once upon a time, i stole something

I'm not sure when I stopped being a teenager. I know I crossed that line from nineTEEN to twenty. I got married. I had children. I ended up with a mortgage. Then a mortgage loan. I bought a van. I got a divorce. I started worrying about my fiber intake. These should probably all have clued me in that I was getting, um, older.

Maybe it's because I still maintain so many of the friendships I had as a teenager, and a conversation or fun night (or early evening...I am old, after all) out with one of those friends can bring memories pouring back at light speed. We are who are today--older, wiser, actually better looking individuals--but beneath all the grown-upedness, we are still who we were back then, too. In our minds, we still wear Doc Martens and kilts with ripped fishnets. We still make take an hour to curl our hair like Julia Roberts. We still drive our junky cars too fast while blasting Depeche Mode and The Cure and Nine Inch Nails. We can still polish off a whole half of a large pizza washed down with Diet Coke and not gain a pound. Our futures still seem limitless and frightening.

There is a point to this...

One thing I managed to avoid as a teenager that, sadly, a lot of my friends indulged in, was shoplifting. I remember getting so angry when I would be at the mall or in the ShopKo with them and find out they'd stolen something. Usually something stupid like a box of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle band-aids or a pair of underwear that looked like a rooster's face. I was never angry enough, or brave enough, however, to turn them in. "To each his own," I would rationalize. But still, I knew if they got caught, I'd be in trouble too.

Then came the day when the choice was mine to make. I was spending the night at one of my good friend's houses as I did on a regular basis. Her mom worked at the Clinique counter and wore one of those white lab coats that elevated her to the status of scientist of cosmetics. She would bring home all kinds of samples and extra products and file them away in one of the three big drawers in their bathroom--a treasure trove of well-organized make up, nail polish, and perfume. I just happened to be looking through one of those drawers when I noticed she had two tubes of (what I now recognize as the most hideous) iridescent pink-purple-silver lipstick. It was completely wrong for my hair/eye/ complexion but I thought I resembled Alyssa Milano with it on....

So, figuring neither my friend nor her mom would miss it....I took the tube of lipstick. I put it in my pocket. And I took it.

And I think I wore it a total of three times.

Every time I would drag it across my lips, I'd feel guilty. Again, though, I wasn't brave enough to do anything about it. I couldn't imagine taking it back, offering it in my open palm, weeping, and being branded an untrustworthy thief. I never told my mom (or anyone) so there was no one to offer perspective. No one to tell me that it was still better to do the right thing despite the consequences...and that the consequences probably wouldn't be that bad. Back then I feared the worst of every situation, an attitude I'm sure I don't struggle with as an adult. *cough*

 That tube of lipstick stayed with me up until I finally purged it four years ago when packing  for our move. I suppose I had held onto it for sentimental reasons. I remember when I ran across it again, I pulled off the cap--still the same awful shade, and I thought back on the course of my life, how I had tried my best to rectify any and every bad thing I could recall doing...but had never taken responsibility for my stint as a thief.

It was time.

I found out how much a tube of Clinique lipstick was selling for ($12) and sent a check to that friend whom I hadn't spoken to for at least ten years. I never heard anything back, but my clear conscious was all the thanks I needed.


-
I'm sure shoplifting is still popular amongst teenagers. It's certainly easy enough to 'steal' music and videos and software nowadays, in addition to the typical five-finger discounting. I may or may not have to deal with this issue with my boys at some point. But I would go into such a situation armed with my personal tale of theft-- which will be richly embellished to include handcuffs, jail time and hard labor, of course :).

Your turn: Ever steal anything? Or ever get the chance to right a wrong from your past?

how do i love thee, fall? let me count 10 ways.

