Theme Week #4

1. Write about it as close to black and white, just the facts as you possibly can.

I wandered down the hallway of my children's elementary school for Open House night.  Parents, kids, aunts, grandparents, cousins - filled the hall, all going in every direction.  My daughter tugged my hand and plowed forward.  Thank goodness she knew where she was going, because I had no idea.  As we headed toward her classroom, I looked around and noticed the same cinderblock walls that had been there for... well ,a long time since I could remember them from when I went to this same school.  Miranda's hand pulled loose from my own as she jogged ahead and into a doorway.  She was so excited about Open House, about showing me all of the neat things that she was doing in third grade.  With a wave to her teacher, I headed toward my little girl.  She was standing proudly by one of the small desks.  She was very excited about having a real desk of her own, not just a table with a cubby like last year.  I got to see a couple of projects that were laid out for parents to see examples of what their kids were doing all day, and a quick tour of the room to see the different areas for math, reading, and the older computer in the back. 

"It's from the olden times, Mrs. B. says it's ancient!" my daughter whispers.

I sighed because I recognized the admittedly older computer.  It looked much like the brand new ones we got in eighth grade.  After the tour, I spent a few minutes talking with her teacher and signing up for conferences.  My daughter convinced me that we had to say hi to her teacher from last year on the way out, however I threw in the condition that if she was busy with other parents we would have to pass.  As it turned out she was busy, and regardless of my daughters whining, we headed out the door and back to our house.

2. Then write about it so that the basic facts are there, unchanged, but you throw in a little fancy stuff to improve the story--you make the girl a blonde instead of a brunette, you add a few horsepower to the engine, you buy a few more dollars worth of clothes than you actually could afford--all this done, not to lie, but to make the truth sharper and, if you will, even truer.

I wandered down the crowded hallway of my daughter's elementary school for Open House night.  Parents, kids, aunts, grandparents, cousins, dogs, cats, hamsters, etc - filled the hall, all going in different directions.  A sea of people.  My daughter, barely restrained my my grasping hand, pulled me forward with single-minded purpose.  Thank goodness she knew where she was going, because in this craziness I could barely tell which way was up, forget trying to find her classroom.  As we headed toward her class, I looked around and noticed the same cinderblock walls that had been there forever... well not forever, but a long time since I could remember them from when I went to this same school.  Dotting the walls were samples of student writing and artwork.  I could see tell that we were nearing the third grade rooms as the printing got neater and the artwork contained less fingerpaint.  Miranda's small hand slipped loose from my own as she sprinted ahead and through a a nearby doorway.  She was so excited about that night, chattering on for hours about all of the neat things that she was doing in third grade.  With a wave to her teacher, I headed toward my little girl.  She was standing proudly by one of the small desks, like Vanna White next to the new puzzle, the name tag along the top bore her neatly printed first and last name.  She was very excited about having a real desk of her own, not just a group table with plastic bins for her crayons like last year.  She showed me her paper skeleton, they were studying bones last week, and a couple of other projects that were laid out for parents to gush over.  We also went on a quick tour of her room.  She showed me the reading area, the small desk with math games, and the computer area.

"It's from the olden times, Mrs. B. says it's ancient!" my daughter whispered, pointing at the sad computer sitting in the back of the room. 

I sighed because I recognized the admittedly, older computer.  I remember how excited I was when my eighth grade class got a brand new computer, one that looked quite the same.  Truth be told, it probably was the same ones.  I smiled at my daughter and reminded her that "ancient" wasn't a nice way to describe how old something, or someone, was.  After the whirlwind tour, I spent a few minutes chatting with her teacher about how Miranda was doing.  Nodding when Mrs. B. exclaimed at how nice and polite my daughter was in class.  Who was this child she was talking about?  She reminded me to sign up for conferences before I left, and turned to the next set of parents.  I could have sworn she gave the same exact script about their child.  As we once again braved the crowded hallway, my daughter convinced me that we had to say hi to her teacher from last year on the way out, however I threw in the condition that if she was busy with other parents we would have to pass.  As it turned out she was busy, much to my relief, and I wrangled my daughter toward the exit.  Whining just a bit, she joined me and we headed out the door and back to our house.


3. Finally, start with the same material but let it off its leash. It originates in fact, but winds up as fiction. Now the details aren't changed to tell the truth in a new way--they're just pure fiction.


