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Showing posts from July, 2004

Keine Ahnung!

Everywhere. Everyday, this being her tenth.
It was all she saw, darkened skies, like rainy days. Rock and rubble. Wood. Long and thick laying across the streets, smashing into windows. Glass turned grey, even the green.
You could glimpse into people's lives where the buildings had only half fallen.
The only life was the soot and the dead leaves rolling with the winds. Dry. Dead and loud.
She barely noticed the smell anymore. Just when new ones hit and only for a little while.
She was the runner. The two men who had once been there had now been gone for weeks.
She had volunteered, because she was the eldest of the young left and it was to be expected. And because she needed to get out. She needed to see it. More than just across the road.
And so she got to see it.
She was horrified with herself because she had expected more, back on that first day.
It was bad. Her eyes had seen that. But her imagination had seen worse.
And she would enjoy her runs. The feel of fresh air on her face. It was a…

We All Scream For Ice Cream


Momma ran her hands through her hair. Always uncombed. Always a mess. Her skin looked dry today, hanging on her bones.
The living room window was open. It was so hot. No one wanted to wear clothes.
Tommy sat on the couch in his blue underwear, his brown skin dirty looking. His toes definitely dirty.
The Statler Brothers played from the radio. All Tommy wanted to do was watch TV.
Momma would probably let him.
Except Momma had been staring at the wall for a real long time and it scared him. So Tommy just sat there, staring at his mother.
Sissy started to stir in her room, soft, low. I am awake cries.
She suddenly opened her bedroom door, diapered in a green shirt, rubbing her eyes. She plopped on the floor just outside the door and did not move.
Momma looked up at Tommy, suddenly aware. Her eyes were un-readable.
"Your Father has not sent the money," she whispered. Her eyes were suddenly bright, shimmering, luminous. He watched as a lone tear coarsed through her dry s…

Suds In The Bucket

Grade Six

Kelli always had perfect nails. They were always filed beautifully. They were red more than pink. Kelli did her nails herself.
Her room was wallpapered with flowers. Part of her ceiling was slanted. There were the horses, the dollhouse and the stuffies covering the entire bed.
Kelli was a girl.
Kelli had lots of make-up.

Mid September

We sit in her backyard with her gigantic purple, plastic case of make-up. We have it open, peering inside.
"Well," she says.
"Well," I say.
"What are we going to be today?"
"Depends on if we are doing a play or music video or something..." I trail off.
"Yeah," she sighs.
We sit in silence.
We had not seen each other all summer.
"Betcha I could make you look like you got punched in the face," I say to her.
"Cool," she replies. "I think I know the colours."
I am not sure which one of us came up with the plan.

Testing Limits

We peer down at Kelli's arm. I…

Random Acts Of Kindness

I love the stairwell of the place I go Everyday. Concrete walls painted an off-white. Just stone slab steps painted over and over. Any sound you make echoes.
The stairwell of the place I go Everyday is usually empty. There is an elevator in the building.
I walk up six flights of stairs in an almost-always empty stairwell.
Sometimes I am Rocky.
Sometimes I am Marilyn Monroe.
Once, I was Courney Love.
I pass by three large metal doors along my way up. There are offices behind these large metal doors; with reception areas and people waiting, people working.
When I am wearing my loudest shoes, sometimes I will stop on the landing, then do a happy little jig.
You never know who is on the other side of the door just waiting to smile.

Your Topic: Random Acts of Kindness when you are sharing the stairwell with another person.

