too fast, which seems like the worst possible thing to do in this situation, but I can't help it. My foot feels too heavy to let up on the gas. I am strangely calmed as the engine tacks higher and higher to match my heartbeat. If everything else is going as fast as my mind, I might feel sane again. Maybe for a second, until I lose myself again. My mind goes back and forth. One second I'm frantically searching for the one person who doesn't know. The one person who HAS to know, and doesn't. The next second I'm picturing the scene. My mother's words run through my mind over and over as I watch it happen. Both sanity and insanity.
***
I'm one of the only people here not wearing black. I don't think it's really appropriate I guess, or maybe my subconscious wont let me. I see him standing at the front of the room and make my way over. There are so many people, most of them don't know me. I finally have found him. He hugs me and I whisper, 'I love you so much' in his ear.
He squeezes tighter then slowly releases. Both of his hands hold my shoulders and he says 'I love you too.' He's looking straight in my eyes but I'm not strong enough to look back. I just turn and walk away.
***
I know these roads like the back of my hand. I've been down them everyday for years now so 75 mph is nothing. The car hugs the road as I see every turn, every pothole seconds before it occurs. My little Civic masters the tight corners as I look down at the phone. I know she said not to turn it on, but I know something's wrong. Why can't I just call him and ask? I press the power button as hard as my finger lets me, the anticipation is killing me. I hate it. Just like I hate surprise birthday parties, or not knowing whats for dinner. Just tell me already.
***
I open the door to my mother sitting at the table with nothing in front of her. No newspaper, no food. This is serious, I must be in trouble or something. My mind searches for excuses to all the miss-behaviors I may have had in the last month or so. But I don't panic, I know I can talk my way out of anything. But that's the problem, what am I talking my way out of? I sit down hesitantly and wait for the accusal. When I look up, I notice her face is not angry. It's not disappointed. It's sad. Like she doesn't want to be having this conversation. What is happening right now?
***
I have called everyone in my contact list. Where is he? Why would he choose now to disappear off the face of the planet? I slam the phone on the seat in anger. I am still driving too fast, which seems like the worst possible thing to do in this situation, but I can't help it. My foot feels too heavy to let up on the gas. I am strangely calmed as the engine tacks higher and higher to match my heartbeat. If everything else is going as fast as my mind, I might feel sane again. Maybe for a second, until I lose myself again. My mind goes back and forth. One second I'm frantically searching for the one person who doesn't know. The one person who HAS to know, and doesn't. The next second I'm picturing the scene. My mother's words run through my mind over and over as I watch it happen. Both sanity and insanity.
***
I'm one of the only people here not wearing black. I don't think it's really appropriate I guess, or maybe my subconscious wont let me. I see him standing at the front of the room and make my way over. There are so many people, most of them don't know me. I finally have found him. He hugs me and I whisper, 'I love you so much' in his ear.
He squeezes tighter then slowly releases. Both of his hands hold my shoulders and he says 'I love you too.' He's looking straight in my eyes but I'm not strong enough to look back. I just turn and walk away.
Week 8 Theme
Julia calls me in the next room, she is leaving. She tells me she has to go to her parents for the night, that she can't stay here with him. Which means, I can't stay here either. This presents a problem, I'm drunk. I can't think of anyone to call and I don't want to go to my parents, even though it's only a few miles away. I start to pack my things in the purple duffel bag I got freshman year for the varsity soccer team. I quit the next year, but kept the bag as consolation. I look around the apartment for any strays I left behind, but I'm unable to find any. It's hard to find anything in this place, there is clutter everywhere. A constant morning after look.
As I try to think of a place to stay that doesn't include my mother's nagging questions about what my plan is. Only one person comes to mind. I keep pushing the thought out of my head. He's probably busy anyway, it is Saturday night. I don't want to be rude. I call anyway.
'Hello?' He's at a bar, I can tell immediately. The background noise makes it impossible to hear him.
'Hey, this is Felicia, Caitlin's friend. Sorry to bother you, but I'm in a situation and was hoping you could help.'
'Sure, whatever you need.' He sounded sincere. The noise in the background slowly faded, he was going outside or to the bathroom. This got my hopes up, he wanted to talk at least.
'Well I've been drinking and need a ride.' Oh man I sound desperate. I guess I am though, I hope he doesn't get the wrong impression. Or is it the right impression?
'Yeah, I'll be right there. Umm, where are you?'
'Well that's the thing, I'm in Bucksport. And I need a place to stay. If your busy that's fine, really. Just say so.'
'No, no, I'll meet you at the hardware store in an hour.'
Thank god I don't have to call my mother. I wait in my car in the dark parking lot. Jack Johnson's mellow voice may be a bad choice right now because I find myself drifting off to sleep. I take the keys out of the ignition, you can never be too careful. I once heard of a guy that got an OUI sleeping in his car. He had no intentions of driving, just was tired and had a few drinks. He was being responsible. But he had the keys in the ignition. A cop came along wondering what he was up to and the next thing he know he was getting hauled off to jail. That would be just what I need right now.