1. PUMPKINS! I can find more uses for a pumpkin than I can a....very useful thing. Just the cooking category alone:pumpkin cobbler, curried pumpkin soup, pumpkin sage pasta, spicy pumpkin waffles, Nutella pumpkin pie. Mmmm (drool). I love, too, pumpkin patches, pumpkin carving, and walking up to a front door where the steps are pumpkin-lined. Alright. That should about cover the pumpkin category. It seemed like a necessary love.
2. LEAVES! Watching them change color. Crunching through them during my walks. Jumping in a big pile of them. And yes--even raking them. Although I rented something called a lawn vacuum last year and it was frigging awesome so I totally plan on getting it again. Rake schmake :).

3. VINCE GUARALDI MUSIC! The Charlie Brown Suite is my soundtrack for fall. I think he wrote Great Pumpkin Waltz while watching leaves fluttering down from the trees. It fits the season perfectly! I start listening at the end of September and let it go right on through Thanksgiving (skipping over all the Christmas songs and saving them for, well, Christmas).

4. LAYERS! It was fun to wear cute summer dresses and t's while it was hot outside, but I'm a layer girl at heart. I love vests over shirts, cardigans over vests, coats over cardigans. Hats. Scarves.Wool tights. Dark colors. And boots, boots, BOOTS! I don't know who bike girl here is, but I'd steal her outfit (and her bike :) )
5. NEW STUFF ON TV TO WATCH! I don't watch a lot of television, but for what I do watch--it's nice to have something to replace the re-runs. I especially look forward to this show:

I know some would say it's run its course and won't survive without Steve Carrell, but I'm a die hard fan and will watch until it ends. It's never failed to make me laugh. Sometimes till stuff comes out my nose like during the fire drill episode when Angela threw her cat through the ceiling and it fell back out again (Save Bandit!). True story.

6. HALLOWEEN! This is my favorite. holiday. ever. I think it's because there's no "real meaning" that I'm supposed to be appreciating. It's just crazy clothes and candy, people. Simple. And I get giddy over my costume every year. This year I was inspired by this $1.5 million dollar peacock feather dress:

I'm turning it into something more like this:

And going as a peacock-y thing. Don't quite have the full vision yet, I just got excited when I found 100 peacock feathers for $20 from here. Come Oct. 31 there will be me, there will be feathers. That is all.

7. WARM STUFF TO DRINK! I don't drink coffee, but I love when it gets cold enough outside to want something warm in my belly. I love peppermint hot chocolate and steamed hazelnut milk, but I'm especially partial to apple cider with extra cinnamon and a little drizzle of caramel...

8. THE COLOR ORANGE! I love orange all year round. My whole kitchen is painted orange. But I really pull it out for fall. I love how it looks against the bright olive of my living room. Love, too, all the chunky and rough textures. Humble elements like leaves, river stones, dried beans, and nuts all look elegant in an autumnal setting. This is my home's fall look...

9. FIRES! It's generally too warm around here to start up our fireplace until November, but once we get it going--there's no better place to flop down and take a nap than right in front of it. Something about that warm, amber glow renders me useless. Happily, "eat cold cereal for dinner mama's in front of the fireplace and can't get up boys" useless....

AND....FINALLY--

10. THAT FIRST COMA-LIKE, COLD MEDICINE-INDUCED SLEEP OF THE YEAR! Nothing says "change of season" like a nasty cold. I prefer to deal with mine by knocking myself out with Nyquil for a week. And, really, that's not so bad, is it?

Wouldn't seem fitting if I didn't ask: What's your favorite thing about Fall?

p-a-s-s-i-o-n

HELLLLO again Mama Kat's Writers Workshop Crowd! I haven't participated in about **a billion years** but that doesn't mean I didn't at least THINK about it every Wednesday night! Good to be back!

I loved this prompt: "Tell Us 5 Things You're Most Passionate About". Aaaahhh...PASSION. Such an amazing word. Life can be overflowing with love, but if it doesn't have passion---it's like steak with no sizzle.

Cutting to the chase...Here are 5 things I can identify feeling passionately about at 12:23 am (and FYI...I'm really tempted to make SLEEP one of them :) ).

1. GOD. Yup. I'm one of 'those people'. But it's true. More than anything in life, I am passionate about my God and my Faith. He and I go through periods where I'm questioning Him more than trusting in Him--but through the feast and through the famine, I KNOW I can trust my Heavenly Father. Everything I am and hope to be is because I choose daily to turn my life over to One who knows me better than I know myself.

