Rachael crunched through the yard. A pinecone, crunch. Dead leaves, double crunch. Her feet on the ground sounded like her teeth when she bit into a ripe, crisp apple. When she tired of crunching, she decided to swing. Kick up, lean back; tuck feet, lean forward. It seemed backwards to her that she should lean back to move her body forward and lean forward to move her body back. But her Daddy said life was backwards sometimes. She had tried to do it the other way, leaning forward to go up and back to go down, but she didn’t go much of anywhere.… Read the rest
Yearly Archives: 2012
This is my entry for this month’s Memories Captured link-up, hosted by Galit Breen of These Little Waves and Alison of Mama Wants This. Take a moment to head over and view the rest of the submissions. They are always breathtaking and delightful!
These two pictures hang above my desk. They say an awfully lot without my needing to interpret them for you, but let me talk awhile anyway. My husband is not just a father to our children. He’s their Daddy. Sam, who is a Mama’s boy, has lately started demanding his Daddy-hugs at bedtime again and saying, in a worried little voice, “I like Daddy best.” He doesn’t yet understand the ebb and flow of a parent-child relationship, and he worries that he’s hurting me. He always seems surprised by my delight. I tell him, “That’s wonderful. I love you, and sis, and Daddy best.”… Read the rest
Doot-doot-doot-doot-doot. My daughter’s first impression of volunteerism was sheep plop. I took her to the humane society for her orientation into the junior volunteer club. It was supposed to be an hour of paperwork followed by a short tour. However, about half of the regular club didn’t make it, so the new members were invited to watch the presentation that the regular club had come to attend.
And seriously, who wouldn’t want to meet sheep? We sat down in the floor of the volunteer office, listening all the while to the mewling of a couple of litters of kittens in need of foster homes.… Read the rest
I spent my childhood chasing other people’s cows. The farmers who rented our fields were supposed to keep up the fences, but they never did. And the cows never got out during the day. No, they escaped at midnight or two AM, so that we all had to scramble out of bed looking for feed when someone banged on the door. And I slept downstairs, so I always heard the knock.
I hated those cows. I wanted them to die. But, especially once we bought the house and land, a wreck would have been on our insurance. While Mom tried to raise the cow’s owner, I tramped up State Route 286 in my nightgown chanting, “Come on cow, stupid cow, gonna get us both killed cow.” … Read the rest
Brenda Cowden stepped out of the club’s back door and took a long draw. She tried to stop her legs from shaking. When they wouldn’t, she finally sat in the alley beside two days of garbage and a leaky dumpster. The cigarette slipped from her fingers to smolder in a pile of refuse.
“Put that thing out.” Her roommate Annie left the club as well and crushed the smoke under her heel. “What went wrong in there?”
“I got fired.”
“Because you’ve got limits on lap dances?”
“No. Rob says I’m hiding tips.”
“Oh.” Annie screwed up her lips. “Well, let’s go down the street and put in at Shimmy-Shebang.”… Read the rest
Carly Groban bounded into the kitchen on lanky legs. “Oh, look!” she cried, reaching for the mail.
“Don’t touch it! It’s evil!” Her mother Sharon snatched the collection of brochures and ads out of the way before Carly’s hand made contact with the flyer on top.
“I just want the camp catalogue.”
“You ordered that?” Sharon drank from her steaming mug then put it down and rested her temple against her fingertips.
“Dad said he’d pay for it, Mom. You don’t have to worry about…”
“This has nothing to do with the finances!”
Again, Carly reached for the mail; again, her mother moved it.… Read the rest
We give Chewie rawhide treats. He takes them outside and buries them. And then, every night, he digs one up to bring in so he can snuggle it. Yes really, he wants to snuggle his stinky, muddy bone like my kids snuggle stuffed animals. I try to convince him to leave it outdoors, but if I take it away, he picks it up. If I throw it, he goes after it, and if I hide it, he cries inconsolably. No, really, I actually can’t seem to hide it very well because, hello, everyplace I pick is outdoors. So really, he just goes and gets it again.… Read the rest
but you stopped reading after you saw $5 and determined there were 3 place settings at the table after 5, didn’t you? I sure did the first time the adjuster said it. And he said that once the body shop gets into my car, the number is almost sure to go up. Be still my heart.
Although the other driver was at fault, it’s unclear (still) whether the DRIVER’S COMPANY’S insurance (remember, he works for a body shop) covers this, or whether the CAR OWNER’S insurance covers it. It’s probably the DRIVER’S COMPANY’S. But while we wait to figure that out, I’m going through my insurance, because I want my damned car back before its value drops so low that an estimate that high means “we total the vehicle”.… Read the rest
So, lately my response to stress has been to go see films. Or anyway, that’s how I’m justifying two weeks in a row at the movies. Thanks to the world’s most amazing sitter, last night was movie night WITH Scott, and we FINALLY saw The Avengers.
My review? Ah yes, now I remember why I was only half tolerant of Snow White and the Huntsman. Snow White wasn’t written by Joss Whedon. And although it had action and kept the romantic tension on the back burner, it was not an action adventure flick. It was more a swashbuckler. And I like to swash buckles.… Read the rest