Author Archives

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conversations with a preschooler. (Day 7)

Here, eat this. It’s good for you. 

I don’t like chicken

You do like chicken you just forgot. 

I’m a veterinarian. 

No you’re not a vegetarian. Just take one bite. 

No! It looks funny. 

It looks the same as last night and last month. 

It’s old. 

Sigh… Please take one small bite. 

No! No! No! I don’t like chicken. I like Popsicles and cookies. 

I’ll give you a Popsicle if you eat some chicken. 

I want the Popsicle first. 

You may have it after dinner. 

Before dinner. 

After. 

(Pause)

I’ll take one bite. 

Fine!

(Takes a bite)

Oooohhhh I like this chicken. It’s yummy. 

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Building and Creating a Character

She walks in the room and for some reason you want to salute her. She’s never been in the military but the very essence of her being commands respect and acknowledgement. 

Is she tall? I’d say she average height unless you are from Munchkinland. 

What makes her special? It was the way she held her head. Have you seen a queen walk into a room? Well, it was more relaxed than that but with the same amount of grace. If you watched carefully you could see her eyes quickly scan the room. Unlike most of us she wasn’t looking for a familiar face she was looking for the unfamiliar. She was looking for the one or two anxious eyes that wanted to receive that slight smile and almost unnoticeable nod. If you blinked you would miss the one second exchange. 

She always made sure to outshine her clothes. Her dress was lovely but not gorgeous. Nobody wanted to know the designer or know where she purchased the gown. There wasn’t a chance of this one selling out or the retailers’ website crashing. Oh but the shoes, those would become the talk of the evening by every woman present. 

I’d like to say she glideded in as though she was riding a wave but that’s not elegant or common enough. As the music began she walked down the isle alone. She wasn’t in a rush. She knew she had the rest of her life to spending looking in his eyes and holding his hands. Instead she took the time to enjoy her last moments of being single. 

I have to admit I didn’t know where I was going with my character until the last paragraph. I decided not to focus on her features but allow the reader’s mind to create them according to their imagination. Day 6? I’ve lost count.  What are you thoughts on the revelation that she is a bride?

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After the Ball

once upon a time…
life is not a fairytale
i didn’t wake up like this
this look took hundreds of dollars in make up and clothes
be in awe of my efforts
the ball gown?
that was for one night
tonight is flannel pajamas
yes i have bags under my eyes
the crows feet become more evident every year
it’s called concealer
the only time you know its there is in bad photos
my hair?
which hair are you speaking of?
i have wigs and pieces and clip ins
no, i will stay up with you past midnight dancing the night away
i’m tired
you like my hour glass figure?
what is life without corsettes and spanx?
i’m not the person you fell in love with!
of course i am
i am still the same on the inside
i deceived you?
i convinced you
i am Cinderella but everyday isn’t a ball

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The letter

Today’s challenge is to write a story about a letter that was found but be as brief as possible. Here goes. 

There was a smudge of lipstick in the top right corner of the dainty stationary. It was directly above a heart. The carefully drawn heart contained two sets of initials.  

Those words that filled the page gave me hope. That letter made me believe in love again. 

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and then there were 3

Today’s assignment is to write about three songs and what they mean to me. Unedited. Free flowing. 

It’s next to impossible for me to narrow down my life to just three songs. I love music. I grew up listening to a wide range of music from Motown to watching Lawrence Welk to singing along with Loretta Lynn in Coal Miners Daughter and dancing to New Edition. Three songs? With four kids in the house we always have music playing. We listen to Top 40 or R&B in the car and I keep Christian music playing in the house unless I’m cooking or cleaning then I go for something up beat. Blame that on the days of cleaning up on Saturday while watching Soul Train. 

How about three genres? 

How about just music in general? It’s my blog and my creativity. 

I love music, any kind of music, just as long as it’s grooving. Give me a word and I can probably start singing a song. Come on, I dare you. 

When I found out I was pregnant with the teenager I made up a song that I would hum or sing daily. I sang it so much his dad asked me to stop. Then when my Honeygirl was born I sang two songs to her, you are so beautiful and the other one I changed so many of the words that the original song escapes me. When each of the boys were born I sang to them as I nursed. I didn’t allow them to watch much TV when they were young but we would put on a Cedarmont Kids video then sing and do the hand motions. Do your ears hang low… Or Joshua fought the battle of Jerico…

Music is the thread that brings my family together. My extended family and I use to have dancing contests when we were younger. Now we have Festivus during the Christmas season and always end with singing Christmas songs. It’s the part of the evening that everybody loves to hate. It’s our running joke to lock the doors, force everybody to gather around and we sing. Who can resist a good round of Twelve Days of Christmas or Silent Night? 

