Friday, November 30, 2012

Play Time

There are always choices in life.  Say, when your children pull the shoes out of the closet every time you put them away, you have gads of options:
 You could
1. Scream
2. Leave the shoes out
3. Put them away again
4. Laugh
5. Take pictures

I've done all of those things, except the screaming, but I'm young and so are they, I figure there's plenty of time for that.

My favorite is when I choose to laugh about it.

ALSO, we're almost ready to close the ThanksGIVEaway and announce winners, have you put in your bid for one of Hallie's or Hanna's watercolors? They are a hot item this time around!

Thursday, November 29, 2012

I Wrote A Novel

Maybe you've heard?  I've been writing a novel for National Novel Writing Month, and it ends tomorrow.  I asked my friends on facebook to challenge me with words to use in my last push to finish.  They really came through for me with a whole list of crazy words.  To thank them, I wrote this chapter.  I put all of their words in, except for a handful that I had already used in a different chapter.  So this is for you, friends. Thanks for supporting me when probably what you really wanted to do was type in all caps, "WE DON'T CARE ABOUT YOUR NOVEL."  But if you do care, check out my web badge off to the side. That's my prize for winning.--------------------------------->
And now, I present to you, a chapter in my novel.  Also, you may want to read this with a dictionary.  The words I was instructed to use are in bold.  ALSO, this is a REALLY rough draft, so it is fine if you criticize me (which I really don't mind) just don't hate, ok?

62 Years Ago, in the Summer

Language ... has created the word 'loneliness' to express the pain of being alone.  And it has created the word 'solitude' to express the glory of being alone.
- Paul Tillich

At eighteen years old, Ray thought he knew something about pain.  He had lost his mother when he was only eight, and then had suffered a severe injury that required him to learn to walk again at 16, but he had never felt pain quite like this before.  The whole mess had started when he was finally healed enough after the accident to go to the common room to “hang out” with the other teenagers who were in the hospital convalescing.  His initial thought when they first pushed him into the room was that it was reminiscent of a really bad high school dance.  The girls were all shuffling around on one side of the room, and the boys were all staring stupidly off into space on the other side of the room.  The nurse began pushing him in that direction, but he waved his arm, “That way,” he commanded her.  If he had to sit in this ridiculous room with these sad people, he would at least be on the side with the girls.

And then he saw her.  At first sight there was not anything special about her, if you discounted everything about her.  He nodded to the nurse that she could leave and he pushed gently on his wheels to send his chair a little closer in her direction.  She was showing another girl pictures in a photo album.  He sat there for a moment, listening, until he felt that he had been near them for long enough that he could slip his presence  into the conversation.  “Mind if I take a look?” he asked, casually.

She looked up at him sharply, and it occurred to him that even though he knew he had been sitting there for some time, this was the first notice that she had taken of him.  He could feel his scalp tingling as the sweat began to pool.  She looked him over slowly, starting at his shoes.  He had never been so carefully examined in all his life, he supposed even the doctors who had examined him after his accident had failed to be so thorough.  And he knew, with the clarity that usually only comes just before death why all the boy were on the other side of the room.

Just when he thought she could not make him any more uncomfortable, she lifted the book off her lap and offered it to him.  “Sure, strange boy, they’re only my personal photos.  Why would I mind if you had a look at them?”

