Write on Wednesdays: Sunshine Writing

It's been a while since I participated in InkPaperPen's weekly meme Write on Wednesdays, and I have missed it! Gil brings us an awesome prompt this week:


The Prompt:
Take the first line of whatever you last read...Magazine Article. Blog Post. Newspaper. TV Guide. Doesn't matter what. Write the line on a piece of paper. Take that piece of paper outside. Leave your screen behind. Wait until you have been outside for at least 15 minutes (an important part of the exercise) and then use your prompt to begin writing. Choose to write a 5 minute stream of consciousnesses or take it slow and write a 500 word piece.  


Background:
For my long-time readers, you know that I have been in search of happiness for a while now. In my search, I stumbled upon The Bloggess and have begun to think she and I are besties who've just never met. If you haven't read her, you need to search for Beyonce the Giant Metal Chicken...get ready to laugh so hard you might wet yourself. Once you have read Jenny's blog, then buy her book (link from amazon at the bottom of this page to support my amazon habit, please!), Let's Pretend This Never Happened: (A Mostly True Memoir). If you only read the chapter about "Stanley, the Magical Talking Squirrel", then it paid for itself in the endorphin rush that will engulf you from your hysterical laughter.

Here we go: "When I tell people that my father is kind of a total lunatic, they laugh and nod knowingly."


I can only think of the stories that paint my parents as heroes, saving toddlers and old women. However, when Darling Daughter gets grown, she too will have funny stories to tell the world about her lunatic parents. I can only imagine what stories we will create for her in the coming years. Currently, she can tell her friends about how every time Hubby Dearest and I have time to ourselves, we tend to find ourselves up a log-jammed tributary with paddles and no boat motor as the sun is setting. Or she can regale them with her Daddy's "The Time I Sunk The Boat" story. She can recount the yearly camping trips to Arkansas and our staying up all night to fish and sleeping most of the day. She will receive sympathy for all the backwoods, country sayings that I plant in her brain. I think the one that will get her the most sympathy will be how her J-Me went on a crocheting frenzy to stop smoking and how she feared she would have to wear all the crazy things I made for her. Most of all, I hope she will remember this last weekend when she told me off. I was doing my normal self-bad-mouthing, and from the backseat DD practically yelled, "Will you please stop! You never let anyone else beat themselves up. You need to stop being mean to yourself!" I have never been more proud of her and ashamed of myself. 


Buy this book and then tell me about the lunatic you love the most...

Try Something New Tuesday: Live Deliberately

"I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately..." WALDEN by Henry David Thoreau

InkPaperPen has a great prompt this week, but my mind wandered off after it saw this phrase. I may not have written to the prompt. However, I did write.





Sometimes my silly is easy, like here.
Sometimes it is
forced to hide my pain.



I think this is what I have been trying to do for the last year, live deliberately. I also think the frustration I sometimes feel overwhelms me because I don't know how to live deliberately and effortlessly. I seem almost manic to keep busy and moving and not tarrying because tarrying leads to thinking, which leads to missing and mourning, which directs my path to crawling under the covers to retreat to my shell.

I want to be one of those people that you sit back and say, "Wow! She's so spontaneous and full of life." I wish my middle name was adventure, mystery or intrigue.

In my research, I found a site that asked 7 questions in order to help you find the joy of living deliberately:

1. What is important to you?
2. In a given situation, what are your choices?
3. What are the consequences of your choices?
4. Which is better: talking about it or doing it?
5. Do you see a gap between your choices and what is important to you? (The bigger the gap, the more regret you will feel).
6. If it all goes wrong, will you still be content that you did it?
7. Are you tolerant of others' choices?

I learned from reading this article that it is not about planning and plotting every move in life. I also learned that it is not about letting life just happen to you. I need to weigh what is priority to me against the choices I have and the actions I take.

Have you chosen your lifestyle? Or has it chosen you?

Welcome Back Write on Wednesdays! Agent Chin-Wag

InkPaperPen brought us back last week, but something...I don't remember...kept me at bay. Here's this week's prompt (oops! I went over time). Ding!

The Write on Wednesday Spark: Agent Chin- WagPay attention to the conversations around you: at the dinner table, in the supermarket, while DVD Returning, wherever. You are looking for one line, one tiny sentence of dialogue. You may find your words lurking in a D&M or perhaps you will choose a phrase from everyday chatter. Write down your line. Use it to inspire your Write on Wednesday post. Keep your post on the short side: up to 500 words OR a 5 minute stream of consciousness exercise. Link your finished piece to the list and begin popping by the other links. Oh and enjoy.
There are certain phrases that our little family of three has adopted either from favorite TV shows or commercials or just the everyday crazy sass (TWSS). We have "milk-a-what" from a SuperBowl commercial two or three years ago. "I appreciate ya'" is a Papa James original."I love you, Moore" and "ROGUE NUT!" (or fill in NUT with anything escaping across the counter) matriculate from our dear, sweet Aunt Gayla.  This last one is one that always catches me tickled, especially when Darling Daughter dishes it out. Here's how this little ditty came to be.


What would be the odds that I could find the
photo of that day...taken immediately after she
spoke those fateful words..."ROGUE NUT!"

"ROGUE NUT!" Gayla hollered as she maneuvered the serving bar in her fancy shoes to catch the cashew that was hurling itself toward the other side of the bar to dive to its demise on the floor below. In Sister's mind a wasted cashew was sacrilege. She and Darling Daughter, Gayla's niece favorita, giggled and exchanged knowing looks.

