Rotten eggs for Easter…

Dear Easter Bunny,
Please leave me a basket on my front porch in the god-awful early hours of the morning, just like you have for the past several years.  Oh, you cant?  Your helper is no longer around?  Oh.  Well, then…could we just skip this holiday?  No.  Oh.  Umm, I guess I will just have to make the best of it then.  Thanks.
Not sure I believe any longer, J…

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Tonight we did something new.  We dyed Easter eggs.  How is that new?  Well, it wasn’t just Hubby and the kids and I this year.  Hubby’s entire family came over.  Okay, not all of them.  A sister and her daughter, a nephew and his wife and two boys, another sister and her daughter, dad and his girlfriend. 

You should probably know that we don’t usually have family get togethers at our house.  The kids birthdays are usually here.  I had hosted a Christmas for my whole family once.  I threw a large party for some friends one time, too.  But other than that, we don’t have many people over.  Our house is just not set up for it.  Plus, it always puts me a bit on edge to be considered the hostess of the event.  I don’t like to be responsible for everyone’s comfort and happiness.  I would rather just be a guest.

Things have been different lately, though.  Since the house is no longer available for us to have our holiday get togethers in (Dad sold it to one of his sons when he moved in with his girlfriend and it is being remodeled), we have had to find other places to enjoy the traditional gatherings.  This year Easter will be held in a mobile home.  The guest list will consist of approx. 30 people.  Yep.  Fun times.  Instead of making the sister clean her house twice and because I didn’t feel like going out of my own house, I decided to do the egg dyeing here. 

The two sisters brought pizzas for dinner.  Hubby came home with some pop and ice for the iced tea.  Then Dad walked through the door with “the replacement” (*sigh*).  Next came the neighbor kid.  Then the nephew with his family.  Next thing I know, I have 7 kids and 8 adults hanging out in my kitchen.  It was a little overwhelming to say the least. 

The saving grace of the evening was Little Aid.  He’s probably 3 and has never dyed eggs before.  I am not a big fan of the egg dying process but watching that little boy light up with glee every time the white eggs turned colors made my heart leap with joy.  It’s a good thing that pictures got taken of the process because I was so entranced in the innocence of this one little child that I forgot to help everyone else.  His smile helped me survive an evening that may have otherwise trampled me down. 

The point of this post?  There isn’t one.  I’m just rambling and realizing in the process that the little things (like a child’s smile) can help to erase the badness of one’s day and the overwhelming feelings that come along with “the replacement” setting foot in my house unannounced to take part in our family time. 

I wasn’t ready to take part in holidays without our Matriarch and I am sure as hell not ready for someone to step into her shoes at said holiday gatherings. 

I lived through tonight.  Easter is still a mystery.  I’ll let you know how it goes. 

For think where it should come from…

I know. 
You are sitting there with bated breath.
Did the class turn me into
a writing genius?
My answer is a resounding…
Yes. 

Just kidding.  It did help.  It opened up my eyes to a world of new possibilities…and two new books that have been added to my Borders shopping list!  I loved it.  I really did.  (Beware, dear hubby, for I may feel as though a 3 class community education course isn’t quite enough, and thusly research other forms of writing education.  I’ll keep it cheap.  I promise.  Well, I hope.) 

I came full circle last night, starting out in a fit of panicky shaking and ending the night with the fear of the unknown places this new writing class could take me.  But, ya know, I am ready.  Willing.  Able to see this thing through and let out the writer that I am sure hides within the confines of my human form. 

We were given an assignment last night to start a piece of writing (in any form) with these words…”For think if you should lose her”. 

Everyone became quiet as we settled in to let the beautiful muses take hold of our hands.  Pens flew across the varied papers, some fast, some slow, but all flying gracefully none-the-less.  The words seemed to be absorbed from the universe in a sort of wonky osmosis kind of way and transform themselves into food on the paper itself.  It was an eerie process, this energy that flowed from the air through my body and out of my fingers.  I can only wonder if everyone felt the same sensations that I did.