Her tone was so poised, and her spine so rigidly set that he was afraid to actually take the book from her.  She thrusted it forward more energetically, and he had no option but to take it.  He opened it to the first picture, and saw a small girl in a pink baby stroller.  He looked up at her, the question evident in his eyes.  “That’s my little sister, Lucy.”  She said, her tone softer now.  Her friend got up and walked away to talk to someone else, and the girl moved over on the couch closer to him.  He turned to the next page in the album.  The next pictures showed a dying basil plant on one side and a peanut plant on the other.  Again he looked up at her, again the question burning on his tongue.  “Those are my plants at home, my mom takes pictures of them to show me so I can see how well she is taking care of them while I am…here.”  He nodded his head to show he understood.  He turned to the next page and saw a picture of what must have been her, smiling wildly in a kayak, floating on the bluest water he had ever seen.  On the opposite page there was a picture of a loaf of bread sitting on the counter.  By now she knew what he expected and she answered before he had a chance to give her the question stare, “Yes, that was me in a kayak last year at the lake, and that is a loaf of bread.  My mom put those in to remind me of my favorite things, I guess to give me something to look forward to when I get out of here.  Sometimes I dream about the smell of baking bread. Have you ever dreamt a smell, before?”  He shook his head no.
“Look, what’s the matter with you?  You ask to look at my book, is that all you know how to say?  Do you have halitosis or something?”  The rigidity was back in her spine, the arrogance had returned in her voice.  Again, feeling almost as if he wanted to mock her, he shook his head no.  He found himself somewhat surprised at his own sassiness.
She looked him over again, and for reasons he could not fathom she turned the page on her own and continued talking, as if her previous outburst had never happened.
“And here is the penultimate one, it is my favorite.  I love the way you can actually see, because of the angle of the shot, the rhizomatically inclined plants…” The force of his stare caused her to stop talking.  Did she really always talk like that, or was she just showing off for him?  She didn’t need to use weird words to impress him, he had never seen a vixen like her before.
“So, you’re kind of smart, is that it?”  he asked her, using his voice again but immediately regretting it as if his own vocabulary made his intelligence naked in front of her.
“I do consider myself to be rather fecund, yes.” She answered, a smug smile on her lips.  Her lips were a shocking red against the sallow color of her skin, how had he not noticed before how sick she looked?  What was it about her that was so fascinating?  It couldn’t be her looks, because that would make him shallow, and it couldn’t be her attitude because that just drove him crazy. 

He had a lot of time on his hands however, and if she wanted to play smart guy, he would show her.  He asked his father to bring him a dictionary and a thesaurus next time he came.  Once his father had brought it to him, he stealthily hid the bulky volume under his pillow as well as he could, he did not want to have to explain to anyone why he had them.  He knew if he worked at it, he could make himself a contender in this game she was playing.

He asked the nurse to wheel him in to the common room where he knew she typically spent her time.  He saw Kara in her favorite corner, in the couch by the window.  A nurse was handing her her meds, and he smiled.  He knew this one.
“I see you are having your preprandial medicines.  I just took mine,” he unconsciously puffed out his chest as he said the words, but immediately deflated when she laughed at him.
“What did you say?” she asked, her tone haughty and condescending.
“Oh, I was just referring to your little, you know,” he began stumbling, “preprandial medicine,” he sputtered off, the look she was giving him scaring him into silence.
He wanted to retreat to his room.  She had scored the ace this time but he was not giving up.  He gestured to a nurse that he wanted to go back to his room, and resolved to work even harder.  In the coming days he no longer cared who saw him with the open dictionary and thesaurus, furiously scribbling notes in his journal.  This game was on.
As soon as he saw her when he was rolled back into the room the next day he imagined himself defenestrating her.  Either that, or just really, really kissing her.

He continued his game, half seriously trying to impress her and half just enjoying the way it made her act so superior each time he used one of his new fancy words.

The day he actually did try to kiss her and she rejected him was the day he knew that he knew nothing about pain.  Even realizing that how he felt could be described as maudlin only made him feel worse.  He had been a football player, and now he was nothing but a rejected fake intellectual in a wheelchair.

Tuesday, November 27, 2012


Turns out I sort of thought maybe children's hair cuts didn't cost that much money.  And maybe I have a skewed sense of "what doesn't cost that much money".  I called all over town and was stunned by the prices they were charging.

Also, I have never once in my life walked in to get a haircut without my mother with me.  True story.

What that means is I had no idea what to do about a tip.  How does it work?

I kept putting it off and putting it off because I just didn't want to deal with any of it, but the little snips on the side of her head were really starting to bother me, so I got them all bundled up this morning.

