Thursday Shorts

I've been wanting to post some of my short stories for a while now. Sort of like a lazy publication... Here's one I wrote years ago during CSU Fresno's Summer Arts Program. I took an experimental narrative class with Doug Rice. The line up of visiting artists was spectacular, and they opened my eyes to a genre of writing I didn't know existed. Like Double or nothing by Raymond Federman. The words of the book are written in the crazy typography shapes and spirals.

One of the guest writers challenged us to write something erotic. Anyone who knows me knows I don't read, write or watch erotic. I wanted to be respectful of the request, but needed to stay true to who I am. So, after listening to my class read their works (the most memorable: Mark and his "tighty whities"), I got up and read this:

For the Atkins Dieter

Twinkie rests her bottom on the market shelf surrounded by her friends Cupcake, Jellyroll and Brownie. They giggle relentlessly, taunt your weakness and exploit their luscious curves and moist skin. You saunter over, glancing around. Does anyone know you? Will your Jazzercize instructor pass by and see you with Twinkie? You take the risk. But once you stand near Cupcake your Twinkie craving wavers? Are you in the mood for blonde vanilla or brunette chocolate? Both have a soft creamy center you can slowly savor with your tongue. Why decide now? You pick up both.

Cupcake is a bit more plump, round in all the right places and her shapeliness means more to enjoy. There are two in the package. Twins not to be separated in life, death or dessert. Twinkie’s cream tempts you, pokes out through three little holes on her bottom. She reminds you of the untouchable girls in high school, the ones too popular for you strutting their bare legs and smiling in that way. But now, here’s Twinkie waiting for you to help her fulfill her destiny: satisfying your neglected taste buds.

The time has come to decide. Will you consume Twinkie as she desires? Or is Cupcake more to your fancy? Before any judgments can be made, you walk with Twinkie and Cupcake to the door. Pay the bouncer to keep her 7-11 mouth shut and hop in your car faster than you walk on a treadmill.

Your desire consumes you before you get home to your glass of milk. You pull onto a side road, rip into Twinkie, throw her wrapper on the back seat and savor every ounce of sugar. You’re more careful with Cupcake, you peel off the chocolate frosting. Each bite melts in your mouth like whip cream in hot chocolate. Slowly you suck the cream out, leaving the chocolate cake. The last of your obsession waits while you indulge in the body of her sister. As you eat the twin, guilt creeps up on you. Remember the promise you made and held so dear and sacred? The commitment to forsake all sugar, all flour till diet do you and your derriere apart. Sadly you apologize to the last of Cupcake, explain your mistake and toss her out the window. Driving home you think: How will I explain this to my e-diet buddy? Will she understand? Will she forgive me? as you lick your bottom lip to be sure no crumb escapes.

a blast from the past?

Since I didn't have enough going on in my life, I'm participating in the SITS Girls "Back to Blogging" Event.

The idea of actually posting on my blog has been on my mental "to do list" for a while, but the lure of Thelma and Louise won me over. Thanks to Standards of Excellence, Westar Kitchen and Bath, and Florida Builder Appliances for generously offering them up.

Thelma & Louise

I think Thelma and Louise will fit nicely into my laundry nook. They'll be right at home, cleaning the mud, ink, grass and chocolate stains off the kids' clothes.

Speaking of the kids, today's first blog challenge is a re-post of my first ever blog. Here it is:

The other day I was sitting at the computer and I heard banging from the living room. I vaguely remembered Normie coming in and getting a hammer. Hmmmm, this triggered a response and I get up and find her. She's banging on the glass window.

"What are you doing?!?" I ask.
"Killing flies," she said. I think it's time to get a fly swatter.

Thank goodness for insurance

Field Tripping

Today I participated on a team that chaperoned 24 fourth graders at the Monterey Bay Aquarium. Two of my friends helped (at the last minute) by watching Normandy and getting her to and from preschool, so I only took Zerin. I didn't have any field trip appropriate lunch items Sunday night. Instead of staying up late baking bread, I decided to get some sleep-- good choice-- and hit the Subway in the morning. Yay for the $5 sub!

