And I really wouldn’t mind having a sparkly tiara to match!
All I want is peace on Earth and a really cute pair of shoes. –Suzy Toronto
(c) 2015. All rights reserved.
A word to the wise, part 12
Tag: Life changes
How I got (back) to the Brook
These are very, very, VERY general directions, you understand. Also, this trip will take years. Decades, even. But it’s totally worth it – even the bad parts. And oddly enough, this is something I’d been thinking a little bit about already, as one of the many people I spoke with last night at my book signing asked if I’d been anywhere else, aside from my hometown and my adopted hometown.
So, kind woman, if you’re reading this, I hope you enjoy the book you bought from me and I hope this answers your question. 🙂
1. Start at the Grundy Hospital. Cry, scream, bawl, but also be cute enough to make those two big people take you home with them. They look nice.
2. Follow the big people to Reinbeck. Grow up a little, gain a sister, make some friends.
3. Refuse to leave home when the rest of the family wants you to go with them after the woman dies. Insist on staying with the man who brought you home from the hospital. Make more friends, who help you out when things get tough (and they get tough a lot). Never give up.
4. Go
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Ten things I learned from The Mighty Ducks
Today’s Writing 101 topic was to critique something that you’re passionate about, and since I’m passionate about my ’90s nostalgia (and since Bubbles wanted to watch it last night), I decided to review one of my favorite childhood movies, The Mighty Ducks. All three movies in this series are fantastic; I’ve watched the first two (because we didn’t have the third one) so many times that I have them memorized.
And now, without further ado, here are ten things I’ve learned from watching The Mighty Ducks:
1. Sometimes the gentle approach is the best. Soft hands – concentration, not strength.
2. It’s never too late to try again. If Coach Bombay can try out for the minors at the end of the movie, then you can do anything you want.
3. A simple fraction can make a world of difference. A quarter of an inch to the left and little Gordon’s puck would have gone in…but a quarter of an inch the other way and it would have missed completely. It’s all about perspective.
4. Don’t quack at the principal, unless…
The Party
Today’s challenge was one of observation, of interaction. But I chose to write about a lack of interaction, and I hope you enjoy it.
It was supposed to have been a party. All the usual trappings were present: food, friends, music, gifts. But no one was dancing; no one was eating. The gifts sat unopened on a table, ignored by their recipient and forgotten by the guests.
The music was too loud for the room and it hurt my ears. It didn’t need to be so loud; no one was talking. I found it odd that amid a sea of people I could feel so completely and utterly alone, like a star in the sky, one of many, yet completely solitary.
Every hand, every eye in the room, was glued to a screen, transfixed by the glow, and it would take an act of God to separate them.
Have you ever been in a similar situation? How did you react?
(c) 2015. All rights reserved.
A letter to my son
Today’s Writing 101 challenge was to reinvent the letter. The last letter I wrote was to my husband when he was away for work, so today I decided to write a letter to my son in the future. He may not be a man yet, but he will be one day, and I hope that, on that day, he’ll read this and smile.
Dearest Bubbles,
My goodness, how quickly you’ve grown! It can’t be possible that you’re a man now, instead of the tiny little baby I brought home from the hospital. Surely that was only yesterday?
Oh, who am I kidding? It was last month. I knew I should have tied that brick to your head sooner. 🙂
When I look at you, I still see the happy little boy you used to be. I suppose I probably always will, no matter how much taller than me you are. I hope that someday, you’ll have a house full of happy little boys (and girls?) of your own, but first, some advice:
A lovely little space
Lunch breaks are best when spent writing. 😉
Much about the way I write has changed considerably over the years. When I was a teenager, I often wrote with my friends (several of whom also enjoyed writing), and we wrote anytime, anywhere. I wrote stories during free time in class, at lunch, during pickleball tournaments, and at home after school. Often in the summers, I’d stay up half the night working on a story. Whether with music and conversation or without, in the living room or my bedroom, my ideas flowed freely.
Hot tea makes great writing fuel, especially in the winter.
In my twenties, it was much the same. I had a small office space, but it shared room with my washer, dryer, deep freeze, and litterboxes. With four cats and one litterbox, you can bet it wasn’t long before I needed to take a little writing break, so back to the living room I went.
My twenties actually saw the greatest upheaval
Making a difference
Just because you can’t see how far your reach spreads doesn’t mean you make no difference. –J.C. Rutledge
But wouldn’t it be great if we really could see how far our reach spreads? Because I’m an overly morbid worrywart type, I often wonder about the kind of legacy I’ll leave one day. I think I think about it so much because my mom died so young, and I’ve always assumed (don’t ask me why) that the same fate waits for me.
Happily, fate seems to have other plans in store for me, because I’m still here, creating worlds and refereeing my kids. I’m so very grateful I have the chance to watch them grow up, and I can’t wait to see what kind of people they’ll become.
(c) 2015. All rights reserved.
A word to the wise, part 11
I feel lucky
All kids drive their parents crazy, some more than others. Take Thumper, for instance. He’s my baby, the youngest of my four children, and the reason I can’t have nice things. He’s the reason I started sprouting gray hair before I hit thirty, the reason I’m sick of my own name, and the probable cause for any alcoholism his daycare teachers may suffer from.
But you know what? He’s perfect. He may be stubborn to a fault and have more energy than any one person should ever have, but he’s also the happiest four-year-old I’ve ever met. He has such a good heart, even when he’s feeling ornery, and he’s so stinkin’ adorable that I can never stay mad at him for long. I am lucky to be his mother.
For the record, I am lucky to be mother (and stepmother) to three other pretty fantastic kids, too. But I feel especially lucky to be Thumper’s mother, because I almost wasn’t, a fact I was reminded of last night.
Naked
To begin with, go read this post by rarasaur. Trust me, you won’t regret it.
Finished? Okay, then.
I loved the first line. After all, how can you not love a reference to Pride and Prejudice? It’s only one of the best books ever written. But if you read the rest of the post (and the rest of her blog), it’s amazing. It’s simultaneously powerful and empowering, and I want so badly to be able to write like that.
To make people feel things. In their gut.
To feel things myself. And not in the way that I normally feel things, which is superficial, like someone doing a white-glove check to see how dusty my mantle is. I want to feel things with every ounce of my soul, every fiber of my being.
I’m tired of being enveloped in bubble wrap.
But I don’t know how to get rid of it.
Fear is powerful. And I think it guides too much of my behavior.
Time to do something about that.
Time to get naked.
What about you? Do you feel things in your gut, or do things wash over you like waves upon sand? Do you blog naked?
(c) 2015. All rights reserved.
Suddenly they all died. The end. 