Which, by the way, is the most frustrating part of late fall. I got them way overbundled because yesterday it was windy and snowing and literally freezing outside, and today it was balmy and almost nice. 

Picture me, then, wearing way too many clothes, bulky and overheated and uncomfortable, sweating  because I don't know how to tip, sweating when I realize I left my wallet in the house and I have no cash, and panicking because I forgot to look up the address of the place and all I know is the street name.

Yeah, I put the car in reverse and backed out anyway.  Life is short, peeps.  You figure it out, right?

My plan: I would go to the bank and just ask for cash. 
Then I would drive up and down the road until I saw it.
Then I would wing it on the tip.  Just go with the moment, you know?

The bank was a success, and as I was pulling out I remembered that the WalMart has a little hair cutting place, and the Walmart is right next to my bank.  New plan.

And bonus, the Walmart price (this will shock no one, I think) was the cheapest anywhere.

Done, and done.

Also, I tipped two dollars.  Just right?  Excessive?  Offensive? Why am I so socially inept?

Hanna got her hair cut as well.  The cuts were 9.95 each.  I think they made Hallie's hair look pretty good, considering.  And I got to keep most of the length.

Friday, November 23, 2012


You know what? November really has a lot going on.

Daylight Savings Time.
Black Friday.
Small Business Saturday.
Cyber Monday.
My brother's Birthday.

and so on, you see.

For me, the real big thing this November has been my participation in the insanity that is NaNoWriMo. (National Novel Writing Month).

I mean, who writes 50,000 words in 30 days?  Crazy people do.

Here's what I've learned.

1. A chapter can be any length I want, I'm the author!
2. I can set up the chapters however I want, I'm the author!
3. I have to make my characters say things.  Apparently, I'm the author.
4. I have to make my characters move around, otherwise they don't do anything.
5. It isn't actually all that easy.

And now you know what I know about writing a novel.

Thursday, November 22, 2012

Innovative Chef, Strikes Again!

ThanksGIVEaway here!

Devin and I are fairly confident in our Thanksgiving meal, we know our dishes, we each have our roles, and it is a really low key, low stress, delicious day for us.  In fact, last night Devin was lamenting that he always felt leading up to Thanksgiving like it was going to be this wild hustle and bustle in the kitchen, and then he was always let down because there was never enough to actually do.  (Please keep in mind, we make every single dish from scratch.  So basically, he's crazy when he thinks there isn't enough to do.  I think there's plenty!)

Long time readers of my blog (all three of you, hi!) might remember a post I did about the "Innovative Chef".  Well, this morning he rose again in triumph and glory.

It was like this, see.  We got out the roasting pan (one of his students gave him a few years ago, they are always giving us presents...)  and I put the vegetables in the bottom while Devin fought with the large bird in the sink.  I got the lemon juice, vegetable oil, and lemon pepper ready.  Devin wrestled the bird into the roasting pan and we prepared the bottom.  So far, smelling really good.  He flipped the bird and we prepared the other side.  All done, so pretty!

I put the lid to the roasting pan on.  Or, I tried to anyway.  There was a good full inch between the bottom of the roasting pan and the lid.  The bird was too big.  TOO BIG.  In mock horror I said to the girls, "Oh no, the bird does not fit in the roasting pan, whatever will we do?!"

And Devin said, "I guess we'll have to improvise." a light gleaming in his eyes.

He ran to get some shoes, put them on and then ran into the backyard.  He was back moments later with an old tomato cage in his hands and a triumphant look on his face.  He clomped down to the basement where I heard all sorts of wild banging and crashing.

He reemerged from the basement, put together some sort of wire contraption on the bird, and nodded his head, satisfied.

The bird was only six minutes late for her beauty treatment on the bottom rack of the oven.

I almost think Devin wished it had taken longer for him to figure something out.

