Writing Prompt: It was the day after the Winter Solstice and the Mayan Apocalypse . . .

It was the day after the Winter Solstice and Mayan Apocalypse. Although the girl thought she was in the clear, it turned out December 21, 2012 was the end of the world. She sensed an Angel of Death approaching, swooping in without warning and without grace, hovering above the girl. The girl looked around and watched the walls start to come tumbling down around her, falling away like they were made of nothing but broken promises and empty words. Then the floor began to shake; the foundation was too weak and fragile. It had eroded over time and the Angel of Death helped its devastation along, quietly enjoying the girl’s terror. The base could no longer hold what was left of the girl’s protected world, and as it crumbled below her, she felt herself falling into a sea of sorrow; the shock of it took her breath away, like jumping from a cliff in a glacier fed pool. She couldn’t breath; she called out for help but none was there; there was no loving hand to pull her up or guide her out; The Angel of Death made sure of that; she had already destroyed everything that mattered to the girl.

As the girl’s head rose to the surface of the icy cold flood of despair she could no longer see; she was blindsided with lies and deceit, removing her far from anything honest or trustworthy. The angel smiled as she floated above; her blonde hair and crystal eyes contrasting with the black wings that spread so wide and far, blocking any remaining light.  Suddenly it became even darker, because The Angel of Death was not finished: she plunged down and ripped the girl’s heart from her chest and held it in her hands. She laughed as she assaulted the girl’s heart so hard that it would be damaged forever. The Angel of Death then returned the girl’s heart, but it was broken and the pain was unbearable.

It was then the girl’s love, her life, her dreams, her security, her future, and every good feeling inside of her was sucked out and aborted into nothingness. Flushed from her body so quickly, so efficiently and so cruelly, that she was certain she was dying. But dying would be too kind, for this was an apocalypse, and with an apocalypse comes not a quick and painless death—it comes with torture and blood and despair that last forever.

Writing Prompt: It was the evening of the Winter Solstice . . .

It was the evening of the Winter Solstice and I wondered how I ended up in Tahiti on a sailing yacht. I looked in the bathroom mirror. I didn’t recognize the woman gazing back at me. I had no memory of her, only a hazy knowing that a life I once knew was no longer mine.

In my cabin hung a silky, midnight blue cocktail gown, and next to it a pair of matching strappy sandals. The clock on the nightstand declared that in thirty minutes there would be a party to celebrate the return of the sun. Somewhat ironic considering there is always sun in Tahiti.

A knock at the door startled me from thought. A maid carrying a gin martini came into the room; she handed me the glass and I took a long sip, letting the liquor burn the back of my throat. She helped me into the dress, then the shoes, and handed me a floral pashmina. As she smoothed a wrinkle at the hem, I wondered how I became a person who didn’t dress herself?

I gave a final glance in the mirror, finished my drink and thought,
“This is who I am now.”

Writing Prompt: I once encountered Santa Clause . . .

I once encountered Santa Clause as I was lying in bed one very early Christmas morning. We lived in a 100-year-old farmhouse in rural western Pennsylvania. My parents slept upstairs, with my small bedroom downstairs in the front of the house. Only a curtain of beads separated my room from the main living area, so I could see and hear most things that happened when I was supposed to be sleeping.

It was just before dawn and the first glimpse of light seeped through the heavy, opaque plastic that covered our windows. A noise in the next room startled me awake; I silently lifted my head to better hear the rustles that I knew must be Santa.

My heart raced with anxiety—excited that Santa was there, but also frightened that someone, even he, had intruded our home. It was so close to morning, why was he still out delivering toys? I imagined we must be at the end of his route or perhaps he was behind schedule a bit.
I Once Encountered Santa Clause
Hiding under the thick pile of quilts that protected me from our cold house, I carefully ran through my list: Barbie Hair Salon, Barbie Make-Up Head, Barbie Car, Barbie Dreamhouse, and record player. I didn’t want to move and alert him I was awake. I had to breathe quietly and force myself back to sleep—certain if I didn’t, Santa wouldn’t leave my presents.