DD had heard the stories of fallen hot dogs at the horse races that were still consumed (10 second rule and a little bud light) and last dinner rolls licked on every side by multiple claimants only to be devoured still. Although my germa-phobe self could never stomach such tomfoolery, I think we as the children of our there-are-starving-children-in-China parents subconsciously believed their threat and made sure we didn't waste a bite. I also think that our immune systems are so strong because we never get ooged out by much.

That scene was at a wedding shower a year before we lost Sister. The night she died, Hubby Dearest had bought a cookie for me from a Sleazy Mart on our way home in hopes that I would eat something. Unfortunately, HD fumbled the cookie, and it fell to the asphalt. Without thinking, Chad lunged for the cookie, yelling, "ROGUE COOKIE!" He gasped at his faux pas and immediately worried I might break down finally. I just giggled through my tears, picked up the cookie and popped it in my mouth in memory of my lost sister. I then immediately spat it out because there was something wet on it. Gag!

Despite my one failed attempt on the wild side, the phrase "Rogue ______!" seems to make its way into our lives every day. Yesterday it was rogue french fry (let the dogs have it). The day before it was rogue crochet needle (watch out...they stab). We have had escaping food, fish (live trying to free themselves from the boat), dishes, and one nephew (I caught him before he rolled to the floor thank goodness). Sometimes I "accidentally" drop a cashew so I can say, "Rogue nut!" and grab it up before it gets gross.

Write on Wednesdays: Ready to Write!

One of my favorite memes, InkPaperPen's Write on Wednesdays is still on vacay, and I miss it terribly. Therefore, I created my own prompt for this week, set my timer for five minutes and voila! Ding!

Zig Ziglar, American author and motivational speaker, has some of the best quotes to encourage and inspire. Some make you think and then laugh at his point. CLICK HERE to find a quote you can write about. Put your quote at the top of your entry, set your timer for five minutes and WRITE!

I would put a linky thingy up for everyone to link to but I am still figuring that out! Feel free to post your link in the comments of this post, and I will visit and read!

“People often say that motivation doesn't last. Well, neither does bathing--that's why we recommend it daily.”    ― Zig Ziglar

In the last few years, one might say I have lacked in motivation so much so that Ziggy might say I stank of it. Honestly, I thought that losing my ability to birth chitlins, regardless of the health I gained with that loss, was my undoing. It wasn't until losing myGayla last March did I really know what would be my undoing. It also wasn't till this tragedy turned my life upside down and inside out that I was motivated to really start living every single day. I completely own and admit that there are more days than not where I want to crawl under the blankets and stay there. However, I make myself get up; I make myself get ready; and I make myself get going. From there, I have no choice but to keep moving forward (thank you Liz for that reminder). So that it is not a completely miserable existence (kinda like making up car games on a long road trip), I turn to this blog and my little crazy daily adventures to keep it interesting. Like a daily bath keeps your pits and crevices from reeking, your daily adventure (small or large) keeps your life from stinking. Ding!

Venture out today! Come by and tell me all about it! I am going to find a Zumba class to take and see if I like it.

Write on Wednesdays: Nine Ladies Dancing

It's been a month, but I am back Gill! INKPAPERPEN gives us an awesome prompt for this week! I am a little shocked at what came out when I started writing. I pray my mother and father will forgive me.

Write On Wednesdays Exercise 27 - Mel suggested that we look at the "12 Days of Christmas" poem/song and select one of the days/lines for our writing inspiration. So, whether a Partridge in a Pear Tree or Five Golden Rings, write your line at the top of your page, set your timer for 5 minutes and write the first words that come into your head.

"Nine Ladies Dancing" refers to the nine beatitudes

Matthew 5: 3-12--"Blessed are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted. Blessed are the meek: for they shall inherit the earth. Blessed are they that hunger and thirst after righteousness: for they shall be filled. Blessed are the merciful: for they shall obtain mercy. Blessed are the pure in heart: for they shall see God. Blessed are the peacemakers: for they shall be called sons of God. Blessed are they that have been persecuted for righteousness' sake: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are ye when [men] shall reproach you, and persecute you, and say all manner of evil against you falsely, for my sake. Rejoice, and be exceeding glad: for great is your reward in heaven: for so persecuted they the prophets that were before you."

I first learned of the beatitudes from a group of women at Northwest Bible Church. I had just moved to Dallas after graduation and a friend from Denton Bible Church had given my name to the ladies in hopes that I would be able to find a new church home in Dallas. They called me up on a Monday and left a voice mail that they were meeting on Tuesday and would I join them. The first lesson was the beatitudes. It's interesting that that group of young women numbered nine as well. 

This is one of the rare times in my life that still gives me chills to remember. That Monday night, I had given up and was contemplating letting my chronic depression win finally. I had made arrangements via letters to my family and even packed my belongings to make it easier to dispose of my life once it was over. However, the red blinking light of my answering machine caught my attention and brought me back from that non-returnable brink of disaster.

The young woman's voice still plays in my head even today, "Hi, Jaimee, this is Elizabeth. You don't know me, but I got your name from Amy at DBC. Jaimee, this is going to sound strange, but I have an almost panicked feeling that you need to call me back as soon as you hear this message. Please call me. Let's get together. We want you to join our young ladies studies. Please, please, please call me, Jaimee."