2. MY KIDS. Sounding stereotypical blog mom yet :)? But again...sooo true. My four boys are the light and joy of my life and I count myself lucky every day I wake up to them--be it laughing or crying. They have taught me more in my 12 years of parenting than I could have learned reading all the books in the library. In them I see my sacrifices made into beauty and all that is good about this world. And they're cute as buttons to boot.

3. WRITING. This one is a close third. Just look a few blog posts down to see how I feel about it. Whether or not I can make a go of getting this passion to pay, I can't see my life without writing of some kind in it.

4. BEAUTIFUL THINGS. My mom used to say I had "champagne taste with a beer budget". Funny since Mom never drank...but the analogy stuck with me. Everything I crave from furniture, to interior finishes (mmmm....Travertine and Ann Sacks tile), fashion, shoes, vacations, electronics, and art tends to be on the spendy side. I don't part easily with my money, so I've become a pretty skilled bargain hunter. But who am I kidding....IF I had the dough, I'd so plunk it down for a pair of new Louboutins instead of checking ebay for whatever some rich woman is casting off.

5. LIFE. Every day I try to throw my arms around it. Try to learn or appreciate or recognize something new--be it the name of a flower or how to break dance (that's the next thing on my list of "stuff to learn"), I think life--whatever condition you're in-- is never meant to be endured but enjoyed.

And that's all I've got to say about that :) What are YOU feeling passionately about today?

decades of change

So, I haven't felt like I've been very candid on here lately. There's a lot going on that I want to write through--but for some reason or another, I stop myself--wondering who's reading. And then I saw one of Mama Kat's Writers Workshop prompts, and I just knew it was time to let some stuff out. Here goes:

5.)Describe what brought you closer to your faith.

I can't remember ever not believing. I didn't come from an especially religious family, per say, but I can recall always being fascinated with religion. With stories of God and love and protection and help. Having lost my dad in a car accident when I was only 4, I always felt a deep need for a protector. I prayed a lot as a young child too. Wasn't really sure how to do it, but I did a lot of asking for angels to come down and hug me. They never came--not that I could see anyway--but it always made me feel better to ask.

As I grew, I was blessed to be surrounded by good friends who exposed me to all kinds of religions. I think I tried about every church available in our town of 24,000 before finally settling on the one I felt most at peace with.

And somehow, amidst all this--my life was going on. I often think of it in terms of decades. In 1980, I was just starting kindergarten. By 1989, I was driving to school (yes...we could drive at 14 in Idaho!)****. In 1990, I fell in love for the first time. By 1999, I was married and had 2 children. **** And now this generation---in 2000, life seemed too perfect. We were planning on starting a new business and expanding our family, had just bought a new house, and celebrated our 6th wedding anniversary. By 2009, I was divorced, struggling to find a way to be able to stay at home with my 4 boys and still earn a living, and feeling like my whole life--everything I knew to be true and right and good--got swiped away like eraser dust off paper.

Such huge, life-altering changes--for good and bad--in such a relatively short amount of time.

What hadn't changed in all those years and through all those ups and downs was my love and my need for God. Through feast and famine, financial prosperity and financial destitution, births and deaths, times of accomplishment and times of uncertainty---I KNEW God had never left me. That, in His wisdom, He had allowed all these things to pass upon me to make something of me better than I was before I came here. I didn't always (ok...mostly always) like what was being asked of me, but I like to think I endured it well and cheerfully wait for God to tell me "why" in His own way and time.

I don't know what the future will hold. I hope more good than bad.
I hope it holds a lot of laughter and adventure.
I hope my children will make good choices, and go on to live happy, fulfilling lives of their own.
I hope I find love again.
I hope what I have been through and what I have learned can go on to help others in some capacity.

And as for God---well, He never seems to grow tired of me asking him for the same things over and over and over. He doesn't always give them to me, but not because He's mean---just because He knows they're not what is best for me at this time.