My daughter and I entered her school and hit a wall of people.  It was Open House night.  There must have been three or four adults for every child attending the school packed into the little hallway.  Parents, kids, aunts, grandparents, cousins - filling the hall, milling about, heading off in small clumps in every direction.  I closed my eyes and sighed quietly, this is not what I wanted to be doing tonight.  Hubby was going to owe me big time for this one.  Interrupting my quiet moment, my daughter yanked on my hand to get my attention, and began plowing forward.  I mumbled apologies as I was dragged through and around other bewildered parents and family.  Thank goodness I didn't wear sandals, my toes were safely protected from being stomped on inside of my sneakers.  Like a shark smelling blood in the water, Miranda darted through the crowd.  I nearly lost my grip on her little hand, but managed to hang on as she towed me (hopefully) toward her classroom.  As we headed down the hall, the crowd thinned a bit, and I could see the old cinderblock walls that had been there for... well a long time, since I can remember them from when I went to this same school.  They were a bland tan color now, dotted with art and writing from the students, not like the awful green that I still shudder to remember.  I completely lost my grip on her hand as she pulled loose and ran into a classroom, hers I hope.  She was so excited about tonight, about showing me all of the neat things that she was doing in third grade.  I took a deep breath and entered the room.   Her teacher was circled by eager parents and children near the far side of the room, so I figured that I would wait to try to talk with her.  I waved in her direction and headed toward Miranda, who was dancing in anticipation.  She was standing by one of the small desks, proudly gesturing to the neatly printed name tag along the top.  I smiled as I wondered how long she would be sitting in the middle of five other desks, being a chatty person by nature,  was sure that she would be on the end within the month.  She was super excited about having a real desk this year, not just a round kiddy table with a plastic bin like last year.  Samples of her work were sitting on top of the desk.  Apparently they was supposed to reassure me that she was learning something besides social skills in class.  The paper skeleton that was on top was interesting, until Miranda told me that they were going to make clothes for it next week.  How do paper dolls fit in to the "No Child Left Behind" policy?   The teacher still appeared to be rather bogged down with parents, so we went on a quick tour of the classroom to see the different areas for math and reading.  There was a sadly older-looking computer in the back. 

"It's from the olden times, Mrs. B. says it's ancient!" my daughter whispered, as she pointed to it.  Excellent.

I sighed because I recognized the admittedly outdated computer.  It looked much like the brand new ones we got in eighth grade.  I wondered briefly where all of the tax dollars were going for technology since they apparently weren't going into this classroom.  After the tour, I waited my turn to spend a few minutes talking with her teacher.  The scripted exclaimations of "She's doing great" and "It's so much fun to have her my class this year" didn't do a lot for me, I had heard her saying the same things to the last mom.  She happily gestured to the board at the front of the room and reminded me to sign up for conferences.  I was tempted to "forget," but Miranda had heard her teacher and dutifully reminded me before I could slip out of the door.  I don't understand conferences.  I live in a small town and see my kids teachers almost daily at the post office, store, or when I pay my water bill.  I know if there is any problems that I get a phone call, so I just don't understand the concept of a whole meeting of scripted conversations.  I signed up for the conference, maybe something interesting would come up in the mean time and I would have something to actually talk about.  Leaving the room, my daughter squeaked about visiting her teacher from last year.  I didn't like her teacher last year, and I think the feeling was rather mutual, so I was not excited about visiting for fun.  I reluctantly agreed, however I threw in the condition that if she was busy with other parents we would have to pass.  Luck smiled upon me, as we looked in the room and the teacher was mobbed by her own circle of parents.  In addition, one child was lying on the floor having a temper tantrum, rather loudly.  I refrained from smiling, chastizing myself that it wasn't nice, and teachers work really hard, and blah, blah, blah, whatever, serves her right.  At this point I really just wanted to go home, my crazy, loud, children-filled house was nothing compared to this zoo.  This time I was the one that plowed ahead, tugging my daughter along, searching for the magical Exit sign that would release us from this madness.  Finally, we reached the doors.  I sent a sympathetic smile to a couple of parents bracing themselves to enter, and pushed on the doors to escape into the night.  I would call tomorrow to cancel the conference.

Theme Week #3

I sat down at the island in the kitchen for a break.  Dinner was bubbling merrily on the stove, newly washed dishes dripped in the drainer, and the oven was heating for the dinner rolls - this was my break before the rush and confusion of getting dinner on the table and wrestling the kids to eat it. 

Sitting at my laptop, perusing facebook for oh-so-important updates in my friends lives, I get an instant message,  "Hello?  Are you there?"  It's my mom, typing from Africa.  I wonder what they think of facebook in Africa?

As soon as I begin typing my reply, the phone rings.

"Hello?.....Hello, is someone there?"  The phone has been wierd lately, or the telemarketers are  hesitant to talk to me since I went off on one last week. 

I hear a crakling noise just as I begin to reach for the disconnect button, so I wait to see if someone answers.

"Hi there [static], can you hear me?"  It took me a minute to figure out the voice disguised under the static and echos.  How was Mom calling me from Africa?

"Mom!  How are you doing?  Gosh, how are you calling me?  Did you leave Tepa early or did someone finally get cell reception where you are at?"  Machine gunning questions at her, I know, but I hadn't talked to her in  over a week or so except for facebook.  Usually we talk on the phone every coupld of days.

