Wednesday, January 07, 2009
Tuesday, January 06, 2009
{Writing Prompt} The Phone Rang
. . . and rang and rang. The machine picked up, the outgoing message started playing. And then a hang up. No message left.
Ten minutes later, same thing.
If he had caller id, he wouldn't screen. But he didn't, so he did.
Sure, he was a little curious about the non-message leaver. It had been happening the last two nights, a few times each night. But he suspected it to be a tele-marketer, being back in the day before the No Call List.
If the phone rings once more in the next ten minutes, he thought to himself, I'll pick it up. No more screening.
And then it did.
When he answered, he recognized the voice, but couldn't place it. Hair on the back of his neck stood at attention.
Ten minutes later, same thing.
If he had caller id, he wouldn't screen. But he didn't, so he did.
Sure, he was a little curious about the non-message leaver. It had been happening the last two nights, a few times each night. But he suspected it to be a tele-marketer, being back in the day before the No Call List.
If the phone rings once more in the next ten minutes, he thought to himself, I'll pick it up. No more screening.
And then it did.
When he answered, he recognized the voice, but couldn't place it. Hair on the back of his neck stood at attention.
Sunday, January 04, 2009
{Writing Prompt} Sunday
I found it in a stall, mixed in with graffiti on the sign that read "Dirty Hands Spread Disease." It was written with a thick marker in a distinctive handwriting that could be a font in its own right. My fingers traced the curves of the letters, until two others entered the bathroom.
I almost left without washing my hands, so eager to write down the information at the table before it escaped me. But I knew I wouldn't forget. What I didn't know is how one little website, written on a bathroom wall, would change my life.
I almost left without washing my hands, so eager to write down the information at the table before it escaped me. But I knew I wouldn't forget. What I didn't know is how one little website, written on a bathroom wall, would change my life.
{Writing Prompt} A small man with thick ears and toy-like face
Edgar rode down the street on his recycled bicycle. He was a small, squat man with thick ears and a toy-like face that masked age; far better than his white comb-over, paunchy middle and bottle cap glasses.
With his flexible schedule, he had all the time in the world to do nothing. After several months of aimless retirement life, he resigned himself to playing bingo and bridge at the senior center. Every Sunday night he'd convince himself that this week would be the week that he'd get the group to start playing poker, or at least gin. And then another week passed with his nodding off, as the young woman shouted out B5 or O57, Old Joe nudging him to mark N25 or G39 with a dried kidney bean. Ho hum.
As he hiked up his pants a bit, showing another half-inch of his once-white socks and ratty pant cuffs, Elaine crowed at him in her raspy, thunderous voice, "Wait up, Ed. Can I call you Ed? It was my husband's name. It's been six years since he died. How long since your wife passed?"
Old Joe had warned him about Elaine. He didn't believe for one moment that she'd ever pay him any attention.
"Seven. Seven years, I think."
"Where's she buried?" her wrinkly face closing in on his.
"Down the street at Assumption," he mumbled, averting her eyes.
"That's where my Ed is buried. I go once a week. Every Wednesday. Want to go with me tomorrow?"
He declined. But next week when she asked he agreed, once again not making eye contact.
Before long Elaine and Edgar were coming and going together - grocery store, senior center, cemetery. He taught her how to play poker. She taught him about soap operas. She promised not to tell anyone at the senior center that he liked As the World Turns. It was their secret.
With his flexible schedule, he had all the time in the world to do nothing. After several months of aimless retirement life, he resigned himself to playing bingo and bridge at the senior center. Every Sunday night he'd convince himself that this week would be the week that he'd get the group to start playing poker, or at least gin. And then another week passed with his nodding off, as the young woman shouted out B5 or O57, Old Joe nudging him to mark N25 or G39 with a dried kidney bean. Ho hum.
As he hiked up his pants a bit, showing another half-inch of his once-white socks and ratty pant cuffs, Elaine crowed at him in her raspy, thunderous voice, "Wait up, Ed. Can I call you Ed? It was my husband's name. It's been six years since he died. How long since your wife passed?"