You want pictures?  Right now I have to go get ready for the  5th Annual Rose Family and Friends Turkey Run. (I miss you, Sandy!)  But I will take some when it comes out, deal?

if you're curious, also on our menu:
sweet potatoes
mashed potatoes
stuffing (from homemade bread)
shoofly pie
pumpkin pie
jello fruit salad
green beans
cranberry sauce (ah, we do not make this ourselves.  maybe someday?)


Tuesday, November 20, 2012

We Take Walks

Don't forget to check out this year's ThanksGIVEaway!

It is practically criminal to have a sunny day in the middle of November, warm enough to go outside in just a t-shirt, and then NOT go outside. Am I right? 

First we had to get everyone dressed. this included all of the real living human beings, and the baby dolls as well, of course.  Hallie was too hot in what she was wearing (one long sleeve t-shirt, and three short sleeve t-shirts - she got herself dressed this morning), and I had to take my top layer off as we walked as well.

Next we had to get all of the strollers ready.  Snacks, purses, sunglasses, and Hallie had to draw a map.

That's her newest thing, drawing maps for us so we don't get lost when we go on walks or bike rides around the block.  Every so often she'll pull it out and slowly unfold it and look at it for a moment. 

Then she'll boldly declare, "The map says when we see a turn, we should turn." 

"The map says do not go in the road."

"The map says if it is straight we go straight, if it turns we should turn."

I would just love to know what my neighbors think of our procession.

 My crew at takeoff.

 Don't worry, that creepy looking shadow? That's just me.

 Hallie stops the parade to tell us where we will be going next.

 And on we go.

But seriously, do you think my neighbors are laughing at us behind their curtains?  

I do a lot of good things on these walks.  I've returned lost cats, and money I found blowing around someone's yard, and I've made friends, and we've waved to dogs, and... given my neighbors a hearty chuckle.  They say laughing is good for you.

I know what's good for me is getting out and enjoying the sunshine while it lasts!


You might remember ThanksGIVEaway from last year?  If not, it is basically my way of saying thanks for being awesome, fellow humans.  And it is my way of focusing on the second part of Thanksgiving.  We are all pretty good at the "Thanks" part, so this is my way of tuning in to the "Give" part.  Nothing huge or fancy, just a few little items I put together, little gifts from me to you.  And since I only have what, ten? people who read this blog, your chances of winning are sky high.  All you have to do is leave a comment telling me what you'd like to win!  I prefer one comment per item, it just helps me stay organized.  But I don't really have any rules, and I am reasonably intelligent, so I can probably figure it out even if you want more than one thing and put it in the same comment.

ThanksGIVEaway closes on Dec. 1, 2012 at midnight.  Winners will be announced Dec. 3, 2012.

Ok, let's play!

 1. set of everday magnets  (green plaid)

 2. set of Autumn magnets (acorns in blue, orange, and brown.

 3. Mary Kay sample perfume (Velocity)

4. Mary Kay sample perfume (Thinking of You) - this is what I wear!

 5. Mary Kay sample perfume (Journey)

 6. Snow White and Prince Charming, a watercolor (by Amy Rose) this one is unfinished because Hallie cut up my favorite paintbrush... but maybe my mother will still want it? ha ha ha. p.s. I spent hours on it.

7. Cinderella with Mice, a watercolor (by Amy Rose).  I am crazy proud of the mice -------------------------->

8. Cinderella Scrubbing, a watercolor (by Amy Rose)

9. Ariel with Green Legs, a watercolor (by Hallie Rose)

10. Three black mice on Rainbow Spool of Thread, a watercolor (by Hallie Rose)

11. Cinderella and the Rainbow Dress, a watercolor (by Hanna Rose)

 12. Baby Girl Black Hair Bows (one on green and one on blue)

13. Green Bird Pillow

14. Blue Bird Pillow

15. Assorted Homemade Holiday Chocolates (not pictured because I haven't made them yet.)

(also, I was super proud of myself for the birds. I've never appliqued anything before.  The blue one also has a wing, you just can't see it in the picture).