I hit my knees and cried like my soul needed to wash away my previous selfishness. After a few hours, I calmed enough to call Elizabeth back. We made plans for the next evening. I don't think I ever told her that she saved me from myself that night. I just say a prayer of thanks each night for a young woman who doesn't even know that she changed the world that night in 1997.

If you've ever thought of suicide, please reach out and ask for help. Life is too precious to give up before you get to see all the beautiful times. I am blessed that someone acted on the weight that He placed on their heart to reach out. I would have missed out on true love, being a mom, being a teacher, seeing my nephews be born, meeting and being a part of my group of friends, and helping my family survive this last year. There is so much that we don't see that is worth living for when depression tells us its ugly untruths. If you suffer, please get help.

In the U.S., call 1-800-273-8255

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline

Write On Wednesday Moody Music 30 Days of Thankful: Day 2--Darling Daughter

Like I wrote yesterday, I am going to try, when possible to combine my usual schedule of blogging and the 30 Days of Thankful Challenge. Here are the instructions for this week's WOW from Gill at InkPaperPen. I chose a song that I have for Darling Daughter and Hubby Dearest, Keith Urban's "Only You Can Love Me This Way," but this is for our sweet girl.

Write On Wednesdays Exercise 22 - Select a piece of music that reflects the mood of writing you'd like to aim for. Press play. Start free writing. Write the first words that come into your head. When the music's over, so is the writing. I'd recommend finding out how long the song is before you start the exercise. You may feel cheated in your writing time if you pick a song by The Ramones. Of course, if you feel like writing a short, punky piece by all means, go for it!


Dearest Darling Daughter Darby,

Baby girl, you are the most precious gift ever shared with me. I am so thankful to God everyday (yes even the rough ones) that He put you in my life. You have made the last five years of my life whole, healing a part of my heart that I just couldn't see ever being whole again. Thank you for reminding me that when God shuts a door, he leaves a window open for me to sneak into...;-)

Thank you for sharing your Daddy with me, sweet child. I know it hasn't always been a walk in the park learning to live with another woman occupying some of his time. I thank you for encouraging him, even when you were so little, to bring me into yall's family. I thank you for the special way that you both protect and challenge my heart every day.

As you grow up and head out to the world, just know that you will always be my baby. Only you can love us in your way. Only you can make our lives whole. Only you are always in our hearts and minds. No one comes close to you, Darby. Thank you for being our girl child...our legacy to the world...our love...our peace...our daughter.

I love you, Darby.

Mama J

Write on Wednesday--I Thought I Saw...

Gill at INKPAPERPEN, I just have to write this once so I won't use it as my piece for this week! "I thought I saw a putty tat!" Whew...now that that's taken care of...DING!

Write On Wednesdays Exercise 20 - Write the words " I thought I saw" at the top of your page. Set a timer for 5 minutes. Write the first words that come into your head after the prompt. Don't take you pen off the page (or fingers off the keyboard). Stop only when the buzzer rings! Do this exercise over and over if you wish. Write beyond 5 minutes if you like, you can link it up as an extra post.

I thought I Saw...

YOU
I thought I saw you pumping gas into your car and my heart leaped.
The way she stood was just like you.
Poor gal probably thought I was a crazy attacker running toward her.

YOu
I thought I saw you at the mall window shopping.
The way she wore her hair was just like you.
I must have looked like a stalker following her from store to store.

You
I thought I saw you pass by our house last week.
That silver car was just like yours.
I must have been insane to run out waving like a maniac.

you
I thought I saw you in my dreams last night.
Your laugh and smile were just like you.
I ran through all those rooms to catch up with you so I could hug you again.

I think I see you everywhere.
I wish it were true.

Ding!

Write on Wednesday: Bring Me Sunshine In A Cup...

Gill at InkPaperPen inspired me yet again! Ding!

Write On Wednesdays Exercise 19 - Sunshine in a cup. Write the words of Emily Dickinson: "Bring me sunshine in a cup" at the top of your page. Set a timer for 5 minutes. Write the first words that come into your head after the prompt. Don't take you pen off the page (or fingers off the keyboard). Stop only when the buzzer rings! Do this exercise over and over if you wish. Write beyond 5 minutes if you like, you can link it up as an extra post.

Bring me sunshine in a cup...the sunshine in my life is my darling daughter. Each day I get to wake up is another adventure I am blessed to have with MyDarby. Still being fairly new to parenting (fifth year mama to a 14-year-old girl), I worry about her...A LOT! From what my mother tells me, this doesn't end just because she grows up. Where other mothers in my tenure are sending their darlings off to kindergarten for the first time, I am watching mine get on the bus for high school. My counterparts are braiding hair and tieing bows while I am side glancing today's outfit for dress code violations. My peers are volunteering for class mom and play dates while I am begging for ten minutes a day of communication other than grunts and shrugs. With so much uncertainty in parenting, I have one thing I can always fall back to...no matter what is to come, who she will be, what she will do, I love my girl with all my heart, unconditionally, unfaltering. My cup runeth over with the pure joy and unending love I have for MyDarby.

Write on Wednesday--Choose Your Own Adventure

Gill at INKPAPERPEN is letting us choose from a previous prompt...I was stuck between "88-Two Fat Ladies" and "I remember" since I hadn't found the WOW group at that time. I chose a version of the ladies. Because I use a Kindle to store my library now, I don't really have an 8th book on the shelf. I chose the eighth "clipping" from the various books I have been reading for the last year. It was a little unsettling to see the prose that fate chose for me to write about. It took me from Sunday until today to eek this out, and even now, I am not sure I should publish this. I will tell you here that it is graphic with some details of my sister's passing. Proceed with caution.