"[static] on the computer, something called scype.... lag time between when I talk and you answer... hear me ok?"  This is the first time I have heard her voice since she went over to Ghana, and I was a bit overwhelmed for some reason.  Here I am sitting her old house, the one that we bought from her because I was in love with it, sitting right underneath the hanging pot rack that she found at an estate auction, missing her terribly all of a sudden.

"Yes I can hear you ok, can you hear me?"

Silence

"I miss you a lot.  I really liked your blog about market day.."

"Yes I can hear you.  How are the babies?

I was so glad to hear her voice, but it was becoming apparent that this conversation was going to be a lot of work on both of our ends.  Neither one of us could figure out whose turn it was to talk with the delay between here and Africa.

I took the initiative to catch her up to date in one big blurb so then she could tell me all of her stuff.  "The kids are great, we all love reading what you are doing.  Branden got 4th in cross country, Derek has a job interview next week, and I get to go to Miranda and Colby's open house tonight.  Hubby and I are good too, but we both have a cold.  So we have to take turns passing the box of tissues back and forth all night, it's driving both of us crazy."

I could almost picture the words traveling over the ocean to reach her.  I waited, knowing that she was probably just now hearing what I had said.  Glancing at my laptop screen, I see that she is typing to me on facebook again.  I watch the little icon blink while holding the phone to my ear just in case.

"Sorry, it disconnected.  I'm not real sure how to fix it since this computer is a Mac"

I hang up the phone with a little ache in my heart.  I should have let her talk instead of me telling her all that stuff.  Slowly typing out my response about how glad I was to hear from her and how cool it was that she was able to call through the computer, I wished that she was home.  I wished that I could pick up the phone and call her back just to hear her voice.

"tell branden and derek that im proud of them.  make sure you take a picture at open house so i can see it and dont let hubby hog all the tissues, make him use toilet paper instead, lol.  i have to go, its late here and we have an early morning.  i will try to be on here tomorrow about the same time.  kisses to all of you"  and then she signed off.

I got up and put the phone on the charger.  I glance at dinner again, figuring it was about time to set the table.  Instead of heading to the plate rack, I drag a chair over to the sink so that I can climb on it to reach the small cabinet there.  I pull out the "holiday plates" the ones that we use for Thanksgiving and other fancy-dinner holidays, and start rinsing them off and carefully drying them.

"Why do you have Nana's dishes out?  We aren't using them tonight are we?"  My oldest son looks at me curiously, apparently wondering if it's some holiday he forgot about.

"Yes we are.  I just thought that maybe using these plates tonight would be kinda like having Nana with us for dinner."

Theme Week #2

It was an amazing sunny day and the room blazed with light from the big windows in the apartment my mom and I shared.  We were sitting on the floor in the living room, just my mom and I.  Mom had just gotten a pair of speakers for her stereo and was putting  her name on the back of them in magic marker.  She was so excited about those speakers for some reason.  Later that night we had a little dance party, me and my mom.  I put on my favorite little dress, the yellow one with the bright sunflowers and the little shrug that went with it - it was the one that I had bought for my first grade school pictures that year.  We danced around to "My Sharona", spinning and twirling, the new speakers filling the room with music.

Next thing you know, Mom got a new stereo.  It was so cool and shiny, with lots of buttons and two tape players!  We set it up between the two big brown speakers Mom had from before.  It sat in our new living room after the big move from Oklahoma to Maine.  It was nice to see something the same when everything seemed so different.  We didn't have a dance party that night, the baby was sleeping, but Mom and Larry and I listened to "I Love Rock and Roll" and "Eye of the Tiger" until my bedtime at 8 o'clock.

That stereo moved to the new house too.  A big old farmhouse in a little town.  I would use it in the "other" room (I don't know why we had a formal living room, it didn't make any sense) to play the tape for my cheering routines.  The music had shifted from AbbA to Madonna, and "Into the Groove" echoed through the house until it was time for my brothers and new baby sister to go to bed.  Then I would sit on the floor, leaning against the speakers so I could listen with my headphones until it was dark.

After the house burned very few things survived, unless they were in the "other" room.  Miraculously, the stereo didn't get seriously water damaged and it went to the new apartment that Mom moved into.  I would take the baby over on nights that my brothers and sister were at their dad's house.  Mom and I would listen to TLC's "Waterfalls" through the CD player plugged into the old stereo while having a glass of wine and cooing over Mom's first grandson as he fell asleep to the music.

The old stereo didn't survive Mom's move to Tenessee.  When we went down to visit her and Tom, they had a spiffy new pile of electrical components to stream music through the living room and out onto the deck by the pool.  This time, Mom and I were sitting outside in the jacuzzi listening to the music spilling from my teenage sons room as he talked on the phone with his girlfriend.  The name of the song must have been somewhere buried under the heavy bass beats and rapper chorus.  As darkness fell, and the swell of the cicadias' song drowned out anything but the thoughts inside my head, I rose and headed inside to tell the kids to turn off the music and head to bed.

