Jared and Tee are going to a movie tomorrow afternoon (Dr. Strange) which means Makenna and I get to have girls' time. :D it's one of my favorite sorts of times these days. she really is an incredibly remarkable, lovely young person. we went together last Wednesday to vote early, and even that super very enjoyable.
both jobs are going fairly well, but we're starting (even more obnoxiously) earlier hours this next week at job 1. :/ luckily, I have the week scheduled off so I can wait until the following one to start the unpleasantry if I should want to.
both jobs are going fairly well, but we're starting (even more obnoxiously) earlier hours this next week at job 1. :/ luckily, I have the week scheduled off so I can wait until the following one to start the unpleasantry if I should want to.
As Mike navigated their van along the curvy road, Laurie did what she could to keep Ivy and Theo occupied so they wouldn't a) drive him batty with questions about arrival times and pit stops, or b) pick at each other to the point where one or the other ended up in tears or screams.
They were on their third round of the alphabet game when they all decided they were tired of trying to find yet another Q and lapsed into an easy silence. Laurie gazed out the window at the full moon lighting their way to Lewiston and began to sing her version of the Waterboys' "Why Look at the Moon".
The kids stayed quiet as they often did to listen to the sound of her melodic contralto voice. To them, it was simply another nice trait that made her the sweet, pretty woman they knew as their mom. For Mike, it was one of the earliest things he'd loved about her - when they'd gone to a karaoke bar on about their third date, he'd felt like he was both melted and lifted by her lovely rendition of Linda Ronstadt's "Blue Bayou".
He looked over at Laurie and met her warm smile with one of his own, and he knew they were thinking along similar lines. After she finished, Ivy piped up to say, "I don't remember that song, Mom. What made you sing it?"
Laurie paused for a moment as more memories flowed through her mind, warming her with happiness. Then she smiled and told Ivy, "I've always loved the full moon, and that's one of the nicest songs I know about it."
"Why do you love the full moon so much, Mom?", this time the question coming from Theo.
"I'm not sure how well I can explain it, Theo. Sometimes as a little girl, if I felt a bit scared and alone in my bed, I could go look out the window and check for where the moon was, and when it was full or close to it, it was always much easier to find and gave off such a nice glow.
On nights when my parents were out, I could picture them wherever and know they could look up and see the same moon, and it made me feel less lonely for them. My mom had shown me the man in the moon, and it was always something we enjoyed looking at together, so it was especially nice to think she could look up and see him when I did."
Both kids appeared enraptured as she recounted this, and since Ivy was 11 and Theo ready to turn 9 in a couple more months, she impulsively decided to add, "It's also one of the earliest things that helped me to know your dad was a keeper!" At this, her own smile turned into a bigger grin; she leaned over and patted Mike's leg, and he winked at her in return.
Theo's response of "Huh?" mixed with Ivy's, "What do you mean, Mom?" She turned in her seat some to address them more easily.
"I learned over the years not everyone sees the man in the moon. That's perfectly alright, of course, but it has made me feel a bit of an oddball from time to time. Then later on, I realized some people would tell me they saw the man in the moon when they probably really didn't."
By people, she largely meant young men who were trying to date her or pick her up, and she'd gradually figured out how to discern pretty quickly when they were just going along to make it seem like they had more in common with her.
Theo asked her, "But why would they do that?" She chose to answer him more judiciously and said, "Oh, I suppose they were mostly trying to be nice, not realizing that pretending might not feel so nice in the long run."
"Did Dad see the man in the moon with you?" asked Ivy.
"Nope, he sure didn't." Laurie couldn't help but smile again, both at recalling this and at the kids' confused and slightly concerned expressions. "He was walking me home from one of our early dates, and I glanced up at the full moon and saw the man. I took your dad's hand and pointed it out to him and asked if he could see him. He stopped walking to gaze up for a minute and then said, 'no sorry, I don't' with a really sweet smile. It seemed to tell me he was glad I could, and at the same time, the tiniest bit sad he couldn't.
This time, her smile for Mike was full of true, deep affection and admiration for his steady honesty. Theo and Ivy both looked questioningly at their dad, which he answered with, "No, I couldn't see him but I was happy your mom found such pleasure in doing so. I can picture him now a little bit when I try hard since your mom showed me what to look for, but I still can't see him as readily as she can."
Laurie had never been a big fan of people looking to hedge their bets, especially over such small stuff, and now she chimed back in, "Yep, I loved that he was totally forthright with me and didn't try to pretend anything!"
They were still smiling at each other, and Ivy and Theo exchanged looks like children sometimes do when they know they're missing out on part of what's going on. But Mom and Dad smiling together was always a good thing, so they both ended up smiling again too.
*a picture of the man in the moon for reference
this is my entry for Week 10 of LJI Friends & Rivals. stay tuned for a later update on voting information for this and other submissions after the deadline for entries passes.
They were on their third round of the alphabet game when they all decided they were tired of trying to find yet another Q and lapsed into an easy silence. Laurie gazed out the window at the full moon lighting their way to Lewiston and began to sing her version of the Waterboys' "Why Look at the Moon".
The kids stayed quiet as they often did to listen to the sound of her melodic contralto voice. To them, it was simply another nice trait that made her the sweet, pretty woman they knew as their mom. For Mike, it was one of the earliest things he'd loved about her - when they'd gone to a karaoke bar on about their third date, he'd felt like he was both melted and lifted by her lovely rendition of Linda Ronstadt's "Blue Bayou".
He looked over at Laurie and met her warm smile with one of his own, and he knew they were thinking along similar lines. After she finished, Ivy piped up to say, "I don't remember that song, Mom. What made you sing it?"
Laurie paused for a moment as more memories flowed through her mind, warming her with happiness. Then she smiled and told Ivy, "I've always loved the full moon, and that's one of the nicest songs I know about it."
"Why do you love the full moon so much, Mom?", this time the question coming from Theo.
"I'm not sure how well I can explain it, Theo. Sometimes as a little girl, if I felt a bit scared and alone in my bed, I could go look out the window and check for where the moon was, and when it was full or close to it, it was always much easier to find and gave off such a nice glow.
On nights when my parents were out, I could picture them wherever and know they could look up and see the same moon, and it made me feel less lonely for them. My mom had shown me the man in the moon, and it was always something we enjoyed looking at together, so it was especially nice to think she could look up and see him when I did."
Both kids appeared enraptured as she recounted this, and since Ivy was 11 and Theo ready to turn 9 in a couple more months, she impulsively decided to add, "It's also one of the earliest things that helped me to know your dad was a keeper!" At this, her own smile turned into a bigger grin; she leaned over and patted Mike's leg, and he winked at her in return.
Theo's response of "Huh?" mixed with Ivy's, "What do you mean, Mom?" She turned in her seat some to address them more easily.
"I learned over the years not everyone sees the man in the moon. That's perfectly alright, of course, but it has made me feel a bit of an oddball from time to time. Then later on, I realized some people would tell me they saw the man in the moon when they probably really didn't."
By people, she largely meant young men who were trying to date her or pick her up, and she'd gradually figured out how to discern pretty quickly when they were just going along to make it seem like they had more in common with her.
Theo asked her, "But why would they do that?" She chose to answer him more judiciously and said, "Oh, I suppose they were mostly trying to be nice, not realizing that pretending might not feel so nice in the long run."
"Did Dad see the man in the moon with you?" asked Ivy.
"Nope, he sure didn't." Laurie couldn't help but smile again, both at recalling this and at the kids' confused and slightly concerned expressions. "He was walking me home from one of our early dates, and I glanced up at the full moon and saw the man. I took your dad's hand and pointed it out to him and asked if he could see him. He stopped walking to gaze up for a minute and then said, 'no sorry, I don't' with a really sweet smile. It seemed to tell me he was glad I could, and at the same time, the tiniest bit sad he couldn't.
This time, her smile for Mike was full of true, deep affection and admiration for his steady honesty. Theo and Ivy both looked questioningly at their dad, which he answered with, "No, I couldn't see him but I was happy your mom found such pleasure in doing so. I can picture him now a little bit when I try hard since your mom showed me what to look for, but I still can't see him as readily as she can."
Laurie had never been a big fan of people looking to hedge their bets, especially over such small stuff, and now she chimed back in, "Yep, I loved that he was totally forthright with me and didn't try to pretend anything!"
They were still smiling at each other, and Ivy and Theo exchanged looks like children sometimes do when they know they're missing out on part of what's going on. But Mom and Dad smiling together was always a good thing, so they both ended up smiling again too.
*a picture of the man in the moon for reference
this is my entry for Week 10 of LJI Friends & Rivals. stay tuned for a later update on voting information for this and other submissions after the deadline for entries passes.
Sarah wasn't prone to speculating about or staring at random people, but something about the older gentleman seated on the bench at the edge of Riverview Park caught her eye. She was stuck waiting at the interminable, recalcitrant traffic light on the corner of Sixth and Willow Lane when she glanced over and found her gaze staying on him.
Maybe it was the way the worn but smart bowler sat on his head, or perhaps it was the glossy wooden cane with the fancy topper that leaned against the bench next to him. Then again, there was the gorgeous rough collie sitting patiently and attentively by his side, focus divided between his face and the traffic (both foot and car) passing by. She glanced back at the light to see it was still the same red; as her head turned back toward the man and dog, she noticed his own head was starting to droop and his face seemed to be losing color. The dog nudged his hand and then started to whine and pace around his feet. Alarmed, Sarah quickly checked her right side and then scooted over to make the right turn after a hurried look up Willow to see no cars coming. She pulled her blue Charger into the very first parking spot and barely took time to yank the keys out of the ignition before she pushed open her door to run up the sidewalk to the gentleman and his dog.
"Sir, sir! Are you alright?" Sarah knelt down beside him, and even though she was less apt to touch people she didn't know, her hand went out seemingly of its own accord to brush his sleeve to ensure she gained his attention. He turned his gaze toward her, and as she saw his eyes, she thought she might have given a small gasp of delight if she were the type to do so -they were the brightest, clearest golden hazel she'd ever seen on a human being. They took her aback enough that she lost her train of thought for a moment, but then she recovered enough to query further. "Sir, you looked as though you might be starting to feel sick for a minute. Are you unwell?"
He gave a small but warm smile and said, "I think I'm alright. I just think I've probably sat here too long without something to drink. It's just such a lovely day, I found myself reluctant to leave this peaceful little haven.
It’s very kind of you to ask. Isn’t it, Lucy?” With those words, he turned toward the dog and ruffled the bronze fur on the top of her head warmly. She responded with a doggy smile and a lick of his hand.
His friendly gaze turned back to Sarah, and he said, “I beg your pardon, we haven’t formally met yet. My name is Henry, and this here is Lucy who’s been my tireless compatriot for about three years now. She’s a sweetheart, and you’re more than welcome to greet her if you like – she enjoys affection from just about all sources.”
She crossed over in front of him to stroke Lucy’s smooth, soft coat. Then she told him, “Well I’m Sarah, and I was admiring you and your dog from my car when your head droop caused me to get a bit concerned.” She said this last with a warm but still slightly worried smile. “Perhaps you’d be willing to step over to Ivy’s for a cool drink with me…” The Ivy’s she referred to was the café across the street with the red sign above the canopy that read in white letters Ben and Ivy’s. Ben had passed on several years back from a sudden severe stroke, but Ivy resumed primary management of the place about a year after losing him.
She’d never changed the sign and had no plans to, but as she told anybody who cared to ask, she’d had to go back to work or drive herself to drink from loneliness sitting in their bungalow with nothing productive or pressing to do. The café was hard work, and it kept both her body and mind busy and agile. Sarah was a semi-regular there, as were many people in the town, and she knew Ivy wouldn’t mind at all if Lucy were to join them even – she appeared to be such a well behaved dog, she probably wouldn’t even raise an eyebrow.
Henry’s return smile was still a bit wan, and he protested half-heartedly, “I’m sure you have better things to do right now than accompany a foolish older man while he sees to his needs and those of his neglected escort.”
“No sir, Henry, indeed I do not!” She was fairly insistent about this as she found herself biting back a bigger grin at thinking Lucy was anything other than a very loved, well-kept companion – her bright eyes and groomed fur, as well as her friendly, open expression belied Henry’s words. “In fact, I can think of nothing I’d like to do more right now.” She surprised herself slightly with how true the words were as she offered Henry her arm. It was as he rose from the bench she noticed Lucy had no leash.
