Thursday, June 30, 2011

K is for Kites


Kites rise highest against the wind - not with it.

Winston Churchill




This quotation is brought to you by Alphabe-Thursday's letter "K". To read other K posts, just click here.

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Wednesday, June 29, 2011

Alphabe-Thursday's Letter K


Good morning class. Welcome to round three of Alphabe-Thursday! Today we will be studying the knockout letter:


Please link directly to your Alphabe-Thursday URL (if you don't know how to do this let me know!) and please continue to visit the five links before and after your link and leave a comment. Minimum of 10 links visited please. You can visit more if you like, of course.

I also want to let you know that each week I visit every blog. If it appears I haven't visited your blog by the following Thursday morning, please let me know!

If you have any difficulties with your link, please make sure to include the number of the link when you e-mail me. It is really difficult for me to find you easily otherwise.

If you have any questions about Alphabe-Thursday or problems doing your link just post it in a comment or send me an e-mail. I'll do my best to help you as quickly as I can.

The McLinkey will be live from 1:00 pm MST time Wednesday afternoon in an effort to assist our lovely "friends across the pond" and continue through 10:00 am MST time Friday morning!

And remember.... link back to this post, you need to be registered as a follower of my blog, PG posts only, and you must visit at least 10 other posts...perhaps consider starting from the last posts and work backwards. The links will stay live after the final post deadline has passed so you can even wait and visit over the weekend or whenever you have more time.

Please show your knowledge and link up to the letter "K" now, class:

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I'm feeling extra crispy...

...and not in a good way.

Remember back when I was bragging on all my tomatoes and flowers and produce and you were drooling over my garden because yours wasn't even planted yet?

Remember when I told you that come summer when you are all lush and green and having summer picnics and stuff like that, we would be dying of heatstroke?

Yeah.

Well.

That happened.

We've had heat advisories here for the last few days. I believe we hit 118 degrees.
Today was a balmy 115!


And I don't care what anybody tells you, dry or not...it is wicked hot in the Valley of the Sunstroke during the summer months.

My tomatoes come already fire roasted right off the vine.


Well.

Almost.

My brain is even too hot to close this blogpost with a knock knock joke.

But don't despair.

I have some great one liners about the heat we endure here.

Okay.

Ready?

It's so hot in Arizona that...

...you can say 113 degrees without fainting.
...you can make instant sun tea.
...you've experienced condensation on your butt from the hot water in the toilet bowl.
...you discover that in July, it takes only 2 fingers to drive your car.
...you discover that you can get a sunburn through your car window.
...hot water now comes out of both taps.
...you realize that asphalt has a liquid state.

Okay, fine. I did think of one moderately appropriate knock, knock joke.

Knock, Knock!

"Who's there?" you say?

Wooden shoe.

"Wooden shoe who?"

Wooden you like to invite me to stay in your mountain cabin for the next four months.

Ha!

Haha!

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

That was cute.

I know you liked it.

And...

You're welcome.

Sigh...

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Tuesday, June 28, 2011

Story-Time Tuesday - Living Fiction

Jenny Matlock
If you missed where this story started just click here to read it or simply click on the Story-Time Tuesday link at the top of my blog to take you to previous chapters.

Living Fiction - Chapter 42

Here's where Chapter 41 left you.

Wow. Okay. I was really getting into some deep stuff now. I sat back up to see how Jessie was taking all this. I peered through the dim lighting at her to read her reaction.

Her eyes were closed. Her breathing was soft and regular.

She had fallen asleep.

While I was revealing my soul to her, my daughter had fallen soundly asleep.

I got up from the couch quietly. I gently lifted her feet onto the couch cushion and tugged off her shoes.

Edgar wiggled around and opened one eye at me. “Go to sleep, Edgar,” I whispered.

I pulled the fuzzy quilt over them both.

And then I went upstairs to bed.


AND NOW, WE CONTINUE WITH CHAPTER 42

I must have gotten ready for bed on auto-pilot, because when I opened my eyes the sun was streaming through the bedroom windows. Auto-pilot must not have included closing the curtains.

Lying in bed, I reviewed the non-conversation I had with my daughter the night before.