Journal #7- tuesday

Not a super day for me.  Felt terrible this morning again so took a quick (or not so quick depending on how you look at it) trip to the doctor's office to see if I will survive.  He assured me that I would and sent me on my way with a prescription.  I hope that it acutally works to make me feel better.  Class was good, and I treated myself to a stroll through the dollar store.  I love that place, I know it's foolish, but I just do.  You can find the craziest things, that you just have to have of course, there.  Today I acutally went in with a plan.  I generally buy the kids' body wash, shampoo, and little scrubby poofs there, since they go through 5 or 6 times the amount that hubby and I do.  They must coat their entire bodies with it to use that much, I dunno, but as long as they are cleaning themselves I really can't complain.  I must have gotten a bunch of other things, since I spent $30 there but I can't think of anything else except my iced tea that I drank on the way home.  Hmm, well I am sure that whatever it was, I really needed to get, lol. 

Buoyed by my small shopping spree, I decided to make a real live dinner, in the oven even!  I even managed to make something for dessert!  My hubby will probably have a heart attack when he gets home, but he'd better not or he can eat mac and cheese for the rest of the year for all I care :)  After dinner homework went well, and I even managed to get my son to agree to take a shower instead of having to argue with him about it.  I can't wait until the teenage "I don't need a shower" turns into "I better shower a couple times a day so I don't smell" like it did with my older son.

My mom was able to get online and blog a little about her adventures so far in Africa.  She went over as part of an organization that gets together 10 or so nurses from across the country and they go over, bringing medical supplies, to help teach at a nursing school in Ghana, Africa.  I don't even know how she finds things like that to do, but she did, and as I type she is in Ghana for the next week and a half.  To journal a bit about her adventures and keep in touch with us in the states, she used the notion of blogging (stolen from me and my course on blogger).  So she has entered the computerized world of blogging online, although I have to admit it's really just kind of funny to me that she is.  Tonight's blog was about some of the food that she ate there and learning some of the local language.  I'm not sure if she will need Twi, even in Tennessee, but I think it's really kinda neat for her to be able to go and see first hand what a totally different culture is like. 

Gosh, looking back at what I have written so far it's seems that I didn't have quite so bad a day after all.  I wonder what tomorrow will have in store for me?

Journal #6 - friday

I love fridays, but today was kinda sad.  My mom is, as we speak, in a plane heading to (of all places, I know) Ghana, Africa.  There is some long convoluted story and reasoning that she is going to Ghana, but to sum it up, she is taking part in a really great program that gathers medical professionals to go and take medical supplies (stethoscopes, and gowns and stuff) and also help to teach at a nursing/medical school at a hospital in Ghana.  I think that she was getting really nervous about going, because when I talked to her earlier today she was kinda mushy and a little sad.  She was really stressed about having to teach such a large number of students at one time, and trying to pack everythign that she would need in a suitcase that was a maximum of 62 linear inches (I still don't know quite what this means, but I was supportive regardless).  So she was kinda sad, I am having this seriously difficult time making a rather big decision, so we griped and complained and verbally patted each other on the back until we both felt a little better.  I was thinking about it a little while after I got off of the phone with her, about how cool it was that she and I were able to talk to each other and maybe help to make each other feel a little better, even if we could't do a whole lot to help.  I know that for me just talking it out, arguing it with myself out loud, makes it easier if I am trying to make a decision.  When I do that I don't have to worry about hurting anyone else's feelings, or what someone else might think, or if I am just agreeing with the other person to be polite, or letting someone else influence my decisions.  But when I am talking it out with my mom, I don't have to worry about that then either.  I realized today, that is a rare thing.  I hadn't really thought about it before, but I have almost always been able to do that, and I really hope and wish that everyone has an opportunity to have someone like that in their lives.  Gosh, what terribly deep thoughts I am thinking tonight - profound even (lol).  Well back to the mundane.  I think that tomorrow I will spend some time bribing my children to get some work done.  Maybe they will want to think deep thoughts with me, I might pay extra for that. :D

Journal #5 - Thursday

There are days that I sit in the evening, with my allowance of decaf for the night, and reflect on my day - tonight was one of those evenings. Today was a VERY busy day. I took turns trading off and on my student hat, mom hat, and housekeeper hat, but I also had a situation to deal with that had made me quite unhappy (well, angry actually). I don't like to fight with people, I don't like confrontations, I would rather work things out. On the other hand, I don't back down from a disagreement, I will not agree just to keep the peace.