Write On Wednesdays Exercise 17: This week, we are going with Karen's idea for an open choice week. So take a look at the old writing exercises (you can find them listed in Gill's sidebar: WoW Writing Exercises), find one you'd like to try (or retry!) and link it up to the linky on her page. Short and simple instructions this week. If time is an issue perhaps you would like to try one of the 5 minute stream of consciousness exercises.


"Sudden deaths rob us of the chance to offer comfort to our siblings in their final moments of life, to tell our siblings all of those things that lie deep within our souls, leaving us with words forever left unsaid." TJ Wray in Surviving the Death of a Sibling: Living Through Grief When an Adult Brother or Sister Dies

Me and Gayla, 2010

One of the heaviest weights my family and I have felt about sister's death is that not one of us was with her. Horrible sights unseen but imagined have plagued my mind's eye as it actively tortures me with flashes of what it thinks happened.


March 19, 2011 was a beautiful, sunny Saturday. I can imagine sister was dressed in comfy clothes and sandals since she was going for a pedicure. Having the same car as my older sister, I can see her behind the wheel and all the controls around her. Patiently, she waited in that bottle-necked traffic, waiting her turn to merge onto the highway. I worry about how she felt. Was she excited about our nephew to be born any minute? Was she lonely that everyone was busy or out of town and she would spend the day on her own? Was she just happy to not be traveling for work and to have a day of relaxation?


Then my questions become anxious. What did sister see in her rear view mirror that caused her car to veer to the right and not hit the cars in front of her? Had she seen the two little kiddos in the car in front of her and thought to brace for the impact and save them from harm? Did she feel it when her neck broke from the impact of the tractor trailer behind her?

Gayla and Me, 2011

About a month or two after sister's death, a letter arrived from a witness, the mother of those two children, who used her training as a nurse to attempt to save ourGayla. She wrote of how she and one other tried to breathe for sister until the realization that they could only pray over her hit them. This stranger's words were of some comfort to me because it let me know our girl did not die alone or uncared for. However, I still grieve for not being there to hold her hand.


I suppose I owe my parents a great deal of gratitude for raising the three of us to love each other openly and to always share our feelings with each other. Some of the only comfort I have now is knowing that myGayla knew I loved her with tremendous, over-flowing affection. She knew she was my best friend. Sister knew that she was my hero and that I knew how lucky I was to have her. Gayla knew she was loved abundantly. Unfortunately, I hurt to also know that she knew I was not going to be strong enough to bare this loss without great struggle. I fear she sees how weak I am and the ugly, sad feelings I hold in my heart for this horrible tragedy. I worry that I disappoint her. I worry that I disappointed her in life. I hate that I will never get to grow old with her as we had planned.


I do feel like we were robbed, that something very precious has been stolen from us all and from this world. Even with the knowledge that Sister knew my heart and soul with regards to her, there are still so many things I want to tell her. I used to text her cell phone when the need to tell her something was overwhelming. Then her number was recycled so that ended. I occasionally post to her FaceBook but feel silly once it is there so that will probably stop too. How do I let her know she was one of the greatest people I have ever known? How do I make sure her heart and capacity to love is never forgotten?

Write On Wednesday--It Is Well With My Soul

Write On Wednesdays Exercise 16:

Hadge says: Take a favorite (or even random play) song and write the story behind the lyrics, not something inspired by the lyric, but the flesh on the bones of the story. It gives lots of scope for interpretative writing. Use the lyrics or theme of a song for a piece of flash fiction (50 to 200 words). To clarify, write your version of the story behind the lyrics in a song.

Gill, at InkPaperPen, I have to say, I almost just threw in the towel this week and said, "I don't know how to do this so I won't even try." This is my typical M.O. Sad to admit that. I am not someone who is overly involved with her music. I like, love or hate songs. I don't form relationships strong enough to write about them. However, at the final hour, a song spoke to me. I may not be totally on target for this meme, and I apologize. However, this is my heart, thrown out there so don't trample too hard. Thank you Misters Spafford and Bliss for penning and composing "It Is Well With My Soul"; you touch my heart, Daniel Martin Moore for your version heard on Parenthood last night and speaking to my soul.


When I regularly attended church, the hymn "It Is Well With My Soul" was my favorite. I loved any song I could really belt out (and sound good doing it). I felt it was God's way of saying, "I'll make you good at this song because I want to hear your praise in this way." Selfishly self-centered I can be.





Six months ago, I felt like God slapped me in the face with so much force that it destroyed my love for Him for all time. At the same time frightened and angry, I wasn't sure what to do but just loathe and beg for forgiveness almost in the same breath. It is extremely hard to even write that because I am ashamed at the same time that I am angry and hurt.


Last month, when Sosie and AnnieMama lost their little sister Becky, the song was playing in the kitchen...them trying to decide to play it at her memorial or not. I had to leave, and all I could say as I retreated away from the beauty that hurt so much was, "IT IS NOT WELL WITH MY SOUL! NONE OF THIS IS WELL WITH MY SOUL!"

The Last Photo Ever Taken
of MyGayla and Me, February 2011

This crisis of faith, as my therapist calls it, is "normal" when grieving. It isn't normal for me because my faith has been the one constant my whole life. Prayer came to me more easily than walking. Why now, when I needed Him the most, did I suddenly decide He was not there. I was a fool for believing in my "imaginary friend God." I told myself all the things you can imagine including, "What kind of God based in Love and Compassion would take away such young, beautiful, loving women? How could He think that this world would be better unless they were in it? He must not really exist."