Sometimes it seems like the best advice you get comes from someone just listening. I thought back to all the stuff I had said to Jessie. It’s probably a good thing she had fallen asleep without hearing the analogy of my life living inside Roosevelt’s nostril. Geez. How does stuff like that even get into my head? Through my own nostril? Ha! Sometimes I just crack myself up.

After a second of laughing at myself I sobered up, realizing that since she had fallen asleep she might still be expecting me to have another ‘free’ conversation this morning. I’d have to hide upstairs until she left for work, or it would take some serious manipulation to avoid an explanation of all the things I’d said I’d done…but hadn’t.

I’d have to…

Hey. Wait just a second here.

Do you know if I’d spent half the time doing most of the stuff I’d fabricated, I could have actually done them? Well, not the belly dancing, but the rest of it. I could have actually written on my blog and went to grief counselling and joined some kind of organization where I really would be working on a craft bazaar by now.

And if I’d actually done those things, maybe I wouldn’t be feeling so lonely with no-one to share my thoughts with…

And then maybe, just maybe, the current highlight of my life would not be a scruffy little dog that…

Scruffy little dog! Heavens! I’d totally forgotten about Edgar! I glanced over at the clock and realized Jessie would have already left for work.

Poor Edgar! He was probably starving! He was probably having a nervous breakdown by the door waiting to get outside!

I threw my robe on and rushed down the stairs into the kitchen. No Edgar! I looked in the living room. No Edgar! I shouted upstairs for him. No Edgar!

Then I noticed his leash wasn’t hanging on the hook by the door AND the paw print dog poo pick-up bags were missing as well.

My daughter wasn’t the only one with keen powers of observation.

Obviously Jessie was going to work late today. I decided to skedaddle back upstairs and stay there until she’d left. Why go into all the drama again? I was just going to do us both a favor by hiding out.

I procrastinated for just a moment, enticed by the smell wafting from an almost full pot of coffee. I would have made my escape safely back upstairs, too, if it wasn’t for my ‘From Texas with Love’ mug. It wasn’t in the cupboard. Coffee just didn’t taste quite the same out of my other mugs. As I was rummaging through the dishwasher to find it, I heard the front door open. I was trapped! I couldn’t run upstairs without Jessie seeing me so I slammed the dishwasher shut, unlocked the kitchen door, and stepped out onto the back porch.

Flattening myself against the wall beside the door, I waited. I could hear Jessie and Edgar chatting away in the kitchen. Technically, I could hear Jessie talking to Edgar but I knew he was answering her with his little head cocked to the side and his brown eyes shining brightly.

I realized if any of the neighbors saw me, they would think I had driven even farther off the highway of normal. But it was early still, and I hoped no-one would be glancing my way.

Yeah.

I’d forgotten about Millie. Millie seemed to have an uncanny knack for always catching me at the very worst time. Millie saw me. Of course. Millie, came teetering across the driveway wearing an outfit I had only seen previously in lingerie catalogs. The cheap kind. The flowing canary yellow gown and robe was trimmed with lemon yellow feathers. Her high heeled slippers glittered in the morning light. It took me a moment to realize that they were covered in yellow sequins. Who knew that sequins even came in that retina bruising color? Instead of Princess, she held the morning paper in her hand. As she got closer I realized that she had already applied several coats of nuclear pink with a heavy hand. The blinding pink color almost, but not quite, balanced out the forty-seven coats of blackest black mascara clumped onto her fake eyelashes.

Good golly. Did this woman actually go to bed like this?

“Yoo hoo, Pearl! Oh, good morning!”

Trapped again. I decided to just go back inside amd face Jessie but, of course, she was no longer in the kitchen and wiggling the door handle I realized I’d locked myself out of the house. Again.

“Yoo hoo, Pearl! Yoo hoo!” She tottered closer.

Darn! Darn, darn, darn! And then she stopped.

“Yoo hoo! Pearl! Put the coffee pot on. I’m going to run on home and get Princess. I was just telling Myron this morning that I so, so, so needed to come check on you and catch up…my heavens…your daughter’s here and that good looking young man was here and…”

It took me a moment to realize that the good looking young man was actually Jay. Was he good looking? I hadn’t really noticed. Well, okay. Maybe I had noticed just a teensy bit but, seriously, he was so cranky that I would never, ever actually think about him… like… well… like ‘that’… you know?