The situation was one where I was unhappy about something, and felt that I had a right to have the situation taken care of by the party responsible. I did not expect said party to agree with me, and had decided that this was a time that I needed to stand up for myself. So I got the kids showered, fed, dressed and off to school, then grabbed my things and headed to class myself. Due to the rather pointed emails that I had made last night regarding my difficulties, I got a call on my cell phone as I was headed to class. As I explained the situation, and what steps needed to be taken to rectify it, I was not encouraged. The response I got was one that I was expecting, "Sorry, I don't think that we can do that." Hmm... Well, since I was now under the power of my second cup of coffee, I calmly (mostly) explained my side of the situation and the reasoning behind the request I was now making to fix it. Silence on the other end of the call told me that I was not getting very far with the calm and rational :( Taking a breath, I explained with a bit more oomph that this situation was UNACCEPTABLE (that was always my mothers keyword, if it was unacceptable you better watch out) through no fault of my own, and I certainly wasn't going to be penalized for it. Perhaps the woman on the other end of the phone heard the capital letters in my voice, or maybe she has a mother much like my own, but she suggested that she could speak with someone else in her office about it and would call me back. I am not unreasonable, and since I know that this woman was just doing her job, and that it really wasn't her fault to begin with, I was more than willing to see this as a step in the right direction.

To make a long story short, or not so short I guess, she did call me back a few minutes later and told me that they would indeed be able to work this situation out for me. To my credit I did thank her for her help, since I really did appreciate that she was willing to hear me out and see what she could do, and then did my little happy dance as I bee-bopped toward class. As I said, it was a busy day with lots of things going on, but the one thing that I will take from this day, was that regardless of whether or not I was feeling overwhelmed, frantic, picked on, or unappreciated, I stood up for myself. Not only that I was able to stand up for myself to work out a difficult situation, but that I was able to carry myself and act in a way that I can point out to my kids and show as an example of how you can be assertive and a strong person without being mean or condecending to others. Gosh, I might even have to tell my mom so she can pat herself on the back for doing such a great job as my example. :)

Journal #5 - Wednesday: Blog Interrupted

So today is Wednesday and my last journal entry was Sunday.  No, we have not had a cosmic realigning of the days of the week, however the little town of Winterport has had a cosmic interruption of sanity.  I realize that Route 1 is a main throughway for traffic, since the interestate is not convienently close.  I live right on Rt 1 as a matter of fact, so I can attest to the amount of traffic that uses this little unimpressive road for daily commuting and travel.  What I do not understand is the town's sudden (although it is something that I am sure has been in the works for quite some time) desire to cut down a forest worth of trees to allow for 100 feet of culvert on each side of the road.  Trees that were peacefully living along the the road long before there was commuter traffic to and from Bangor, have been savagely pruned, chopped, crushed, and ground to wood chips apparently to allow for the expedited flow of water along side of the road.  Secondary to that whole topic, is the fact that some genius in the tree-hacking crew must have miscalculated and managed to damage the rather obvious power and utility lines that were running along the roadway.  Thus interrupting the ability for my profound blogging and successful harvesting of my FarmTown crops.  I am not going to mention the ridiculous flaggers (why are they called flaggers when they hold stop signs and not flags anyway?) on perpetual cigarrette and cell phone breaks while leaning on said stop sign.  If only we were all so lucky to have that kind of job, huh?  Anyway, not a good day for me.  Frustration abounds at my house today for some reason.  As a result my husband has declared that EVERYONE is having an early bedtime tonight so that "everyone" can wake up in a much better mood tomorrow.  I am going to ignore his pointed look at me when he said it, but will perhaps take it under advisement.  Maybe I need a nice relaxing job, like leaning on a stop sign?

Journal #4 - sunday

Today was like one of those Sunday's that I remember from when I was a kid.  Sunday's were days to stay home, no plans, no going anywhere, just being home and relaxing - that was my today.  Even more wonderful, my day began with my dariling hubby getting up, before me for once, making coffee, and actually making breakfast for everyone (cooking with pans and everything!)  Afterwards I wandered through the newspaper, sipping coffee and checking emails and facebook.  I was glad to hear that my mom's dog, Buddy, was doing much better - they were afraid the other night that they may have to have him put to sleep - but he just needed some additional medication.  What a terrible summer it has been for my poor mom, Buddy dying would probably just about put her over the edge.  I wish that she lived closer, Tennessee is not quite close enough for lunch and shopping dates, but we will see what happens in the next couple of years.  Who knows, after my oldest son graduates we may decide that Tenn. is where we want to be?  Although after our recent heat wave, my hubby is seriously reconsidering that line of thought, lol, I think that he lost 10 pounds from all of the heat.  So today was relaxing, one of those days where I wear my comfy clothes all day, because I know that I am not going anywhere or have to do much of anything.  Maybe I was subconsciously resting up for tomorrow, since we are "cordially invited" to my mother-in-law's for a cookout.  Hmm, I will have to think of something to do with the kids that will keep me from having to sit and make conversation forever (well seems like forever) about how my MIL is right and whoever was disagreeing with her was wrong.  Ugh, I just hope that she doesn't start in on the kids and how they should be doing this, and shouldn't be doing that... it makes for a terribly long afternoon.  Since things have been kind of on an even keel for a while, I am hoping to keep it that way, so I need to be good and keep my mouth shut a bit, I can always complain to hubby when we get home :)  Oh well, while I am waiting for hubby to get home from work tonight, I will get some dishes done, and maybe think of something interesting to take for tomorrow.  Actually that sounds like a good idea, it's actually cool enough to get the oven going, and I have some neat pie recipes that I haven't gotten to make yet.  I wonder if hubby will stop for supplies on his way home?  Well, I am off to the kitchen to bake some of my relaxation and happiness into a pie.  Maybe I can get my MIL to eat a couple pieces tomorrow :)