Old Joe had warned him about Elaine. He didn't believe for one moment that she'd ever pay him any attention.
"Seven. Seven years, I think."
"Where's she buried?" her wrinkly face closing in on his.
"Down the street at Assumption," he mumbled, averting her eyes.
"That's where my Ed is buried. I go once a week. Every Wednesday. Want to go with me tomorrow?"
He declined. But next week when she asked he agreed, once again not making eye contact.
Before long Elaine and Edgar were coming and going together - grocery store, senior center, cemetery. He taught her how to play poker. She taught him about soap operas. She promised not to tell anyone at the senior center that he liked As the World Turns. It was their secret.
Friday, January 02, 2009
{Writing Prompt} One Green Shoe
The ride from Indiana was solemn. It was dusk and Tom and I both were tired after a full day of forced family fun. Tatum was in the back, saddled into her car seat for the drive, berry sauce splotched across her once white top.
I tried to inventory the laundry room at home, searching for the bleach. I couldn't remember if we had any left, so we'd have to stop on the way home.
We listened to a lullaby cd to coax Tatum into napping. She hadn't napped all day and her mood was shifting into over-tired monster child.
Tom turned on talk radio and chewed gum as I dozed off and on. I could tell something was on his mind when he chewed gum, slowly like cud, but I wanted just a little more peace before jumping into it. Whatever it was.
"Remember making this drive when we were newly married? How there were no silences? We'd talk, laugh, sing to blaring music all four hours?"
"Yep," was all he said.
"Sometimes I miss that."
"Yep," he said, again.
I reached over to touch his thinning hair, smoothing it and tickling his ear along the way. It used to make him flinch. Not any more.
"How come you're not ticklish anymore?"
He pulled off the interstate. I bought two fountain sodas and pork rinds while Tom pumped gas. The town of Crawford was halfway and always had the cheapest gas. I'm not sure how the pork rinds became part of the tradition, but they had. I never thought I'd like them ... I only ate them on the way home from Indiana. It was our thing.
"No thanks," Tom said as I held the opened bag up for him to partake.
"Suit yourself - more for me."
Later I gestured again, and he declined. As I folded the top of the bag over to keep the remaining pork rinds fresh (as if they need to be fresh), I dipped my toes in farther ... though I wasn't sure I really wanted to know.
Tom didn't answer. He changed radio stations and took a sip of his soda.
I tried to tickle him in the ribs. No response.
Tatum woke up. I gave her a pork rind. She mostly chewed one corner. It became more of a toy than a snack. Kind of like rawhide for dogs. Tom vocalized his opposition to this choice of snack. I gave her another, which she promptly smashed into bits that fell into cracks in the car seat and would eventually become fossilized.
She fell back asleep, drool running down her face. I nodded off again as well. I'd mastered the not-drooling in the car, but not the head bobbing.
Before I knew it, we were on the windy, hilly road that lead to our subdivision. I stretched my arms, my legs and looked over at Tom. He was still chewing gum. He held up the pack of gum to offer me a piece.
"No thanks," I said. He liked red hot cinnamon gum. Too strong for my tastes.
Once we were in the garage I opened the back door to retrieve Tatum and found that she was only wearing one shoe; one green shoe must be back in IN.
I tried to inventory the laundry room at home, searching for the bleach. I couldn't remember if we had any left, so we'd have to stop on the way home.
We listened to a lullaby cd to coax Tatum into napping. She hadn't napped all day and her mood was shifting into over-tired monster child.
Tom turned on talk radio and chewed gum as I dozed off and on. I could tell something was on his mind when he chewed gum, slowly like cud, but I wanted just a little more peace before jumping into it. Whatever it was.
"Remember making this drive when we were newly married? How there were no silences? We'd talk, laugh, sing to blaring music all four hours?"