Millie was still talking away, “…and Myron said to me, ‘Millie, you should just run right over and check on Pearl, and take her some of this coffee cake, and don’t hurry back… at all!’. Myron is so, so, so thoughtful. He always encourages me to visit neighbors. He has such a kind heart…but Pearl, I’ll be right back, okay, put that coffee pot on and do you have any fat free half-and-half because that’s really what I prefer in my coffee although…hee hee…it’s kind of funny if we have fat free anything with the fat filled coffee cake I’m bringing back to share and…”

“Millie,” I gritted out through clenched teeth, “I’m thinking it might be too early for company, you know?”

Millie looked disparagingly at my faded flannel robe. “That’s okay, Pearl. You so, so, so don’t have to doll up for me. Maybe you should get something fancy, though, just in case that good looking fella comes back to pick up his dog. What is that dogs name anyway? Something kind of strange, I remember. Not a regular dog name liked Princess, you know? What WAS that dogs name?”

Apparently Millie didn’t even care what Edgar’s name was, because she teetered back across the driveaway still talking to herself. At the end of the driveway she turned and waved, “Be right back, Pearl! I’m so, so, so looking forward to visiting!”

“Yeah, me too,” I muttered sarcastically. Millie was gone, though. And even if she was still present, I doubt she would have listened to me.

How do you learn that skill?

How do you learn to talk so people listen? And to get your own way in almost every circumstance? How do just steam roll over everyone like that? Up until now, I’d always thought of Millie as an irritant, but maybe Millie actually had something to teach me.

But I still wasn’t going to go around wearing bright yellow bird feathers and sequins. No matter what.

I turned around and knocked loudly on the door. If I was going to learn from Millie, I needed to fortify myself with caffeine before she arrived. I knocked again, even more loudly.

Edgar’s happy bark let me know Jessie would soon be there to let me back inside my own house.

To be continued on Tuesday, July 5.

(c) 2010 Jennifer R. Matlock
This publication is the exclusive property of Jennifer R. Matlock and is protected
under the US Copyright Act of 1976 and all other applicable international, federal, state and local laws. The contents of this post/story may not be reproduced as a whole or in part, by any means whatsoever, without consent of the author, Jennifer R. Matlock. All rights reserved.

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Monday, June 27, 2011

I have a plan to solve the energy crisis...

...and it's a darn good one.

I'm not quite sure how to go about it, so if you're one of those smart, science type people that can help me implement this idea, I'm totally willing to split the profits 70/30 with you. (70 for me, of course, silly!)

Mr. Jenny and I have been watching our Grandlittles for the past 4 days.

In 24 hours we did all this stuff with them...

Swam, swam, talked, swam, talked...



Played with fake snow that a wonderful blog friend sent to on Saturday! (Thank you! Thank you! We love you!)









Swam, talked, swam, swam and talked some more.

Talked. Made crafts. Talked. Made dinner together. Played Sorry. Talked.

Went to an aquarium...









Went to lunch. Talked.





Rode on a Merry-go-Round. Talked while riding the Merry-go-Round!





Spent 51 1/2 minutes picking out stuffed animals.

Drove home...talking the whole way.

And when we arrived home, Mr. Jenny and I turned on cartoons and told them we were taking a nap...

...except...

...after approximately 3 minutes they all came back to our room...rested and ready for the next activity...

Hooray!

Or...not so much.

Sigh...

We are ready to drop and they are ready to go, go, go some more...

So, I'm thinking if we could harness this energy we could a) be quite wealthy and b) hopefully, possibly tire them out just a bit.

And listen.

If you can tire them out a little bit...I'll split the profits with you 50/50. That's how tuckered out I am!

Sigh...

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Sunday, June 26, 2011

Sundays with Steve - Medical Emergency (???)

These Sunday's segments are written by my husband, Mr. Jenny. Here's what he has to say about his posts:

I’ve been writing these weekly stories about life in Northern Idaho, as a youngster and as growing into a young man, primarily for our family. And I'm delighted to share them with you. Just between us, I’m anticipating being cranky when some whipper-snapper who may not even be born yet harasses me in 30 years or so with 'Grandpa, tell me about when you were a boy.' That will probably be after the mad cow disease has set in and erased whatever memory is left. So these are the not-so-dramatic adventures of a Baby Boomer in the 1950s, 60s and 70s.