"For the Lord hath called thee as a woman forsaken and grieved in spirit, and a wife of youth, when thou wast refused, saith thy God. For a small moment have I forsaken thee, but with great mercies will I gather thee....O thou afflicted, tossed with tempest, and not comforted! Behold, I will lay thy stones with fair colors, and lay thy foundations with sapphires...And all thy children shall be taught of the Lord; and great shall be the peace of thy children" (from Isaiah 54).

Could I ever think up such amazing blessings as these for myself? No way! And that's why I'm going into the start of this next decade with my hand in my Fathers---anxious to see what He has in store for me next. And *that* attitude is what brings me daily closer to my faith.

dear assorted annoying drivers who bothered me this week--

I've been meaning to write y'all a letter for some time now. But as you seemed especially annoying this week, I decided it couldn't wait any longer (plus it was Mama Kat's Writers Workshop prompt, so I'm killing two birds here---even though I would never kill a bird, but anyway....).

You!--Random Braking Woman! You are so going to get me smashing into the back of you one day. Why on earth do you feel the need to begin braking a mile before the stoplight? Or how about when you brake in the middle of the road BEFORE you put on your blinker? Yeah...that's fun. As I am prone to looking on the bright side of things, however, I must admit I am thankful that you help me know that my seatbelts are indeed in working order.

Now you!--2 Guys Driving Side by Side Going 5 Miles Under the Speed Limit and Blocking Both Lanes! I don't like you . Either of you. You made me late to step class and I had to be in the back of the room with all the new girls who tripped over their steps and fell down a lot.

Now the 3 bozos who plague me every where I go: I'm Sort of Paying Attention Dude, I'm Putting on my Make-up Lady, and Look at Me! I'm Driving with my Knees Guy. You are the reason I have Uninsured Motorist Coverage. I could be buying a new pair of shoes every month with that money--but instead I make sure that if you hit my prestigious mini-van, I would be able to get... another one (yaaaay!).

Finally you!--Driving While Texting Boy. Awwww....who am I joking? I can't be mad at you. Sadly--I have become you. And I have discovered that if you time your glancing down to push the buttons JUST RIGHT ( that would be looking down for 1 second, looking up for 2 seconds) it's totally do-able, so text on....

But the rest of you--I hope you have felt my WRATH....ooooooh!

No love,

~Jennifer P.

don't let your 14 year old read this

I've skipped out on the last two of Mama's Writers Workshops because of homework or housework or lack of ideas.....and I'm not going to let another week slip by ** gall darn it!**





Today's prompt was: Do you have the same friends you did in High School? Describe them.





And I do have the same friends--many of them anyway! One thing you'd find out about me (if I wasn't just a person who lived in your computer :) ) is that I'm fiercely loyal. If I've called you "my friend" at some point, I mean it. If you need me, and sometimes even if you don't, I'm going to be there.





Now I have to tell you about just one of those friends I still have.......Summer.

Summer and I have known eachother since we were 11.

*We were in the same 6th grade class together---both too smart for our own good.

* We sang "That's What Friends Are For" together in the talent show (my first and last public singing performance :) !...).

*We worked the concession stand together at Jr. High basketball games (and once spilled an entire strong box full of coins---hundreds and hundreds of coins!).

* We went to church dances together and rocked out to the B-52's and Debbie Gibson and Richard Marx---and had a crush on EVERY BOY! :) (Jenni--I'm sure your husband was involved!)

*We played the best prank ever on a pizza delivery guy (involving me being tied to a chair with a gag in my mouth....).

* Just before high school, she moved away to southern Utah, and I actually subjected myself to a 17 hour bus ride to go and visit her!

*She graduated high school early and tested out of her first year or two of college, then went and got herself engaged to some blonde hottie :). I flew in from college to be her maid of honor, and subjected myself to a teal green dress... with matching shoes.

*We both lost our moms to cancer in the same kind of 6 week "diagnosis to death" time frame just a few years apart. What a rock and inspiration she was at that time!

