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.

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.

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? 

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.

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.

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.

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?'