MEDICAL EMERGENCY

I was hard at work writing today’s post for you – another one of those observations of life, when my current observation of life landed on my lap. “Grampa, help me. Can you pull this tooth for me?” This girl has rarely let anyone touch one of her loose baby teeth -- this is number eight -- and I’m afraid I have to take the afternoon off to tend to this family emergency.

Here are some photos showing you that we really are hard are work (I’m the one with not much hair on top, Riley is the one with the loose tooth.

We’ll be back next week.



NOTE FROM JENNY: Is there anything funnier than a man trying to pull a little kids tooth? I think not! So far, she has been laying on the kitchen counter while he tries to ease it out gently with a small pair of pliers !!!! He has been making her eat an apple. They have been wiggling it like crazy! For the love of dental floss, can't they just let it fall out naturally? Geez!

(c) 2010 Stephen J. Matlock
This publication is the exclusive property of Stephen J. Matlock and is protected
under the US Copyright Act of 1976 and all other applicable international, federal, state and local laws. The contents of this post/story may not be reproduced as a whole or in part, by any means whatsoever, without consent of the author, Stephen J. Matlock. All rights reserved.

Saturday, June 25, 2011

Saturday Centus - Dear John

Jenny Matlock
Welcome to week sixty of Saturday Centus.

Gosh, there has been some great reading lately on SC. I know a lot of you are doing continuous stories so I took pity on you and changed the prompt this week. I'll save my evil prompt for a later date.

Now I'm not saying this will make your ongoing stories easy but it's probably possible...

This week, in honor of week 60, let's use ONLY up to 60 words PLUS the two word prompt:

Dear John,

Up to 60 words PLUS the two word prompt in any style of story you choose. The only restriction is that your post must be PG!

Please try to visit as many of the other links as possible. If you get a chance, perhaps you can visit the last five or so from last weeks challenge as well.

Please display link button or just a hyper-link back to Saturday Centus. Be careful to link your SC URL to the Linky and not just link to your main blog.

E-mail me directly with ???'s or ask your question in a comment and I will do my best to get back to you as soon as possible.

Feel free to link up anytime between now and next Saturday!

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Friday, June 24, 2011

Within the Stone - Week 59 Saturday Centus

Jeff wrote the prompt this week for week 59 of Saturday Centus. Thank you Jeff! I'm not totally sure this works, but it's all I could think of on Friday afternoon before the linky shuts off! The prompt is in bold. Click here to read other links using this prompt.

WITHIN THE STONE

I’m done excavating for
included inclusions.
I’m moving ahead now
despite my illusions
that I am the only one,
wounded and flawed.
My heart’s begun healing
including inclusions.
I’m packing this baggage
and done with delusions.
I see now that all of us
Are wounded and flawed.
Within the stone of my heart
excluding inclusions,
I think that I’m finding
I’m losing confusion.
My must you judge that I’m
wounded and flawed?
What makes you think you aren’t
wounded and flawed?

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Indulge me...

I had some funny things to write about...

...but...

Mr. Jenny and I have our Grandlittles for a few days...

...and...

...he took some pictures of them...

and...

I can't help it.

Here they are.







...and not nearly as cute...

Here's a before and after of my newest tattoo-style painted table!



...and that's all I've got for today!

I'm off to watch Flubber!

Happy Friday!

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Wednesday, June 22, 2011

Alphabe-Thursday's Letter J


Good morning class. Welcome to round three of Alphabe-Thursday! Today we will be studying the jubilant letter:


Please link directly to your Alphabe-Thursday URL (if you don't know how to do this let me know!) and please continue to visit the five links before and after your link and leave a comment. Minimum of 10 links visited please. You can visit more if you like, of course.

I also want to let you know that each week I visit every blog. If it appears I haven't visited your blog by the following Thursday morning, please let me know!

If you have any difficulties with your link, please make sure to include the number of the link when you e-mail me. It is really difficult for me to find you easily otherwise.

If you have any questions about Alphabe-Thursday or problems doing your link just post it in a comment or send me an e-mail. I'll do my best to help you as quickly as I can.

The McLinkey will be live from 1:00 pm MST time Wednesday afternoon in an effort to assist our lovely "friends across the pond" and continue through 10:00 am MST time Friday morning!