*Some years we've talked almost daily, and other years not at all---but it never seems to matter, because whenever we do catch up again-- it's like nothing has ever changed.

That's the scope of our lives together thus far, but let me back up.

-----To 14.-----

In Idaho, when you were 14--you could drive. A car! Our junior high school actually had a STUDENT PARKING LOT!!! Something about granting a kid that privilege and freedom so early really "grew us up fast". (see this post to know why it made us even think we could hit on our English teacher!)

So there were Summer and I with our cars and our concession stand jobs and our too cool for school attitudes, and we thought the next logical step would be for us to move into our own apartment. Naturally.

And. our. parents. agreed.

Two 14 year olds sharing an apartment!!! Albeit a mother-in-law-style apartment off the back of Summer's house---but STILL, it had it's own entry door and it's own kitchen and it's own laundry room, bedroom, living room, and bathroom. It was all ours!

We moved in right away with our card table and our air mattress and our assorted curling irons and clothes. We didn't have a TV...... but that was ok because we DID have a Casio Keyboard, a telephone, and lots of boys to call. For a month we lived on soup and cold cereal and did our own laundry. We had lots of 14 year old boys come to visit--- who did things like fart into the recording device on the Casio Keyboard, and then play songs using the sound of their own flatulence. --It got old reeeeeeeeeally fast.-- I remember going home more and more frequently to "get more clothes"....... and then just kind of sticking around......all night......in my own bed.......which was not an air mattress. Not that I didn't love living with Summer, but I hated learning first hand that maybe I wasn't as independent as I thought I was. That I needed my mom. And food that was not soup or cereal.

~Did I mention that our parents were genius?~

So--Summer, I guess this post was mostly for you. You and your 14 year old.

***I hope he reads every word.***

Karma, my former partner in crime, it's called......karma.

:)

going all medieval on y'all

Mama Kat's Writers Workshop day again! This one's easy....and short!

------>
If I could live in any era of history, what would it be -- list 10 reasons why.<------

I would go back to the medieval times, of course! Just out of the dark ages. An *era of chivalry and knighthood* --and also these 10 cool things:

1. 2 empty halves of coconuts + much galloping = my horse.

2. castle defense= barnyard animals being catapulted by rude Frenchman.

3. convenient pick up service for disposing of my dead loved ones.

4. access to the artistic genius of Roger the Shrubber.

5. Castle Anthrax: Just like Victoria's Secret....only all "exciting underwear" is hand-stitched.

6. totally legal to beat your cat against a tree.

7. a chance to study the Air Speed Velocities of Swallows (both African and European) under the tutelage of those who are so wise in the ways of science.

8. huge tracts of land.

9. the miracle of the Holy Handgrenade blowing our enemies to bits (mercifully).

10. In Medieval times---it's always ok to just "RUN AWAY!"
----------------------
I hope there were at least a few of you out there that *got that* ! Did you want me to list all the actual reasons I'd want to live back then? Let's see--Troubadour music, poor drinking water, thatched roofs, the Black Plague---hmmmm.....I think I like what I did better :).

Now leave me a comment or I shall say "NEE!" to you!

why am i in this igloo with a rock and a toothbrush?

Mama Kat had an AWESOME writers prompt this week: 1.) You awaken with amnesia in what looks to be an igloo. You have $4 and a rock in one pocket, and a toothbrush in the other. Someone is staring at you. Write this scene.

Are ya ready for this?!

**** I awake, confused and cold-- yet keenly aware of the rock, the toothbrush, and the $4 in my pocket---and of the obvious sinister motives of the man standing above me. With cat-like reflexes, I throw my dollar bills across the igloo. This distracts the sinister man long enough for me to use the rock to sharpen the end of my toothbrush into a rudimentary spear, which I then jam into the back of my captor's leg and flee......to, ummmmm, Switzerland. (note from author: I realize I am leaving a lot of detail out here, but really--do you want to read a novel or a blog post---just go with it, ok?!).