Thursday, November 15, 2012

To Be Like Heather

Hanna was sitting on my lap in front of the computer.  I think she was begging for "Phigeas and Ferv" (Phineas and Ferb) and I was telling her that we were not going to watch any shows.  I think I was trying to organize our finances, or trying to write in my novel for NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month).  Suddenly I paused in whatever I was doing, my attention diverted by the sound of scissors snipping behind me.  I trust my girls with scissors, they will spend hours cutting shapes out of paper, and I have never had any trouble with them aside from the time Hanna cut a bunch of tiny holes in my favorite of her dresses.  But I had a very stern discussion with her about that, and after she was grounded from scissors for a while I let them have their scissors back.

Am I naive?

Am I too trusting?

Or is this just one of those inevitable childhood things, like falling off your bike and scraping your knee, or dropping your ice cream cone and picking it up and eating it anyway?

I listened to the sound of the snipping for a second, because something odd about it had alerted me.  I could not identify what was unusual about it, so I turned around in my chair.  Hallie was holding my favorite paintbrush*, and had clipped it all the way to the nub.  She could hear the sadness in my voice when I asked her why she did that.
"I don't know." She softly said.  I sighed, took the paintbrush away from her, and then took all the scissors. (There were five pairs on her little table.)
"I think these scissors will go in time out for a little while.  That was mommy's favorite paintbrush, Hallie."
I wanted her to know that she had ruined something special to me, but I didn't want to make a real big deal out of it, because after all, it is just a paint brush.  She still seemed inordinately sad to me, more sad than she should have been given my fairly laid back response so I tried to cheer her up.
I said we would watch Phigeas and Ferv, after all.  They both sat on my lap cuddled close, and I kept trying to get Hallie to smile.  It was a hard sell, and I couldn't figure out what exactly she was so worried about.
I scooted them off my lap so we could go eat lunch, and as I bent to stand up from the chair something on the floor caught my eye.
There were piles of long, blond hair strewn across the carpet.
It was not a lot of hair, but a couple good sized clumps here and there, all of varying lengths.
I inhaled sharply, but a quick glance at Hallie and Hanna's hair had me thoroughly confused.
Whose hair is this? I demanded from them.  They were quiet.  "I don't know," was their universal response. I tried over and over, and got nothing from Hallie but "I don't know."

Hanna began offering up other theories. "I think it was Ashley**.  I think Ashley came over and got the scissors and cut off all her hair."
I told her that wasn't possible, because the hair was not there a few minutes ago, and Ashley hasn't come over today.  Hanna continued to offer the Ashley theory, completely unperturbed by its absolute impossibility.  Hallie had retreated into absolute silence.  I pulled Hanna to me and ran my fingers through her hair.  I couldn't find any uneven spots.***
I did the same to Hallie's, and I could not find any in hers either.  I kept looking.  Finally I gave up, and we went upstairs to get some lunch.
We were sitting on the couch, and Hallie was still in a very somber mood.  I pulled her onto my lap to try and cuddle her into smiles again.  I did not know what was bugging her.  I looked at her dark brown eyes, so like her daddy's, and it hurt me to see her so sad and not know why.  As I looked so closely at her face, some of her hair was pushed forward, caused by static? and I could see wisps that were only as long as her ear.
I pulled her around.  Chunks of her hair on the right side of her face were missing.
"I don't know." is all she would say when I asked her why she did it.  Then I asked her why she told me she had not done it.  "I don't know."

I told her that is called lying, and lying is not a good thing to do, and did she lie because she thought I would be mad?  She would not stray from her now oft repeated line, "I don't know."
Hanna offered her idea, "Maybe it was just gas."

I was wavering between being upset by the hair cut, and upset by how sad she was.  It is in moments like these that I don't know what to do as a parent.  I told her we would go and get a haircut when Heather woke up, to fix her hair.  I asked her what kind of a hair cut she wanted.

She said, "I want my hair to look like Heather's."

Well, that's not going to happen.  I don't know how short we'll go, but I tell you this.