Three songs? I could never write about three songs. Maybe I could write about three decades of songs but never just three songs. 

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Freestyle

For the next 20 days I’m participating in an online writing class. This is supposed to challenge me and push me to become a better writer. Here goes twenty minutes of freestyle writing. 

On any given day I have a lot on my mind. I’m constantly evaluating my life, my purpose, my relationships and my blog. Lately I’ve been trying to decide why I’m blogging and my intended audience. Do I want to be a popular blogger? Do I want the coveted viral post? Am I blogging for my friends and family and the small community of bloggers? I have no answers. What I have is a lot of stuff going on in my head that I want to write about. I want to share it with others but I haven’t defined the others. 

Who cares what I have to say? I’m not an expert. My expetiences are unique to me but they aren’t unique to the world. Why do I share my personal stories? 

I think that I think too much. But what can I say? I’m a contemplating procrastinator who reads a lot into the meaning of life. 

Enough about me. 

Why are you here? What do you get from reading this blog or any other blog? Stephen Covey says seek first to understand in his Seven Habits of Highly Successful People. That’s always a good starting point. What are we, the reading audience looking for in a blog?

I’ll start. I’m looking for authenticity. I want relevance. Depending on the topic I want references. If you are quoting research I want authors and links. If you are quoting someone I want to see credit given. I don’t mind tears or laughter or deep thought. I like personality and heart to show through. I’m probably not going to read anything that is exceptionally long. I’ll scan. I also like to read the comments. That’s more entertaining at times. 

Here is the next part. Comments. How do you get others to comment? I’ve learned that blogging is reciprocal. You gotta like posts and comment to receive them. It’s work, it’s commitment and it’s time. If you aren’t involved in the blogging community you have to have great consistent posts that people like. 

Back to me, I don’t post on a regular basis. I have about 15 posts that I’ve stated but not completed. I know that if I want to build a readership I need to post something on a regular basis. I’m working on consistency. I trying to get to the point where my audience knows when to stop by. 

That’s why I’m participating in this challenge. I’m ready to commit to my blogs. I want to become a better writer. 

Oh and I realized that typing for 20 minutes is difficult but I did it. I feel accomplished. Applause is welcomed. I shall curtsie and exit stage right. 

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To the Least of These

I’ve read my share of feel good articles about people helping the homeless or less fortunate. I’ve watched videos of people asking for food from those who seemingly have it to give but their requests are denied. I’ve paid it forward in the drive thru line. I’ve even offered to buy a guy’s grocery bill when he left his wallet at home. He was buying flowers and the makings of a nice dinner how could I not?

Today was different. I was picking up a few items for the fan4 aka my four children at the store when a lady approached me and asked me to buy her groceries. I was taken off guard then I did a quick scan of her basket as she talked. “I get food stamps but they don’t come in until the sixth. I’m just trying to get some food for me and my daughter.” Within a few seconds I sized her up, analyzed her basket and did a quick calculation of what I needed vs what she was asking me to buy and whether or not it was an expense I was willing to take on.

I wanted to talk to her about budgeting her food stamps. I wanted to ask what was her plan after the two pack of hotdogs, one can of chili, two can of Pringle’s and one pack of break and bake cookies were gone. I wanted to know why there was no fresh fruit or vegetables in her basket. I wanted to know her scam or her hustle. What I didn’t want to know was her struggle. I have my own.

I thought about telling her I’m a single mother of four working one and a half jobs on a tight budget. Then I felt a tinge of condemnation. Yes, I will buy your groceries. As I checked out I couldn’t help but wonder why the clerk didn’t ask her how she was paying. I had her items separated from mine. For some reason I wanted different transactions. Some how the clerk knew I was picking up the tab. As soon as her groceries were paid, she thanked me and disappeared.

As I walked out of the store I wasn’t overcome with any emotion or sense of pride for doing a good deed. That’s what bothered me. Why didn’t I feel good? Why didn’t I have a rush of adrenaline? Where were the endorphins? I don’t know. Does it count when you perform the action but your heart didn’t play a part?