Probably because my injured foot kept me bed-bound yesterday, and I wasn't able to stay busy, my mind kept me firmly planted at the bottom of that dark hole, weeping and desperate to have my sister back. However, as I barely watched the Parenthood episode last night, the song jumped out at me again. Except this time, I didn't feel assaulted; I felt like I was hearing it for the first time. I felt relief for enough time to pray instead of cry. I prayed like my heart had to say it all before I could revert back to anger. Mostly, I felt peace. Whatever is my lot in this life, I found peace again. I still hurt. I still grieve. I still miss MyGayla. I always will. However, I will also move forward everyday until the day "my faith shall be sight." 




It Is Well With My Soul


When peace like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to know,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.


Refrain:
It is well, with my soul,
It is well, with my soul,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.
...
And Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be sight,
The clouds be rolled back as a scroll;
The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend,
Even so, it is well with my soul

Write On Wednesdays--People Watching in Austin

Gill at INKPAPERPEN continues to inspire this writer wanna be! I do have to say I am going off assignment a bit this week. As an avid people watcher, I can't go to Austin, Texas, the city whose motto is "Keep Austin Weird" and not commentate. If you offend easily, you might skip today's writing.

 

Write On Wednesdays Exercise 15 - Give yourself some time to notice the people around you. The people who may cross your path each day. The lady in front of you at the supermarket, the man who helps the school kids cross the road, a neighbour, a waitress in a cafe, a librarian, anyone at all. Choose one person, someone you don't know, and this person will become the basis of the week's writing exercise. Describe this person as you see them, describe their surroundings. Then imagine a problem, create conflict for this person. Describe the conflict. Describe how your character deals with the problem. The conflict might resolve itself, it might not. It is up to you. Perhaps, the lady in the supermarket has forgotten her wallet. Does she bursts into tears? Maybe the librarian finds a lost child. The aim is to show how your character responds to conflict and in the process, reveal something about that character. Tell us their story.

Unique and Funky Art Installment
at the Austin, Texas Airport

Hello, fully tatted, with sleeves and leggings, pixie cut Goth girl. Your spaghetti strap tank and hot pant shorts gave your pretty but pierced face that Girl With The Dragon Tattoo chic-ness. However, the cowboy boots were a poor choice.

Excuse me, VERY, VERY pregnant mama hollering at the toddling little cherub behind you as you push the stroller with the other precious angel sleeping, 1) if you can't figure out what is causing that, I can give you the answer, and 2) I don't think you're supposed to be flying.

Ahem, Adonis looking airport worker who's yelling at the poor night manager of the greasy spoon airport Mexican restaurant about why he didn't hire you to work at his little venue, you're just ugly. I don't care how svelte your physique was! You're rude and ugly.

Hey! Completely bald business man in the $500 suit, you're an a-hole. Not one of us wanted to hear your entire telephone conversation while waiting to board the last flight out last night. You're lucky I was too tired to start some stuff with you when you didn't end your call and power down your phone after the captain and two flight hostesses asked you nicely. I swear I wanted to thump you in the back of your head!

Young enough to be my Mama morning cab driver, you're too old to have a roommate that has to wake you up in the morning (why did I have to know this information?), and neon green acrylic nails aren't even cute on a 13-year-old.

Barely old enough to drink afternoon cab driver, you probably shouldn't swear while spouting Bible verses and trying to convert me to your cult.

Sad, weeping woman sitting by the loading gate furiously typing on your Iphone and trying to catch the escaping tears, sitting over the engine on your flight home did a mighty fine job of drowning out your sobs. Wait...don't I know you? Oops! That was me.

Write on Wednesday--The Mighty Mighty Rewrite

Gill at InkPaperPen is a godsend giving us good prompts to tackle each week. Here's this week's post! Ding!

Write on Wednesday Exercise 14 - The Mighty Mighty Rewrite...

Zanni: I did a workshop with literary author Mj Hyland, who teachers Masters in Creative Writing at Manchester University. She asked us to choose our favourite book, take the first paragraph and then write our own content into the paragraph, keeping the structure, tone, language etc. It's really helpful!

No time limit. Let's keep up the focus on making each word count. Ready? Set? Write!

It doesn't matter if you can't Write on Wednesday...any day is fine!

Harold, you were our big
brother, our uncle, our friend.
We love and miss you
every day.

When he was nearly a grown man, my brother James got his ear badly pierced by a rogue spinner bait. When it healed, and Bubba's fears of never being able to trust Harold in the boat again were assuaged, he seldom let our father's best friend forget about his injury. His left ear lobe wasn't somewhat shorter than his right; when he stood or walked, the back of his head did not gape open, his hearing wasn't damaged. Harold had a sweet heart and tender spot for us, and James just liked to push his buttons. It is my belief that Harold didn't mind either. He was a gentle man. A good man. A man worthy of our love and affection. We all wish he was still here for us to push his buttons.


I modeled that paragraph after the opening paragraph of To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee. I really liked that exercise. I think it added class to my memory. I'll have to try that again. Lord knows, my Bubba has enough injuries to write about. HeeHee!

Write on Wednesdays--Suckage!

Well, this week could have been my un-doing...then I remembered Sosie's and my mantra lately. You almost stumped me INKPAPERPEN! After losing both of our sisters this year, MySarah and I are thinking of having this made into funky t-shirts. It's a down day today so this seems appropriate. DING!