As Henry lightly rested his left hand on the proffered arm and picked up his handsome cane in the right one, he seemed to read her thoughts when he said, “Lucy seems to have no ambitions whatsoever to run off. She stays on a leash readily enough, but she’s both more relaxed and alert when she’s allowed to stay by my side on her own.” Sarah nodded, both impressed and unsurprised, based on what she’d observed so far.
As they made their way across street, Henry asked her, “Do you think they’ll mind giving Lucy some water in a bowl or whatever they have handy?”
“Not in the slightest. I know Ivy fairly well, and I’m sure she’d be glad to have Lucy join us at a table, presuming she’ll be content to sit at your feet.”
This time Henry’s smile was surer and brighter when he responded, “Of course she will be! It seems to be one of her favorite spots in the world.”
The door chimes jingled slightly as they entered. Ivy looked up from behind the counter, smiled at the trio, and said, “Pick any table, you guys! Just when I thought I might doze off for a minute if it got any slower, it’s good to see some more friendly faces.”
She followed them over to the table they selected to ask what they’d have. Sarah said she’d have a sweet iced tea, and Henry said he’d have the same and some water for Lucy if it wouldn’t be too much trouble. Ivy smiled again and proclaimed it would be her pleasure, no trouble at all!
Before she was done turning around, Henry was removing his hat to reveal a nicely shaped bald head, smooth and lightly tanned. He placed the hat on the empty chair next to him and took a handkerchief from his jacket pocket to pat at his scalp, which looked fairly dry already to Sarah's eyes. She realized it was probably a habit of his and smiled warmly at him as he caught her gaze. He returned her smile and said, "I realize the hat is old-fashioned to some, but I find it's best to keep the sun off this noggin of mine anymore."
Sarah nodded, "I can see the good sense in that. Besides, your hat is lovely and looks very dapper on you." Henry smiled with real delight this time as he replied, "Well thank you, my dear."
Ivy returned quickly with two tall glasses of tea, a small plate of lemon wedges, and a small mixing bowl filled with water which she set down next to Lucy. She gave Lucy's head a nice rub and said, "Now don't you go spilling it all over, girl," and walked away smiling again, confident Lucy would follow instructions.
After they'd sipped on their tea for a minute, Sarah asked Henry, "So are you fairly new to town, or just passing through?"
He smiled and said, "I thought I'd look up an old friend not too far away during my travels, and I like the area so much, I decided to stop and rest a day or two. Lucy and I've been on the road a few weeks, and it's good for us to slow down for a bit every now and again."
"Wow, it's great to be able to travel leisurely - I'd like to do more of it myself. Do you mind if I ask what prompted this particular trip?"
"Oh nothing all that interesting, I'm afraid to say. Every so often, I just get the urge to see more of this country up close, and I find it's best to follow those urges. After all, we never really know when a chance will pass us by and we won't get another one, right?" Henry's smile as he said this last bit might have been tinged with melancholy, but when Sarah looked closer and saw good color back in his cheeks, and his lovely eyes were bright and crinkling sweetly at the outside corners, she decided maybe it was just a passing fancy.
"Well Henry, I'm happy you and Lucy decided to stop here. We can always use more personable, gregarious folks around here. Cheers!" She raised her glass, and he did likewise and clinked his companionably with hers.
Ivy stepped back over to ask, "How's the tea?" They both smiled, and Henry proclaimed it perfect. Then she asked what snack or goodies she might get them. Henry turned to Sarah for guidance, and she said, "It's pretty darn hard to beat Ivy's pie ala mode or homemade bread pudding."
"What kind of pie do you have, Ms. Ivy?" She smiled delightedly at his old world manners and said, "Well, today we have blackberry, a favorite of mine, and peach."
Henry's eyes closed for a moment with anticipatory pleasure, and then he opened them and gave Ivy the biggest smile Sarah had yet seen on his face. "I haven't had blackberry pie in over 12 years - bring some of that on, please! But leave off the ice cream, sadly. It gives me gas something terrible."
Sarah had to smile at that and told Ivy she'd enjoy the bread pudding, and Ivy moved away to get their treats. They enjoyed an easy silence until she returned and set their plates in front of them, and then she asked Henry, "Is it alright if I give your dog some of these scraps we had in the kitchen?" Henry looked again very pleased with her thoughtfulness and said she could indeed. Ivy placed a small dish of bacon rinds, carrot slices, and crumbled biscuit pieces down next to Lucy on the floor. Her tail started to wag and then she looked up at Henry expectantly. He said lovingly to her, "Go ahead, girl, dig in! And say thank you to the nice lady." Lucy's head swung toward Ivy, and her face did indeed show sublime joy and adoration, as if she were showing her gratefulness for the bounty.
Henry patted her head twice and then picked up his own fork to taste his pie. "Oh my, that is utterly sublime," and grinned hugely again. Sarah had to grin too, and as they all tucked into their food, talking ceased for a few more minutes.
After Henry had put away a good portion of his pie, he set down his fork, took another long pull on his iced tea, and then smiled contentedly at Sarah. "My dear, I've no idea what good fortune brought you my way today, but I'm so glad it did. This has been a true pleasure, and I appreciate you spending this time with me."
"Henry, it's been a real pleasure for me too! Will you stay around much longer?"
"I think Lucy and I should spend another restful night here, and then we'll need to move on."
This sounded perfectly sensible to Sarah, but at the same time she felt a moment of regret that their acquaintance would be so short-lived. Then Henry surprised her by saying, "I'm not so old-fashioned that I forgo all the modern methods of communication. If you don't mind sharing your email address with me, perhaps we could stay in touch?"
Sarah was pleased by the idea and wrote down her information on a piece of paper from the notebook she almost always had in one of her pockets. "I'd love to hear how you and Lucy are getting along, Henry."
He seemed to be fully recovered from his earlier pallidness, so Sarah impulsively decided that with any luck, she'd made a couple of new friends. With some further good fortune, maybe she'd hear from them again before too terribly long.
Her wish was going to come to fruition sooner than she expected.
this is my entry for Week 9 of LJI Friends & Rivals. stay tuned for a later update on voting information for this and other submissions after the deadline for entries passes.
Maybe it was the way the worn but smart bowler sat on his head, or perhaps it was the glossy wooden cane with the fancy topper that leaned against the bench next to him. Then again, there was the gorgeous rough collie sitting patiently and attentively by his side, focus divided between his face and the traffic (both foot and car) passing by. She glanced back at the light to see it was still the same red; as her head turned back toward the man and dog, she noticed his own head was starting to droop and his face seemed to be losing color. The dog nudged his hand and then started to whine and pace around his feet. Alarmed, Sarah quickly checked her right side and then scooted over to make the right turn after a hurried look up Willow to see no cars coming. She pulled her blue Charger into the very first parking spot and barely took time to yank the keys out of the ignition before she pushed open her door to run up the sidewalk to the gentleman and his dog.
"Sir, sir! Are you alright?" Sarah knelt down beside him, and even though she was less apt to touch people she didn't know, her hand went out seemingly of its own accord to brush his sleeve to ensure she gained his attention. He turned his gaze toward her, and as she saw his eyes, she thought she might have given a small gasp of delight if she were the type to do so -they were the brightest, clearest golden hazel she'd ever seen on a human being. They took her aback enough that she lost her train of thought for a moment, but then she recovered enough to query further. "Sir, you looked as though you might be starting to feel sick for a minute. Are you unwell?"
He gave a small but warm smile and said, "I think I'm alright. I just think I've probably sat here too long without something to drink. It's just such a lovely day, I found myself reluctant to leave this peaceful little haven.
It’s very kind of you to ask. Isn’t it, Lucy?” With those words, he turned toward the dog and ruffled the bronze fur on the top of her head warmly. She responded with a doggy smile and a lick of his hand.
His friendly gaze turned back to Sarah, and he said, “I beg your pardon, we haven’t formally met yet. My name is Henry, and this here is Lucy who’s been my tireless compatriot for about three years now. She’s a sweetheart, and you’re more than welcome to greet her if you like – she enjoys affection from just about all sources.”
She crossed over in front of him to stroke Lucy’s smooth, soft coat. Then she told him, “Well I’m Sarah, and I was admiring you and your dog from my car when your head droop caused me to get a bit concerned.” She said this last with a warm but still slightly worried smile. “Perhaps you’d be willing to step over to Ivy’s for a cool drink with me…” The Ivy’s she referred to was the café across the street with the red sign above the canopy that read in white letters Ben and Ivy’s. Ben had passed on several years back from a sudden severe stroke, but Ivy resumed primary management of the place about a year after losing him.
She’d never changed the sign and had no plans to, but as she told anybody who cared to ask, she’d had to go back to work or drive herself to drink from loneliness sitting in their bungalow with nothing productive or pressing to do. The café was hard work, and it kept both her body and mind busy and agile. Sarah was a semi-regular there, as were many people in the town, and she knew Ivy wouldn’t mind at all if Lucy were to join them even – she appeared to be such a well behaved dog, she probably wouldn’t even raise an eyebrow.
Henry’s return smile was still a bit wan, and he protested half-heartedly, “I’m sure you have better things to do right now than accompany a foolish older man while he sees to his needs and those of his neglected escort.”
“No sir, Henry, indeed I do not!” She was fairly insistent about this as she found herself biting back a bigger grin at thinking Lucy was anything other than a very loved, well-kept companion – her bright eyes and groomed fur, as well as her friendly, open expression belied Henry’s words. “In fact, I can think of nothing I’d like to do more right now.” She surprised herself slightly with how true the words were as she offered Henry her arm. It was as he rose from the bench she noticed Lucy had no leash.
As Henry lightly rested his left hand on the proffered arm and picked up his handsome cane in the right one, he seemed to read her thoughts when he said, “Lucy seems to have no ambitions whatsoever to run off. She stays on a leash readily enough, but she’s both more relaxed and alert when she’s allowed to stay by my side on her own.” Sarah nodded, both impressed and unsurprised, based on what she’d observed so far.
As they made their way across street, Henry asked her, “Do you think they’ll mind giving Lucy some water in a bowl or whatever they have handy?”
“Not in the slightest. I know Ivy fairly well, and I’m sure she’d be glad to have Lucy join us at a table, presuming she’ll be content to sit at your feet.”
This time Henry’s smile was surer and brighter when he responded, “Of course she will be! It seems to be one of her favorite spots in the world.”
The door chimes jingled slightly as they entered. Ivy looked up from behind the counter, smiled at the trio, and said, “Pick any table, you guys! Just when I thought I might doze off for a minute if it got any slower, it’s good to see some more friendly faces.”
She followed them over to the table they selected to ask what they’d have. Sarah said she’d have a sweet iced tea, and Henry said he’d have the same and some water for Lucy if it wouldn’t be too much trouble. Ivy smiled again and proclaimed it would be her pleasure, no trouble at all!
Before she was done turning around, Henry was removing his hat to reveal a nicely shaped bald head, smooth and lightly tanned. He placed the hat on the empty chair next to him and took a handkerchief from his jacket pocket to pat at his scalp, which looked fairly dry already to Sarah's eyes. She realized it was probably a habit of his and smiled warmly at him as he caught her gaze. He returned her smile and said, "I realize the hat is old-fashioned to some, but I find it's best to keep the sun off this noggin of mine anymore."
Sarah nodded, "I can see the good sense in that. Besides, your hat is lovely and looks very dapper on you." Henry smiled with real delight this time as he replied, "Well thank you, my dear."
Ivy returned quickly with two tall glasses of tea, a small plate of lemon wedges, and a small mixing bowl filled with water which she set down next to Lucy. She gave Lucy's head a nice rub and said, "Now don't you go spilling it all over, girl," and walked away smiling again, confident Lucy would follow instructions.
After they'd sipped on their tea for a minute, Sarah asked Henry, "So are you fairly new to town, or just passing through?"
He smiled and said, "I thought I'd look up an old friend not too far away during my travels, and I like the area so much, I decided to stop and rest a day or two. Lucy and I've been on the road a few weeks, and it's good for us to slow down for a bit every now and again."