"Yep," was all he said.
"Sometimes I miss that."
"Yep," he said, again.
I reached over to touch his thinning hair, smoothing it and tickling his ear along the way. It used to make him flinch. Not any more.
"How come you're not ticklish anymore?"
He pulled off the interstate. I bought two fountain sodas and pork rinds while Tom pumped gas. The town of Crawford was halfway and always had the cheapest gas. I'm not sure how the pork rinds became part of the tradition, but they had. I never thought I'd like them ... I only ate them on the way home from Indiana. It was our thing.
"No thanks," Tom said as I held the opened bag up for him to partake.
"Suit yourself - more for me."
Later I gestured again, and he declined. As I folded the top of the bag over to keep the remaining pork rinds fresh (as if they need to be fresh), I dipped my toes in farther ... though I wasn't sure I really wanted to know.
Tom didn't answer. He changed radio stations and took a sip of his soda.
I tried to tickle him in the ribs. No response.
Tatum woke up. I gave her a pork rind. She mostly chewed one corner. It became more of a toy than a snack. Kind of like rawhide for dogs. Tom vocalized his opposition to this choice of snack. I gave her another, which she promptly smashed into bits that fell into cracks in the car seat and would eventually become fossilized.
She fell back asleep, drool running down her face. I nodded off again as well. I'd mastered the not-drooling in the car, but not the head bobbing.
Before I knew it, we were on the windy, hilly road that lead to our subdivision. I stretched my arms, my legs and looked over at Tom. He was still chewing gum. He held up the pack of gum to offer me a piece.
"No thanks," I said. He liked red hot cinnamon gum. Too strong for my tastes.
Once we were in the garage I opened the back door to retrieve Tatum and found that she was only wearing one shoe; one green shoe must be back in IN.
{Writing Prompt} In My Next Life ... Part Three
Sophie morphs from Goth, seemingly overnight. She starts borrowing my clothes. She's always been a twig but she seems to be filling out more. I ask her if she's pregnant and she slams her door on me. Later she confides that she is. Joe wants to marry her but she's not so sure. I help her break it to our parents and they're amazingly supportive, once they get past the shock.
Carl finally comes out of the closet, and Sophie is the first one to say "I told you so." He and Bobby are going to move to NY and pursue acting. Get out of the small town that we grew up in and be discovered.
In college I rush and pledge. I get my first choice, so my roommate Liz and I are in the same sorority. We live in the house and break most of the rules. When Sophie comes to visit for a weekend, we find ourselves back in the old rhythm of a more mellow time.
Carl finally comes out of the closet, and Sophie is the first one to say "I told you so." He and Bobby are going to move to NY and pursue acting. Get out of the small town that we grew up in and be discovered.
In college I rush and pledge. I get my first choice, so my roommate Liz and I are in the same sorority. We live in the house and break most of the rules. When Sophie comes to visit for a weekend, we find ourselves back in the old rhythm of a more mellow time.
Stuff That Makes Me Smile
-Seeing Hooch driving with a full head of curlers
-Remembering the way my Gram's cheeks and lips flopped when her dentures were out
-Watching my dog, circle around and around - nesting - before laying down for one of her many naps
-Bridget Jones's Diary, especially this time of year
-Beating ML at Pathwords
-The few times I beat my dad at Backgammon
-My hotel bathrobe
-Sunshine and Full Moons
-Big, hand thrown mugs
-Starting and finishing a book in a weekend - a rare, indulgent treat
-Fresh pine wreaths
-Warm socks in winter
-Seeing a movie on Christmas
-Finding a new favorite song to wear out
-Remembering the way my Gram's cheeks and lips flopped when her dentures were out
-Watching my dog, circle around and around - nesting - before laying down for one of her many naps
-Bridget Jones's Diary, especially this time of year
-Beating ML at Pathwords
-The few times I beat my dad at Backgammon
-My hotel bathrobe
-Sunshine and Full Moons
-Big, hand thrown mugs
-Starting and finishing a book in a weekend - a rare, indulgent treat
-Fresh pine wreaths
-Warm socks in winter
-Seeing a movie on Christmas
-Finding a new favorite song to wear out
Thursday, January 01, 2009
{Writing Prompt} In My Next Life - Part Two
When Debbie breaks up with Chip, I'm more upset than he is. Debbie promises we'll still hang out, but we don't. I see her at the mall once in awhile, with her new boyfriend or a bunch of her cheerleader friends. I try not to stare.