Proudest Monkey

I Have Written

1. On paper. 
2. Lines on a blackboard.
3. On windows.
4. Run-away letters.
5. In the sand.
6. Perfect tests.
7. On Post-Its.
8. In Baby Books.
9. On a calendar.
10. The alphabet. 
11. With lipstick.
12. Advice.
13. For Your Eyes Only letters.
14. In a car.
15. Songs with Rob.
16. My Mother's name on absent notes.
17. When I was bored.
18. In a Slam-Book.
19. Only one break-up letter.
20. Sitting on a snowy hill.
21. My own version of In Flanders Fields.  How disrespectful.
22. About a unicorn.
23. My first published poem in Grade Three.
24. Answers to other's scribbles in bathroom stalls.
25. In telephone books.
26. A novella on a one night notice.
27. Red.
28. A cheque only three times.  Cheques might teach me responsibility.  But I kinda like my cash only attitude.
29. Harlequin.
30. In my first journal.  It had The Smurfs on it.
31. Mock love letters with Ian.
32. On a pair of shoes.
33. In all CAPITALS.
34. The Box.
35. The story that passed a friend into the…

Three Years Old


His bedroom light is on every night when he goes to sleep. His room is a harsh yellow. The light bulb works against the colour.
Tommy's bedroom window is large and it makes up for it.

He woke up and felt the tears, felt his red face, felt the screams that no longer ripped at his throat.
He sat on his knees on his bed, his blankets a mess. His pillow on the floor.
His eyes are on Momma.
She stood, staring into the sea-green circle mirror on the wall, her curls a mess that said slept on.
She was applying red lipstick, perfect and puckered.
She wore a black t-shirt. She licked her teeth and she was more hideous than his dream.
She turned to look at him and smiled.
"That was a bad one, hey Tom-Tom?" she asks. "I just can do nothing for you when you are screaming like that. So here I am getting all pretty waiting for you to wake-up."
She reached out for him and pushed him gently back on to the bed.
She grabbed his pillow from the floor and lifted his head to put the…

Dish Thoughts

...What a good meal.  A sunny day supper on a gray-skied day.  How fabulous...

...Brushing my hair at the kitchen table is my equivalent to a man scratching his balls...

...I am glad Cindy is spending the night...


Every Sky

She stands on the concrete sidewalk, a hand on the navy blue stroller belonging to a child who is not hers. The jewel of her Grandmother's ring is dirty, dulled. An aquamarine gone colourless.
She looks in at the baby and stares at the blue of the Maple Leafs logo pressed on to his t-shirt. The light blue of his summer pants.
She looks over to her son, wearing the colour from his hat to the new shoes she had bought him last week. It was not her who had dressed him today.
She looks up, the sky the hue of freshly-drawn bathwater. The heat of the day lies heavy upon her skin.
She is wearing all blue, too. Her choice thrown in the washer the night before at 1 a.m., tossed hastily in the dryer this morning at the last possible moment.
Her eyes are not sore, but they ache. She feels their weight and sloppiness on her face.
She has always been good at not giving in. She was born with strength.
But some battles are not meant to be won.
She had wrapped herself in her blue blanket …

A Wrinkle In Time

10 Years Old

I am sitting in my Grandmother's backyard.  I can feel the wind race through me, but it is a hot day and the wind had been warmed by it.  I am sitting in a lawn chair.  Yellow, ribbed through aluminum.
The sky is blue and a few puffy white clouds race through it smooth.  I am facing the sun, it's rays are not burning, but I still have to squint to read my Archie comic book.  I am listening to Bon Jovi on my black and red walkman.
I look up and into the large backyard, watching the grass just starting to turn yellow, dance with the wind and the long blows she is offering us today.
I look around.  The colour of the sky does not make sense with the wind.  I have never been to a day like this yet.
I feel the wind and her power and I feel like she is running into and through me, leaving some of herself behind in me.  I feel power that is not mine.
But I pretend the wind has chosen me.  I am ten years old and want to know why.
Why has she chosen to make me so awa…

Justifying Insomnia

I came home tonight, later then when I usually do. It was dark.
I floundered around my house for a bit, doing mindless things. Mindless things can be a lot of work.
It is 1:00 a.m. So, of course, I decide I deserve a bath.

It is a pretty good thing I took that bath. My horror could have sent me over the edge had I not.