Saturday Journal - Day 3

Hooray, Earl passed us by.  It was wonderful that even the rain stopped by mid morning, and the sun began to peek out.  Fueled by sun and a light breeze, I managed get my kids to motivate a bit as well.  While they did some chores around the house, I had the chance to hang all of the quilts and blankets on the line.  I love to put them out on the laundry line when there is such a nice breeze, it makes them smell so good and fresh, like spring-time.  Since I was already dismantling the beds, I threw all of the sheets in the wash, and even managed to throw a couple of the pillows through as well.  Moving on to my next target was a bit less rewarding or successful, the yard is my nemesis.  I had my son mow the grass, and taught my daughter how to rake up the edges, but I really needed to put some time and energy into trimming back the hedges and other bushes.  So I started at it, got the kids to pick up the scraps as I went along, and managed to make it look slightly better without doing any permanent damage, I think.  We did try to make some advances on the back yard as well, but it didn't get very far since it was lunch time, and the kids all started making that noise where you know they aren't whining yet, but they will be soon.  Once they get started (it's the only thing they can all do together as a team, lol) it beomes more work telling them what to do, and talking them into it than it would be for me to do it myself.  Needless to say, we retired to the kitchen for lunch, and I totally forgot about the yard and started in on other housework that I had been avoiding.  I guess overall we did get a bunch of things done, I will have to see what I can get finished up tomorrow.  I know that before long we will have to worry about snow starting , and I want to make sure that we get the yard done before that happens, ugh.  That reminds me, I am going to have to call about getting wood delivered again this year.  That will be another project for the boys some weekend, but they acutally did a really good job with it last year, and it only cost me $10 for each of them, lol.  Well after all that yard and housework today, I'm heading out to the back porch with my iced tea to listen to the crickets before I go to bed.  I want to enjoy it now while I can.

Theme Week #1 - Third person

The group of students groaned at the announcement of a writing assignment, with one exception. The dark haired girl in the back corner shifted slightly in her seat, not the squirming of nervousness, but settling in, preparing for a treat. She loved writing assignments. The idea of painting a world and people with words, bringing them to life on the page, was one that she enjoyed more than any other. Writing was her escape, and it was a portable one that she could carry with her wherever she went. Even now, stuffed in the side pocket of her oversized purse/undersized backback, was her writing journal.

She had bought it last year, quite without knowing how much she would enjoy it. Wandering through the aisles of the bookstore, she happened upon a display of journals and notebooks. While not particularly interested in the books that did not already carry the words and worlds within them, she glanced at the table as she moved past. There was one sitting there that reminded her of a book that her grandmother had read to her when she was little. The brown leather binding was simple and the rich color of chocolate, with a plain undecorated cover, just like Gram's. Without thinking, she reached out to flip open the cover; blank lined pages looked back at her. No stories, no pictures, not even little page numbers marred the clean surface. What would it be like to fill those pages with her own stories and thoughts? Once the idea came into her head, she enjoyed thinking all of the what-if's the journal brought up inside of her. She could write stories, ones she remembered from her childhood, to pass down to her children someday. Or maybe she could use it for a journal, jotting down tidbits from her day, and perhaps the dreams and plans of where her life might take her. Regardless of what she would end up using it for, the girl clutched the book and headed straight for the cashier. Since then, there were seldom days that she did not write in her book. She had decided that she would put whatever came to her mind in her journal, hodge-podge it all together, and just let it be whatever it wanted to be.