The kids in my group were great. They stuck with me and didn't wander away. In fact, those 9 kids were easier to manage than my 1 toddler, who hates sitting in the stroller. Zerin has so much energy, he can wear out a marathon runner. He's also unpredictable, running off in all directions- at once. Imagine all that spastic energy strapped down for several hours. When Zerin was finally released from his "prison", he decided to throw an abalone shell into the touch pool, splashing 2 moms, 3 kids and the volunteer docent. I quickly apologized, reminded Zerin not to throw and took him to the kid friendlier touch pool, where he splashed in the water and refused to touch the squishy kelp.

The sea star, however, Zerin was very excited about. He stroked it with his fingers, just like I showed him. Then he picked it up and threw it back down into the water. The grandma across from me said, "Oh no! Who is his owner?!?" I stared at her, in shock. "Are you talking about my son?" She just blinked her eyes and walked away. Really and truly, I have taught Zerin better than to throw living creatures. Second, it's a sea star. It the ocean it gets slammed against rocks.

Having addressed the woman's legitimate concerns, I can now complain about her Rudeness.

So, when did a mom become an "owner"? If political correctness was her goal, she could called me any number of things: parent, adult, nanny, mom, dad, uncle, parole officer. Instead, she chose "owner" as though Zerin were a dog. I won't even get into the subliminal message embedded in her comment that I'm somehow invisible. Even though I was standing next to Zerin and across from Rudeness herself. Ugh.

As I though about this, cause what else am I gonna do as I stare at the Sheephead fish for the 100th time in my life, I realized my true frustration with Rudeness's comment. She implied that I am not doing my job. My only job. Mom. Whether she meant it or not, that's how it sounded to me. She said, "Who is his owner?" and I heard, "Why isn't this boy's mom taking better care of him? Why doesn't she teach him not to throw sea stars? Why doesn't she control her child? She should be fired." Do I deserve to be fired from my Mommy job?

No. I don't need to be fired. I am not perfect, but the reality is Zerin is a firecracker. He learns by touching, jumping, climbing, throwing and hitting. He understands the world this way. Since Zerin likes to wrestle and splash, of course the sea star would like to splash. Since Zerin loves getting wet and seeing the drops fly from the touch pool, of course everyone loves to see the water splash from the touch pool.

I have no idea what Zerin will become when he grows up. I do know that right now my job is to help Zerin control his impulses and become less self centered (long term goals here, people). Most important, Zerin's self confidence, tenacity and love of learning must survive beyond these terrible two's.
I realize this woman was completely surprised by a flying sea star and said the first words that came to her mind. I'm sure she never meant to bring me so close to tears or shake the foundation I stand on every day. Nevertheless, she did. Who knew there would be so much time for self reflection while shuttling 9 kids around the aquarium? I told you I had a good group.

Rain, Rain...

There is a lot of rain here. For Days. Which means my little ones are stuck inside. And so am I.

Today's Accomplishment

So, since we were chosen to be the next Habitat for Humanity family, Dan and I get to do 250 volunteer hours each. Part of my hours have been spent registering Monterey County's H4H for Disney's "Give a Day. Get a Day." program. Shortly after getting this set up, I noticed a critical problem.

We didn't have control over what volunteer opportunities were posted.

Why? Because at some point, someone registered our local H4H with 1-800-volunteer, a service that hooks volunteers up with organizations who need them. The Disney program pulls automatically pulls volunteer information from this site. Sadly, no one at the local H4H knew anything about 1-800-volunteer.org Thus began my mission, to find out how to log into our account, so we could edit our volunteer opportuities....

It began by calling the H4H support center for affiliates. Last Friday I left a message. I called back today and talked to 4 people. Nobody knew anything about 1-800-volunteer. "Two phone calls?" you say. "That's it?" Ah, but let me tell you about those phone calls. Problem #1-- I really don't know what I'm talking about. I don't know the vocabulary I need to turn this 15 minute drama into a1 minute explanation about what's going on. The support center asks, "What's 1-800-volunteer?" and, quite frankly, I don't know what it is myself. But I do know it's what's getting in my way. Problem #2-- It's raining. Which mean Normandy and Zerin are running around the house playing, loudly. And every 5 minutes I need to fix Zerin's lego truck 'cause breaks. And they're hungry. And I can't get through a 10 minute phone conversation on the best of days. I can barely think about laundry, let alone how to talk to a stranger about something I know nothing about when they act like this.