I open my bedroom door.
Flying Things. Everywhere.
And oh my god.
One of those dark black Things. Those big Things. Those evil Things.
It was The Drunk Thing. The Drunk Thing made me once...

...sit on the porch with my daughter, 8 months old, at midnight for an hour...

I lost my keys a few days ago. I had to break-in to my house. It could have never been done without my daughter. She has been my hero for days.
The screen came off my bedroom window for this break-in. I have not got around to putting it back on.
The first night, I slept with my window closed. The second night, I opted for the couch.
The third night, it was 3:30 a.m. and I was all not scared of the w…

Punks-Before The Beginning

Sacrificing to the Gods

Minnie was 14.  She liked bright red lipstick and getting high.
There was a handsome boy, hair cropped close to his head, with a genuine smile who lived in the apartment building at the end of her street.  He was 22.
He was a drug-dealer.

She waited one day at dusk.  She knew she would not have to wait long.
He came out the doors.
"Hey," she pointed at him.
"What are you doing?" he looked at her, confused.
She dropped her hand and barely smiled. "Waiting for you.  You are going to help me out."

She would knock on his door after that only in the morning, before his girlfriend got up.  Before the other buyers would see her.
It was the only reason he continued to sell to her.
"What is your name?" he asked one day.
"I do not know yours," she replied.  "I like it that way."

Minnie had to get home, she barely had enough time to grab some chips and pop for her night from the variety store.
He wa…

When Was The Last Time You...

1. Read one of my lists?
2. Rolled your eyes?
3. Chewed the inside of your mouth? 
4. Read a newspaper?
5. Burnt supper?
6. Bought a hat?
7. Sat in the grass?
8. Talked to the most annoying person you know?
9. Danced?
10. Jumped in a puddle?
11. Didn't do the dishes?
12. Drank Root Beer?
13. Saw a horse?
14. Swung on a pole?
15. Swore?
16. Gave something away?
17. Listened to The Beach Boys?
18. Bought The 4 Pieces Toaster!!!???  I am still thinking about it.
19. Went on a ride at the fair?
20. Used tape?
21. Looked at your elbow?
22. Bought flowers?
23. Watched a John Travolta movie?
24. Went out for supper?
25. Found the perfect cure?
26. Spoke out of turn?
27. Received a package in the mail?
28. Wanted to throw your arms in the air?
29. Bought something used?
30. Sucked on a mint?
31. Walked anywhere?
32. Dusted your house?
33. Played hopscotch?
34. Did your favorite party trick?
35. Fed a squirrel?
36. Hung your clothes outside to dry?
37. Were in a plane? 
38. Broke glass?


I once had A Toaster.  Silver and black, the kind from my childhood.  It had a sticker with different levels of orange on one of it's sides.  It only had one setting left.  Perfect.
Little golden pieces of heaven would pop out of that baby. 
But it got increasingly ugly.  I hid it away from people's stares.  It became annoying to pull it out and put it away all the time.
I stopped enjoying toast.
I bought a New Toaster and threw away my old one.  The new one was 40 years old, metal.  Vintage.  Cool.  Everyone said so.
The New Toaster hated me.
It made horrible toast. Only if I made it or it was meant for me.  Burnt along one whole side, half of it!  Perfect along the other side.
Every time.
But I missed toast, so I ate toast until I got sick of toast.  The New Toaster still looked cool. 
Until I was always washing it down and it was never used.  It was heavy.  It just sat there.
And I missed toast.
But not enough to eat toast from it.
So, I bought Another Toaster. …

Playing in the Big Leagues

Wal-Mart makes me smile. There really is something I want in every aisle. I never leave without buying myself something. My favorite shampoo, I can only find there.
So, without a doubt, when Jean asked yesterday if I would like to go with her to the most fabulous store in the world, I agreed. Even if I had to bring the two kids in tow.
Jean is a shopaholic. Jean gets everything she wants. Jean knows where the deals are. Jean is patient. Jean has a sixth sense.
And I love Wal-Mart. I match her wits there.