Having thrown my last and only $4 at the igloo man, I end up having to sleep on a park bench in Zürich. This attracts the attention of two German-speaking police officers, who come to question me. I find I am able to respond in German and tell them I have lost my identification papers. They attempt to arrest me, but I render them both unconscious and disable their pistols in a matter of seconds. Surveying the scene before me, I am in shock. It is obvious that even though I have amnesia, I am awesome at hand to hand combat. Not wanting to be recognized, I flee the park.

The next morning, I visit a Swiss bank and gain access to a high-security vault. There I find a safe deposit box containing multiple passports with my picture but different names, large amounts of foreign currency, and a 9mm SIG-Saucer SP2009 handgun. Still with no idea what my real name is, I assume an identity from the first US passport I pull up.......Jennifer P. ....no, wait......Jason Bourne.

~~~~~~~~~~

You thought that sounded familiar, right :) ?! (well, except for the toothbrush/ igloo/ rock part---but J.B. could so have pulled that one off!)

~~~~~~~~~~~

What can I say?!--I'm one tired girl who can't make up her own good post tonight. But that was an awesome movie.....

Thanks for reading :) .

what defines us: my 80's self

There was a writer's workshop prompt Mama Kat gave a few months back that I wanted to do-- but didn't for some reason-- so I decided to give it a whirl now. The challenge was: With your eyes closed, open up a dictionary and point to a word. Tell us what that word means to you.


Well, believe it or not I DO keep a dictionary by my computer. I dug it out and put it there last December when Blogger's spell check was down for weeks and weeks (those were some great, crazy weeks to see everyone's poor spelling--mine included :) !).


Anyhow, the first word I pointed to was foreshorten. That word had absolutely no meaning to me whatsoever. Next I got strontium ( a yellowish, reactive, metallic element). That one, too, not having a lot of meaning for me. Then I got Lastex, depredate, and talc. No, no and no. Hmmmmm......I was thinking that the dictionary thing was not going to work after all! And then it dawned on me.....this post didn't want to be about the word, but about the dictionary itself. Because for the many "pointless" words that were in my dictionary.....I couldn't help but think of all the words that WEREN'T in it.




You see, my dictionary is from *1987.*



It went through junior high and high school and even college with me. It skips from "internee" to "internest" with nary a mention of INTERNET. There are no i- anythings or e- anythings. No GPS. No cell phone. No Google. "Blockade" is right before "Blond" (or the feminine "blonde") without even a hint of the word "blog". They. didn't. even. exist.....and now I can't imagine any of those things NOT existing.



Yet 1987 doesn't seem like that long ago to me! I wore Keds with pushed down socks, and a fringed denim jacket, and Exclamation! perfume. I listened to Depeche Mode's 'Music for the Masses' tape on my "boom box" (do you think "boom box" is still in today's dictionary?....what about "Walkman"?...). I had a crush on the actor Chad Allen. I used a curling iron shaped like a triangle (it was suppose to make triangle curls, but, mmmm....not so much.). I had teal mascara.....and I actually wore it! My mom drove me to piano lessons every Wednesday and did cross word puzzles while she waited. My best friends were Tara and Summer and Michelle. I had my first kiss and hated it. I had a Swatch. I carried a Benetton bag to school. *** That world is still so real to me..... and yet it was a world soooo different than the one I'm in--that we're ALL in-- now. I think I'm beginning to understand what my mom meant when she told me: it doesn't matter how smart you are, there is no substitute for life experience. ~She was right.~



Does that mean I'm getting old......and wise?






Oh, 80's self.....if only you'd known....you would have just enjoyed doing cheerleading routines to "You Spin me Round Like a Record"-- and not worried so much about growing up!



*sigh*


SO----






Wanna know what I looked like in the 80's?!?! .....






My friends and I use to do modeling work for Maurices. This was taken backstage at one of the fashion shows. I can't believe all our hair fit in this picture! (I'm the one in the middle.....I was 14!):

Notice my friend Michelle has on one black shoe and one white shoe? Classic!