I will be crying.

*Don't get excited by my having a "favorite" paintbrush. I realize that implies some sort of talent, but all it really means is my girls love painting and so I sit with them and paint sometimes, and my paintings look barely better than theirs do.
**The name has been changed to protect the actual friend that Hanna was blaming.  I don't know why Hanna kept blaming the girl.  She is one of their favorite friends, and we really love her.  I don't know if her mom reads my blog, but I know that people she knows do, so... name changed just in case it would make anyone feel awkward to know that my children were blaming them.
***Any unusual, unexpected uneven spots.  Hanna's hair is still growing in, and I don't keep it trimmed to be even with the new growth, so there is a lot of uneven spots, but none that looked like it was caused by giving herself a haircut.

She'll understand when she's older why it made me cry, that she wanted to go from this hair:
 to this hair, great as it is: 
No offense to you, Heather.

Tuesday, November 13, 2012

Come On, Let's Go

We are all struggling with something.  Each of us has battled something, at some time, in life.  Do not give up.

I started crying when he said, "You feel like giving up and then all of a sudden you have someone standing there saying, "Come on. Let's go..."

Which part made you cry?

Thursday, November 8, 2012


I've been working on my novel for NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) and I'll tell you what, man, that whole thing is intense.  It's like three minute fiction on serious steroids.  I have a little over 40,000 words still to write, but I just needed a break ladies, a break!

So, I'm writing over here.  Yeah, that's how I take a break.  But see, you guys don't demand 50,000 words from me.  You don't even WANT that many words from me on here, am I right?

I have this feeling floating around somewhere inside my guts that you are feeling like you haven't had a good solid glimpse into the lives of the H's lately, and you're craving some of that craziness.

I will indulge you.

Heather has been given a new nickname, Bugeater.  Picture this: Hallie and Hanna streaming through the house, screaming "Bugeater! The Bugeater is coming! Hurry, get away! Here comes the Bugeater!"  and hot on their heels comes Heather, crawling furiously after her much faster, much bigger, much louder sisters.  Poor Bugeater.  She'll get hers someday, count on it.

Also, it makes me laugh every time they call her Bugeater.  When I tell her this story someday, I'll skip over the part where I thought it was funny, yeah?

Sometimes in the morning, particularly ones after a bad night with Heather (or Hanna, or Hallie, or all three) I will still be dozing in bed after everyone else is awake.  Devin will give them all breakfast, and then he will bring me my medicine and put Heather in bed next to me, kiss me goodbye, and tell me to have a good day.  Hallie and Hanna will trickle upstairs after they finish their cereal, and they will either crawl in bed with Heather and I, or they will find something to play with for a while, waiting for me to crack open my eyeballs.  The following happened in that hazy, dazy early morning hours, and so I don't really know what was going on, but this is what I heard Hanna say from across the room.

"Let's kill them! Kill, kill kill!"  then some sort of crashing sound as she banged something against something else.  "Kill, kill, kill!"

I wish I knew more about that story.

Today I had a friend come over to play our piano, and she has two little boys that she was going to bring with her.  I told the girls that some friends would be coming over to play with, and lest they think it was Zaida, or Jayne and Olivia, I made sure to tell them that these friends were boys.  A few hours later, and their patience was wearing thin.

Hanna, (whining) "When are my boyfriends going to come?"
Hallie, (demanding) "I WANT my BOYFRIENDS to come NOW."
And see, here I thought I had another good ten years before I had to start hearing that.