Sophie begins wearing thick black eyeliner and looking ghostly. She buys black hair dye at Sally Beauty while I stock up on peroxide. She loves grunge music and bums cigarettes as a freshmen while I play varsity field hockey and cruise around with my best friend Judy, a junior. Judy has a brand new convertible. It's red. In the winter we go tanning after school. Looking back now, we both resemble the pumpkin hue of oompa loompas.
Chip gets a DUI during his first year at junior college. Our parents take away his 1985 Trans Am. I get to drive it for several months. It's loud - rumbling down the street. I have to drive Sophie to school. We fight over what station plays on the radio. She jumps out of the car as quickly as possible, disassociating herself from the car and me. It's still better than the bus, for both of us.
Chip's latest girlfriend, Maggie, drives him around. She's pretty, but empty headed. Ever since Debbie his choice of girlfriends has gone downhill. As does his grades.
During my senior year I try out for the musical. I'm only in the chorus, but it's fun. I start dating Carl, the leading man. He's dreamy. Everyone in school likes him. In the summer he performs at The Palace at Six Flags. I go at least once a week to see him and we ride roller coasters in between performances. Afterwards we sneak into a dive bar that doesn't card and drink pints of ale and smoke.
Carl and I break up in July. He spends too much time with his best friend Bobby. In fact he's all he talks about. It's kind of weird.
Chip drives me to college. I'm only two hours away from home, but every mile counts. By then he's fixed his muffler, so the Trans Am isn't as embarrassingly loud. We can't see out the rear windows because I've packed his car with everything possible. He reminds me that I'm only 100 miles away, but I don't care. I'm not planning on going back to my hometown much. I'm going to live in this big city. Reinvent myself.
Sophie begins wearing thick black eyeliner and looking ghostly. She buys black hair dye at Sally Beauty while I stock up on peroxide. She loves grunge music and bums cigarettes as a freshmen while I play varsity field hockey and cruise around with my best friend Judy, a junior. Judy has a brand new convertible. It's red. In the winter we go tanning after school. Looking back now, we both resemble the pumpkin hue of oompa loompas.
Chip gets a DUI during his first year at junior college. Our parents take away his 1985 Trans Am. I get to drive it for several months. It's loud - rumbling down the street. I have to drive Sophie to school. We fight over what station plays on the radio. She jumps out of the car as quickly as possible, disassociating herself from the car and me. It's still better than the bus, for both of us.
Chip's latest girlfriend, Maggie, drives him around. She's pretty, but empty headed. Ever since Debbie his choice of girlfriends has gone downhill. As does his grades.
During my senior year I try out for the musical. I'm only in the chorus, but it's fun. I start dating Carl, the leading man. He's dreamy. Everyone in school likes him. In the summer he performs at The Palace at Six Flags. I go at least once a week to see him and we ride roller coasters in between performances. Afterwards we sneak into a dive bar that doesn't card and drink pints of ale and smoke.
Carl and I break up in July. He spends too much time with his best friend Bobby. In fact he's all he talks about. It's kind of weird.
Chip drives me to college. I'm only two hours away from home, but every mile counts. By then he's fixed his muffler, so the Trans Am isn't as embarrassingly loud. We can't see out the rear windows because I've packed his car with everything possible. He reminds me that I'm only 100 miles away, but I don't care. I'm not planning on going back to my hometown much. I'm going to live in this big city. Reinvent myself.
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