"Wow, it's great to be able to travel leisurely - I'd like to do more of it myself. Do you mind if I ask what prompted this particular trip?"
"Oh nothing all that interesting, I'm afraid to say. Every so often, I just get the urge to see more of this country up close, and I find it's best to follow those urges. After all, we never really know when a chance will pass us by and we won't get another one, right?" Henry's smile as he said this last bit might have been tinged with melancholy, but when Sarah looked closer and saw good color back in his cheeks, and his lovely eyes were bright and crinkling sweetly at the outside corners, she decided maybe it was just a passing fancy.
"Well Henry, I'm happy you and Lucy decided to stop here. We can always use more personable, gregarious folks around here. Cheers!" She raised her glass, and he did likewise and clinked his companionably with hers.
Ivy stepped back over to ask, "How's the tea?" They both smiled, and Henry proclaimed it perfect. Then she asked what snack or goodies she might get them. Henry turned to Sarah for guidance, and she said, "It's pretty darn hard to beat Ivy's pie ala mode or homemade bread pudding."
"What kind of pie do you have, Ms. Ivy?" She smiled delightedly at his old world manners and said, "Well, today we have blackberry, a favorite of mine, and peach."
Henry's eyes closed for a moment with anticipatory pleasure, and then he opened them and gave Ivy the biggest smile Sarah had yet seen on his face. "I haven't had blackberry pie in over 12 years - bring some of that on, please! But leave off the ice cream, sadly. It gives me gas something terrible."
Sarah had to smile at that and told Ivy she'd enjoy the bread pudding, and Ivy moved away to get their treats. They enjoyed an easy silence until she returned and set their plates in front of them, and then she asked Henry, "Is it alright if I give your dog some of these scraps we had in the kitchen?" Henry looked again very pleased with her thoughtfulness and said she could indeed. Ivy placed a small dish of bacon rinds, carrot slices, and crumbled biscuit pieces down next to Lucy on the floor. Her tail started to wag and then she looked up at Henry expectantly. He said lovingly to her, "Go ahead, girl, dig in! And say thank you to the nice lady." Lucy's head swung toward Ivy, and her face did indeed show sublime joy and adoration, as if she were showing her gratefulness for the bounty.
Henry patted her head twice and then picked up his own fork to taste his pie. "Oh my, that is utterly sublime," and grinned hugely again. Sarah had to grin too, and as they all tucked into their food, talking ceased for a few more minutes.
After Henry had put away a good portion of his pie, he set down his fork, took another long pull on his iced tea, and then smiled contentedly at Sarah. "My dear, I've no idea what good fortune brought you my way today, but I'm so glad it did. This has been a true pleasure, and I appreciate you spending this time with me."
"Henry, it's been a real pleasure for me too! Will you stay around much longer?"
"I think Lucy and I should spend another restful night here, and then we'll need to move on."
This sounded perfectly sensible to Sarah, but at the same time she felt a moment of regret that their acquaintance would be so short-lived. Then Henry surprised her by saying, "I'm not so old-fashioned that I forgo all the modern methods of communication. If you don't mind sharing your email address with me, perhaps we could stay in touch?"
Sarah was pleased by the idea and wrote down her information on a piece of paper from the notebook she almost always had in one of her pockets. "I'd love to hear how you and Lucy are getting along, Henry."
He seemed to be fully recovered from his earlier pallidness, so Sarah impulsively decided that with any luck, she'd made a couple of new friends. With some further good fortune, maybe she'd hear from them again before too terribly long.
Her wish was going to come to fruition sooner than she expected.
this is my entry for Week 9 of LJI Friends & Rivals. stay tuned for a later update on voting information for this and other submissions after the deadline for entries passes.
I made a vow of temperance (though it didn't feel like anything so formal to me) after I found out I was pregnant. For the most part, it wasn't a hard one to keep because it was for such a personally worthwhile cause.
Even though I grew up in a household where my folks liked their cocktails, I started drinking as a freshman in college, and to this day I still very much enjoy a nice glass of wine or a frosty mug of a good microbrew, I found to my surprise it was easy to refrain from alcohol during my pregnancies.
After delivering my kids, I can't recall for sure when I resumed drinking, but I remember it was gradual and no big rush to do so.
I also had two extended periods of sexual abstinence. The first by circumstance lasted about 19 months, and it wasn't overly trying past the initial few months of intensely missing sex and even more just being so physically close with another human being.
The second time lasted close to three years, and it was more by design. I made a conscious decision that sex for the sake of itself didn't always do a whole lot for me, and occasionally left me feeling more lonely than I had before.
I took up some crafts, enjoyed more short, solo road trips, and learned much more about what I liked and valued about myself. It was also very freeing to be unencumbered by another person's preferences, wants, and schedule.
So to that point in my life, my various periods of and reasons for abstinence proved to be worthwhile, enlightening even.
In recent years, there hasn't been any particular item or activity I've felt a drive to abstain from. Then last summer my son expressed volubly and succinctly how much he hated it when I sang in the car. 8(
Music and singing have been something I've loved for just about as long as I can remember. Heck, I sang to my kids when they were babies, and it was a pretty darn reliable soother for both of them. His request stung, there was no getting around it. But after we discussed it a bit and he explained more about how strongly he felt, I agreed to try to refrain from singing when he was riding in the car with me.
The thing is, driving is one of my favorite times to sing because it's my space and I can belt out* whatever song I want in a semi-private, judgment-free zone.
*please note: I actually rarely sing at or near top volume; I just like the phrase.
I noticed the frequency and duration of our drives decreased considerably. I told him what was happening and asked what other arrangement we could work out. We came to terms with a promise I wouldn't sing to a handful of songs he deemed his favorites, and another smaller handful of tunes he couldn't stand.
Upshot: those five weeks of not singing were some of the longest in my life!
this is my entry for Week 8 of LJI Friends & Rivals. stay tuned for a later update on voting information for this and other submissions after the deadline for entries passes.
Even though I grew up in a household where my folks liked their cocktails, I started drinking as a freshman in college, and to this day I still very much enjoy a nice glass of wine or a frosty mug of a good microbrew, I found to my surprise it was easy to refrain from alcohol during my pregnancies.
After delivering my kids, I can't recall for sure when I resumed drinking, but I remember it was gradual and no big rush to do so.
I also had two extended periods of sexual abstinence. The first by circumstance lasted about 19 months, and it wasn't overly trying past the initial few months of intensely missing sex and even more just being so physically close with another human being.
The second time lasted close to three years, and it was more by design. I made a conscious decision that sex for the sake of itself didn't always do a whole lot for me, and occasionally left me feeling more lonely than I had before.
I took up some crafts, enjoyed more short, solo road trips, and learned much more about what I liked and valued about myself. It was also very freeing to be unencumbered by another person's preferences, wants, and schedule.
So to that point in my life, my various periods of and reasons for abstinence proved to be worthwhile, enlightening even.
In recent years, there hasn't been any particular item or activity I've felt a drive to abstain from. Then last summer my son expressed volubly and succinctly how much he hated it when I sang in the car. 8(
Music and singing have been something I've loved for just about as long as I can remember. Heck, I sang to my kids when they were babies, and it was a pretty darn reliable soother for both of them. His request stung, there was no getting around it. But after we discussed it a bit and he explained more about how strongly he felt, I agreed to try to refrain from singing when he was riding in the car with me.
The thing is, driving is one of my favorite times to sing because it's my space and I can belt out* whatever song I want in a semi-private, judgment-free zone.
*please note: I actually rarely sing at or near top volume; I just like the phrase.
I noticed the frequency and duration of our drives decreased considerably. I told him what was happening and asked what other arrangement we could work out. We came to terms with a promise I wouldn't sing to a handful of songs he deemed his favorites, and another smaller handful of tunes he couldn't stand.
Upshot: those five weeks of not singing were some of the longest in my life!
this is my entry for Week 8 of LJI Friends & Rivals. stay tuned for a later update on voting information for this and other submissions after the deadline for entries passes.
By some marvelous quirk of the wheels that spin the world, where there would usually have been one baby, there ended up being two identical beings. For whatever reasons (including the ones I’m conscious of which are being born much smaller and second), I’ve always tended to see myself as the copy of the original; I mean, first there was just one, and then there were suddenly two, and I was #2. I don’t know if it makes all that much sense, and it doesn’t necessarily have to – it’s just been an undeniable sensation on my part for as long as I can recall.
Partly due to that feeling and even more likely due to the extraordinary bond identical twins share, unduplicated in any other relationship I’m aware of, I’ve always known I’d never have even the briefest of moment’s hesitation if I had to lay down my life to spare my sister’s. I can make this claim with an undue amount of certainty because we’ve had incidents in our lives which have reinforced my belief that in a critical moment, any fright or worry I might feel would be overwhelmed by devotion and the need to protect her wellbeing.
There's the time we were less than two years old, and she took a tumble and split her lip. The doctor told my mom to feed her soft foods for about a week, allowing the lip time to heal and feel less tender. I proceeded to eat the mashed potatoes, jello, and soup for her while she continued to consume fried chicken, carrots, steak, and whatever else she pleased, regardless of texture.
Then when she broke her arm in the 1st grade, I experienced more pain than she did and told my mom when she needed more aspirin or Tylenol.
And once again, when our family was living in Hawaii and we were ocean-swimming one day and both got a little out of our depth, I wished for the man who lent his assistance to get us back to the shallows to help my sister first – I couldn’t coherently voice this desire as I was choking on sea water, but I can tell you how irrefutable my joy and relief was when I saw her working to steady herself in knee deep water as he led me next to her.
I guess the drawback that comes to mind is the scope and depth of survivor’s guilt which would be likely to fall on the remaining sister if such a situation arose where one of us sacrificed her life in an effort to save the other. G*d willing we will never have to find out.
I realize the symbiotic nature of the identical twin relationship can seem foreign and even weird to many people, and thus such an uncompromising feeling may similarly feel strange to some, but I also can't deny the truth of my certainty in this.
this is my entry for Week 7 of LJI Friends & Rivals. stay tuned for a later update on voting information for this and other submissions after the deadline for entries passes.
Partly due to that feeling and even more likely due to the extraordinary bond identical twins share, unduplicated in any other relationship I’m aware of, I’ve always known I’d never have even the briefest of moment’s hesitation if I had to lay down my life to spare my sister’s. I can make this claim with an undue amount of certainty because we’ve had incidents in our lives which have reinforced my belief that in a critical moment, any fright or worry I might feel would be overwhelmed by devotion and the need to protect her wellbeing.
There's the time we were less than two years old, and she took a tumble and split her lip. The doctor told my mom to feed her soft foods for about a week, allowing the lip time to heal and feel less tender. I proceeded to eat the mashed potatoes, jello, and soup for her while she continued to consume fried chicken, carrots, steak, and whatever else she pleased, regardless of texture.
Then when she broke her arm in the 1st grade, I experienced more pain than she did and told my mom when she needed more aspirin or Tylenol.
And once again, when our family was living in Hawaii and we were ocean-swimming one day and both got a little out of our depth, I wished for the man who lent his assistance to get us back to the shallows to help my sister first – I couldn’t coherently voice this desire as I was choking on sea water, but I can tell you how irrefutable my joy and relief was when I saw her working to steady herself in knee deep water as he led me next to her.
I guess the drawback that comes to mind is the scope and depth of survivor’s guilt which would be likely to fall on the remaining sister if such a situation arose where one of us sacrificed her life in an effort to save the other. G*d willing we will never have to find out.
I realize the symbiotic nature of the identical twin relationship can seem foreign and even weird to many people, and thus such an uncompromising feeling may similarly feel strange to some, but I also can't deny the truth of my certainty in this.
this is my entry for Week 7 of LJI Friends & Rivals. stay tuned for a later update on voting information for this and other submissions after the deadline for entries passes.
Louisa peered up into the cold night sky. For the first time in maybe a week, she could see more than six or seven stars while she did so. When she took a further moment to estimate, she realized it was clear enough tonight to see stars all over the sky for the first time in recent memory - yesterday's big storm had definitely helped clear out the gunk and clouds hiding the view of the friendly, far away twinkles. She was apt to overlook her vague sense of loss when they went missing for a while and her inordinate pleasure at seeing their return. But this evening she took a deep breath and purposely remembered and reveled in how much peaceful joy a sight such as this might give her. She drew another big breath, even though the freezing air made it slightly painful to do, and did something she hadn't done in at least a year - she sent up a brief affirmation to the Power/s That Be, acknowledging the appreciation she longed to feel for her ability to be present in that moment, in that space.