Write On Wednesdays Exercise 13 - A Great One Liner...This week you need to come up with one good line to describe a part of your day. It can be 'real life' or fiction. But it must tell us 'who did what'. It has to be an amazing line, like a tiny little paper plane that must travel a big distance (figuratively speaking) with only a few folds ... Every word in that line must earn its place, or be cut as excess baggage. Let's get thinking about each sentence as though every word counts, like working one group of muscles to show how much weight they can carry.

Some day, not today, this all will suck less.

Write on Wednesday--The Fight.

Thanks again to INKPAPERPEN for this week's writing prompt. I am behind from last week so I only gave this one a single try. DING!

Write On Wednesdays Exercise 12 - The Fight. Kerri says: I am a writer of non-fiction (for now, anyway). In my book 'When My Husband Does The Dishes...', I wrote a memoir of marriage and motherhood in as honest way as I knew how. In interviews, I was constantly asked how I felt about revealing so much about myself, and how I knew where to draw the line. I always answered the same way. Every single thing I wrote in that book was 100% true, because without my truth, I had nothing to offer. However, the book didn't represent 100% of the truth, just as my blog doesn't represent 100% of the truth. There are personal details of my life, my husbands life and my kids' lives that I will never reveal, because we all need to to keep something for ourselves. And that's the key to writing good non-fiction - or one of the keys. You have to be honest, because without honesty, your work won't speak to people. You have to be fearless, because restraint in writing can be perceived. But that doesn't mean that you have to bare your entire soul. Choose what you want to share, choose what is relevant to your story. But make sure that what you choose to share is real, and true. The exercise today is to write a story from your life. And remember: it has to be 100% true, but it doesn't have to be 100% of the truth. There's a difference. The keywords are: The Fight. There you have it! Let's keep to last week's brief and take our time with the exercise. Happy Writing!

When Gayla and I were 12 and 9, respectively, we walked about a mile from our elementary school to our home each day. There were two paths to our home, one on the outside of the "forbidden forest" and one through it. The block of wooded area is no longer there, and I never broke my mother's rule and ventured in so I cannot tell you what was in those woods that our Mama didn't want us to be a part of. Gayla and I were good girls (back then). We never got in trouble at school and very rarely got into any at home either.

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Among Mama's many laws, one was that we were never ever to hit or fight. The one exception was if someone was hurting us. Another law was if we got into trouble at school, we would get double the punishment at home. Needless to say, we had incentive for walking the straight and narrow, good girl line.

One day, we were walking home from school when a group of boys, who were in my class, came out of the forbidden forest and ran up behind Sister and me. They were, as myDaddy called it, "playing grab ass and being dumb ass hairy-legged boys." One boy in particular was a known bully, and his very presence behind me made me sick to my stomach at the possibility of the trouble he might cause. Well, he and his buddies were mouthing off, when from the corner of my eye, I saw the little DB rear back with his foot to kick Gayla.

I was having none of that crap! You may get away with hurting me, but you would never get away with hurting my Sister. I spun around so fast that I shocked even myself. In my spin, I cold-cocked BullyBoy in the temple with my purse. I might have been carrying something similar to a large rock (my memory is fuzzy in my old age) in said purse. I might also have caused BullyBoy to stumble backwards and start crying. Nevertheless, he left us alone, and we finished our brisk walk home unscathed.

Upon entering the house, we knew we'd better tell Mama what had happened. Completely (and irrationally) afraid of her double kicking our tails for the rest of the night, I started with, "Mommy, you remember telling us the only time we were allowed to hit anyone was if they were going to hurt us?" We barely told her the rest of our scrape with the dark side of bad-girlism when the house phone started to ring. BullyBoy had told his mama, and she wanted our mama to punish us for "beating up her child."

I think I aged five years waiting for my Mama to get off the phone with that Witch (warty nose and all, y'all! No lie!). I was sick to my stomach thinking she would end the call with informing Witchy of how she would punish me for sure since Gayla was a victim all the way around. Can you imagine my surprise and almost euphoric elation when my mother said, "Thank you for calling. However, I told my girls that if they ever felt like they were in danger, then they were to, first and foremost, protect themselves. Goodbye." You can also imagine that knowing she had our backs added to my bravery when the Principal tried to pull us into her office the next morning to give us licks for fighting (technically, we were still at school until we arrived home, and Witchy obviously wasn't happy with Mama's response). I told Principal Cow-Tow that she couldn't give us licks, and she needed to call our Mama. Sass-A-Frass! (Please note that as a good-girl,  I had never talked back to an adult (other than my Mama)! I think aliens had really taken over my brain by then because I was never the same after this incident). Lordy, lordy, I love my Mama. She also wrote a four-page letter, front and back that informed the school they were not allowed to EVER provide corporal punishment to ANY of her children.

I can almost bet that BullyBoy never told anyone about this for fear of being made fun of for getting beat up by a girl. I never told anyone at school because I was already plagued by the taunt, "Don't make her mad or she'll sit on you." REALLY!?! Obviously I should have told someone so they would all fear me for being able to knock them out! Not really!! To this day I hate confrontation. BTW, I hear BullyBoy grew up to be BullyMan. :-P 

Write On Wednesdays--Take a Walk

Thanks once again to INKPAPERPEN for this week's writing prompt. This group is super supportive and is always keeping me thinking. Everyone should go check it out and join the fun. Writers of all kinds are welcomed and encouraged (and you'll get readers from ALL OVER THE WORLD! I have been read by at least one person on every continent). Also, every week I get so excited about reading others' blogs that I start reading how they have attempted the prompt first. Big mistake on my part as I always feel a little intimidated after reading all of the wonderful writing of others. Someone should remind me to write first next week then go read!