I tried to hush the questions racing in my mind: Why didn’t our Golden Retriever Tess didn’t bark at him—did Santa have magic over dogs to keep them quiet? How did he get in? We didn’t have a fireplace. Where were the reindeer? Would he feed them the carrots I left on the table? Would he eat the sugar cookies my mother baked? Was he at that very moment filling my stocking with an orange at the toe?

Slowly and softly, lying in my bed, I listened. I couldn’t hear anything else, but just to be certain, I would stay, unmoving, exactly where I was.

It was just long enough to fall back to sleep.

Writing Prompt: She wasn’t a particular stripper . . .

She Wasn’t a Particular Stripper

She wasn’t a particular stripper. She wasn’t particular in an ordinary way, but rather she wasn’t particularly particular about stripping. She stripped. It wasn’t who she was, but rather what she did. She wasn’t exacting, or meticulous, not fastidious. She didn’t have a fancy stripper name like Nightingale or Tasmania, or Whistler—nothing to identify her as special, sought after, or popular. She couldn’t do fancy stripper moves, hang from a pole upside down or hold things in her vagina. She didn’t have implants or labiaplasty or wear a wig. She was just a young woman, who wasn’t getting any younger doing something that didn’t particularly interest her, but she wasn’t particularly interested in doing anything else.

She quietly went to work on Wednesdays, Thursdays and Fridays, passing the bouncer who barely looked up from the New York Time’s Crossword puzzle he scribbled with a short Number Two Pencil. She didn’t know his name; he didn’t know hers. She entered the dressing room, which was really a converted supply closet to change into a plain, red, string bikini that matched her lipstick. She covered with a duster and drank the coffee she brought from home, settling in the corner with a ragged copy of Lolita. Her good copy was at home—this was her travel copy.

Other strippers scurried around; the smell of marijuana, hairspray, and Japanese Cherry Blossom drifted through the room. Complaints about boyfriends, bartenders and babysitters bounced in the distant parts of her hearing. “I am trying to describe these things not to relive them in my present boundless misery, but to sort out the portion of hell and the portion of heaven in that strange, awful, maddeningly world,”she read among the chatter.

No one particularly noticed that she took the stage. Or when she finished.

Let There Be Peace on Earth and Let it Begin With Me

I, like so many of us feel numb. I feel more numb than I did at any time upon hearing of a national tragedy. I feel void. Empty. A chasm. Null. I remember Oklahoma City, Springfield, Columbine, 911, Virginia Tech. I even remember Jonestown.

I’m not alone. What have we become? What will we do to stop becoming this even more than we already are?

 

Vote

Cast your vote my friends. In Oregon we vote by mail and our ballots were mailed last week. Mikayla got to vote this time–which was very exciting for me to watch. I remember the first election I voted in–1988 Bush and Dukakis.

Now, twenty-four years later and my child voted in her first election. Democracy works people, even if it doesn’t always seem that way and although it does matter significantly to me who people vote for, it means even more to me that they vote period. Vote. Go to the polls on Tuesday or drop your ballot in the box here in Oregon. Do it. Exercise your right as an American citizen. Do it for your country. And your mother. Go. Be. Democratic!

 

Dinner

I have been utterly and completely overwhelmed and have come to the realization that this new adventure of mine–is really hard. I have no other eloquent way of saying it. It’s hard. I feel as though every ounce of my creativity and focus has been drained from my body and I’ve been on pure survival mode.

The second week of school I got sick. Like really sick. And so did my entire family, sans Mikayla. It has been a slow recovery and finally last Thursday, I finally felt back to normal, just as Cher came down with Round Two of sickness, which I’m hoping doesn’t transmit to me.

The sickness, as well as for the first time trying to figure out how to be gone four days a week, has been quite challenging. My family is used to having me somewhat available to them and this has been quite an adjustment. They’ve been doing great–helping out when I ask, helping with dinner and doing what they can–it’s been impressive and very telling; I guess I finally figured out how to get your kids to do stuff around the house–don’t be home. I no longer have time to grocery shop during the week at all, which means if I don’t have something–I go without it. This has created some interesting lunches for the girls and some modified dinner recipes. And guess what? So far, everyone has survived.