And remember.... link back to this post, you need to be registered as a follower of my blog, PG posts only, and you must visit at least 10 other posts...perhaps consider starting from the last posts and work backwards. The links will stay live after the final post deadline has passed so you can even wait and visit over the weekend or whenever you have more time.

Please jump on over and link up now, class:

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I canned, and now I can't...

...write anything funny for this post.

Really.

Because...

It's summer...here in the desert...

...and that means it's something like 4 gajillion degrees out...

Okay...

I'm exaggerating...I think it was only 113...

Sigh...

But if you go outside when it is 113 degrees...

And you pick a ton of these things...


And spend a long time using this thing...


To end up with a bunch of these things...


It just wears you out.

Seriously.

And you know what they say about canning, don't you?

Those that can't can, don't...

And those that can can, can get really tired out.

Or something like that...

Sigh.

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Tuesday, June 21, 2011

J is for Jealousy


Jealousy - that dragon which slays love under the pretense of keeping it alive.

Havelock Ellis

This quotation was brought to you by Alphabe-Thursday's letter "J". To see other J links, just click here.


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Story-Time Tuesday - Living Fiction

Jenny Matlock
If you missed where this story started just click here to read it or simply click on the Story-Time Tuesday link at the top of my blog to take you to previous chapters.

Living Fiction - Chapter 41

Here's where Chapter 40 left you.

I heard the kitchen door open.

Maybe it was a murderer. Thank God! Maybe it was someone who was going to rob me and then kill me. Actually, I was hoping they were going to kill me and THEN rob me, so I didn’t have to worry about trying to stop them.

Maybe they would kill me quickly and then I’d be done suffering and the headlines would read, “Brave Woman Murdered…”

As I was fabricating the rest of the headline, I looked up. Sadly, there was no murderer ready to put me out of my misery in the doorway. There was only my daughter. In one hand she held a large brown paper sack and in the other hand was a tall, skinny bottle.

“Pick your poison, Mom. Tequila or beer? If the only way to get you to talk is to get you drunk then, hey, I’m along for the ride.”

Tequila? Beer?

My heart gave a little lurch.


AND NOW, CHAPTER 41 CONTINUES...

She went back to the kitchen and I could hear her rummaging through the cupboards. “Mom,” she shouted, “Do you have any shot glasses?”

“Shot glasses?” I shouted back.

“You know, those little ones that you and Dad always brought back from vacation?”

I thought for a moment, and then yelled, “They’re in the cupboard with the vases. I use them to put little flower bouquets in.”

I thought I heard her mumbling, but then she reappeared in the doorway with a tray. On it she had placed my Italian chef salt shaker, a bowl with something that looked like limes, and my little flower vases along with the bottle of tequila.

“Maybe I should just drink a beer,” I protested, “I rarely drink, Jessie. You don’t either, right? You hardly ever drink, right?”

She didn’t answer the drinking question. She did, however, say, “You know what, Mom? I’m not getting any younger here. The beer’s gonna take too long. Let’s just start on the tequila.” She held out the little glass filled to the brim with golden liquid.

I’m not going to lie here. I looked long and hard at that liquid courage. It glistened in the tiny, flower vase/shot glass like a pool of salvation.

Although I’d never been much of a drinker, I was still surprised how those beers with Millie had made me blab. Reluctantly, I shook my head at Jessie. I needed to be in control of what came out of my mouth. I needed to explain myself carefully. This was my daughter. I didn’t want to screw things up between us anymore than I already had.

“No?” Jessie raised her eyebrows in query.

“No,” I confirmed.

Jessie put the shot glass down on the coffee table and reached over to turn out the light.

‘Free’ conversations were always easiest in the dark.

She waited.

I waited.

She waited some more.

I waited some more.

Edgar came out and jumped on my lap.

She waited.

Edgar ran down the couch and sat in her lap.

Darn! Darn, darn, darn. How was I supposed to do this? Was I just supposed to start talking? Where was I supposed to start?

The torture of my daughters silence just dripped away at me like Chinese water torture, until finally I blurted out, “Fine! I’ll talk!”

She remained stoicly soundless. Chinese water torture…drip, drip, drip…drip, drip, drip…

“So…ummm… so… well… gosh. Okay. I might have fabricated a few things that I’ve told you lately and … ummm… so… well…”

The silence intensified. Drip, drip, drip…drip, drip, drip… Arrrggh! Whose ridiculous idea was it to have ‘free’ conversations anyway?