My son also needed a new pair of running shoes, his last suddenly passed worn. I had been forcing him to wear sandals for a week.
Wal-Mart is great for shoes.
And these do not have to be great shoes, to boot. School starts back up in a month.
But Someone smiles on me, because there is a SHOE SALE!!
And I get to thinking, my daughter needs a new pair of cute sneakers, too. She is a girl, afterall. I tell the kids to have a look around. Mostly so I can, too.
Even though I am n…

asor olucric le

She could not believe she was standing here. A movie scene. It took her breath away, the water so close to the grass and the woods. The grains of sand beneath her feet making her toes curl.
The moon was full, big and high. The coolness in the breeze was just enough to make the waves more audible then usual as they lapped at the shore. She wished she was wearing white.
She had scoffed at those who said the beach was romantic.
He spread out the blanket. "So much for the stars tonight. They tell a beautiful story," he called out to her.
She turned to him and smiled. He was just more appealing than the scene before her. She walked, dragging her feet through the cool sand, to him and the blanket.

She jumped to her feet suddenly, startling him, the blanket sliding beneath her feet. "How spooky do you think that little forest of trees are right now?"
She took off before he could answer, running towards them. She stepped behind a tree. Engulfed in darkness, like a m…

Punks-The Beginning


Minnie was 14. She liked bright red lipstick and getting high.
Tommy liked getting high, too.
It was a sunny Sunday afternoon. It was the end of the weekend and they were poor. They had walked all around the downtown and had even played teen-aged hide and seek at the public library. Stolen, secret kisses.
Tommy flipped the hair out of his eyes, looking into hers.
"Billy-Boy? Oh, do we have to go there?"
She rolled her eyes and sighed. "If you want to get high."
Tommy sighed, too. "Fine, nothing better than a day spent with..."
"Like I ever actually hang out with him. I will get us out of there quick, silly," Minnie interjected.

Billy-Boy's Mom was fat and stinking when she came to the door in her burnt yellow gown.  The tiny pink flowers enhanced her girth.  She had her brassy orange curls up in a purple hairclip.
She clapped her fat hands together once and smiled her brown grin. She shouted back into the little green house, &…


Four and A Half Years Old

Tommy looked out the window at the darkening grayness of the day.   He was glad it was not a damp night.
He would have to work fast with Sissy if he was going to get her to sleep.  He hoped he could pull it off.  Staying up all night with a two year old was not easy.  He would be clumsy with her by morning, if he did not sleep enough.
He looked over at her, finger in mouth, watching the TV.  Wheel of Fortune.  He liked it, too.
But he went over and shut it off.
"Come on, Sissy," he put out his hand.  "You need a clean-up."
She pulled her finger out of her mouth, whiter than her other fingers and took his hand.  Tommy was all hers, as far as she was concerned.
He took the orange washcloth to her face, warm and gentle.  She never fought.
"Do you want to sleep in bed with me tonight, Sissy?" he asked brightly.
She clapped her hands, eyes alive.  "O.K.!"
Then she stopped.
She frowned.
"Bedtime now?" she asked.

On A Very Personal Note

1. Thank you, Mom, for everything.
2. Thank you, Dad, for pointing out the chipmunk.
3. Thank you, Jean.  Wait until you see your new house.
4. Thank you, Grandma, for pretending to like Metallica.
5. Thank you, Grandpa, for the box.  I think you knew...
6. Thank you, Mikey, for Hound Dog on the guitar.  Before you smashed it over my head.  Brothers are jerks.
7. Thank you, Pappy, for the change.
8. Thank you, Brenda, for always coming at the right time.
9. Thank you, Jenny, for the card 3 months late.  It is still my favorite one.
10. Thank you, Mrs. Houting, for the poster in your Grade Two classroom with the word empathy on it.  Thank you more for never pointing it out. 
11.  Thank you, Michelle, for playing road hockey with me.
12. Thank you, Scott, for friendship before we even knew.  Wow, man.  We could make a movie.  Love you, Big Bro.
13. Thank you, Carrie, for being such a girl.
14. Thank you, my friend in Iowa, for day or night.
15. Thank you, Adrienne, for sitting behind me …