Thinking back on the week they'd all just gone through, concluding with today's graveside service for her sweet Abby girl, it was not a small wonder she felt as if with the smallest of proddings she might lie down on the frozen ground, let her eyes drift closed, and wait for unconsciousness to lay claim to her. Instead she made the selfish, necessary effort to praise her own strength of will in resisting the enormous temptation to do just that thing, and she knew a night sky with the clarity of this one was one of the items that stopped her from doing so. Of course, she also knew it was completely secondary to how awful she'd feel for her sons Zach and Simon if she allowed herself to do it, but they were grown men now with families and completely separate lives of their own.
Abby too had been in a committed relationship. Engaged to Weston, a genuinely good person who'd been sweet to her in countless ways - he was constantly making cups of tea and broth, giving her foot rubs, helping her in and out of the bathtub, and just lying quietly next to Abby when she needed his presence but no conversation - and unendingly loving with her, especially in the last few months, but Louisa was nevertheless reminded of an old saying her own mother had said more than once -
"A son is yours till he takes a wife, but a daughter is your child for the rest of her life."
Much of the time it sounded corny and and excruciatingly out of date, but then she couldn't deny the kernel of truth that came with realizing she had talked with Abby just about every day and often saw her several times each week whereas she was lucky to hear monthly from Simon, and she managed to touch base with Zach even less frequently. She couldn't even use the excuse of distance to explain away why she and the boys seldom talked and saw each other now - all three children lived within thirty miles of her and Gary, with Simon the closest at a mere seven miles away, just one neighborhood over to the west.
Louisa pushed her hands deeper into her pockets and turned around to trudge the two blocks back to the house. She hoped Gary had been able to make good on his commitment to get most of the visitors to say their goodbyes and take their leaves back to their own homes. She had tried to show genuine appreciation for all the neighbors and friends who'd made an effort to come by and express their sorrow and sympathy for the family's loss, but with only a couple of exceptions, Louisa could not help thinking how none of the other parents had had to bury a child of their own.
A couple she knew from church and school functions had lost one of their children in a car accident about a decade earlier. The other couple, Julia and Stewart, she'd been close with for many years. She'd known Julia since 6th grade, and she remembered with somber clarity when Julia and Stewart laid their son James to rest at Arlington - she'd made the trip to attend the burial at Julia's request, not even considering she wouldn't do so for her lifelong friend. She and Stewart had moved to Texas less than a year later, but she and Louisa kept in regular contact via phone calls, emails, and even Facebook. It had meant the earth to her to get Julia's phone call at just after midnight last Sunday - Julia had somehow known instinctively Louisa wouldn't be sleeping, and no voice could have been more welcome on that lonely, forlorn night.
Julia had said she'd jump on the next plane to Philadelphia if Lou needed her there, and while she knew the offer was totally genuine, Louisa had told her she didn't need to come and meant it - if they could plan to see each other in the next month or so, the visit would probably be even more sorely needed then. Julia had readily understood and said she'd email when she had her arrangements made for a visit in the coming weeks, and she'd stay however long Lou wanted her to. The offer had made Louisa cry the first tears in months that hadn't been tinged by bitterness or anger, and they'd stayed on the phone together for close to two hours until Louisa couldn't keep her eyes open any longer and said goodnight to her dearest friend.
Thinking back to that phone call, Louisa couldn't help but realize every person had unfillable gaps and unknowable spaces in their lives, not unlike the ones between all the stars she could still look up and see. Maybe the plan was to not let a feeling overcome you that the gaps might get too big for the stars to know they were still all part of the same nighttime sky.
this is my entry for Week 5 of LJI Friends & Rivals. stay tuned for a later update on voting information for this and other submissions after the deadline for entries passes.
Thinking back on the week they'd all just gone through, concluding with today's graveside service for her sweet Abby girl, it was not a small wonder she felt as if with the smallest of proddings she might lie down on the frozen ground, let her eyes drift closed, and wait for unconsciousness to lay claim to her. Instead she made the selfish, necessary effort to praise her own strength of will in resisting the enormous temptation to do just that thing, and she knew a night sky with the clarity of this one was one of the items that stopped her from doing so. Of course, she also knew it was completely secondary to how awful she'd feel for her sons Zach and Simon if she allowed herself to do it, but they were grown men now with families and completely separate lives of their own.
Abby too had been in a committed relationship. Engaged to Weston, a genuinely good person who'd been sweet to her in countless ways - he was constantly making cups of tea and broth, giving her foot rubs, helping her in and out of the bathtub, and just lying quietly next to Abby when she needed his presence but no conversation - and unendingly loving with her, especially in the last few months, but Louisa was nevertheless reminded of an old saying her own mother had said more than once -
"A son is yours till he takes a wife, but a daughter is your child for the rest of her life."
Much of the time it sounded corny and and excruciatingly out of date, but then she couldn't deny the kernel of truth that came with realizing she had talked with Abby just about every day and often saw her several times each week whereas she was lucky to hear monthly from Simon, and she managed to touch base with Zach even less frequently. She couldn't even use the excuse of distance to explain away why she and the boys seldom talked and saw each other now - all three children lived within thirty miles of her and Gary, with Simon the closest at a mere seven miles away, just one neighborhood over to the west.
Louisa pushed her hands deeper into her pockets and turned around to trudge the two blocks back to the house. She hoped Gary had been able to make good on his commitment to get most of the visitors to say their goodbyes and take their leaves back to their own homes. She had tried to show genuine appreciation for all the neighbors and friends who'd made an effort to come by and express their sorrow and sympathy for the family's loss, but with only a couple of exceptions, Louisa could not help thinking how none of the other parents had had to bury a child of their own.
A couple she knew from church and school functions had lost one of their children in a car accident about a decade earlier. The other couple, Julia and Stewart, she'd been close with for many years. She'd known Julia since 6th grade, and she remembered with somber clarity when Julia and Stewart laid their son James to rest at Arlington - she'd made the trip to attend the burial at Julia's request, not even considering she wouldn't do so for her lifelong friend. She and Stewart had moved to Texas less than a year later, but she and Louisa kept in regular contact via phone calls, emails, and even Facebook. It had meant the earth to her to get Julia's phone call at just after midnight last Sunday - Julia had somehow known instinctively Louisa wouldn't be sleeping, and no voice could have been more welcome on that lonely, forlorn night.
Julia had said she'd jump on the next plane to Philadelphia if Lou needed her there, and while she knew the offer was totally genuine, Louisa had told her she didn't need to come and meant it - if they could plan to see each other in the next month or so, the visit would probably be even more sorely needed then. Julia had readily understood and said she'd email when she had her arrangements made for a visit in the coming weeks, and she'd stay however long Lou wanted her to. The offer had made Louisa cry the first tears in months that hadn't been tinged by bitterness or anger, and they'd stayed on the phone together for close to two hours until Louisa couldn't keep her eyes open any longer and said goodnight to her dearest friend.
Thinking back to that phone call, Louisa couldn't help but realize every person had unfillable gaps and unknowable spaces in their lives, not unlike the ones between all the stars she could still look up and see. Maybe the plan was to not let a feeling overcome you that the gaps might get too big for the stars to know they were still all part of the same nighttime sky.
this is my entry for Week 5 of LJI Friends & Rivals. stay tuned for a later update on voting information for this and other submissions after the deadline for entries passes.
Oh man, how can I ever justify or fully explain the (maybe slightly unhealthy) obsessional love I have for frog eye salad? I don't entirely understand it myself, except that somehow the combination of firmly cooked acini de pepe pasta soaked in a rich pineapple sauce and then softly combined with mandarin orange slices and pineapple tidbits, and finally all of them coated in a gentle envelope of whipped cream is heaven on earth for my tastebuds and mouth.
I understand not everybody is going to love this stuff, but I was truly a bit flabbergasted to find out some people downright dislike it. I make no pretenses that this is a healthy dish - it definitely falls more into the wicked indulgence grouping.
Then through the many years of either introducing people to this magical concoction or discovering they've already tried it and found it distasteful, I grew to realize for a number of them it seems to come down to a texture issue.
I do have sympathy for people who can't stomach certain foods because of their specific textures, and I feel lucky I have fairly few issues with food textures. In fact, one of the things I enjoy most about frog eye is the contrast between the resilience of the pasta and the silkiness of the dressing. That said, I almost always opt to leave coconut and marshmallows out of my frog eye when I make it because those particular flavors and textures add nothing worthwhile to the dish for me, and in fact makes it a little too reminiscent of both ambrosia salad (which I pass on when offered, unless it's Grandma Sylvie's and then I'm obligated to take a bit) and the overly sweet jello salad my Aunt Peggy was fond of making.
I do find myself inordinately pleased when I make the salad and it's scarfed up hungrily by an appreciative crowd. The last time I made it for my work group, I had half a dozen requests for the recipe, which I share happily, always pointing out that I do adjust it for my own preferences. Most versions of the recipe make a LARGE amount so I tend to make it only for potlucks with a sizable crowd - otherwise I tend to embarass myself with my gluttonous indulgence when it comes to the leftovers. I love finding others who relish frog eye as much as I do and converting the uninitiated to its delightfulness. For those who find they can't or don't enjoy the salad, I feel slightly bad for a moment and then my mood is brightened to remember there's more for us frog eye lovers toinhale uh, partake in I mean. ;D
this is my entry for Week 4 of LJI Friends & Rivals. stay tuned for a later update on voting information for this and other submissions after the deadline for entries passes.
I understand not everybody is going to love this stuff, but I was truly a bit flabbergasted to find out some people downright dislike it. I make no pretenses that this is a healthy dish - it definitely falls more into the wicked indulgence grouping.
Then through the many years of either introducing people to this magical concoction or discovering they've already tried it and found it distasteful, I grew to realize for a number of them it seems to come down to a texture issue.
I do have sympathy for people who can't stomach certain foods because of their specific textures, and I feel lucky I have fairly few issues with food textures. In fact, one of the things I enjoy most about frog eye is the contrast between the resilience of the pasta and the silkiness of the dressing. That said, I almost always opt to leave coconut and marshmallows out of my frog eye when I make it because those particular flavors and textures add nothing worthwhile to the dish for me, and in fact makes it a little too reminiscent of both ambrosia salad (which I pass on when offered, unless it's Grandma Sylvie's and then I'm obligated to take a bit) and the overly sweet jello salad my Aunt Peggy was fond of making.
I do find myself inordinately pleased when I make the salad and it's scarfed up hungrily by an appreciative crowd. The last time I made it for my work group, I had half a dozen requests for the recipe, which I share happily, always pointing out that I do adjust it for my own preferences. Most versions of the recipe make a LARGE amount so I tend to make it only for potlucks with a sizable crowd - otherwise I tend to embarass myself with my gluttonous indulgence when it comes to the leftovers. I love finding others who relish frog eye as much as I do and converting the uninitiated to its delightfulness. For those who find they can't or don't enjoy the salad, I feel slightly bad for a moment and then my mood is brightened to remember there's more for us frog eye lovers to
this is my entry for Week 4 of LJI Friends & Rivals. stay tuned for a later update on voting information for this and other submissions after the deadline for entries passes.
I have a young man in my life who throws everything I thought I knew about men into a somewhat chaotic state (and I'm not saying I ever knew a whole lot about the opposite gender to begin with).
He's 13 and he is my son, and for convenience's sake I'll call him Jay.
From the start, including my labor and delivery with him, he's been almost the polar opposite to his sister when it comes to raising and caring for him.
Jay was a mellow baby, a demanding toddler, and kind of a clingy preschooler whereas my daughter had been ornery, followed by easygoing and then independent.
They share some physical traits in common - with similarly light hair, pale skin dotted with freckles, and blue eyes, it's easy to see they're from the same family - and a few character traits as well, obstinacy not the smallest among them. But in large they're so different in personalities, preferences, and behaviors, it takes me by surprise at times to remember they share the same gene pool.
Now that my son is an adolescent, my confusion continues to grow and I'm expecting it very well might for some time. Individuals often don't see small changes in themselves so Jay probably doesn't notice the gradually increasing height, the stray hairs sprouting, and rare crack in his voice.