In the car, we usually listen to "Alice the Camel" (Hanna's request) or "Hankey Doodle" (also known as Yankee Doodle.) (Hallie's request).  Occasionally, however, I like to just listen to the good old fashioned radio.  So I had it on and was bebopping along to "my" music, and then I sort of drifted out of it and wasn't paying so much attention anymore.  A song came on that I didn't know, and about halfway into it I got tired of the sound of it, I wasn't even paying attention to the words, and I thought, "Why am I listening to this?" so I turned it off.  Just in time to hear Hanna ask, "Mommy, why did he say naked?"
I was shocked.  "What, Hanna?"
"Why did he say naked, in the song, mommy?"
I was having trouble grasping her meaning.  "What?"
Hallie stepped up to explain the basics to me.  "Mom, in the song, he said 'everybody should be naked."  There was a quiet pause.  Hallie continued, "But, mommy, why would he say that, because I think everybody should be dressed, right?"
Another quiet pause, and I am frantically trying to figure it out if I actually have to have that conversation with my two and four year olds, what do you say when your children ask you why a man is singing about wanting everyone to be naked? Then I was saved.
Hallie, "oooh! Mommy! A jack-o-lantern!"

And off they went, discussing the delights of a pumpkin at Halloween.  And that's when I solemnly vowed that if I was going to have the radio on in front of my kids I better be paying closer attention.  And, to just not have the radio on in front of them ever again.

And that pretty well sums up what has been going on around here lately.  Oh, well, and Heather has two new teeth, so she's a real eating machine now that she has uppers and bottoms, and also she started clapping two days ago.  Clapping! It's my favorite thing in the world, I've decided.  Those two pudgy little hands coming together smack! smack! smack!  She looks so proud of herself.

Monday, November 5, 2012

The Big Day

I am looking forward to tomorrow.  I know a lot of people are tired of this election, and I thought I would be as well.  Yet all I feel is excitement as I think about going to my polling place tomorrow, picking up my ballot and pencil, filling in my little bubbles, and then proudly wearing my sticker throughout the day.

I love this country.  I love the voices we are allowed to have, and I love that we don't have to agree, but we can still choose to get along.  I don't know how you are going to vote, but tomorrow I am filling in a few circles on both sides of the party lines.

(In the above picture, Fischer is a Republican and Kerrey is a Democrat.)

Writing Challenges

So they posted the official winner of the Three Minute Fiction contest for NPR's All Things Considered yesterday. If you'd like to read that, you can find it here.  If you want to read my personal favorites from the "favorites" posted throughout the competition, you can find them here and here and here.

And, here was my contribution.  If you've read the entries that I linked to above you'll see that mine was quite, quite different.  I was pleased with it nonetheless.  I'd love to hear your feedback, if you loved it, hated it, whatever you thought about it, let me know!

"I scurry out of my dark sanctuary as quickly as I can. My leg is finally starting to heal enough that I am confident I can get what I need and return to the darkness before anyone finds me.

I have to hurry to get the crumbs before the vacuums come. My leg still makes it hard for me to move as quickly as I once did. It feels strange to be out in the open again, but I do not let myself be slowed down by that either. I see the forgotten crumbs spread out across the carpet before me and choose the most efficient route to collect them all. I run past the three large south facing windows until I am by his oak desk. That is where the best crumbs always are. I stuff my cheeks as I go, holding nuts and dried fruit in my arms when my mouth is full. I scan the room over one last time to see if I have missed any, then race back to my dark place where I am safe.

Only when I am back in the quiet, soothing darkness can I enjoy the bits of food that have fallen like manna from heaven. I put my little paws together and take a moment to appreciate what I have been given. I reflect back on the hard times. Once, his wife made him go on a diet. The crumbs were especially lean during that time. I pause in my chewing, remembering how miserable those cold days had been, when my stomach was hard with hunger. I shudder as I think of it. My mind almost wanders to the other bad time, but just before that image of cheese nestled daintily on the metal spring comes into my mind I begin humming softly and turn my attention fully back to my food. I try not to notice that I am rubbing my bad leg.

My snack is almost gone when I hear the door to his room opening again. I stiffen, and look out to see if it is the cleaning people. They make so much noise I can never get my after lunch nap until they are finished and gone. When I see it is not them with their vacuums, I turn away and head toward my soft rags in the back to have a little rest.

I am drifting off to sleep, the steady drone of their voices is a lullaby in my ears.  “...Yes, Mr. President...economy...  No, Mr. President...employment...  ...more trail mix, sir... right away. ...discuss reelection.”