My Day Off-A Journal-Part Three

Back to July

Cleaning my house today is not fun.  I am finding things I have not seen in awhile and it is surprising me.  Like little hand prints.  On lots of things.  Crumbs under my couch. 
Dirt.  I see dirt.
Two weeks vacation.  I have forgotten how to clean again.
It is a good thing to have a Day Off so close to my vacation.  I have catching up to do.

I am glad when everything messes up horribly for Cindy's move.  The Movers just cannot make it until dark.  So, instead of mini-helper mover I get to just be Aunt Beth, the baby-sitter.
But I feel bad for being happy I do not have to help her lift heavy things, so I tell her to get lost.  To go do something fun until it is time to move.
"For real?" she says.
"Yeah," I say.
"I am so outta here," she jumps up and down.  "Thanks, Beth!"
If I was not sick of listening to her whining, I would have made her stay.

Two weeks of only feeding myself, has also turned me into a lackluster gr…

My Day Off-A Journal-Part Two

Downtown Mark

It is March.  The last Friday of the month.  Which is always My Day Off.  My babysitter and I pretend we do not realize this.

A 50 year old man leans over towards me, on the bus.  "What are you writing?" he asks.
"Just my journal," I reply.
"What about?"
I look up at him.  "Where I would be going if I was wearing something different."
He nods.  "Where are you going?"
"Dowtown.  That much I know for sure.   I will figure the rest out when I get there."
"I am going downtown, too.  Got a few things to pick up.  My books.  And my picture is finally ready."
"Oh, I was just at City Lights not too long ago," I smile.
"I love that place.  But that is not where I am going."
He tilts his head and looks in my eyes.
"You want to come with me?"
"You bet," I smile.

"This way," he says, pointing down the street when we get off the bus.
As we head off, I…

My Day Off-A Journal-Part One

Cindy spent the night last night.  She is moving today.  Her old house is closer to my house than her new house. She has to start at the old house.   She spent the night here.
I like when Cindy and I have a sleep-over.  She does not care if we talk and laugh all night or if I simply ignore her to concentrate on my multitudes of writing.  This is fabulous.  But what is even better, Cindy will let me sleep until the last possible moment when she spends the night.  An extra hour of sleep can leave a shit-eating grin on your face all day long.
Except, I had to be up really early on My Day Off.
Because I had to make a brief hour long appearance where I normally go Everyday.  Not fun.  But still, an hour for the whole rest of the day?!  So, worth it.
Except, remember how I said Cindy is moving today?  Yeah, that's right.  I knew I had the day off before she knew when she was moving.  I still opened my Big Mouth and offered to help.  Even when I instantly regretted it, but still knew…

A Never Ending List

C.E. reminds me of my hometown every time I visit her site.  Thank you for more than that.

Most people read the other blog.  I read this one.  cbeck your talent amazes me.

I wish it was Me who wrote this.  Every post makes you grin.

You should all know Varinbird by now.  If not, here is your chance.

The Author.  For sure.

Just Plain Weird 

There are no words.  Just read it.

ACK!  They are everywhere!


Rosy Cheeks

My son's circle and lined wall, created with the permanent red marker, became something he liked to show-off. I guess the other kids who come here liked it, too.   I guess he wanted to show-off more.
That is one of the many hypothesis I have about how the Map of Africa came to be.
I just keep hoping my kid is some kind of odd little genius. 