“So…yeah…ummm… well… okay, it’s like this. I guess this all started when your Dad…died…okay, maybe it started before that, maybe it started when I got married to and … ummm…”

I jumped up. I couldn’t do this. “Jessie, you’re my daughter! I can’t do this! I can’t talk to you about this!”

Jessie leaned over and picked up the shot glass and handed it to me. “Here, Mom. It’s okay. This will help.”

I held the cute little flower vase in my hand. In the faint light coming only from the kitchen, I could just make out a black and white outline of Mount Rushmore. I remembered going to Mount Rushmore when the kids were small. We had played a game after we left about where we would each like to live on the rock edifice. My choice had been Theodore Roosevelt’s nostril. I liked how his mustache would make a little ledge for me to sit on. Plus, he was kind of hidden behind the other presidents, you know? I figured if I lived in Teddy’s nose, I wouldn’t have to lead anyone anywhere. I could just sort of watch their lives vicariously and support and encourage them from nose back.

“Jessie? You know how I wanted to live in President Roosevelt’s nostril at Mount Rushmore?” I asked her. I could see her turn toward me. Her eyes were shadowed, though, and I couldn’t read her face. I put the still full shot glass back on the table. “I always thought your Dad would be right there in front, sitting on George Washington’s nose…leading the way for us all. Your brother would be right behind him…you know? Underneath Jefferson’s chin…and then you, sweet girl, you and Abe, looking after your Dad and brother. But me, I think I always just liked being back a little bit. You know?”

I could see Jessie’s face turned toward me, but I still couldn’t read her expression. I just closed my eyes and thought a bit more.

“There I was. All comfortable and happy in my own little spot on Mount Rushmore, and then your Dad …died. And then…well, then, I wasn’t hidden away anymore. I had to come out of the shadows and take care of things. I had to look at things. I had to decide things I’d never, ever even thought of in my life. I had to take care of myself, Jessie. Something I had never done before. You know I never even had an apartment. I went from your Grandmother’s, God rest her soul, house to being married. And being married back in those days…well, I think things were different then. Maybe. Maybe not. I don’t really know. I just know that I went from my parents making decisions for me and about me, to your Dad doing the same thing.”

I glanced at my daughter. She had leaned back but was still watching me.

“Jessie? I don’t want to do the ‘free’ conversation thing. I don’t want to do this. Can we stop now? Can I just apologize for my … ummm… not quite truths…and call it a day. I’m exhausted. I’m sure you are, too.”

“Mom,” she replied quietly, “Just talk when you’re ready, okay? I’m just here to listen.” Drip, drip, drip…drip, drip, drip…

She reached behind her and pulled a rag quilt over her and Edgar. She settled in. She definitely did not give me the imperssion she was going to let me wiggle out of this conversation.

I leaned back, too, closed my eyes. After a while the drip, drip, drip…drip, drip, drips…made me continue just to fill the uncomfortable silence.

“And then, well then your brother came along and then you… and we moved to this house and things were busy and I was happy. I’m sure I was happy. I was happy, right? I loved being a Mom. I loved having the house filled with laughter and toys all over the living room and…okay, well, since I’m being truthful I guess I didn’t really love the toys all over the living room part all that much…but, I was happy. I knew my place in the world. I knew where I belonged and what I was supposed to do.

I was supposed to make cupcakes for classroom parties and go on field trips and put bandaids on scraped knees. I was supposed to make dinner and hang out the laundry on the clothesline so we could all fall asleep to the fragrance of sunshine. I was supposed to go to business dinners and worry about babysitters and plan birthday parties and make too many pumpkin pies at Thanksgiving.

My expectation of my life had seemed to come true. Things felt exactly right. Everything was steady and I knew who I was and what I was supposed to do. The point is, I was happy. And everything was okay and safe.

And then…well then. Things happened. You and your brother got older. And somehow your brother didn’t like the steady, regular life we lived. He wanted more. He pushed. He struggled. You know, well… you know. He struggled against the life we had. He fought it. He told us we were boring and that he would rather die than live a life like I had. Like we had.

