%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 |   Reflections and ruminations from a modern day Alice - Life is Wonderland |
|
Reflections and ruminations from a modern day Alice - Life is Wonderland  Welcome to the place were I chronicle my own falls down dark holes and adventures chasing white rabbits! Come on In, Take a Bite, You Never Know What You May Find... "Curiouser and curiouser." Alice in Wonderland    |
| 30 Day Blogging Challenge PROMPT November 12th What is one thing (sight, smell, sound, object, etc) that, when you encounter it, instantly brings you back to your childhood? Maybe it's because I am a bit hungry this morning, but when I read the prompt both things that came to mind were food-related. They are both connected to my great grandmother Claudette. My father's grandparents were first generations French Canadians who immigrated here from Quebec when they were newly married. My great grandmother Claudette was a northern beauty who's heavily accented French became beloved part of the soundtrack of my youth. She had perfect alabaster skin and delicate, perfect teeth and delicate features well into her nineties. She had this gorgeous, thick white hair that she kept tucked up under these fabric caps with a lacy ruffle around the edge. When I was a child my father bought her little house on the hill and she moved just down meadow to us in a pristine little trailer with a red wood porch out front. We would visit her once or twice a day, bringing her sprigs of golden rod or whatever else we would manage to find growing around our property. She would throw open the door with a bright and cheery, "Ahh-lloooo, my prince and princesses!" and beckon our broad inside, delighted by whatever meager thing we'd brought her that day. She would settle into her floral rocker for a few moments, reaching a hand down to pet Peso, the ancient French toy poodle who was a constant presence at her feet. She would politely listen to our chatter for a few moments before suddenly clasping her hands together in mock surprise and and asking, "But who wants a wish?" My great grandmother's "wishes" were chocolates, Whitman's chocolates to be exact. She loved all sweets and but chocolates were her absolute favorite. She always had one of the big yellow Whitman's boxes on hand and she would jump up and fetch it. She would pass it around, just as eager to watch her guest chose as she was to sample her own once everyone had had their turn. You only got one shot and you had to eat what you chose, so you did it carefully. We grew adept at avoiding the orange cremes and coconut ones over the years. Those icon Whitman's boxes always remind me of these visits with my great grandmother Claudette, and the warm and welcoming presence she was in my life.  Ironically, the other sweet I associate with Gramma Claudette does not evoke those same sentiments. In fact, the mere memory of them brings me to the brink of nausea. My great grandmother had a bowl of pink and red carnival glass she kept on her dining room table. It was filled with a old fashioned confection called circus peanuts. These were pastel colored treats shaped to look more or less like their namesake. On one particular visit with the family, I sat absently working on one of the massive puzzles she had spread out across the table. These puzzles had thousands of tiny pieces and you could work for an hour and not get one to fit. My parents were involved in a lengthy discussion about something that failed to hold my interest. I sat, halfheartedly trying pieces with one hand, and stuffing circus peanuts into my maw with the other. At first, I remember they tasted like marshmallows, nutty and a bit chalky but still marshmallows. After the fifth one, I began to notice an unfortunate aftertaste that soon blossomed into a full, all up in my mouth sickeningly sweet tang that made my mouth water and my eyes burn. The skin of my face was suddenly slick with sweat and I was overcome with the powerful need to vomit. I rushed past my startled family and threw-up in a bush of my grandmother's deep purple dahlias. I remember that I felt like I was going to die, but also that I was oddly impressed to find that the circus peanut vomit looked just like rainbow sherbet against the dark foliage. I was sick for hours after, plagued by a queasy stomach and bitter taste in the back of my throat I could not get past. So powerful is that memory, even seeing a bag of circus peanuts can provoke an almost visceral reaction from me today.  My great grandmother was a remarkable women who has inspired me very often through the years. If you are interested, several years ago I had a piece published in the 2013 Summer Edition of the River Poet's Journal about her called, "Claudette's Lovely Dementia" An earlier version of that piece resides in my port:
|