On the morning I discovered the map of Africa, I was not speechless and I could breathe.
"What is this?" I demanded. And loudly.
My son shrugged his shoulders.
"I like it. It's nice. Took a long time."
He had chipped paint off the wall. His walls are white. That morning, it was discovered his room used to be beige.  
And it was starting to look like a room in an abandoned house.
I thought to myself that maybe this look would be the in thing  20 years from now and he could make millions. He could be a visionary.
It was a good enough excuse for me to leave the room. I used it and went to do some laundry.

I sat …

The Table

I always seem to have too much laundry.
It piles up in weird places. Almost daily, I will notice a pile at the end of the hall and then another little one in the bathroom.
Bathroom little piles do not bother me. People who come over, can see a small laundry pile in there.
But in case they do come over, I take the time to fold it all. Instead of just throwing it down my basement stairs.
I can find more piles in my room, the kids room's and the living room. Although clothes in my kitchen do happen, it is a very odd and rare occurrence. I always have to think about why the clothing is in the kitchen. Even if I did it. I am always puzzled to see it.
I keep these piles around my house, and will even create some, on purpose.
In case I need a breather. I need these at least once a day. For one of a thousand different reasons.
I will grab one of these laundry piles and take it downstairs.

A few months ago, I got the thrills of lending my basement to my friend, Wendy, for stora…

The Best Part of My Day

Different Things to Think
About in the Rain

Cindy and me, drinking coffee, sitting on my porch steps, on my nicest couch blanket, so our bums and feet do not get wet, because it has rained hard recently. It is barely misting.
Cindy is sewing.
I am writing.
We are talking about books.
It lasted 7 minutes. It was bloody cold.

Because It Was So Much Fun The First Time

1. If you are rolling your eyes again at me, fantastic!
2. If you are my friend, I love you.
3. If you have something better to do, you already know I do not want you here.
4. If you aren't taking the hint, I am happy to tell you to screw off.
5. If you cannot breathe, I hope it is only for a minute and something wonderful has happened.
6. If you do not want it anymore, you might have upped it's worth.
7. If you are Phoebe, thank you.
8. If you have to walk up a stairwell alone, do it with some sex-appeal.
9. If you do not learn to be selfish, you will never be good at giving.
10. If you are hurt by someone, but not brave enough to speak up, get over it.
11. If you spilt it, clean it up.
12. If you think you can do better, is there someone else who thinks you are the best?
13. If you have a dog, I bet he would like a surprise walk or car ride right now.
14. If you have a $1.55, you better buy me a coffee before you walk through my door.
15. If you are in my Favorites List, I visit you at le…

My Summer Steps

I have sugar cones in my house. I did not buy them because I am not particularity fond of them. But I remember always wanting one every time I was out for ice cream as a child. My Mother never bought sugar cones, either.
My house felt packed. Three adults and three kids running inside, then outside.
And I got to thinking ice cream sugar cones would be a fabulous treat. We could eat them on the steps. Where everyone would be outside. On my steps.
So, us adults start the line. Amber is the collector. I am the scooper. I let Aunt Cindy receive the excited thank yous and smiles of the children. She misses her own kid today.
The ice cream is hard, coming from the deep freeze. I dig in with my scooping anyway, using hot water freely. I find myself annoyed by the fifth cone. I have wet ice cream sticking down to my wrists.
My son is almost done his cone by the time we are all sitting on the steps and this annoys me further. So much for my perfect little picture of laughing, sm…

Four In The Afternoon

Seven Years Old

Momma's shirt slipped from her shoulders as she leaned over trying to concentrate. The sunshine from the window hit her hair just right, sending a halo of pure white around her head. As she sat at the kitchen table, she almost looked beautiful. If only her bones did not appear so sharp.
"Hold still Sissy," she said, annoyed. The red nail polish coated thick on the little girl's fingers, wet and sticky on her skin. Small bubbles of it splattered the yellow Formica.
"I am," whined Sissy, but she really wasn't. It was not too often she caught Momma's attention and it excited her.
Momma reached for her drink with shaky hands. Tommy watched the sweet brown liquid spill and trail down her arm, a long thin stream. Momma raised her arm a little higher and tasted her arm, licking it all off in one quick moment with the tip of her tongue.
"Waste not, want not," she brought her head back up.
"Momma, I am hungry," Tommy spo…