Write On Wednesdays Exercise 11 - Take a Walk: "Come back home and write what you encountered. Try to write so that your sentences feel the way the walking felt." Let's toss the 5 minute sprint aside this week and instead take a lingering stroll through our exercise. Participants are encouraged to write a first draft (the point being to get it out on the page), then to go through and edit their piece before posting. We're aiming to get from one place to another, taking the reader with us - economically, gracefully, elegantly. Perhaps start with the usual stream of consciousness exercise if you are having trouble getting started. But then stop and take a look. Edit your sentences and try to get them "feeling" the way your walk felt.

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ALARM...snooze...NO! GET. UP. TIME. TO. WALK. DRESS. SOCKS. SHOES. juice and water. do i wake him to join me? AHHHH! WASTING TIME. JUST DO IT! IT'S STILL DARK OUT AND IT'S HOT EVEN AT 6 A.M. WHY CAN'T I FIND A SONG TO GET ME GOING ON THIS STINKING IPHONE. oh look, a bunny.  GET OUT OF MY FLOWERS! My ankles and heels are especially stiff and soar this morning. Maybe I shouldn't walk on the concrete. It's rude to walk in someone's yard though. WHY DO THESE PEOPLE ALWAYS PUT THEIR GARBAGE OUT AFTER TRASH DAY? THEY WON'T PICK UP ALL THAT FURNITURE! oh look bunnies everywhere. better their yard than mine i guess. NO NOT THAT SONG IT MAKES ME SAD. uhn...another house for sale or lease chad says all these houses for lease is not good we're never going to be able to sell our house when we get ready. I swear I always smell natural gas when I pass this house maybe that's why it has been for sale for so long. OOOOOOHHH GOOD SONG. is anyone looking? Swing. Arms. Pick-up Knees. look out dog poo. PICK UP AFTER YOUR DANG DOGS PEOPLE. husband wife runners i wish i could run. biker. NO NOT THAT SONG EITHER. i miss working out in the gym with gayla. i miss gayla. she would be proud of me for walking. she would be disappointed in me too. ACK! PANIC! CAN'T. BREATHE. FEEL. NAUSEOUS. in through the nose out through the nose. heel. toe. in through the nose out through the nose. heel. toe. getting to the turn around. GOOD SONG! turn around. husband wife team again. show offs. another biker. oh look the little lady who claps! i'll have to remember to look that up to see what it does (probably just scares the bunnies and mountain lions away...the news said they were bob cats). MAN IT'S HOT! drink some of your water. that guy is creepy. WALK. FASTER. he probably thinks i am creepy. The sun is coming up. Wonder how hot it will be today. I miss winter. Maybe I should just go back to the rec center then I could swim or work out on the elliptical and then I would not have to be out in the heat. OH! Gayla loved this song. I love Gayla. I miss her. STOP IT! Everyone is tired of you already. She would be tired of you too. It's time to grow up. It's time to quit this. It's passed time. Stop yelling at yourself. You are doing okay. You're walking today. That's awesome. You can do this everyday and start feeling better. You just need endorphins. I wonder if you can buy endorphin replacement therapy. Just what I need...another pill to try to remember to take. Find a good cool down song. squats. for. the. last. few. feet. maybe. some. sun. salutations. inside. STRETCH. BREATHE IN. BREATH OUT. SWITCH. Time for the rest of today.

Write on Wednesdays--Piqued

Thank you again INKPAPERPEN! The Write On Wednesday Rules: Feel free to get creative with the writing exercises - there isn't a right or wrong. Please do try to visit the other members of Write On Wednesdays and leave a comment.

Write On Wednesdays Exercise 10 - A Gift of Serendipity... Take Felicity's Word of the Week. Write it at the top of your page. Set your timer for 5 minutes. Write the first words that come into your head after the Word of the Week. Stop writing when the buzzer rings. 

Felicity's Word of the Week is...

Piqued:
A state of vexation caused by a perceived slight or indignity; a feeling of wounded pride.tr.v. piqued, piqu·ing, piques

1. To cause to feel resentment or indignation.
2. To provoke; arouse: The portrait piqued her curiosity.
3. To pride (oneself): He piqued himself on his stylish attire.

Enjoy! Try to have fun. You don't need to focus on the meaning of the word too much. No matter what you write, the point is to Get Writing.

MONDAY:  I was piqued on Saturday when I got up at 7 a.m. to retrieve Darling Daughter from her best friend's sleep over to head over to Freshman Orientation, Fish Camp, at her new high school, and the little booger was a little snarky with me. Being her forever cheerleader, I was trying to be peppy and encouraging about having fun and making new friends. DD, in her best condescendingly fake peppy sing songed at me, "I'll try." Smart ass! I pointed to her chosen attire for her first impression with her new school, a Girl Scout t-shirt, and sang, "You know what Girl Scouts say, 'Make new friends but keep the old; one is silver and the other's gold.'" I am sure DD was piqued at me too because her surliness continued so I turned my peppy on a little louder. I think I am a butt too, but I just couldn't help myself. How do you out-smart-ass a smart ass? Ding!