It didn’t take long for we were all told when to begin and the ending just…well, it just came.  No one said “stop”, no one called time.  The words flowed out and when they were done, they were done, and there was suddenly, as if by magic, words where there previously were none.  Sentences, periods, commas…it was all there in blue ink, on white paper.  It really just…happened.  I cannot explain it further. 

When I laid down my pen, when the words stopped their flow, I read what I had wrote and just didn’t understand.  It didn’t make sense.  When I was told the starting words, I sat a moment to let them sink in and then thought about my daughter.  I thought that I was writing about my daughter.  But when I read those words, they just didn’t coincide with my thoughts.  They weren’t about my daughter at all.  But then, what could they be. 

I settled with not knowing.  For that is what the energies told me to write and who am I to go against the cosmic declarations?

It was only later that a truth was laid upon my desk.  Brought to me by a classmate and wrapped in a bundle of understanding and camaraderie. 

“I listened to your piece.  I thought it was about you…as a writer.”

The light dawned, the heavens opened and the truth was revealed.  The writing that had been formed through my fingers was as simple and as complex a piece as I have ever written…and in true narcissistic form, it was about me.  Well, about me the writer.  As soon as she said it, I felt it.  As soon as it left her lips, it was written in the stars and a title was born.  I give you…

The Writer in Me

For think if you should lose her
that lovely little child.
For think if you should lose her
out in the world, running wild.
Will you chase or let her be?
Will you allow her to just be free?
Are you really losing that
lovely little girl?
Or is she just growing up
in this scary, scary world.
Because if you should lose her
think, is she really lost?
For she’ll always be your little one
no matter what the cost. 

an original piece of writing, by J…

Stepping forward with a tremble in my foot...

One song can spark a moment,
One flower can wake the dream.
One tree can start a forest,
One bird can herald spring.

One smile begins a friendship,
One handclasp lifts a soul.
One star can guide a ship at sea,
One word can frame the goal.

One vote can change a nation,
One sunbeam lights a room.
One candle wipes out darkness,
One laugh will conquer gloom.

One step must start each journey,
One word must start each prayer.
One hope will raise our spirits,
One touch can show you care.

One voice can speak with wisdom,
One heart can know what's true.
One life can make the difference,
You see, IT'S UP TO YOU!

 

Tonight I will drive 30 miles to the south.  The music will be loud, the gas pedal will be pressed and I...I will be scared. 

I will keep glancing at the small yellow post-it note stuck to the front of my faux brown leather journal on the passenger seat (the only thing I am required to bring with me other than a pen) even though in my mind I know exactly where to turn. 

I will find a parking space while my heart thumps against the walls of my chest in an effort to escape. 

I will search for room #230 in that large brick building and hope that getting lost is not a part of my itinerary for the evening. 

My hands will shake.  *note to self:  bring something to drink and remember to pee first*  I will force myself to walk through the classroom door and find a seat somewhere in the middle. 

I will search for friendly faces in the crowd around me.  Someone will finally speak to me.  Then and only then will the shaking subside and the heart calm itself. 

I will realize that I can survive the unknown...again (a lesson that I must re-learn on a constant basis). 

I will walk out of that classroom three hours later with a sense of pride only I can give myself, for the first step will have been taken.  The first real step to realizing my passion.  Or the second, I suppose, if you count this blog.

One way or another, it's up to me to let these voices out of my head.  To allow these stories to flow from my fingers.  To put it all down on paper after paper, journal after journal.  That is my dream...to let it all out, so it's not clouding my judgement, my plans and my life any longer.  The real and the imaginary, all together, on paper, in stories, trapped in the written word instead of the wrinkles in my brain. 

Are you ready for the chaos that could cause? 

No. 

But I am walking forward with my head held high, my eyes looking straight at you and my fingers itching to explode with images on paper. 

I will do this.

But I am terrified of the outcome.

TechnoMonday...

Do you know what is making this Monday morning a manageable one for me? Technology. Yeah. This computer is acting as my friend today by allowing me to decompress while still allowing me to focus on the tasks at hand. Right now I have six tabs and two screens open and everyone of them is keeping me in tune with myself and allowing me to make it step by step through a Monday. Again.