I'm blinded by headlights as his car pulls in and I'm instantly more sober than 30 seconds ago. I try to discretely check my makeup in the visor mirror but the light comes on and I know he's looking. So I grab my bag from the passengers seat and lock my doors behind me. I open his door and am overtaken by nerves. My stomach is in knots and it is not the alcohol. When we start driving he explains that it is his friends birthday and they are all out celebrating. I tell him I'll stay at his house without them, I don't want him to miss out since I'm not 21.
We get to his house and I sit on his bright red couch. I can't imagine him at the store picking this thing out, it must be his roomates'. He gives me the remote and tells me if I smoke, I need to go out back. Then he leaves. I feel weird alone in his house. I barely know him, and haven't even met one of his roomates. I go out back and have a smoke and then fall asleep on the red couch.
As I try to think of a place to stay that doesn't include my mother's nagging questions about what my plan is. Only one person comes to mind. I keep pushing the thought out of my head. He's probably busy anyway, it is Saturday night. I don't want to be rude. I call anyway.
'Hello?' He's at a bar, I can tell immediately. The background noise makes it impossible to hear him.
'Hey, this is Felicia, Caitlin's friend. Sorry to bother you, but I'm in a situation and was hoping you could help.'
'Sure, whatever you need.' He sounded sincere. The noise in the background slowly faded, he was going outside or to the bathroom. This got my hopes up, he wanted to talk at least.
'Well I've been drinking and need a ride.' Oh man I sound desperate. I guess I am though, I hope he doesn't get the wrong impression. Or is it the right impression?
'Yeah, I'll be right there. Umm, where are you?'
'Well that's the thing, I'm in Bucksport. And I need a place to stay. If your busy that's fine, really. Just say so.'
'No, no, I'll meet you at the hardware store in an hour.'
Thank god I don't have to call my mother. I wait in my car in the dark parking lot. Jack Johnson's mellow voice may be a bad choice right now because I find myself drifting off to sleep. I take the keys out of the ignition, you can never be too careful. I once heard of a guy that got an OUI sleeping in his car. He had no intentions of driving, just was tired and had a few drinks. He was being responsible. But he had the keys in the ignition. A cop came along wondering what he was up to and the next thing he know he was getting hauled off to jail. That would be just what I need right now.
I'm blinded by headlights as his car pulls in and I'm instantly more sober than 30 seconds ago. I try to discretely check my makeup in the visor mirror but the light comes on and I know he's looking. So I grab my bag from the passengers seat and lock my doors behind me. I open his door and am overtaken by nerves. My stomach is in knots and it is not the alcohol. When we start driving he explains that it is his friends birthday and they are all out celebrating. I tell him I'll stay at his house without them, I don't want him to miss out since I'm not 21.
We get to his house and I sit on his bright red couch. I can't imagine him at the store picking this thing out, it must be his roomates'. He gives me the remote and tells me if I smoke, I need to go out back. Then he leaves. I feel weird alone in his house. I barely know him, and haven't even met one of his roomates. I go out back and have a smoke and then fall asleep on the red couch.
Friday, October 21, 2011
Week 8 Prompts
30. Just a passing face on the street. Oh lord, just a passing face....
I spot her at the end of the isle. I stop like a deer in the headlights. Crap, did she see me? I pretend to be looking at the shelf to my side. Tampons, perfect, that makes me look better. I picture the conversation, she asks what I'm up to. I respond, 'Oh you know, just shopping for tampons.' Sweet. Plan B, make a run for the next isle. But I realize, eventually, she will be in the next isle too. And the next, and the next. Why did I pick today to go to the store in my pajamas? I don't even have the kids with me. Usually I am fearless with the kids. I can direct the conversation and attention to them and away from myself. Not today. Here I stand, makeup-less, hair disheveled. Maybe she won't recognize me in this crude state. I'll just be another passing face. Oh lord, just a passing face...
35. Three of them sitting there in complete silence.
Ron and the kids sit on the couch watching TV. It's like he's holding two miniature versions of himself, one on each knee. I'm not sure why they chose the love seat instead of the big couch. If they were on the big one they wouldn't have to be squished in like pickles in a jar. I guess I'm glad they didn't though, it makes for a good cuddle session.
Not only do they look alike, but they behave the same as well. I'm always cleaning up after them, I have to ask a question three times before it really registers. I bet if I walked over there and waved my hand in front of their face, they wouldn't even notice. Ron and Grady do this thing where they pretend I'm not standing right in front of them. If the TV is on, they are fully engaged.
I walk over to the couch and ask, 'What do you want for dinner?'. Simultaneously they lean slowly to one side and peer their lifeless TV eyes around me as if it would pain them to look away for one milisecond. I ask again, 'Dinner? Any ideas? How about you Grady, what do you want to eat?' Nothing. Not so much as a blink. I actually have to turn off the television to snap them out of their trance. As soon as my finger hits the button, they both give me a look of terror. I feel like I have committed a murder or something. Maybe Grady does this because he only watches TV when his dad is home. He has learned the obsession from Ron's superb modeling.