Still, I found myself genuinely surprised (and trying valiantly to hold in laughter) when he came to me not long ago and expressed he had something serious to ask me.
He knelt down in front of my chair, which is indeed his earnest posture, and asked, "Mom, am I ever going to enter puberty?"
After giving him a big hug and schooling my expression to one of gravity befitting the question, I told him of course he was and I was already starting to see signs. "Beyond that," I advised him, "you'll need to talk to your dad as I have no direct experience of the male adolescent process."
He seemed somewhat consoled, and I was left feeling as ferhoodled as ever.
this is my entry for Week 3 of LJI Friends & Rivals. stay tuned for a later update on voting information for this and other submissions after the deadline for entries passes.
He's 13 and he is my son, and for convenience's sake I'll call him Jay.
From the start, including my labor and delivery with him, he's been almost the polar opposite to his sister when it comes to raising and caring for him.
Jay was a mellow baby, a demanding toddler, and kind of a clingy preschooler whereas my daughter had been ornery, followed by easygoing and then independent.
They share some physical traits in common - with similarly light hair, pale skin dotted with freckles, and blue eyes, it's easy to see they're from the same family - and a few character traits as well, obstinacy not the smallest among them. But in large they're so different in personalities, preferences, and behaviors, it takes me by surprise at times to remember they share the same gene pool.
Now that my son is an adolescent, my confusion continues to grow and I'm expecting it very well might for some time. Individuals often don't see small changes in themselves so Jay probably doesn't notice the gradually increasing height, the stray hairs sprouting, and rare crack in his voice.
Still, I found myself genuinely surprised (and trying valiantly to hold in laughter) when he came to me not long ago and expressed he had something serious to ask me.
He knelt down in front of my chair, which is indeed his earnest posture, and asked, "Mom, am I ever going to enter puberty?"
After giving him a big hug and schooling my expression to one of gravity befitting the question, I told him of course he was and I was already starting to see signs. "Beyond that," I advised him, "you'll need to talk to your dad as I have no direct experience of the male adolescent process."
He seemed somewhat consoled, and I was left feeling as ferhoodled as ever.
this is my entry for Week 3 of LJI Friends & Rivals. stay tuned for a later update on voting information for this and other submissions after the deadline for entries passes.
Charlie couldn't help but think of Sharon as a bad penny who kept turning up, often in surprising places. Either that, or like the boomerang shellacked with metallic flecks which he'd been gifted by his quirky Uncle Jerry for his sixteenth birthday; he had lost his fascination with the objects after he turned 13 and discovered the attraction of girls in a more serious way.
In any case, Sharon wasn't the type of woman he'd ever been attracted to - heavy on the makeup and a flashy dresser who seemed to teeter around on stiletto pumps, she was pretty much the polar opposite of the studious, bookish types he found himself gravitating toward. Sure, some of his friends called them nerdy, but the earnestness and serious curiosity he found in them mirrored a part of himself that he enjoyed and couldn't comfortably share around many of his friends.
He sighed as he saw Sharon wending her way toward him among the cubicles. He took two steps to his left and ducked down a short hallway to the men's room rather than risk enduring another tedious conversation about the lunch she wanted to have (while boldly hinting she'd like his company) or the latest events on America's Next Top Model, a show she was apparently enthralled by.
Charlie wasn't opposed to all reality shows; he enjoyed catching episodes of Face Off when he managed to, and he knew he'd probably be among the first to dive headlong into a show based on any aspect of the new Star Wars reboot. Long before he'd grown weary of Sharon's attentions, he'd briefly thought of inviting her to a movie of that sort so he could give them at least a chance and something to talk about over coffee or drinks afterward. The idea was swiftly nixed in his brain when she brought up seeing the latest Bond flick and the only thing she could espouse with any detail is how "utterly gorgeous" some of the clothes and cars were. To top it off, she said it with great exaggeration and a somewhat odd enunciation which made it come out "udderleee", followed by a high-pitched squeal he was hard pressed not to wince away from.
After he'd pointlessly emptied his bladder in the bathroom, he stood at one of the sinks washing his hands as he pondered some more. He glanced into the mirror, personally reaffirming that his dark brown hair cut in a nondescript style and the brown eyes behind the plain, black-rimmed glasses didn't normally merit undue attention from the Sharons of the world. He felt fairly sure it was his growing bank account that held her primary interest. She had no way of knowing how much he actually made or had socked away, but it was also no secret he was one of the company's golden children since his last product launch had been hugely successful and they'd put him on the track to a junior partnership.
The funny thing was he himself felt ambivalent about these recent developments, as he still had a strong desire to make his mark with a company of his own; he thought if he could convince Bill or Sean (or better yet, both of them) that they had a real shot at building their own success story, he knew the possibilities ahead were much more alluring and exciting than anything his current employer offered him.
With one more shake of his hands and a swift dry with a paper towel, Charlie took a deep breath and then another one. He was playing handball with Sean after work, and if it went as well as he optimistically hoped for, he's be a sizable step closer to launching his dream. He also thought he might have a way to finally fling off Sharon's unwanted attentions and now seemed to be as good a time as any. He pulled open the door and stepped back into the hall, wondering how far he'd have to go far to spot her again.
When he turned the corner back into the main corridor, lo and behold she was standing less than four feet from him. She instantly smiled, and while he gamely smiled back, he spoke up quickly before she could say anything.
"Oh Sharon, sorry I have no time to chat. I have a meeting with my lawyer over lunch, and I can't be late." He walked by her as she was saying, "Your lawyer? I hope everything's okay..."
"It's fine, nothing to worry about." He glanced around covertly and then whispered so only she could hear him, "I just have to discuss the ramifications of filing bankruptcy." He left her standing there without words, and now he suppressed a grin as he pulled open the door to exit the office suite.
this is my entry for Week 2 of LJI Friends & Rivals. stay tuned for a later update on voting information for this and other submissions after the deadline for entries passes.
In any case, Sharon wasn't the type of woman he'd ever been attracted to - heavy on the makeup and a flashy dresser who seemed to teeter around on stiletto pumps, she was pretty much the polar opposite of the studious, bookish types he found himself gravitating toward. Sure, some of his friends called them nerdy, but the earnestness and serious curiosity he found in them mirrored a part of himself that he enjoyed and couldn't comfortably share around many of his friends.
He sighed as he saw Sharon wending her way toward him among the cubicles. He took two steps to his left and ducked down a short hallway to the men's room rather than risk enduring another tedious conversation about the lunch she wanted to have (while boldly hinting she'd like his company) or the latest events on America's Next Top Model, a show she was apparently enthralled by.
Charlie wasn't opposed to all reality shows; he enjoyed catching episodes of Face Off when he managed to, and he knew he'd probably be among the first to dive headlong into a show based on any aspect of the new Star Wars reboot. Long before he'd grown weary of Sharon's attentions, he'd briefly thought of inviting her to a movie of that sort so he could give them at least a chance and something to talk about over coffee or drinks afterward. The idea was swiftly nixed in his brain when she brought up seeing the latest Bond flick and the only thing she could espouse with any detail is how "utterly gorgeous" some of the clothes and cars were. To top it off, she said it with great exaggeration and a somewhat odd enunciation which made it come out "udderleee", followed by a high-pitched squeal he was hard pressed not to wince away from.
After he'd pointlessly emptied his bladder in the bathroom, he stood at one of the sinks washing his hands as he pondered some more. He glanced into the mirror, personally reaffirming that his dark brown hair cut in a nondescript style and the brown eyes behind the plain, black-rimmed glasses didn't normally merit undue attention from the Sharons of the world. He felt fairly sure it was his growing bank account that held her primary interest. She had no way of knowing how much he actually made or had socked away, but it was also no secret he was one of the company's golden children since his last product launch had been hugely successful and they'd put him on the track to a junior partnership.
The funny thing was he himself felt ambivalent about these recent developments, as he still had a strong desire to make his mark with a company of his own; he thought if he could convince Bill or Sean (or better yet, both of them) that they had a real shot at building their own success story, he knew the possibilities ahead were much more alluring and exciting than anything his current employer offered him.
With one more shake of his hands and a swift dry with a paper towel, Charlie took a deep breath and then another one. He was playing handball with Sean after work, and if it went as well as he optimistically hoped for, he's be a sizable step closer to launching his dream. He also thought he might have a way to finally fling off Sharon's unwanted attentions and now seemed to be as good a time as any. He pulled open the door and stepped back into the hall, wondering how far he'd have to go far to spot her again.
When he turned the corner back into the main corridor, lo and behold she was standing less than four feet from him. She instantly smiled, and while he gamely smiled back, he spoke up quickly before she could say anything.
"Oh Sharon, sorry I have no time to chat. I have a meeting with my lawyer over lunch, and I can't be late." He walked by her as she was saying, "Your lawyer? I hope everything's okay..."
"It's fine, nothing to worry about." He glanced around covertly and then whispered so only she could hear him, "I just have to discuss the ramifications of filing bankruptcy." He left her standing there without words, and now he suppressed a grin as he pulled open the door to exit the office suite.
this is my entry for Week 2 of LJI Friends & Rivals. stay tuned for a later update on voting information for this and other submissions after the deadline for entries passes.
My parents appeared to be a fairly mismatched pair, especially as far as onlooker observations may go. My dad was a troublemaker who barely finished high school in the tiny town he grew up in, and my mom was class valedictorian, a university student with plans of moving anywhere a good distance from her childhood home. Dad was the youngest child of a close-knit family, and his mother liked to dote on her only son. Mom, the eldest child in hers, felt a bit like a pariah and had a lot of tension with her parents.
Dad left small town life for more money and opportunities in construction, and he and Mom met on a blind date. Some of the first words out of his mouth were, “Not another redhead,” his family being sprinkled with a fair number of them.
Not a terribly auspicious beginning. Nevertheless, something sparked between them, and they eloped after four months of a tumultuous off-and-on again relationship and discovering Mom was pregnant.
What I grew to see over the years is that they also learned how their differences could be strengths and made them into a resilient duo. Dad’s bullheadness and impulsive ways were tempered by Mom’s steady spirit and practical planning. Mom’s hesitancy when it came to new places and activities was alleviated by Dad’s constant, patient encouragement. He shared with her foods she might never have tried, and she exposed him to artists and stories he could have otherwise missed out on.
They had (more than?) their share of rows over the years, but they also shared an intense love and admiration for the best parts of each other and what they could accomplish together. Also, it was fun to figure out Dad could talk to just about anyone and make them laugh with his charm and stories, but Mom was truly more the “people” person, in that she accepted people warmly, and honestly liked just about everybody unless they gave her a good reason not to.
In the first part of their married life, before four children and time constraints made it too difficult to keep up, they belonged to several card clubs, and their favorite games to play were cribbage and pinochle. The larger groups they played with usually met in public spaces, while the smaller ones, frequently made up of friends, tended to rotate meetings between members’ homes. Besides the boisterous play, laughter, and loud conversations, the thing I most remember about their card nights at our house is how much more relaxed my dad seemed on the nights they were hosting as opposed to going to some other place. Mom helped me realize that while to her, it didn’t much matter where they played, Dad was more at ease being the one providing the decks of cards.
Dad left small town life for more money and opportunities in construction, and he and Mom met on a blind date. Some of the first words out of his mouth were, “Not another redhead,” his family being sprinkled with a fair number of them.
Not a terribly auspicious beginning. Nevertheless, something sparked between them, and they eloped after four months of a tumultuous off-and-on again relationship and discovering Mom was pregnant.
What I grew to see over the years is that they also learned how their differences could be strengths and made them into a resilient duo. Dad’s bullheadness and impulsive ways were tempered by Mom’s steady spirit and practical planning. Mom’s hesitancy when it came to new places and activities was alleviated by Dad’s constant, patient encouragement. He shared with her foods she might never have tried, and she exposed him to artists and stories he could have otherwise missed out on.
They had (more than?) their share of rows over the years, but they also shared an intense love and admiration for the best parts of each other and what they could accomplish together. Also, it was fun to figure out Dad could talk to just about anyone and make them laugh with his charm and stories, but Mom was truly more the “people” person, in that she accepted people warmly, and honestly liked just about everybody unless they gave her a good reason not to.