Currently I am listening to a playlist on Project Playlist that I call "Songs to Sing To". I have filled it with songs that are easy to sing along with in an empty office while I am doing mundane things like vacumming and dusting. I have several other playlists that i put on depending on the mood I need to set...or fix.


I am also logged into my blog here which is allowing me to take the thoughts swirling in my head and place them squarely here on this page thusly creating much needed space for the rest of my thoughts to bounce around in.


I have both my work and my personal e-mail accounts open so that I can stay on top of any incoming correspondence (giving me a distraction form the mundane duties of office life).


Facebook. Yeah, that is open, too. The occasional peek to see what everyone is up to and what new quizzes I can do to learn more about who I am (this mornings newest being "What Swear Word Are You?" and for the record I am "Shit").


Of course, I also have an excel spreadsheet open with all of the tasks to be completed today on it. I cross them out when I complete them which gives me a tangible accountng of how much I have actually accomplished since I got here at 8:30 this morning.


And lastly, another person's blog is up. I do a task and reward myself with the words of a fellow blogger in my long list of favorites. It allows me to get my work done and still be caught up on what is going on in the blogosphere.


Technology is my friend on a day like today. A day when I am otherwise inclined to sit in the corner and finish my "Twilight" book and wish it were yet another weekend day so that I could be with my family. I felt cheated out of the weekend. Partly because I didn't take advantage of the time I did have with my kids and partly because circumstances cheated me out of a much needed date night (one that won't be recovered for several weeks). Today, I am tired. And sore. And needing technology to get me through.


What kind of technology do you use to get you through Monday's? I can always add to my arsenal. :)


**Side note: This is my 200th blog post. That makes me kind of happy.**

A letter...

Dear Mother Nature,

I have been patient with you even as I rubbed the sore muscles in my neck and back, chased after the dogs that wandered over, yes OVER, the fence, and attempted to make an edible meal out of the few ingredients we had left in our pantry.

I have tolerated your antics even when they have caused harm to the properties of my loved ones, shut down the schools causing the children to have to attend until June, and had me held prisoner in my own home.

I have defended you against those threatening to string you up on the nearest tree because not unlike a telemarketer, it is just your job.

I have allowed you to sow your wrath upon my town, my home, without so much as a slap on the wrist but this? This is intolerable and beyond what I can deal with. It. Must. Stop. Now.

They are telling me that you are dropping another blizzard on us in a few days. But not only that, you are going to shoot the sun right in our direction first so that we warm up to the 50-60 degree weather before dropping feet of snow on our doorsteps. Really? Must you be so much of a bitch? Is it really that necessary?

You have had all winter to lay the snow on our landscape. A constant few feet would have been appreciated. But did you take that opportunity? Nooooooo. You did not. Instead, you decided to laze around for a few days and allow the sun to do your work for you and then BOOM! slam us with 3, 4, 5 and sometimes in excess of 6 feet of snow at once. Why? Why do you hate us so?

We have always been on decent terms. Even when you are killing our crops with your droughts, we have stuck by you and defended your honor until we were allowed a few drops of moisture. But this? This is un.ac.ceptable. Seriously. You have laid over 20 inches of moisture on these already water soaked landscapes and now you want to add more?

We have not yet been completely plowed out from the FIRST blizzard. The SECOND blizzard piled more snow on top of the mountains we already had. Our plow crews are working as hard and as fast as a city crew can work and yet we are still barely able to make it to school and to work.

If you drop more snow on us this weekend, thusly making this a weekly occurence, we will not be able to dig ourselves out before fall.

I don't know if it is just your time of the month (they now make pills to deal with that, ya know) or if someone here just pissed you the hell off, but what I do know is that I am done dealing with your shit. Drop one more snowflake on this area of mine and I swear to you we will go on strike. You will not see a single face, a bared arm, a living body out in your "beautiful horizons" for a long, long time. I swear to you. We will stay indoors and death be to you, Mother Nature. Death be to you.

Sincerely,
Pissed off in Snowville...