TUESDAY: When I was a teacher, once a week, we would have a WOW (word of the week) and CCW (commonly confused word). As part of the bellringer, I would have the students create a poster of the WOW and CCW that included the word, the part of speech, the definition, a doodle of their interpretation of the word, and three sentences using the word. I miss teaching and am a lot nostalgic so I created my own poster for PIQUED. DING!

WEDNESDAY: MyDaddy is not interested in technology. Never has been. When I was in college, Mama and Daddy bought me my first computer for graduation. It had this very cool (at the time) screen saver that would create pastel drawings as you watched. The closest we could get Daddy to a computer was him watching the drawings be created, which I have to say was a lot of entertainment for the time. Nevertheless, you can imagine my excitement last night when I looked at my FaceBook news feed and saw Daddy Dearest is now friends with MyMama. Oh, joy! I scrambled to add him as my friend and anticipated the wonderful pictures I could tag him in and the Words With Friends games we could play. I refresh. Again. Refresh. REFRESH. REFRESH!!!! Daddy Dearest is now friends with MyMama and MyMike (dearest friend). AW HELL NO! You don't except my friend as a friend before you accept your daughter as a friend. Hubby Dearest walks through the living room at that exact moment saying, "Hey, Baby! Your Daddy is on FaceBook, and he's sent me a friend request." I called Daddy, piqued at the snub. I should have known...MyDaddy isn't even setting this up. Enter MyBubba who lives to pick at me because, duh...it's so freaking effective! Mama talked me off the ledge and said she would help Daddy figure out how to correct this as soon as we got off the telephone, but then she and I talked for another hour so I am sure she forgot. I did however check the notifications a few more times throughout the night only to see more of my friends added to Daddy's list (he's really popular!). Feeling really hurt, I called Bubba this morning, and he started laughing. "Your daughter sent me a text last night. 'You're hurting her feelings.'" He then explained that he was setting up Daddy's phone for him, and Facebook used his existing contacts to find friends. Bubba sent out all those friend requests and couldn't figure out why mine wasn't included. His baby was ready to go home at that time so he stopped before he could get us all connected. Bubba said he would see them tonight and try to get it all set up. DING!

Write On Wednesdays--Character Development

Write On Wednesdays Exercise 9 - Think with Character. This week's WOW from inkpaperpen is about character development. The exercise was to choose a character from your writing posts in regards to their: gender, age, occupation, physical appearance and mood at this moment, etc. I am not on the fiction track just yet in my writing so my contribution is from the quotes on character that she also provided.

"We have no right to ask when a sorrow comes, 'Why did this happen to me?' unless we ask the same question for every joy that comes our way.”

MyGayla, beautiful sister and
best friend, you made our
lives whole.

My personal character is in question when I think of this quote. If I had a nickle for the number of times in my life that I have said or thought, "Why me?", especially in the last four and a half months, I would be well provided for going on. No one is exempt from suffering. Even though we are all missing Gayla, we are not the first people to lose a daughter, sister, aunt, or friend. Yet, I am overwhelmed with grief this week, and I don't know why. It felt for a while like inch-by-inch, I was starting to adjust. Then, beginning Monday, I have just felt like the pulleys failed and the ton of bricks fell on top of me. I should be grateful for the loving husband I waited so long for, the smart and beautiful daughter I longed for all my life, the dependable friends who make me laugh, and the close family who prop me up. I am blessed, and given my selfishness, I wonder, "Why me?" Ding!

Write On Wednesdays - The Clock Winked

Thank you, INKPAPERPEN, for another great writing opportunity. This week's prompt follows. You should join us if you haven't already. I love that other writers come to read my writing and share their thoughts. Write the words "The clock winked" at the top of your page. Set a timer for 5 minutes. Write the first words that come into your head after the prompt. Stop when the buzzer rings. Do this exercise over and over if you wish. Write beyond 5 minutes if you like, you can link it up as an extra post.

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MONDAY: The clock winked at me in the dark, expelling its defeating message: "You're still awake, and I am going to stare you in the eye to keep you that way!" I flipped over to my left side, peeved at the glowing orange numbers searing their taunts into the back of my head. Then it was the pillow that offended me, so I violently flipped it over as well, seeking the cooler, smoother side to comfort my racing mind. The snoring freight train I was trying to snuggle into practically shouted at me that sleeping was easy and questioned my ineptitude at such a simple task. I had to tuck my arms securely by my side to keep from pulling its nose hairs out, one at a time. Ding!

P.S. I would never do that to HubbyDearest! He's way to sweet when he's asleep...almost like a baby. Maybe I should look into pacifiers for grown-ups. :-D


TUESDAY: The clock winked at me as he skipped away with my youth, hand-in-hand like eloping lovers. The remuneration he left me were crows feet around my eyes, laugh lines in my cheeks and oh so sweet memories of earning them both. I think I shall steel away so on his next trip around he cannot abscond with more. Ding!

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WEDNESDAY: The clock winked, or blinked, 12:00 on that old VCR for months at a time. MyGayla was the first to figure out how to set the time so it would stop. We were 12 and 10 that summer and thought the new technology in our house was the be all end all. It's funny to look back on what we grew up with as far as technology goes. That VCR came to us at about the same time that the car-sized Camcorder became our latest and greatest toy. It had only been a few years since our first remote-controlled television, and I think that was also around the time Mama got us our first computer, DOS with a green screen monitor! The microwave was a nifty little ditty; Sister had to set that clock as well. She had me read every direction manual to her, and I learned by watching her. I always learned by watching her. Ding!