I have to do some quick thinking and a lot of planning when it comes to meals. I utilize my Paprika app on my computer, iPhone and iPad a lot and since I’ve become a vegetarian, trying to find vegetarian recipes that can either go in the slow cooker or be prepared ahead so the girls just have to pop it in the oven. Otherwise, we don’t eat until 7:30 or 8:00 o’clock at night. Paprika has a browser and a way to save recipes you find on the Internet right into your recipe file. It also has a meal planner, which also generates a grocery list that’s been a very helpful tool to have around. (I sound like I’m promoting this app. I’m not. It’s just been very helpful.)

Yesterday, I finally did what I’ve wanted to do since starting school and prepared most of the week’s meals at one time. I prepped fresh vegetables for tonight’s meal (celery, carrots, and cucumbers,) to go with grilled veggie burgers (Morningstar are the best I’ve found–Costco sells the big package,) and baked potatoes. I cleaned the potatoes, wrapped them in foil and put them in the oven with a note to turn it on to 400 degrees at 4:45 so they’ll be ready when I get home. That way I only have to grill the veggie burgers and put out the veggies and dip. Dinner done.

For Tuesday I made a baked ziti. While I was cleaning and chopping veggies for Monday, I took some carrots, green peppers, and celery and shredded them in the food processor. For the sauce I started with 2 Tbs. of olive oil, added a diced onion, three cloves of minced garlic, and the veggies. When they were soft, I took out half of the veggies to use in Wednesday’s dinner, then added a cup of dry red wine to what was left, let it simmer a minute then added one large can of San Marzano tomatoes and one small can of tomato paste and let it simmer a while.

I cooked the ziti for only five minutes and drained, (first reserving a cup of the pasta water,) then added it back to the pot and stirred in the sauce, some shredded mozzarella cheese and half of the pasta water. I layered half of the pasta and added blops of ricotta then the rest of the pasta and topped with mozzarella and Parmesan. I covered it in foil and put it in the refrigerator. I’ll leave instructions for one of the girls to pop it in the oven around 5:00 and serve it with sliced cucumbers and Italian bread.

For Wednesday, I made a simple vegetarian chili using some of the veggies I cooked for the sauce. I put the cooked veggies in the slow cooker and added one can each of black beans, kidney beans and white beans (drained,) and one can of chili beans in sauce (not drained,) two cans of diced tomatoes, two cans of tomato sauce, one can of diced green chilis, and two cups of frozen corn. For spice I added two Tbs. of chili powder, some homemade Creole mix (garlic and onion powder, salt, pepper, oregano, thyme and cayenne pepper,) and some cumin. I don’t measure–I just throw some in. I stirred it around, put the lid on the slow cooker and put the entire thing in the refrigerator. On Wednesday, I’ll put it in the slow cooker and cook all day. Serve with cornbread (I’ll probably made when I get home, it doesn’t take long,) and chili toppings (we like sour cream, cheddar cheese and Cheese-its.)

Thursday I planning on a butternut squash soup or depending on how the week goes, it might be pizza night!  

Last week I made dinner in the morning for that night: Vegetarian Thai Curry, Baked Macaroni and Cheese and Lentil, Kale and Potato soup. That was fine, but this was much easier and it’s so nice knowing it’s DONE!

These are the things that I need to implement more to give me more time with the girls and Cher. Last week I went to the girls’ parent-teacher conferences and was so bummed to hear that Kennedy didn’t do well on her Personal Narrative assignment because she didn’t have a strong opening paragraph. Really? My child didn’t have a strong opening paragraph on a personal narrative? That breaks my heart. Even though she probably wouldn’t have come to me for help anyway (unless I asked,) it still makes me wonder if it was because she knew I was so busy and didn’t want to bother me. I am busy, but believe me, Kennedy’s essays come before my student’s essays or even my own.

I’m trying to figure it all out–it’s just a process I guess and I know that next term won’t be quite as challenging as this one. One day at a time I guess. That’s all I can do.

Gordon Gecko

“If you stop telling lies about me, I’ll stop telling the truth about you.”

Oh Gordon . . . For such a despicable character, you are so wise.

Writing Exercise

I should be in bed right now reading Hannah Arendt and contemplating my classes tomorrow but instead I am contemplating the fact that I have once again been completely sucked in to yet another Internet obsession, Pinterest.