| 30 Day Blogging Challenge PROMPT November 11th Today, your prompt is one word: Transformation. I feel oddly burned out by the last few prompts...it doesn't help either that I've had to catch up on them all this morning following a busy weekend. None the less, they've somehow all forced me to be more introspective than I am comfortable being at this stage in my life. It has to do with me, and not the prompts of course. I think for this one I will take a different tack and flex some creative writing muscles and give my tender ego a break. The whistle blared suddenly, a shrill sound that cut through the late October air. Elson saw with some dismay that she was the source of the penalty. She had been off sides, again. She wasn't used to playing a forward. She'd been on defense all season and that had suited her just fine. She knew her position well, she moved freely within the confines of her defensive box. It was the last game of the season though and her coach had one remaining chance to claim all her players had scored at least one goal before their run ended. Elson was the one player yet to score and so, reluctantly she was playing well out of her comfort zone as a striker. She had known to expect this. The team had drilled goal kicks with her at last night's practice. They were all working hard to set her up so she could bring it home. It wasn't that she didn't appreciate their efforts, she just didn't see the importance of needing to score. Elson liked playing defense. She was good at it. She knew she had one job, to clear the ball. Most of the time, she connected with a solid kick that would send it soaring back away from the net, back up the field. The attention on her was only focused for as long as it took her to do her job, then the crowd moved on, moved off her and back to the offensive line. Elson did not like being the center of attention for longer than was absolutely necessary. Yet here she was, on the front line. The crowd was intently invested in her every move. She felt out of sorts, pressured in a way she was not at all fond of. She counted down the remaining minutes in her head, hoping the game clock ran out before she would be passed the soccer ball again. Then, it happened. Jacob got the ball and everyone was shouting for her to "get up with him" as he moved it up the field toward the goal. Elson drove her long legs forward, closing ground and coming alongside Jacob. There was no one around them and the goalie looked anxious.Elson shouted for him to shoot. In answer, he looked at her and passed the soccer ball directly to her, right in front of the goal. He smiled and said, "Here you go Elson!" It was lined up perfectly. Elson barely registered the screaming crowd over the sudden thunder in her ears. She saw her coach and team on the sidelines, jumping up and waving their arms frantically at her. She felt the sun on her back and her skin felt oddly hot and prickly. Elson closed her eyes and kicked as hard as she could. She felt the toe of her cleat connect and opened her eyes in time to watch her goal kick soar over the goalie's head and into the net. The sideline erupted with hoots and screams. The coach called her and Jacob off the field and the team met them with hugs and cheers. Elson turned to thank Jacob who was celebrating his beautiful assist with a wide, proud smile. She had not anticipated how good it would feel to score. It transformed her in the moment, took her from the backdrop and out into the light. She welcomed the attention this time, basking in the look of pride on her mom's and Dad's faces. It had taken all season but she had gotten the moment she had not know she'd wanted, and she for just this once, she was happy to claim it. |
| 30 Day Blogging Challenge PROMPT November 10th What do you find yourself insecure about? Are you able to overcome your insecurities? If so, how? Before the last six months of my life, I would have said I was most insecure about my body...or more accurately, my weight. I have struggled with it on and off for most of my adult life. I have trouble sticking to regimented diets and instead try to focus on healthy lifestyle choices instead. Lately though, my weight has slipped pretty low on the "things I feel insecure about" totem pole. I find myself second guessing just about everything I do, especially at work. I struggle to find the confidence I once had. I know it goes hand and hand with something that happened, some deceit I accidentally uncovered...but it's opened a much bigger can of worms for me. I'm having issues with this prompt even...I feel like its only adding to my anxiety this morning. I'm certain I will eventually overcome my insecurities, I have to force a confrontation first and then I can rebuild hopefully. I'm just struggling with finding my way just now. |
| 30 Day Blogging Challenge PROMPT November 9th Write a stream of conscious entry starting with the words “I wish...” Once again I am catching up...but I'm determined for myself to check off each day on this challenge. I need to develop some discipline as a writer so this challenge affords me a chance to work on that. I wish that it wasn't already Monday. I do not feel as if the weekend provided adequate down time enough to prepare me for this week. I'm not ready for the departmental meeting Tuesday morning, nor the PTO meeting on Wed evening, or the family dinner with my husband's family on Thursday. This morning I ordered a large coffee. It is only 9:50am and I only have two fingers of cold coffee remaining. It is not enough to get me through this day. I have this lovely secretary. She is an older lady, a real sweetie but she likes to talk to herself, narrate her tasks and read me joint emails before I have a chance to open and read them for myself. She is reliable and always willing to help so I get upset with myself for having so little patience with her quirks sometimes. I am just someone used to working alone I guess. I've been at this job now for over two decades...twenty-two years. I was kid when I started, literally. Now I am old and jaded...not really but I am dealing with a bit of career crisis and there is a large confrontation brewing that I have tried to stave off with busy work. It makes me anxious though. I know I have to bite the bullet and say my piece soon, I'm slowly gearing up and fortifying myself I guess. I think I do much better writing to a prompt. These days my conscience seems overtaxed and distracted. This lame attempt isn't helping me to feel better unfortunately so I think I will just stop here. |