I smile. My whiskers twitch. I rub my tummy, anticipating the feast I will have when I wake from my nap. I feel my body get heavy as my subconscious succumbs to the darkness of slumber. I don’t know what reelection means, but I do know sunflower seeds and dried fruit."

Ah, so that was really, really fun.  And I have now joined up for NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) and I am getting excited for that now as well!  Here we go!!

Friday, November 2, 2012

Questions About Blogging

First of all, I have been having a lot of fun writing on Alison's new blog, have you checked it out?  Here is a post about a delicious pumpkin treat we love to eat around this house, and here is the post I wrote today.

And, quick side note about a previous blog post: I went to the Eid al-Adha festival that I mentioned, and I wore the long blue skirt and a white long sleeved sweater.  I am glad that is what I wore, so thanks for your input and suggestions!  There was quite a mix of people there, my friend said there were people there from so many countries around the world.  It was interesting to see, even the very traditional Muslims all had different styles and manners of dressing.  There were a few things in common of course - namely, the covering of their heads (for the women).  It is an interesting experience being completely in the minority, and one that I haven't experienced in a while.  Perhaps not even since living in Brasil have I been so completely in the minority.  I think it is good every now and then to put yourself in that kind of situation.  It reminded me of what it must feel like for someone every time I invite them to come to church with me.

I frequently have people ask me how to make the pumpkin soup that I like to make.  Devin suggested that I do a "tutorial".  If I were to go to the trouble of taking all the pictures and whatnot, would you be interested in having me put it on my blog, or should I just email it to those who have specifically asked me already?

Speaking of blogging, I have a serious question now.  I have seen in the comments section of some blogs that there is a "reply" button, so that other commenters can reply to a specific comment.  My blog does not have this option, but I would really, really, really like it to.  Does anyone know how to turn on that feature on a blog?

ALSO, speaking of comments on blogs, I would like to apologize to Andrea, the one who would like to win the tutu for Camille, in the ThanksGIVEaway.  That was last year's ThanksGIVEaway, I haven't posted this year's yet.  I'm sorry for the confusion, and I hope there is something this year that you'd like to try and win for Camille.  Are you out there, Andrea?

Ok, here's another one about blogging.  Sometimes I am invited to participate in a "Blog Hop".  What is this, and how does it work, and, at the risk of being repetitive, what is it?  Usually when I am invited it is a book blog hop... and I love books, so I wish I knew what was going on, because I might be interested!

OK, well, I think those are all the pressing blog issues I had.  Thanks!

Thursday, November 1, 2012

15 Years

This was an extra special Halloween for me, as it was the 15 year anniversary of my friendship with my girl Al. 

That may not sound like something very exciting to some of you, I don't know.

But outside of my family, that is the absolute longest time I have ever known someone, and stayed close to.  And this year marked the year that we have been friends for more than half the time I've been alive.

She came to visit to celebrate, and we went wild and crazy.  We had an entire list of things we thought we should do to commemorate this special time. I don't know how many of the things on our list got crossed off, but we did go to a pumpkin patch, buy apples from the orchard, go to the trunk or treat, go to a Muslim celebration, go to a Halloween party, go to church, talk about the good old days, talk about what is new and current, soaked our feet, made bows, carved pumpkins,

and then we baked an apple pie.
 how much do you love homemade pie crust?  I'm going to have to go with A LOT.

 how much do you love Al P.? I'm gonna have to go with A LOT.

In case you were wondering, yes it was so good.  Also, when we gave Hanna the last slice, and then we turned around, and then we looked back at her, and she was shaking the salt and pepper shakers on it. Devin lunged across the kitchen in slow motion, "nooooooooooo!" and then she tried to eat a bite of it anyway.  And then the whole thing went in the trash, the salty peppery mess.

That was a really sad end to that pie.  A note for all of you: Do Not Put Salt And Pepper on Your Pie.