But your Dad and I…well, we just tried to help, and figure things out, and to help him understand that life can be simple. And happy. Life doesn’t have to be about fast cars and… well, alchohol, drugs…you know. I’m not going to go into that. We’ve talked about this a hundred times before. I’m just trying to explain how I felt when I couldn’t live in Roosevelt’s nostril anymore. There was nobody in front of me to protect me. Everyone who had ever made me feel safe was gone. My Grandma, your Grandma and Grandpa … and then…your Dad. Everyone was gone. I couldn’t hide anymore.”

Wow. Okay. I was really getting into some deep stuff now. I sat back up to see how Jessie was taking all this. I peered through the dim lighting at her to read her reaction.

Her eyes were closed. Her breathing was soft and regular.

She had fallen asleep.

While I was revealing my soul to her, my daughter had fallen soundly asleep.

I got up from the couch quietly. I gently lifted her feet onto the couch cushion and tugged off her shoes.

Edgar wiggled around and opened one eye at me. “Go to sleep, Edgar,” I whispered.

I pulled the fuzzy quilt over them both.

And then I went upstairs to bed.

To be continued on Tuesday, June 28.

(c) 2010 Jennifer R. Matlock
This publication is the exclusive property of Jennifer R. Matlock and is protected
under the US Copyright Act of 1976 and all other applicable international, federal, state and local laws. The contents of this post/story may not be reproduced as a whole or in part, by any means whatsoever, without consent of the author, Jennifer R. Matlock. All rights reserved.

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Monday, June 20, 2011

Be careful not to burn your mouth, okay?...

On Friday our youngest two Grandlittles were helping me make a cake for their sister's 9th birthday.

I made the mistake of asking what kind of cake we should bake...

...and I was promptly told a 'lava cake'.

"Lava cake?" I asked in confusion.

"Yes! Lava cake! Lava cake!"

"Please tell me what a lava cake actually is?" I enquired.

"You know! A cake that looks like a volcano. With lava. A cake with a hole in the middle with a fountain of hot lava!" they cried in excitement.

Hmmm...

Okay, now I'll admit I'm a pretty creative Grandma but it took me a minute to figure this out.

"Like an angel food cake?"

"Yes, Yes!" they cried, "The kind with the hole in the middle!"

"And how do I make it have lava in it?"

"With frosting Grandma! Red, yellow and orange frosting and the cake will look like rocks and it will be a hot lava cake!"

Hmmmm...

"Okay," I said hesitantly, "Why do we want to make a lava cake for your sister's birthday anyway?"

"Oh Grandma! You know? Because she is 'hot lava girl'!"

Hmmmm...

But I am an easy going Grandma, so while they were off playing at the neighbors, I made a home-made angelfood cake along with a vat of chocolate icing and three decorator bags full of orange, yellow and red vanilla-almond buttercream.

They came home ready to decorate a lava cake.

We sliced up the sides of the cake to make it more volcano like. We frosted the mountain with chocolate icing. It looked more like a brown lump. I piled on more chocolate icing. Soon the poor little angelfood cake was adrift in an avalanche of glossy brown icing.

Next we started on the colored icing. "More! More!" they cried. They washed plastic trees and gnomes and stuck them in the cake. "More frosting! More frosting!" they shouted.

The middle grand had an idea that we could cut a hole in the table and then she could hide underneath and squirt frosting up through the middle of the cake to make it look like real lava.

Hmmmm...

"Ummmm....no!"

She decided we needed a string so one of the gnomes could be mountain climbing up the volcana.

Hmmm...

"Okay...that we can do!"

And when were finally done we had a 'masterpiece' of a volcano cake complete with unsuspecting gnomes being engulfed in hot lava.

We had, my friends, a complete and total masterpiece of 4 inches of frosting crushing a delicate little angel food cake.







...and after the birthday girl arrived and ate her fill at brunch on Saturday morning...



...the 'Hot Lava Girl!' cake was revealed.

Oh, her face lit up!

Oh, she loved it!




...and after I cut through all the frosting to serve it, she exclaimed, "There really is a cake in here!"

And I told her, "Yes, of course! I made you a homemade angelfood cake! Be careful not to burn your mouth on the hot lava, though!"

And she said, "Oh Grandma!"

...and that little remark made all the frosting and the mess and the sticky floors, chairs and little kids worth it.

"Oh Grandma!" Yes, I am blessed indeed...

Even if I have a "Hot Lava Girl" for a granddaughter!

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