At some point, I realize that I'm better off contacting 1-800-volunteer directly. And this is the gold mine I was hoping for. At 4:03pm, some very nice guy answers the phone. He knows exactly what I'm talking about before the I finish my convoluted sentence. He transfers me to the all powerful Gilda. She can fix it. Without batting a mascaraed eyelash or breaking a manicured nail. And that's it. I have a user name. And a password.

And hungry kids who demand dinner. And legos to clean up. And laundry to fold. And dishes to wash. They all threaten to destroy the success I feel from accomplishing one thing in my 18 hour day. The one thing that can not be undone by 4 busy, smart, beautiful children. No matter how hard they try, they can't take my username and password.

Lysa

Our house:

The stairs... they don't go anywhere yet.

The Living Room.

The kitchen.... "Hi, Heather!"

The garage and the girls' room above it.

Beef Stroganoff-- Gluten Free

Tonight I made a yummy gluten free dinner. Here it it:

2 lbs beef, ground or chunks

2 cups stock, beef or chicken

1 onion

1-2 tsp red pepper

salt & pepper, to taste

1 1/2 cups sour cream

Brown beef and onion. Add stock, red pepper, salt and pepper. Simmer 3o minutes. Stir in sour cream and warm through. Serve over rice.

Because Anya's eating casein free and gluten free, I took beef out for her dinner before adding the sour cream. This could also be served over egg noodles.

I served this with steamed carrot sticks, which was a nice change from carrot coins.

Cooking without gluten or any kind of dairy has been a challenge. I gotta say we're pleased with the results so far!

Family Government, Pt. 2

So, about a million days ago I wrote about why socialism, at least on a family level, is bad. As mentioned before, when things are taken, the taker and the took from miss out on benefits. I focused on what the taker loses in the last post. In this post, I'm going to focus on what the taken from misses when the opportunity to "give" is removed.

If daughter A has $32.50 and daughter T needs $3 more to buy a DS game, you can be sure an interesting conversation will ensue. A used DS game typically costs about $25 at the GameStop, (my kids never buy new-- topic for another blog.) Which means that daughter A has about $4 that she doesn't need after paying for the game and taxes (money the government takes from you to pay for things like police, schools and roads). Daughter T will then ask if she can have $3, with the promise to share the game, letting A play first and whenever she wants, unless T herself is playing it.

A is always excited at sharing her excess $. She really and truly understands the meaning of giving. She knows her heart feels happy when she gives what she doesn't need. This is obvious by the smile on A's face and the excitement in her voice when she explains to me the terms of the $ giving. T is very grateful for the fact that A has shared and recognizes the goodness in her sister. T feels grateful and love toward A and shows it by keeping her promise and hugging. These feelings of love and gratitude extend beyond the store walls, into the van and our home. Seriously, there is peace for quite some time as the sisters share with each other, and their younger siblings.

The happy feelings associated with giving are universal. They extend to all who give willingly and with love. They come when we are honest about what we can give: time, talents, smile or money. When the government mandates that we share what is rightfully ours, those good feelings do not surface because the choice to give is not our own. It's the choosing itself that brings the feelings of happiness. Knowing that we did something good because that's the kind of person we are. We can also often directly see the benefits of our giving, when we give it. We get a thank you, a smile in return or a glimpse at the long term benefits of our gift. We have a personal relationship with the receiver.

The humble feelings associated with receiving are also universal. When we really and truly need, there is a unique feeling in the pit of our stomachs. A certain, I don't know, knot of emptiness. When that knot is relieved through the gift of a helping hand, food or $ donation, we feel our relief and gratitude. We understand what it means to be on the receiving end, and these feelings encourage us to give what we can, when we can. A pay it forward attitude. We feel our connection to humanity through the gift, we feel loved.

When the government takes and gives, the connection is lost. The gift becomes a tax. The humility becomes entitlement. And let's face it, if I give $10 to the guy pushing the grocery cart laden with blankets and empty soda cans, he gets $10. If I give it to the government to give to him, maybe he'll get $5. (A certain type of math I didn't learn at Pinelands.)

As a family, we're experiencing a time when we are less able to give. I'm realizing exactly how selfish I was prior to our personal economic downturn. I know that when we emerge from this recession, I will be more giving of my financial resources. I suppose if we had never had this need, I wouldn't understand this about myself. In the meantime, I am giving what I do have. My time, my talents. Perhaps instead of looking to the government for a hand-out, we should look to each other to see what we can share, what we can give to each other.