In the first part of their married life, before four children and time constraints made it too difficult to keep up, they belonged to several card clubs, and their favorite games to play were cribbage and pinochle. The larger groups they played with usually met in public spaces, while the smaller ones, frequently made up of friends, tended to rotate meetings between members’ homes. Besides the boisterous play, laughter, and loud conversations, the thing I most remember about their card nights at our house is how much more relaxed my dad seemed on the nights they were hosting as opposed to going to some other place. Mom helped me realize that while to her, it didn’t much matter where they played, Dad was more at ease being the one providing the decks of cards.
“Excuse me, ma’am?”
The small, high voice – the sort that almost exclusively belongs to children under 10 years of age – broke into Carolyn’s self-containment and for a moment, she felt a vague irritation. It dissipated rapidly as she realized the young child could have no way of knowing she’d been caught up in introspection and reluctant for any interruptions.
Carolyn looked down and saw a young girl, probably about 7 if she were made to guess (though she was no expert when it came to assessing children’s ages), with dark hair and deep brown eyes wearing a black coat with red piping. The garment was in good repair but obviously well-worn and a bit big on the child, quite possibly a hand-me-down from an older sibling or other relative. The girl’s expression was serious and polite.
Now a bit curious, Carolyn asked her, “Yes, what can I do for you?” The girl responded with, “Well, I need help to reach the……” Her voice trailed off until Carolyn could no longer hear her words.
She knelt down to be more eye level with the girl and said, “What is it, child? What can I help you with?”
The girl took a big breath and then said in kind of a rush, “My mum’s at the checkout and wants me to bring her some fruit cocktail, but I can’t reach it.” She sounded concerned and vaguely sad at the same time, with her brow furrowed and her mouth a grave line.
Carolyn felt her heart ache a bit that the child should be so worried about a small matter, and she smiled broadly and told her, “Well we can certainly fix that!” She turned to the shelves and saw the assorted fruit cocktail cans on the second shelf from the top, certainly much too high for a slight girl to be able to grab on her own. She pointed to a popular brand and asked her, “Will this kind do? Did you need one or two cans?”
The girl’s face broke out into a smile of relief as she spoke up again, this time more volubly, “Oh yes ma’am, that kind is fine, and just one can, please!” Carolyn lifted one from the shelf and handed it over to her gently. The girl smiled again, this time with even more joy, and exclaimed “Thanks ever so much!” as she was already turning to hurry off to rejoin her mom.
Carolyn called after her, “You’re very welcome,” but what she was really thinking to herself was “no, sweet child, thank you!”
In the middle of a time where her patience and tolerance had been worn nearly threadbare by a regular onslaught of careless and aggressive drivers, slacking coworkers, forgetful bosses, and rudeness galore from fellow shoppers during this holiday season, she’d been ready to believe goodness and kind treatment to others really might disappear and dry up altogether. The sweet earnestness and polite words of the small girl had given her reason for more optimism than she could recently remember, and though she couldn’t see it, her own smile came close to rivaling the girl’s in warmth and happiness.
The small, high voice – the sort that almost exclusively belongs to children under 10 years of age – broke into Carolyn’s self-containment and for a moment, she felt a vague irritation. It dissipated rapidly as she realized the young child could have no way of knowing she’d been caught up in introspection and reluctant for any interruptions.
Carolyn looked down and saw a young girl, probably about 7 if she were made to guess (though she was no expert when it came to assessing children’s ages), with dark hair and deep brown eyes wearing a black coat with red piping. The garment was in good repair but obviously well-worn and a bit big on the child, quite possibly a hand-me-down from an older sibling or other relative. The girl’s expression was serious and polite.
Now a bit curious, Carolyn asked her, “Yes, what can I do for you?” The girl responded with, “Well, I need help to reach the……” Her voice trailed off until Carolyn could no longer hear her words.
She knelt down to be more eye level with the girl and said, “What is it, child? What can I help you with?”
The girl took a big breath and then said in kind of a rush, “My mum’s at the checkout and wants me to bring her some fruit cocktail, but I can’t reach it.” She sounded concerned and vaguely sad at the same time, with her brow furrowed and her mouth a grave line.
Carolyn felt her heart ache a bit that the child should be so worried about a small matter, and she smiled broadly and told her, “Well we can certainly fix that!” She turned to the shelves and saw the assorted fruit cocktail cans on the second shelf from the top, certainly much too high for a slight girl to be able to grab on her own. She pointed to a popular brand and asked her, “Will this kind do? Did you need one or two cans?”
The girl’s face broke out into a smile of relief as she spoke up again, this time more volubly, “Oh yes ma’am, that kind is fine, and just one can, please!” Carolyn lifted one from the shelf and handed it over to her gently. The girl smiled again, this time with even more joy, and exclaimed “Thanks ever so much!” as she was already turning to hurry off to rejoin her mom.
Carolyn called after her, “You’re very welcome,” but what she was really thinking to herself was “no, sweet child, thank you!”
In the middle of a time where her patience and tolerance had been worn nearly threadbare by a regular onslaught of careless and aggressive drivers, slacking coworkers, forgetful bosses, and rudeness galore from fellow shoppers during this holiday season, she’d been ready to believe goodness and kind treatment to others really might disappear and dry up altogether. The sweet earnestness and polite words of the small girl had given her reason for more optimism than she could recently remember, and though she couldn’t see it, her own smile came close to rivaling the girl’s in warmth and happiness.
I rather felt like skipping an introduction, since I was struggling to think of many things to say that wouldn’t be trite or overly sentimental. I’ve lived a fairly commonplace life up to this point, though not for lack of spirit or an adventurous sense – I considered writing about the rather spur of the moment cross-country drive I made, but then (self-servingly, I freely admit) I figured it might make for a more worthwhile endeavor later on.
Then I also had to admit lots has changed, both outside and inside LJ since I last wrote for Idol, which was in season 8 when our esteemed, worthy winner was ms whipchick.
One thing which can be readily said about LJI is how many varied individuals have shared their fascinating and engrossing tales with us among its multiple seasons.
In any case, I’m working two parttime jobs now and hoping like hell I can find the time and energy to meet deadlines and fully participate in this go round – writing freely has always been a source of pleasure for me and this will, to be frank, help kick my butt to do more of it.
My children have gotten older, and a little to my chagrin, I must admit with bigger kids come bigger problems and costs, which is a large part of the reason for adding another job. I think I can safely predict my family might figure largely in some nonfiction pieces I might do since they are the single most important thing to me in my life as I currently know it.
I look forward to venturing into some more fiction efforts too – it’s such fun to feel free to follow whatever inclinations strike me in making up events and characters.
So onward we move, and I’m excited to also dedicate more energies to reading the stellar pieces other writers are sure to offer up this time around – salud!
Then I also had to admit lots has changed, both outside and inside LJ since I last wrote for Idol, which was in season 8 when our esteemed, worthy winner was ms whipchick.
One thing which can be readily said about LJI is how many varied individuals have shared their fascinating and engrossing tales with us among its multiple seasons.
In any case, I’m working two parttime jobs now and hoping like hell I can find the time and energy to meet deadlines and fully participate in this go round – writing freely has always been a source of pleasure for me and this will, to be frank, help kick my butt to do more of it.
My children have gotten older, and a little to my chagrin, I must admit with bigger kids come bigger problems and costs, which is a large part of the reason for adding another job. I think I can safely predict my family might figure largely in some nonfiction pieces I might do since they are the single most important thing to me in my life as I currently know it.
I look forward to venturing into some more fiction efforts too – it’s such fun to feel free to follow whatever inclinations strike me in making up events and characters.
So onward we move, and I’m excited to also dedicate more energies to reading the stellar pieces other writers are sure to offer up this time around – salud!
I'm going to jump in and do the mini season of LJ Idol starting soon.
If nothing else, it'll get me more in the habit of writing and posting regularly again. :)
If nothing else, it'll get me more in the habit of writing and posting regularly again. :)
While Kathe wasn't by any means the hugest fan of watching sports, she certainly enjoyed them on occasion and she admired the hell out of specific players. One professional sports player whom she adored as a favorite was John Stockton.
At the height of her and Joe's enthusiasm as Jazz fans, the primary (and possibly only) reason she allowed him to talk her into purchasing a small ticket package was the fun, exciting realization she'd be able to see John Stockton play in person up to 20 times during the season.
Kathe couldn't be there in person for Game 6 of the 1997 Western Conference finals to see Stockton's 3-point shot at the buzzer to take the Jazz to the NBA finals for the first time ever, but her living room cheers were loud enough for the neighbors on both sides to hear easily. And she knew she tried the patience of several relatives and friends with her frequent retelling in the following days of the momentous basket and how much she whooped and hollered in celebration.
Stockton's teammate Karl Malone was more often front and center in the franchise's spotlight, but no one else on the team could compare in Kathe's eyes - she felt he was the epitome of what a great ball player and teammate should be in the game.
Though Kathe was too unassuming to ever say so or maybe even to see it, she and Stockton had a fair bit in common. They were the backbones of their respective "teams", and they constantly and unwaveringly provided support and assistance to the folks around them. Those close to each loved them with their whole hearts, and both were respected by many people who knew them.
When she was diagnosed with late stage cancer, Kathe used to talk to her daughters about these dreams she had where armies of tiny good guys were taking out their swords and spears and whatever other weapons they could wield powerfully to engage in warfare with the treacherous cancer bugs taking over her body.
Some of the images were strongly reminiscent of the premise in a movie called "Innerspace", and in a fanciful moment between themselves, Kathe's daughters speculated that if we lived far into the future where cloning was both possible and safe, John Stockton himself may have been willing to have his clone miniaturized and sent forth to do battle with those cancerous demons.
The idea would have caused Kathe to give a wide, pleased grin.
this is my entry for Week 4 of LJ Idol: Exhibit A. stay tuned for a later update for where you can vote for this and other submissions after the deadline for entries passes.
At the height of her and Joe's enthusiasm as Jazz fans, the primary (and possibly only) reason she allowed him to talk her into purchasing a small ticket package was the fun, exciting realization she'd be able to see John Stockton play in person up to 20 times during the season.
Kathe couldn't be there in person for Game 6 of the 1997 Western Conference finals to see Stockton's 3-point shot at the buzzer to take the Jazz to the NBA finals for the first time ever, but her living room cheers were loud enough for the neighbors on both sides to hear easily. And she knew she tried the patience of several relatives and friends with her frequent retelling in the following days of the momentous basket and how much she whooped and hollered in celebration.
Stockton's teammate Karl Malone was more often front and center in the franchise's spotlight, but no one else on the team could compare in Kathe's eyes - she felt he was the epitome of what a great ball player and teammate should be in the game.
Though Kathe was too unassuming to ever say so or maybe even to see it, she and Stockton had a fair bit in common. They were the backbones of their respective "teams", and they constantly and unwaveringly provided support and assistance to the folks around them. Those close to each loved them with their whole hearts, and both were respected by many people who knew them.
When she was diagnosed with late stage cancer, Kathe used to talk to her daughters about these dreams she had where armies of tiny good guys were taking out their swords and spears and whatever other weapons they could wield powerfully to engage in warfare with the treacherous cancer bugs taking over her body.
Some of the images were strongly reminiscent of the premise in a movie called "Innerspace", and in a fanciful moment between themselves, Kathe's daughters speculated that if we lived far into the future where cloning was both possible and safe, John Stockton himself may have been willing to have his clone miniaturized and sent forth to do battle with those cancerous demons.
The idea would have caused Kathe to give a wide, pleased grin.
this is my entry for Week 4 of LJ Idol: Exhibit A. stay tuned for a later update for where you can vote for this and other submissions after the deadline for entries passes.
It was about October 20th, and the night air was mild - one of the last gasps of our Indian summer for the year. We were headed back to the dorms after our run to Del Taco, pretty much our go-to place for late night munchies back in college. It wasn't that we were so crazy about the food, but it was one of the only places open 24/7 in town then.
Leslie* was driving, and there were four of us in her black Ford Escort - her, Kris, Megan, and myself. Out of nowhere, Leslie exclaimed, "We need pumpkins!" and the next thing I knew, she'd detoured and turned onto Washington Avenue rather than going on to Gunnison Drive.