| 30 Day Blogging Challenger PROMPT November 8th Besides music, what are some of your favorite sounds? Aside from music, there are some sounds that I associate with happiness. As much as music soothes my soul, the sound of my daughter's sleep laughter brings me to a place of well-being and peace that little else does. Even at 9, she still manages to wander into our bed at some point in the wee hours of morning. I still wake up with her little body curled around mine or find her lying in the bend of her father's arm when the alarm goes off. On the rarest occasions, I've been awaken by her having a dream in which she is laughing about something. The giggles bubble up from her in the dimness and I watch her delicate mouth curl up in that secret dream smile that makes my heart nearly burst with a tender kind of joy. There is something so unguarded and pure about the sound, it goes straight to my mother's heart. I love the sound Roo makes when we come to visit him. He usually hears our car these days. He is already softly nickering for us before we even get to his paddock. His nicker is a soft, fluttering sound that seems to start in his wide barrelled-belly. Sometimes when he is really feeling affectionate, he will put his big head on my shoulder and nicker into my ear and the gentle sound is accompanied by the sweet smell of his grass-soaked breathe. It is a sound that brings me a special kind of peace. I love the sound of the Spring birds, especially after a tough, snow bound New England winter. When you hear that little tinkling of bird calls in the early morning, you can dream of a coming thaw. You can picture a green bounty of life waiting just under the snow and it makes you feel as hopeful as the warm sun on your back. Oddly enough, one of my favorite sounds of all is the absence of sound that accompanies a blanket of freshly fallen snow. I love opening the door to a world that has been covered with a thick layer of overnight snow to find the world has gone silent. The lawn and the trees are shrouded with white, unmarred by footprints and the air is thin and almost brittle like glass. There is a quietness that accompanies that particular landscape that brings me a deep serenity for some reason. Before long the silence will be broken by distant plows and the dogs will tear ribbons through the pristine blanket of snow but for a few moments it will be absolutely and perfectly silent. |
| 30 Day blogging Challenge PROMPT November 7th What is your favorite color? Do you have a favorite color pairing? What’s something in your life that you picture when you think of your favorite color? Do you choose to wear clothing that is your favorite color? Has your favorite color changed over your life? Use these questions to explore how your favorite color has influenced you. Catching up today because yesterday I took my daughter to my first ever, Equine Affair, in Springfield, MA. For those of you that have never heard of it...think Comic-Con on crack for the horse world. For a newbie like me, it was overwhelming. There had to be miles of booths hawking everything you could possible need connected to horses...from summer camps to supplements! We barely took in a 1/5 of the available demonstrations and clinics that were scheduled to run over the four day event. It was a special day I got to spend with my sister and my daughter but we returned last night just as it was getting dark. My legs were aching and my brain was positively fried. I wish I'd know the prompt wasn't as intensive as the previous ones or I might have tried to tackle it, still clad in my horse clothes and barn boots, rather than showering and putting myself to bed early. So...here I am playing a bit of catch-up again this morning and feeling sheepishly pleased that this one is so easy for me. Red is by far my favorite color. I love it in all its variations but its that fire engine red...that bright and unapologetically bold red...that is by far my favorite flavor of red. I love it when its paired with orange, that fire and flame combination that sparks among the russets and golds of the Autumn landscape here. Red for me is the ultimate power color, associated with passion and flare. I feel bolder when I'm wearing red. I have several pieces that stand out in my work wardrobe that is otherwise comprised mainly of black, navy and brown. I reserve those outfits for those days I know will be a challenge and I will need a bit of extra spunk in my corner. Red is color of Christmas. Red is the sweet, fresh curl of peppermint and the shiny sheen on Santa's jovial cheeks. I decorate my tree in bright, red mirror ball ornaments and gold pearl garlands. I decorate early every year, putting up the tree the day after Thanksgiving as a tradition. Red is the color of merriment and mirth for me, it fires the happy cells in my brain somehow. Lastly, red is the color of my daughter's birthstone. She was born in January so her birthstone is the dark, richly colored Garnet. We bought her an inexpensive birthstone ring last year for her birthday and the tiny garnet set in sterling silver looked positively beautiful on her long, delicate finger. Red, for me, is representative of her now too. |