Why does the Internet do this to me? Doesn’t it know that I have very important things that I should otherwise be doing? In order to justify the fact that I’m NOT reading and I’m NOT sleeping, I thought I would post here and at least get in my writing exercise that I more than likely will not be completing tomorrow.

Did I mention that Cher bought me the most fantastic Christmas/6th Anniversary/Birthday/Mother’s Day/Next Christmas gift ever? She did. Some girls may get excited by fancy jewelry or expensive clothes but I get happy when my lover brings me home fine computer products that I adore. She bought me a new iMac and I love it almost as much as I love anything I have. Her name is Virginia and she is the most beautiful computer ever made. One of Virginia’s finer qualities is that she comes with the Apple App Store. Apple Apps for iMac. On the Apple App Store are numerous distractions incredible useful tools for my everyday life. Not the least of which is several options for writing software, (although I guess technically it’s writing apps.) I may have four or five of them. Possibly.

My new writing software and the advice of a lady in my Advanced Topics in English class prompted me to start a new project/exercise. Every morning, before I talk to anyone (even the dog,) I will sit down with Virginia and free write for ten minutes. After a week I will write for 15 and after a week I will increase that to 20. Whether or not I can actually ever get to 20 minutes is questionable considering how early that would entail me rising. I have a wife, three teenage daughters and two dogs. The plausibility of me writing for 20 minutes without having to speak to anyone is a stretch even if I did manage to drag my ass out of bed early enough. I’m not what one would call a morning person. Mornings scare me. They are a big commitment.

Speaking of commitment. Cher and I recently celebrated our Sixth Anniversary Together. I heart her so very much.

We broke up with cable but then got back together. It was nasty at first, then okay and then we decided we still wanted to be together for awhile at least.

The two oldest girls got their braces off and today Halsey had dental work, which was not a huge deal until A. I had to pay the bill and B. The dentist told me that when she’s a bit older she’ll need veneers or crowns. Halsey said, “Why do I need crowns?” and I replied that it was because she was a princess. She smiled until I told her that she can pay for those herself when the time comes.

Mikayla had her very first official job interview yesterday that I had to coach her through before she went. Today I typed out her references and Halsey asked her, “Are you always going to have Mommy do this for you?” Mikayla said she would.

It’s good to know I’ll always be needed for something.

Mikayla also received a pile of letters from colleges today. They weren’t letters of intent or anything, just information, but it made me both excited and sad at the same time. Her PSAT scores were only slightly above average so she isn’t on Harvard’s radar. Yet.

Washington State is on its way to passing Marriage Equality Laws. This is a wonderful step in the right direction and I hope that someday soon not only Oregon, but also the Federal Government will recognize equity in marriage for all couples. We don’t want anything special. We want to be treated fairly and equally with all other married couples in our state and in our country. We don’t want special rights, we don’t want different rights and we don’t want convenient rights, we want rights that are equal. As a couple, we don’t benefit in any way from being discriminated against. As a couple, we have to live within the context of how the laws are currently written and as a couple as well as individuals, there is nothing we can do except accept it the way it is now. Anyone who believes otherwise is encouraged to contact me directly.

Susan G. Komen? Blah. I’m sending a donation to Planned Parenthood tomorrow. How stupid are they? “We’re pro-life so we’ll sacrifice screening thousands of women for a potentially deadly disease to make a political statement?” What about the women who will die because their breast cancer was missed?

Kill women, save the zygotes. Makes about as much sense as the GOP debates I’ve been watching due to some obviously repressed sense of masochism that I clearly posses. The girls love it when I watch them. They think it’s hilarious when I yell at the television and call Newt a dildohead (he has a dildo head. He does.) I swear when each one of those candidates speak, something even more stupid than the last one comes out of his mouth.

 I’m in a “Writing the Memoir” class this term. My professor encouraged us to go back and read our old journals and diaries to help us with our writing projects. I did that today and couldn’t believe some of what I was reading. The two things I determined were that I really was quite an articulate teenager and that I could potentially write an entire series of books on one or two characters. There may be a few people who would not be thrilled about the idea of my becoming a memoirist.

Also, I’m taking bribes.

And The Douchebag Award Goes To:

This week:

Southwest Airlines.

http://dorothysurrenders.blogspot.com/2011/09/kiss-this-southwest.html

Leisha Hailey, I love you.