Theme Week #1 - Second Person

Creative non-fiction writing. Creative, okay you can do creative right? You are creative everyday, using your imagination and creativity with everything from what to wear to what to make for dinner. Non-fiction? Well that just means that its real, you know real. Your whole life is real, real in a good way and real in the crazy, you-just-can't-make-that-stuff-up way. Writing, well that might be the stopper huh? Well, it's a class. You have a teacher to teach you the things you don't already know to make you better at what you need to do, right? So after this little pep talk you sit yourself down to begin your first assignment of the semester, nerves held firmly in check. First assignment, write a daily journal. Sweat begins to appear upon your brow as you wonder what surprise is lurking inside this innocuous task. Taking a deep breath, you plunge in, forgetting to be nervous, self conscious, and overly critical. Words flow from your fingertips, making you realize that perhaps this might not be so bad. Look at what you have done so far, and you didn't even really have to think about it. Finishing up your first posting, you pause. Do you look back at what you have written, rethinking and rewriting, or do you post and trust that what you think the first time around is always better than nit-picking over it after? Well they do say that you should think before you speak, or look before you leap, or was it caution is the better part of valor? Whatever it is, you decide that a quick once-over now will be better than the embarassement of looking like a moron later. A few quick adjustments later you are pleased enough to hit the submit button. With a sigh of relief you realize that it was okay, that maybe you could do this after all, as long as the teacher likes it, that is.

Week 1 Prompts

Alone in a quiet room, what do I hear?

I am alone in my quiet room, the special room that I carry locked inside of me, hidden away for moments like these; moments where I can just think and be for myself. Inside this room I don't hear the kids bickering in the living room, or the phone ringing (yet again) for my teenage son. I don't hear the washer spinning off balance, or the buzzer for the clothes dryer downstairs announcing the arrival of yet another load to fold and put away. Likewise, the sound of my husband yelling to the quarterback or power forward on TV, is lightly bouncing away from my little space here.

In this room, my room, my space, I hear only the slow murmur of my heartbeat as I close my eyes. I hear the soft whirring of the fan cooling the back of my neck from the unseasonable heat. I take a deep breath, hearing all of the stress and tension float away with a small sigh. Where do all of these sounds go when I step outside of my personal space here? Do they live under the clash and bang of my crazy, boisterous life? They must, for there are random times when I begin to feel slightly desperate or overwhelmed, that I take a peek into that room for a quick glimpse to reassure me that my quiet room is there for me when I need it.   (Thursday, September 02, 2010 8:22:00 PM)
 
 
Alone in a quiet room, what do I see?

Sitting here, in a surprisingly quiet room, I see... well, I see my computer screen looking right back at me. It's actually glaring at me, through the haze of fingerprints and smudges of God-only-knows what. "How can you sit there and just type while I stand here dirty and smudged?" it asks. Well, it can wait, I have things to do here. So too can the dust that appears to have materialized overnight (yet again) and collected near the base of the suffering screen, I don't have time for that right now. With a sigh and a quick mental compromise, I decide that I will have one more cup of coffee since I am being so diligent and doing my homework first thing this morning, I head to the kitchen for a refill. What do I see? Oh dear, hmm, dirty dishes. They clamor for my attention as I walk past without making eye contact, accusing me of forgetting about them last night. Well, it was over ninety degrees in this house last night, and nothing was going to make me stand over a sink of hot dishwater. So the dishes are officially entered to my mental list of things that I still need to do today. Well, looks like it will be a busy day for me.
 
I wander back to the computer, refill in hand, only to see..sigh, my desk trash can must have been knocked over when the kids were in here playing before school. Well, that I can take care of now, it should only take a minute. Well, maybe a bit more, as I see the kitchen trash duty has apparently been forgotten by the kids before leaving for school. Trash all bagged up and put in the back porch bins, new trash bag in place, ok now back to the computer. Settling into my chair with my mostly still-warm coffee, I check the screen to see where I was in my writing. Ugh, that screen is really dirty, is that a comma or a period? Oh wait, it's neither, bleck. Forget it. There is apparently a reason that I usually wait until evening to do my school work. My days are filled with home-work, so that when I am in a quiet room and I look around, I can see my home filled with my family and memories. Yes, it's definately worth the work. Who needs another cup of coffee anyway?(Friday, September 03, 2010 10:16:00 AM )
 
 
Alone in a quiet room, but what is really happening?

I am sitting here alone. It is quiet. Strangely quiet. Hmm, suspiciously quiet. Dangerously quiet. What is really happening that I cannot hear? A house full of children, well four children, is rarely if ever really quiet, and yet it is right now.

I wonder what is going on just outside of my hearing. Perhaps my daughter cutting all of her Barbie's hair off with my sewing scissors in her bed again, leaving a silken blond layer all over her sheets and blankets. Maybe she is playing "dress up" with the makeup that she has snuck out of my cabinet in the bathroom, slathering her face with lip gloss and eye shadow. She could be playing quietly in the living room, or doing one of the word-search puzzles that I gave her to keep her busy in the car, that is what's called wishful thinking. Her other favorite, yet dangerous sport, is what she calls "playing" with her older brother. I find that the definition of "playing" is wildly different to a thirteen year old boy than it is to an eight year old little girl. However, they are quiet.