| 30 Day Blogging Challenge PROMPT November 6th I have another link for you all today: http://www.wmfc.org/uploads/GenerationalDifferencesChart.pdf What parts of the chart did you find to be accurate and which did you find issue with? Anything you related strongly to? Is a chart like this useful, or does it rely too heavily on stereotypes? Until I visited the link, I think it had barely registered with me that I was part of the Gen X generation. Once again, I come away from the prompt feeling more educated on some matters than I did before. I suppose I should come out from under my rock more often. There was a lot to unpack here and I feel oddly overwhelmed honestly. I will try to tackle the prompt none the less. Now, feeling somewhat of a newly-minted X'er, I am forced to acknowledge that most of the generational markers for my age bracket, actually do fit. I remember when my mother shrugged off her mantle of "housewife" and took a job outside the home. No matter that it was a starting retail position in a touristy boutique called, "It's Raining Cats and Dogs", where she sold mugs, pillow and ornaments merrily festooned with..you guessed it...various images of cats and dogs. She was still one of the very first Mom's in my circle of friends to do that. I remember they all asked me about it with a wide-eyed reverence, as if she'd suddenly invented something groundbreaking. I would remind them, somewhat caustically, that she "just sold dog stuff in a gift shop", not really understanding why it all embarrassed me somehow. The retail job was only the beginning. She went back to school and found her groove pursuing women's studies. Suddenly our home was invaded by books with titles like, "Women who Run with the Wolves" and conversations around our dinner table took on a tone of unnecessary defiance. My father, who had readily encouraged my mother's surge of interest and independence, found himself suddenly and unfairly vilified for being a man. I think my mother fancied herself as something of a pioneer...just several decades too late. Around the time my friends' mothers began going back to work, my parents were divorcing - something they were also "first at" among my peers. Before long, most of us were "latchkey kids", deposited by rambling school buses to the stoops of quiet, empty homes. By the time I was going off to college, my parents had two separate residences to which we all had keys to let ourselves into. My friends' families started going through similar transitions and in time, my parent's failed to seem like the negative trendsetters I felt they'd been. They were younger than most and I think they just came to all milestones a bit quicker as a result. I think I would agree that my generation are naturally more pragmatic and self-reliant than the Boomers that came before. I think most of us grew up having to learn to take care of ourselves more. I can see how all those kids letting themselves into empty homes, forced to cook their own Hungry Man dinners, must have inspired a higher level of independence. The disharmony in my household inspired me to "get the hell outta dodge". Going away to college wasn't merely a suggestion, the real question had become "how far away can I actually get?". I ended up at a school four hours away, just far enough to make the case I could stay put on the weekends instead of coming home with a duffel of laundry. Luckily I was with all my fellow Gen X's and most of all could not only do our own laundry, but we could also cook our own meals. The really sad thing about the link, the really unfortunate distinction for me, is that we are first generation not expected to do a well as our parents. That is somewhat crushing, given my current state of affairs. Maybe, at least, our generation will end up being credited with helping to solve the energy crisis? Wait, what? That one is already going to the Millennials? Crap. |
| 30 Day Blogging Challenge PROMPT November 5th Write your entry today inspired by one of the emotions listed on the webpage below: https://soulspottv.com/15-words-youve-never-heard-describe-emotions-we-all-feel-... I thoroughly enjoyed this prompt. Every single one of these emotions were new to me and more than a few of them really struck me as applicable to my current stage of life. Right off the bat though, two of them really hit home and oddly enough, they seem to dovetail together in a blanket description of how I've been feeling for the few months. For the first time in my life, I've been dealing with a pretty significant depression. Recently current events have made me question the life choices I have made in my career. I have become increasing anxious that I may have wasted too much of my life laying a foundation on compromised ground. I now have a name to give that terrible feeling I've been suffering from, the feeling that the second half of my life is passing to quickly for me to catch up or to start again. Zenosyne is right where I am at, where I have been stuck, floundering for weeks between dark moods and sudden shifts from lethargic states of numbness to a frantic sort of mania. I feel like my brain is running in circles and I am plagued by the fear that I have wasted so many years working toward something that will never materialize in the way I expected it too. I recently described my current state as akin to Dorothy traveling to see the Wizard, amped up with all her hopes and dreams, only to have them crushed when the curtain is thrown open to reveal the Wizard is just a normal man, thoroughly unable to deliver on any of the bright and shining promises she had put her faith in. I don't feel as if I've got that same inner magic to power a pair of magic red pumps, so instead of moving on and finding my way home, I'm stuck in Oz...or rather, here. I need more liberosis in my life. I need to learn how to "hold your life loosely and playfully, like a volleyball". Liberosis - that's my brand of yellow-brick-road inner magic mojo! I need to learn to care less about things and focus more on the flow of life, of where my choices actually take me rather then where I expect them too take me. I need to loosen the white knuckled grip I have on all my "should have's" and try to find the joy in the journey. I need to stop letting the failure of my expectations drain the lifeblood from me. I'm letting the anxiety and self-doubt overwhelm me instead of looking for the all positive opportunities and silver linings. Liberosis...yeah, if I can find more of that, maybe I can find my way home after all. |