And now a dance picture with my friend Danny Nava. I think I was 13 here ---

This must have been the year I wore nothing but black and white! Notice the scrunchy around my ankle? Was I making a fashion statement?! Also---all my fingernails are black and white! And look at Danny sporting his 80's mini-mullet, red skater high tops, tucked-in surf shirt, and swatch---complete with the plastic "swatch guard" thingie!

This last picture isn't of me. It's of my friend Becky. She was this sweet, quiet, non-makeup wearing girl who I thought needed a little more "pizazz". So I offered to give her a makeover. This is how she turned out.....(nothing could be more 80's than this)......

Wouldn't you have wanted one of my makeovers too?!?! Oh, I'm laughing so hard looking at this I can hardly type anymore!

***You are all so totally rad!!! :)***

(private note here, the rest of you can move to comments!): X'ioq, Kh'ao Ao Kh'ie B'iook R'iuq A H'iatie H'iae Aq IA J'ioqp K'abie! Ch'iak E'ioieo Kh'iak O'iau Iam'ioiuk Bu J'arie.... :) ?!

episode 3: shaggy and batgirl share an elevator

Mama Kat had a brilliant writer's prompt today!: Put Shaggy and Batgirl in an elevator together and tell us what happens---

***************************

ACT 1 SCENE 1: SHAGGY and SCOOBY DOO are alone in an elevator. A heavily orchestrated version of SexyBack plays over the speakers.

Elevator stops, doors open, and in walks BATGIRL. Her rubber suit is fitting as tightly as, well, a rubber suit. Her long red hair flowing from beneath her masked hood. Her lips full and very super-heroine-esque. As she steps inside, she takes a long drink of a look at Shaggy and tries to hide a smile.

Doors close.

BATGIRL continues to glance over at SHAGGY out of the corner of her eye, fingering the bat insignia on her ample, pointy bosom.

Finally she speaks:

BATGIRL: "You're that boy, aren't you? The one from the cartoon-- who never gets to drive the van, and who's afraid of everything, and who eats dog biscuits.......am I right? I have to admit I'm a HUGE admirer of yours".

SHAGGY seemingly unaware of BATGIRL'S presence or words, says nothing. She continues:

BATGIRL: "Look, I never do this sort of thing---but sometimes you just have to go with the moment!" (laughs nervously), "do you think maybe I could get your number and call you sometime? I just got out of a relationship with Wolverine, and I am sooo ready to move beyond the handsome, superhuman strength type. I'm just saying that, um... I think we would be amazing together...."

Elevator stops and doors open again.

SHAGGY: "Come on Scoob! Let's go find us something to eat! I'm like STARVING here!"

SCOOBY: "Roh-k Raggy!"

SHAGGY and SCOOBY exit elevator by running suspended in mid air for a few seconds before propelling themselves forward.

Camera zooms in on BATGIRL......a single tear rolling down her beautiful, masked face......

SCENE ENDS, FADE TO BLACK.

********************

Didn't we always know that Shaggy had an unhealthy relationship with his food and that dog?!

---If you want a perfect continuation of this ending, you MUST read Drama Mama's comment. Hoo! Hoo!---

*here's a little funny---the ScoobyDoo theme was actually part of my playlist long before this post :) !

dear mom

Mama Kat's writer's prompt for today was to write a letter to someone I miss greatly. How could I NOT pick my mom?



Dear Mom,



I know, I know,I'm a bad daughter-- I didn't do a post about your birthday on the 21st. I wanted to, but it seemed easier to talk about funny things. You always taught me that laughter was the best medicine, and believe me-- I've needed to overdose myself on it more than a few times since you got to move on to bigger, better things and left us all down here :) . You know it's been almost 2 years and I'm still waiting for you to come over and knock on my door, or call me on the phone ,or run into me at the grocery store. I don't think that feeling is ever going to go away.

Wow! You would have been 66! You never looked that old, and you certainly never acted it! You were very mature in your attitude, of course, but I don't know of many women your age who rode motorcycles up the sides of mountains or captained their own boat clear around North America. You were always so modest about your many adventures, but seriously---if the Discovery channel knew about you, you would have had your own show by now!