I Missed My Kids

Heard, But Not Said To Me

My Daughter: Sometimes my Dad buys me some really ugly dolls. But I cannot tell him that. Instead I put her on my dresser with my other ugly dolls and next time he comes in my room, I say to him "Look, Dad, doesn't she look beautiful there?"

Take it Easy

My son is wiggling his dirty little toes in his sandals.
He curls up his lip. "Look, they're growing," he almost growls out.
He means his toenails.
"I like these better. I can bite them off," he holds up his fingers and looks so serious.

If You...

1. If you are here, thank you for stopping by.
2. If you are my friend, I love you.
3. If you have something better to do, go do it. This list will be here when you get back.
4. If you have nothing better to do, I am honored.
5. If you are happy, let others know. Smile.
6. If you are wrong, be careful where you lay the blame.
7. If you are crying, do not be mad.
8. If you are scared, that is okay.
9. If you are sorry, so is someone else.
10. If you cannot decide, check out what is behind Door #3.
11. If you take a walk, say hi to a stranger.
12. If you miss someone, let them know.
13. If you have a hobby, schedule it in.
14. If you need help, pick the right person.
15. If you want to eat a fly, it will not kill you.
16. If you can do it, why aren't you?
17. If you are Brenda, I miss you.
18. If you take a fall, you can learn from the sting too. Just get back up.
19. If you care, listen.
20. If you have a story, tell it at the right time.
21. If you need to scream, do it alone.
22. If you cannot li…



In The Kitchen

She raised her hands high above her head in a big stretch, joining her hands together. She twisted her neck, rolling it around. She had to get some life in her. She had things to do.
She looked out the window, seeing the beautiful blue sky and was looking forward to the day.
Her eyes set upon the small glass apple dish sitting on her window ledge. She looked away.
And then looked back.
She was slightly puzzled. She suddenly realized she had not noticed her wedding rings that sat in that dish for a long time. She tried to think back to the last time she had seen them.
She remembered, thinking back to an angry day doing the dishes, when she had glared at them-but it had been like a blizzard outside that night.
Surely, she had noticed them since?
But she could not recall.
She picked up the rings and slid them into the pocket of her jeans.

Stepping Outside

She could not believe how cold it was out. Oh, it was nothing like the month before when it had still been snowing. But she had…

Dish Thoughts...

...How did that bag of pretzels explode in my downstairs freezer...

...How come my dreaded red pen has an endless supply of ink...

...The red paint is pink. I have 24 hours. I do not want to explain pink to a six year old...

...Why do I forget to take out garbage and buy things like more dish soap...


One Two Buckle My Shoe

10 Years Old

Tommy could lose himself for hours in the arcade, and often did. It was so dark, the air filling with the sounds of pip, pop and bling. The lights flashing mesmerized him. Hot, sweaty bodies and greasy hands mingled with stale and fresh cigarette smoke. Everything but the game would become hazy.
He had been so caught up in pumping quarters into Donkey Kong, he was surprised turning around to notice the window to outside mimicked inside. He had gotten pretty good at the game. He had only come with four dollars.
"Oh, shit," he whispered, moving quickly towards the doors.
"Jesus, Tommy," Freddy spoke up from behind the counter. "What are you still doing here? Your Momma is going to be worried sick. It's almost 10 o'clock."
Tommy ran his hands through his hair and bit on his lip.
"I am going," he replied, listening to the bell as he swung open the door.

Tommy ran quickly through the streets, passing the dimly lit-homes with cur…