| 30 Day Blogging Challenge PROMPT November 4th Would you rather be surprised or surprise someone else? Write about it! I am 100% Type A, and admittedly, a control freak of almost epic proportions. I would much rather be in charge of surprising someone else than being the one of the receiving end. Truth be told, I don't really like surprises. I am that person who has a plan B, and C and D...so allowing myself to be surprised by a scenario I didn't see coming, one that I couldn't plan for...well that sounds pretty awful to me. I realize that makes me sound pretty dry and drab. I'm not. I like adventure and excitement. I just also like to have an idea of what I am walking into in case things go horribly wrong. For example, I would be all game for visiting Jurassic Park, but I would sure as shit would have a backup for my backup satellite phone with a private chopper pilot on speed dial. We all know, the people who fail to prepare are the very first to find themselves dino-chow. I'm also pretty certain that I would easily become suspicious of someone trying to surprise me. It would take a lot of deception on their part I think. I don't know anyone in my circle who could pull the wool completely over my eyes honestly. My husband is horrible at keeping a secret and my daughter takes a certain glee in dropping really big, unnecessary specific hints herself. I can usually see what the two of them are cooking up like a freight train bearing down the track. Subtle diversions and pointed misdirection though....those skills fall squarely in my wheelhouse. Last summer our family bought my daughter a horse, one she had been taking lessons on that suddenly became available. We managed to hide the secret from her. Our deception going so far as making her believe that she was helping to train him for another special little girl who was coming after her lesson to pick him up. It was a cruelty that lasted only seconds though. Before she could shed a tear at his imminent departure from her life, we walked him into the arena. He was shining bright from a bath and my sister had braided his mane and tail. We'd draped him with with flowers and ribbons. She looked confused to find us all there. Then we told her that she was the special little girl and that the family had bought Roo for her very own. He wasn't leaving. In fact, he was coming home with her to her Aunt's farm that very afternoon. She was stunned into silence, taking more than a few moments to have it all register before her eyes filled with a happy tears and she threw her arms around his big brown head. Best. Surprise. Ever. My sister's husband takes the cake on surprises though. She went away for a seminar and while she was gone, he bought her a donkey on Craigslist. I listened anxiously as he told me about what a "steal" he was. I wasn't sure my sister would like coming home to another animal, especially one that had never been vetted or handled and still had all his "man bits". She WAS surprised. The day she came home my cell phone rang and I picked it up only to hear her say, "What the FUCK is in my barn?!" Two weeks of misery quarantine and one gelding surgery later, Sebastian had managed to find his way into her heart. He is now the coolest barnyard resident and her husband has officially dodged the bullet with his very high risk surprise. |
| 30 Day Blogging challenge PROMPT November 3rd Write about a time when you waited a long time for something. Did you end up getting what you wanted? Was it worth it? I wish I had gotten my crap together this weekend and been able to react to this prompt on Sunday because it would have been completely appropriate. As a mother of a 9 year old, I feel like I wait a long time for just about everything these days. My daughter can move with an uncanny slowness that never ceases to amaze me. As a matter of fact, the more pressed for time I am, she can actually slow her motion skills down to a barely perceptible state of motion. This past Sunday for example, I waited twenty minutes for her to put on her soccer socks and cleats...twenty minutes...how is that even humanly possible? Seriously though, before my daughter - at the time when I only waited for things I truly wanted - I would have to say the longest I ever waited for something was my flight to New Zealand. I was 17 and super excited to embark on my first overseas adventure. The flight was endless. I remember taking Dramamine to knock myself out, only to find upon waking up, that I had just as many flight hours remaining. With the time change, the flight basically was the equivalent of being in the air for 24 hours....it was horrifically tedious. Was it worth it? Yes. A million times, yes. We landed in Auckland, NZ to embark on the first leg of a three week tour that would take us science delegates to amazing places and expose us to one in a lifetime experiences. I spent a week living in a rustic cabin on Kangaroo Island. I visited Victoria, Australia and bush walked in the Outback with a rope tied around my waste and found myself completely disoriented inside of two minutes. I ended the trip with a dive on the Great Barrier Reef, which at the time was the culmination of all my dreams. |
 Log in to Leave Feedback |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