38. The bluebird of happiness flies over the battlefield and lands on a boot left behind.
Grady marches across the lawn. Or tries to. Every step his foot sinks into the soupy soil and it takes much more effort than usual to lift it. But he presses on, determined to make it to the magnificent puddle ahead. He decides running may be a better bet than marching. But he was wrong. The first few steps went according to plan, but the next his boot is held captive by the mud. My first impulse is to run over and rescue the fallen soldier. But I don't. I've played the controlling role too much lately, he needs to be a little boy. Running through the wet lawn and splashing in puddles is what a kid is supposed to do, one boot or two.
He finally makes it to the puddle after much hard work and immediately sits down right in the middle. I encourage him, 'Splash!'
He raises both hands and slaps them against the water, gasping as it hits his face. 'Woah', he says in awe. He continues to splash around until standing up to stomp his feet. The same effect. The same response, 'Woah'. He spots another puddle not too far away and starts walking towards it. The dog barks in the background so I turn around to see what mischief she has gotten into this time. I turn back to see Grady face first in the mud and instantly panic, is he okay?. Before I can even get the words out of my mouth, he looks at me and says, 'Oops, I okay.' He knew the question before I could even say it. Yeah, I really need to back off a bit. He's not made of glass, he's a little boy. I take off my shoes and make my way over to the puddle. For the next half hour we splash and roll around in the water and for the next half hour, I am two years old as well.
I spot her at the end of the isle. I stop like a deer in the headlights. Crap, did she see me? I pretend to be looking at the shelf to my side. Tampons, perfect, that makes me look better. I picture the conversation, she asks what I'm up to. I respond, 'Oh you know, just shopping for tampons.' Sweet. Plan B, make a run for the next isle. But I realize, eventually, she will be in the next isle too. And the next, and the next. Why did I pick today to go to the store in my pajamas? I don't even have the kids with me. Usually I am fearless with the kids. I can direct the conversation and attention to them and away from myself. Not today. Here I stand, makeup-less, hair disheveled. Maybe she won't recognize me in this crude state. I'll just be another passing face. Oh lord, just a passing face...
35. Three of them sitting there in complete silence.
Ron and the kids sit on the couch watching TV. It's like he's holding two miniature versions of himself, one on each knee. I'm not sure why they chose the love seat instead of the big couch. If they were on the big one they wouldn't have to be squished in like pickles in a jar. I guess I'm glad they didn't though, it makes for a good cuddle session.
Not only do they look alike, but they behave the same as well. I'm always cleaning up after them, I have to ask a question three times before it really registers. I bet if I walked over there and waved my hand in front of their face, they wouldn't even notice. Ron and Grady do this thing where they pretend I'm not standing right in front of them. If the TV is on, they are fully engaged.
I walk over to the couch and ask, 'What do you want for dinner?'. Simultaneously they lean slowly to one side and peer their lifeless TV eyes around me as if it would pain them to look away for one milisecond. I ask again, 'Dinner? Any ideas? How about you Grady, what do you want to eat?' Nothing. Not so much as a blink. I actually have to turn off the television to snap them out of their trance. As soon as my finger hits the button, they both give me a look of terror. I feel like I have committed a murder or something. Maybe Grady does this because he only watches TV when his dad is home. He has learned the obsession from Ron's superb modeling.
38. The bluebird of happiness flies over the battlefield and lands on a boot left behind.
Grady marches across the lawn. Or tries to. Every step his foot sinks into the soupy soil and it takes much more effort than usual to lift it. But he presses on, determined to make it to the magnificent puddle ahead. He decides running may be a better bet than marching. But he was wrong. The first few steps went according to plan, but the next his boot is held captive by the mud. My first impulse is to run over and rescue the fallen soldier. But I don't. I've played the controlling role too much lately, he needs to be a little boy. Running through the wet lawn and splashing in puddles is what a kid is supposed to do, one boot or two.
He finally makes it to the puddle after much hard work and immediately sits down right in the middle. I encourage him, 'Splash!'
He raises both hands and slaps them against the water, gasping as it hits his face. 'Woah', he says in awe. He continues to splash around until standing up to stomp his feet. The same effect. The same response, 'Woah'. He spots another puddle not too far away and starts walking towards it. The dog barks in the background so I turn around to see what mischief she has gotten into this time. I turn back to see Grady face first in the mud and instantly panic, is he okay?. Before I can even get the words out of my mouth, he looks at me and says, 'Oops, I okay.' He knew the question before I could even say it. Yeah, I really need to back off a bit. He's not made of glass, he's a little boy. I take off my shoes and make my way over to the puddle. For the next half hour we splash and roll around in the water and for the next half hour, I am two years old as well.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)