I had no idea what she was talking about. I'd come along for the ride because I was cramming for a couple of midterms, and when Kris asked if I wanted to go, I'd suddenly felt like I could shove half their menu down my gullet. That, and the fresh air and break would probably rev me up to go another couple of hours or so, like I aimed to.
Leslie quickly added, "for Jack o' lanterns!" when she saw on at least some of our faces that we weren't keeping pace to figure out what her announcement had meant.
Megan offered, "But the store's gonna be closed."
Leslie's face fell for a moment, and then she perked back up. "That's okay - they leave them out front. We can just pick some up tonight and come back tomorrow to pay for them."
My tired brain was somewhat befuddled by this proposition, but Kris chimed right in, "What, pay for them? It's a few bucks, max. And they've got tons - they'll never miss them."
Megan's frown was dubious, and I had to speak up. "I need to get back to the books," but Leslie appeared satisfied enough to have at least one cohort willing to go along with her idea.
I further protested, "I don't have the bucks to spare for a pumpkin, today or tomorrow, and I certainly don't feel like stealing one."
"Whatever, Em, just stay in the car then. We'll make it quick," was Leslie's intractable and somewhat predictable response.
Less than three minutes later, we were pulling into the dark parking lot of Albertson's, and sure enough, 1) they were closed for the night seeing as it was just after 1am and 2) they had a huge square enclosure out front, filled to overflowing with pumpkins.
Leslie pulled her little Escort within about twenty feet of the giant bin, and she and Kris scrambled out to start looking for orange globes which would meet with their approval. Megan and I both elected to stay put in the car. I was tired, a bit irritated, and more than a touch nervous they were somehow going to manage to get us all in trouble, so I hoped they'd be quick about it.
Kris appeared to have found one she liked and was cradling it in her arms while Leslie wandered around the bin some more, turning the gourds and looking for one that matched whatever specifications she had outlined in her mind.
After a couple more minutes, Megan (sounding more worried than I felt) told Leslie, "Hurry up! We don't want to be here if a police car comes cruising down the street," in an overblown stage whisper.
"Just hold on a sec! I don't want to settle for just any pumpkin - I need a good specimen to do a prize winner."
Leslie had previously gone to great pains to tell us how she'd won a prize in 5 of the 7 pumpkin carving contests she'd ever entered.
Megan and I met each others' eyes, and I could see she wanted to be out of there at least as much as I did. When we looked for Leslie again, we saw she had hoisted two pumpkins into her arms and seemed to be comparing their weights and heft as she balanced them.
I guess when Megan couldn't take it any longer, she spoke up again. "I swear that might have been a cop car!" about the dark sedan which had passed by a couple seconds earlier.
Now I couldn't say if it was one way or the other, but I was willing to back her up if it would get us out of there any sooner. "I think it could have been too! I think there was a light bar up on top."
That seemed to turn the trick for both petty thieves, and they hustled back to the car, toting their finds along. Both doors slammed shut almost simultaneously, and Leslie hurried to put the car in gear and pull back out onto the road.
It was only when she'd driven about a block that I noticed she'd neglected to turn her headlights back on. "Leslie, you don't have your lights on," and just a fraction of a second later, we heard Megan say, "Oh shit, that one is a cop car!"
We all looked up the street to see the fairly unmistakable shape of a Hooper police cruiser approaching from about four or five blocks away.
Even Kris sounded a bit scared when she asked, "Do you think they noticed your lights were off?"
"I don't know. I can't say for sure. If they saw us before we saw them, then yeah maybe."
As the police car passed us, we all studiously looked straight ahead, avoiding any glances to our left, and when Leslie turned the next corner to take a slightly roundabout route up to Gunnison, Kris seemed to reach a quick decision. She rolled down her window and hoisted her squash up and heaved it as far as she could manage. It appeared to go about eight feet or so and then hit the ground with a meaty thud-splat combination.
Leslie stomped on the brakes and turned to stare wide-eyed at her.
"Hey, if they turned around to come back, I didn't want it here in the car with us."
Leslie stared for a second longer and then sighed and shook her head slightly. She rolled down her window as well and heaved her own pumpkin out, letting it thump to the ground too, then hurriedly drove off.
As I looked back at the pumpkin guts spread out on the pavement, I couldn't help but feel a bit bad for them. After all, they didn't ask to be part of such late night escapades - they were probably just hoping for cozy porches or warm windows where they could hang out for the season.
*this story is semi-factual, and names have been changed to protect the dumb and partially innocent.
this is my entry for Week 3 of LJ Idol: Exhibit A. stay tuned for a later update for where you can vote for this and other submissions after the deadline for entries passes.
Leslie* was driving, and there were four of us in her black Ford Escort - her, Kris, Megan, and myself. Out of nowhere, Leslie exclaimed, "We need pumpkins!" and the next thing I knew, she'd detoured and turned onto Washington Avenue rather than going on to Gunnison Drive.
I had no idea what she was talking about. I'd come along for the ride because I was cramming for a couple of midterms, and when Kris asked if I wanted to go, I'd suddenly felt like I could shove half their menu down my gullet. That, and the fresh air and break would probably rev me up to go another couple of hours or so, like I aimed to.
Leslie quickly added, "for Jack o' lanterns!" when she saw on at least some of our faces that we weren't keeping pace to figure out what her announcement had meant.
Megan offered, "But the store's gonna be closed."
Leslie's face fell for a moment, and then she perked back up. "That's okay - they leave them out front. We can just pick some up tonight and come back tomorrow to pay for them."
My tired brain was somewhat befuddled by this proposition, but Kris chimed right in, "What, pay for them? It's a few bucks, max. And they've got tons - they'll never miss them."
Megan's frown was dubious, and I had to speak up. "I need to get back to the books," but Leslie appeared satisfied enough to have at least one cohort willing to go along with her idea.
I further protested, "I don't have the bucks to spare for a pumpkin, today or tomorrow, and I certainly don't feel like stealing one."
"Whatever, Em, just stay in the car then. We'll make it quick," was Leslie's intractable and somewhat predictable response.
Less than three minutes later, we were pulling into the dark parking lot of Albertson's, and sure enough, 1) they were closed for the night seeing as it was just after 1am and 2) they had a huge square enclosure out front, filled to overflowing with pumpkins.
Leslie pulled her little Escort within about twenty feet of the giant bin, and she and Kris scrambled out to start looking for orange globes which would meet with their approval. Megan and I both elected to stay put in the car. I was tired, a bit irritated, and more than a touch nervous they were somehow going to manage to get us all in trouble, so I hoped they'd be quick about it.
Kris appeared to have found one she liked and was cradling it in her arms while Leslie wandered around the bin some more, turning the gourds and looking for one that matched whatever specifications she had outlined in her mind.
After a couple more minutes, Megan (sounding more worried than I felt) told Leslie, "Hurry up! We don't want to be here if a police car comes cruising down the street," in an overblown stage whisper.
"Just hold on a sec! I don't want to settle for just any pumpkin - I need a good specimen to do a prize winner."
Leslie had previously gone to great pains to tell us how she'd won a prize in 5 of the 7 pumpkin carving contests she'd ever entered.
Megan and I met each others' eyes, and I could see she wanted to be out of there at least as much as I did. When we looked for Leslie again, we saw she had hoisted two pumpkins into her arms and seemed to be comparing their weights and heft as she balanced them.
I guess when Megan couldn't take it any longer, she spoke up again. "I swear that might have been a cop car!" about the dark sedan which had passed by a couple seconds earlier.
Now I couldn't say if it was one way or the other, but I was willing to back her up if it would get us out of there any sooner. "I think it could have been too! I think there was a light bar up on top."
That seemed to turn the trick for both petty thieves, and they hustled back to the car, toting their finds along. Both doors slammed shut almost simultaneously, and Leslie hurried to put the car in gear and pull back out onto the road.
It was only when she'd driven about a block that I noticed she'd neglected to turn her headlights back on. "Leslie, you don't have your lights on," and just a fraction of a second later, we heard Megan say, "Oh shit, that one is a cop car!"
We all looked up the street to see the fairly unmistakable shape of a Hooper police cruiser approaching from about four or five blocks away.
Even Kris sounded a bit scared when she asked, "Do you think they noticed your lights were off?"
"I don't know. I can't say for sure. If they saw us before we saw them, then yeah maybe."
As the police car passed us, we all studiously looked straight ahead, avoiding any glances to our left, and when Leslie turned the next corner to take a slightly roundabout route up to Gunnison, Kris seemed to reach a quick decision. She rolled down her window and hoisted her squash up and heaved it as far as she could manage. It appeared to go about eight feet or so and then hit the ground with a meaty thud-splat combination.
Leslie stomped on the brakes and turned to stare wide-eyed at her.
"Hey, if they turned around to come back, I didn't want it here in the car with us."
Leslie stared for a second longer and then sighed and shook her head slightly. She rolled down her window as well and heaved her own pumpkin out, letting it thump to the ground too, then hurriedly drove off.
As I looked back at the pumpkin guts spread out on the pavement, I couldn't help but feel a bit bad for them. After all, they didn't ask to be part of such late night escapades - they were probably just hoping for cozy porches or warm windows where they could hang out for the season.
*this story is semi-factual, and names have been changed to protect the dumb and partially innocent.
this is my entry for Week 3 of LJ Idol: Exhibit A. stay tuned for a later update for where you can vote for this and other submissions after the deadline for entries passes.
My son (who is 10) has a definite technique when it comes to picking up his stuff and helping with general clean up.
Any articles larger than a softball get picked up first and readily put away in their designated spots, whether it's a bookshelf, his toy chest, animal net, or the game closet.
Objects that are between the size of said softball and a golf ball will be picked up next and either tossed in the closet, shoved in a drawer, or occasionally thrown under his covers if he can't fairly quickly think of where it's supposed to go.
Items smaller than a golf ball are mostly left to languish, unless I've got time and energy to remind him otherwise.
His response is most often along the lines of, "Well heck, Mom, I didn't know that little stuff mattered too."
When he was littler, I'd hunch down on my knees to look in his eyes and say, "Of course they matter. Everyone and everything can have value, no matter what size they are."
On one occasion after I prompted him I meant the smaller things too, he must have been feeling particularly cheeky. His response was, "I was thinking if I left them alone, they'd band together and find there's strength in numbers. And they'd be easier to pick up then too."
He followed this up with a little grin and sideways look at me. He knew I might not be buying it, but he wasn't above trying to distract me with laughter.
I had to hand it to him - my progeny is almost never short of creative thinking.
this is my entry for Week 2 of LJ Idol: Exhibit A. stay tuned for a later update for where you can vote for this and other submissions after the deadline for entries passes.
Any articles larger than a softball get picked up first and readily put away in their designated spots, whether it's a bookshelf, his toy chest, animal net, or the game closet.
Objects that are between the size of said softball and a golf ball will be picked up next and either tossed in the closet, shoved in a drawer, or occasionally thrown under his covers if he can't fairly quickly think of where it's supposed to go.
Items smaller than a golf ball are mostly left to languish, unless I've got time and energy to remind him otherwise.
His response is most often along the lines of, "Well heck, Mom, I didn't know that little stuff mattered too."
When he was littler, I'd hunch down on my knees to look in his eyes and say, "Of course they matter. Everyone and everything can have value, no matter what size they are."
On one occasion after I prompted him I meant the smaller things too, he must have been feeling particularly cheeky. His response was, "I was thinking if I left them alone, they'd band together and find there's strength in numbers. And they'd be easier to pick up then too."
He followed this up with a little grin and sideways look at me. He knew I might not be buying it, but he wasn't above trying to distract me with laughter.
I had to hand it to him - my progeny is almost never short of creative thinking.
this is my entry for Week 2 of LJ Idol: Exhibit A. stay tuned for a later update for where you can vote for this and other submissions after the deadline for entries passes.
"That's too many limes!"
Joyce winced at the unexpected loudness of the announcement and then said, "It's not too many. Last time I used 5, and you drank it up and asked for more."
Tina paused for maybe a nanosecond and replied, "I did? Huh, I must have already been drunk," with a shrug.
Joyce mentally counted to five before she responded again. "Okay well, I like the tartness. If you don't like these, next time around we can do it your way. Will you please salt those rims and bring the glasses over here while I finish mixing?"