Like the quiet before the storm. Is she upstairs watching, "helping" her brother while he plays his video game? That never ends well. To a bossy, and yes I admit, spoiled little sister, "helping" involves telling her brother what to do. Is he upstairs now muttering under his breath that she better be quiet? The tension builds and builds until he can no longer tolerate her interference, then bursts in a squall of yelling and stomping feet. He has a long fuse though, like I do, but once it's lit there will be fire. It's quiet now though.

It's one of those quiets that if you think too much about it, becomes one of those uncomfortable silences that forces you up to investigate. Like the movies where the pretty girl just has to look in the dark closet where the bad guy is waiting. You know that it's out there, and you can't stand the suspense of waiting for it to come to you. It's not "quiet" anymore.

It's silence.   Waiting.          Suspense.        (Friday, September 03, 2010 3:47:00 PM )

Friday Journal

TGIF!  Today was the type of Friday that created that saying.  I was so glad that my apparent attitude disfunction seemed to melt away as I slept last night.  I had a lovely cup of morning coffee before the kids woke up, sitting on my back porch listening to the birds and squirrels.  After getting the kids off to school Randy and I got to spend a little quiet time together before I began tackling the housework.  Today it seems the laundry and dishes weren't quite so overwhelming, and I managed to make a significant dent in the mountain of dirty clothes.  Gosh I even so far as to get out my sewing things to fix a pair of shorts.  Talk about domestication!  :)  I was so pleased to see that it wasn't quite so hot today, but I did have to wonder how happy I was going to be about cooler days once December rolled around.  Not to mention the potential hurricane that we may be seeing this weekend, that will liven things up for sure.  I can just imagine my mother-in-law's face if the Labor Day cookout has to be cancelled because of the weather.  Well, we will have to wait and see I suppose, tomorrow should tell the tale of what we will be getting.  I am hoping that it doesn't get to terrible out, since hubby is working all weekend and I will have to find ways to keep the kiddos occupied.  Time will tell, I'm sure that I will be griping tomorrow night if they are stuck in the house with me.

Theme Week #1 - First person

I love to read. I can sit and read to the exclusion of everything else around me. Having enjoyed my literature class so much last semester, and having done (if I must say so myself) a bang-up job on my writing assignments for that class, I was really looking forward to a writing class. I was a bit aprehensive when the woman at the bookstore informed me that there was no book for the class however. My husband laughingly asked what would you need a book for in a class where you were supposed to be writing anyway? I grimaced a bit and thought that perhaps there might be a book that taught how to be a creative non-fiction writer, and when I said as much, he just smiled. So tenitively I opened my first email from Mr Goldfine, reading through, sinking down into my chair a bit more with each sentence. I start at the top of the email again to clarify in my mind what in the world I am supposed to be doing, while wondering what in the world I was doing in this class. I'm not going to be a writer, or an english teacher, what am I taking this class for? I mentally quash all of the increasing panic, and click the link to the "test" (?!!?) for starting up the class. My stomach begins to clench as I quickly scan down the page of multi-part, multi-post messages and instructions. I calmly mention to my husband that he's going to need to be in charge of the kids for a while so that I can get my class set up, but he saw my face. The grim set of concentration, and almost panic was announcing to him that it was time to clear out and batten the hatches.

I won't go into the details of the test, but needless to say, I did manage to get to the finish line in a round-about kind of way. My spirits a bit lighter, and the sweat disappearing from my brow, I mentally pat myself on the back for getting it done and begin to wander down the path of my random daydreams of becoming a published author. How amazing would it be to actually write a book? I always wondered if I would be able to write a book that was able to paint the characters and scenes as perfectly as the books that I love to read. Buoyed by enthusiasm I look through the assignments and wonder if perhaps I was a bit too hasty in drafting my first dedication.

Thursday Journal

There are good days, and then there are days that I feel like I should move to another country and change my name.  Today is one of the latter, I'm afriad, but not for the reason that most might think.  Today I have been a horrible, grumpy, grouchy, pessamistic, nit-picky person.  I know it must be PMS, or the heat, or the season, or the... oh I don't know, but there probably is not enough of a reason for my attitude today.  It seemed like things just started badly and continued on from there.  I woke up late, was rushed for time to get the kids off to school, couldn't find the car keys.. blah blah blah.  I sit here, looking at my day and wonder, why did it matter?  It seems like all of the little things just king of ganged up on me today, and in return I poured it on my poor husband.  I do have to admit the look on his face was priceless when he asked me something, and I went bonkers (literally I think), ranting on about consideration.  Really, consideration??  I can't believe that he puts up with me sometimes, but I am so very glad that I have him.  Who in the world would make me laugh instead of cry when I look at the mess in my house?  Who could weather the constant issues with our 10 year old son and still have that endlessly positive attitude.  Well, perhaps I will treat myself to a long, uninterrupted shower and perhaps a bit of reading for fun.  Gosh, I might even splurge and rescue my crops on Farm Town, lol.