After rolling her eyes just a bit, Tina grabbed the tumblers, dipped them deftly onto the salt plate, giving them each a quick twist, and then made a big show of placing them next to Joyce with a grand sweep of her arm and a mock bow. "Here you go, milady."
She could almost always make Joyce smile even right after aggravating her, and Joyce did so now, curtseying in return and saying, "Thank you ever so much, kind girl. Now do be a dear and take the finger sandwiches and petit fours into the library so we may enjoy our repast in more civilized surroundings."
Tina quirked an eyebrow at Joyce, who raised both hers in return, and then they both broke down giggling, sounding much like they did in 10th grade. What they actually had to nosh on were chips, veggies, and dips, and again with an exaggerated flourish, Tina picked up the tray they rested on and proceeded into the family room while Joyce poured the margaritas and then followed her.
After they both sat and took the first sips of their drinks, Joyce waited for the critique which she knew could go thumbs up or thumbs down. Tina took a second taste and then pronounced it, "Not too shabby." Joyce was happy to take it - she knew that Tina in her more contrary moods could have just as easily called it undrinkable or even bilge water.
They drifted into a fine silence then, listening to the radio which was tuned to their favorite "oldies" station, which radio people now seemed to be calling 80s music. It played a lot of stuff from their junior high and high school days, with some also thrown in from their time in college.
The cousins had been close ever since their families had moved within a mile of each other when both girls were about 12, and while they'd had a share of tense moments, most of their time together felt relaxed and easy.
After the Eurythmics "Sweet Dreams" ended, Joyce heard the familiar opening notes of "Ghost in You" from Psychedelic Furs, and she closed her eyes and smiled, relishing a moment of true bliss.
Then she found her eyes drifting to the bookcase and her favorite picture of Tina and herself, taken the summer after high school. Joyce was wearing a sundress with big blue and yellow flowers all over it, and Tina was in her favorite denim shorts with a hot pink halter top. Both girls were barefoot in the picture, as was the young man they each had an arm around. Jack also had on shorts and a sapphire blue t-shirt which set off his eyes beautifully. He had an arm around each girl's waist and was grinning like he had the world by its tail, and both girls also wore big smiles.
As the song faded, she found herself blinking back tears. And from what seemed like a much greater distance than the 5 or so feet away she knew her cousin was sitting, she heard Tina ask, "Am I nuts or does this drink all of the sudden taste like Jack's infamous rum runner punch?"
Joyce couldn't help but laugh. She felt so comforted to know Tina had probably been sharing at least some similar thoughts, and as she sipped from her glass she told her, "No, you're most definitely right. I'm catching a pretty unmistakable hint of Barcardi 151 in here now."
The two girls grinned at each other. It was so nice to have those odd moments where somebody else understood perfectly.
this is my entry for Week 1 of LJ Idol: Exhibit A. stay tuned for a later update for where you can vote for this and other submissions after the deadline for entries passes.
Joyce winced at the unexpected loudness of the announcement and then said, "It's not too many. Last time I used 5, and you drank it up and asked for more."
Tina paused for maybe a nanosecond and replied, "I did? Huh, I must have already been drunk," with a shrug.
Joyce mentally counted to five before she responded again. "Okay well, I like the tartness. If you don't like these, next time around we can do it your way. Will you please salt those rims and bring the glasses over here while I finish mixing?"
After rolling her eyes just a bit, Tina grabbed the tumblers, dipped them deftly onto the salt plate, giving them each a quick twist, and then made a big show of placing them next to Joyce with a grand sweep of her arm and a mock bow. "Here you go, milady."
She could almost always make Joyce smile even right after aggravating her, and Joyce did so now, curtseying in return and saying, "Thank you ever so much, kind girl. Now do be a dear and take the finger sandwiches and petit fours into the library so we may enjoy our repast in more civilized surroundings."
Tina quirked an eyebrow at Joyce, who raised both hers in return, and then they both broke down giggling, sounding much like they did in 10th grade. What they actually had to nosh on were chips, veggies, and dips, and again with an exaggerated flourish, Tina picked up the tray they rested on and proceeded into the family room while Joyce poured the margaritas and then followed her.
After they both sat and took the first sips of their drinks, Joyce waited for the critique which she knew could go thumbs up or thumbs down. Tina took a second taste and then pronounced it, "Not too shabby." Joyce was happy to take it - she knew that Tina in her more contrary moods could have just as easily called it undrinkable or even bilge water.
They drifted into a fine silence then, listening to the radio which was tuned to their favorite "oldies" station, which radio people now seemed to be calling 80s music. It played a lot of stuff from their junior high and high school days, with some also thrown in from their time in college.
The cousins had been close ever since their families had moved within a mile of each other when both girls were about 12, and while they'd had a share of tense moments, most of their time together felt relaxed and easy.
After the Eurythmics "Sweet Dreams" ended, Joyce heard the familiar opening notes of "Ghost in You" from Psychedelic Furs, and she closed her eyes and smiled, relishing a moment of true bliss.
Then she found her eyes drifting to the bookcase and her favorite picture of Tina and herself, taken the summer after high school. Joyce was wearing a sundress with big blue and yellow flowers all over it, and Tina was in her favorite denim shorts with a hot pink halter top. Both girls were barefoot in the picture, as was the young man they each had an arm around. Jack also had on shorts and a sapphire blue t-shirt which set off his eyes beautifully. He had an arm around each girl's waist and was grinning like he had the world by its tail, and both girls also wore big smiles.
As the song faded, she found herself blinking back tears. And from what seemed like a much greater distance than the 5 or so feet away she knew her cousin was sitting, she heard Tina ask, "Am I nuts or does this drink all of the sudden taste like Jack's infamous rum runner punch?"
Joyce couldn't help but laugh. She felt so comforted to know Tina had probably been sharing at least some similar thoughts, and as she sipped from her glass she told her, "No, you're most definitely right. I'm catching a pretty unmistakable hint of Barcardi 151 in here now."
The two girls grinned at each other. It was so nice to have those odd moments where somebody else understood perfectly.
this is my entry for Week 1 of LJ Idol: Exhibit A. stay tuned for a later update for where you can vote for this and other submissions after the deadline for entries passes.
One of the age old questions: who am I? As might hold true for many folks, I don't feel I have a clear-cut answer for this, so what I can do for now is start with "just some facts, ma'am*," and then see what develops from there.
*to corrupt a quote from an old tv show
I was birthed (along with my twin sister whom I've mentioned before) some time ago in the land of "new Zion" as some of us area plebeians and heathens are wont to call it. Growing up a non-member of the primary faith offered some interesting perspectives and challenges - none were particularly traumatic or enormously difficult, but it did give me opportunities from early on to "pick my battles" and to choose between being meek or nippy, stoic or reactionary.
While I often took the quiet and usually higher road, there was more than one occasion where I got fed up and gave a heckler or sanctimonious twerp a piece of my angry mind. For instance, there was the day Howard proclaimed, "At least I get to go to Heaven! You can't go because you don't believe in God or Jesus!"
I said in as steely a voice as my 11 year old self could manage, "First of all, you don't know what I believe. Second, why in the world would I want to go to any Heaven where I'd have to put up with YOU?!"
In short, I figured out early how to speak up and give voice to my opinions, and I haven't looked back much since. In fact, it played somewhat of a role in how I came to find Livejournal. One of the anti-mainstream radio stations in our area is known as X96, and I've listened to the morning show nearly religiously (begging pardon for the facetious pun) for going on 18 years now. For a time they had a regular blog, written by another stalwart fan and hosted right here on LJ. When I started reading it, I noticed there was this whole big website with lots of groups and interests to offer besides the one which brought me here. I signed up for my own account and was off and running.
My participation here has helped clarify and cement a few things for me about who I am and what I think and believe.
- I'm every bit as opinionated as I suspected I was.
- I love learning about other people and what seems to make them tick.
- It feels incredibly rewarding to me to give insights and advice to people in need/want of others' input.
- Not everyone appreciates having their opinions or outlooks questioned.
- Many of us (definitely including myself) tend to be greatly ethnocentric, and it's very eye-opening and worthwhile to learn about others' backgrounds and experiences.
- I don't like cat macros as much as some people, and that almost feels sort of blasphemous to say online. ;)
All in all, I'm very happy to have discovered this place and even more so for all the wonderful individuals and communities which are part of it. For both good and bad, it makes this vast, intimidating world seem a bit less fearsome.
this is my entry for Week 0 of LJ Idol: Exhibit A. stay tuned for a later update for where you can vote for this and other submissions after the due date for entries passes.
*to corrupt a quote from an old tv show
I was birthed (along with my twin sister whom I've mentioned before) some time ago in the land of "new Zion" as some of us area plebeians and heathens are wont to call it. Growing up a non-member of the primary faith offered some interesting perspectives and challenges - none were particularly traumatic or enormously difficult, but it did give me opportunities from early on to "pick my battles" and to choose between being meek or nippy, stoic or reactionary.
While I often took the quiet and usually higher road, there was more than one occasion where I got fed up and gave a heckler or sanctimonious twerp a piece of my angry mind. For instance, there was the day Howard proclaimed, "At least I get to go to Heaven! You can't go because you don't believe in God or Jesus!"
I said in as steely a voice as my 11 year old self could manage, "First of all, you don't know what I believe. Second, why in the world would I want to go to any Heaven where I'd have to put up with YOU?!"
In short, I figured out early how to speak up and give voice to my opinions, and I haven't looked back much since. In fact, it played somewhat of a role in how I came to find Livejournal. One of the anti-mainstream radio stations in our area is known as X96, and I've listened to the morning show nearly religiously (begging pardon for the facetious pun) for going on 18 years now. For a time they had a regular blog, written by another stalwart fan and hosted right here on LJ. When I started reading it, I noticed there was this whole big website with lots of groups and interests to offer besides the one which brought me here. I signed up for my own account and was off and running.
My participation here has helped clarify and cement a few things for me about who I am and what I think and believe.
- I'm every bit as opinionated as I suspected I was.
- I love learning about other people and what seems to make them tick.
- It feels incredibly rewarding to me to give insights and advice to people in need/want of others' input.
- Not everyone appreciates having their opinions or outlooks questioned.
- Many of us (definitely including myself) tend to be greatly ethnocentric, and it's very eye-opening and worthwhile to learn about others' backgrounds and experiences.
- I don't like cat macros as much as some people, and that almost feels sort of blasphemous to say online. ;)
All in all, I'm very happy to have discovered this place and even more so for all the wonderful individuals and communities which are part of it. For both good and bad, it makes this vast, intimidating world seem a bit less fearsome.
this is my entry for Week 0 of LJ Idol: Exhibit A. stay tuned for a later update for where you can vote for this and other submissions after the due date for entries passes.
I've been having some very mixed feelings about whether or not to do the last season of LJ Idol when it rolls around. I've really been going back and forth on whether it's something I can wholly commit to, and then guess what happens? The nicest little surprise -
The fearless leader/organizer of LJ Idol decides to do a special mini-season, and because it's for a considerably shorter time, that I'm fairly positive I can do!
So this here is my official declaration that I do indeed plan to participate in this fun extra event! :D
The fearless leader/organizer of LJ Idol decides to do a special mini-season, and because it's for a considerably shorter time, that I'm fairly positive I can do!
So this here is my official declaration that I do indeed plan to participate in this fun extra event! :D
Originally posted by 
tinylegacies at Reproductive Rights
Originally posted by 
mountain_hiker at Reproductive Rights
mountain_hiker at Reproductive RightsA star-studded cast wants you to sign!
The CAMPAIGN
The Bill of Reproductive Rights is an effort by the Center for Reproductive Rights to deliver a thundering statement—backed by hundreds of thousands of signatures from concerned citizens like you—to the U.S. Congress and the President that they must guarantee and protect reproductive rights as fundamental human rights and stop the attacks by politicians who want to take those rights away.
Draw the line! Sign the Bill of Reproductive Rights!
The CAMPAIGN
The Bill of Reproductive Rights is an effort by the Center for Reproductive Rights to deliver a thundering statement—backed by hundreds of thousands of signatures from concerned citizens like you—to the U.S. Congress and the President that they must guarantee and protect reproductive rights as fundamental human rights and stop the attacks by politicians who want to take those rights away.
Draw the line! Sign the Bill of Reproductive Rights!
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