The boys and I are getting along pretty well. I can't say it's as much fun without you around though. Ethan especially misses you. He remembers so much. Even Liam, who's 4 now, tells me about you giving him "horsey rides" around your living room. We look at your pictures a lot and I try not to cry because they don't like it when I cry. They remind me that you're in heaven looking over us and helping us in ways you couldn't while you were here. That thought always brings a little smile to my face.



Now I know you wouldn't want me apologizing, but I feel such a deep need to tell you how very sorry I am that my marriage didn't work. You were always so pleased with the choices I'd made in life and I feel like I've let you down somehow. I tried Mom-- I really, really did. I followed all the advice you gave me about loving my man for who he was and not just what he could give me, to hold his hand in public, never say anything degrading about him to my friends, and never, ever part ways angry. It all just came down to a crazy, worst-case scenario. I bet you have some answers concerning the whole situation that you'd like to give me if you could. Sometimes, when it's quiet, I just close my eyes and press my hand firm against my heart and try to hear you speaking to me. I can make out the echo of your voice---but you're mostly laughing and joking with me, not giving me any heavenly wisdom. Often I hear you singing "Que Sera, Sera" to me like you did when I was little. And it's true too, isn't it: "whatever will be will be, the future's not ours to see...".



I am so thankful you were the incredible single mother that you were. I remember you crying a lot about dad dying, telling us how you wished you didn't have to work so much, and that the life we were living wasn't the one you'd envisioned for us. We knew Mom. We all knew. We could see what you gave up out of love for us--sleep, new clothes or shoes for yourself, time with friends, even the chance to re-marry until 19 years later because no one was "quite right" for your children. I try each day to do something the way you would have done it. It's impossible for me to measure up to you in every way (I like my new shoes too much :) ), but I'm giving it, how did you use to say it?---the "old college try".



Well I'm sure you have better things to do than sit around and read sappy letters from me all day! Maybe you get to eat buffet food for every meal like you wanted?! I just had to let you know that you are still remembered here---every day---and I love you so, so much. Happy late Birthday.



And save a chair for me, alright? I'll get there soon enough!



~Your Jennifer


I loved this picture of you and Ethan. I remember very distinctively how you went on to wear that tin foil crown for the next hour just because he was so happy to see you have it on.

my first crack at Writer's Workshop Wednesday

SOOOOOO each Wednesday, that ever-so-honest Mama Kat gives everyone who blogs for the love of writing an assignment, and then we use that smarty pants Mr. Linky to hook up on her blog. I have really enjoyed what Carrie has written for the past two weeks, and I thought I'd give it a shot.

The task this week was to write about a scary encounter with a teacher. I would LOVE to tell you about that---except I never had a scary one. I've had some not-so-intelligent teachers, but never one that scared me in any way, shape, or form. Hopefully I'll be forgiven for taking a little creative license to tell you about a teacher I had a crush on instead.

I was 14. And in Idaho when you were 14 (at least back in 1989)---you could drive. A car! Crazy--I know! But I'm certain that that's what made all us young Idahoan girls feel so grown up . At least I remember feeling very "mature" that year. About 15 years ago, I wrote a poem about the whole experience, so I'll be taking MORE creative license and speaking in prose to you....

(and Summer---NO LAUGHING! since I'm pretty sure YOU had a crush on him too :)! )

******************************************
THE YEAR I READ LOLITA

The year I read Lolita,
I do so in the darkest corner of the library,
for fear of being spied and lectured to
by some do-gooder librarian who doesn't think it's age-appropriate material.
The disquiet accelerates my eyes' speed
and I'm through it in three afternoons.
When I finish, I press the closed pages to my pounding heart,
and decide that finding an older man is the only way to go about things.

And it so happens in the same year I have this incredible English teacher
who drives a sporty little thing of a car with pop music pouring out is open windows,
who wears leather ankle boots and a small, silver earring.
Who is really just like "us" except with facial stubble and a divorce.
He is not despicable or brutal, but he'll do for an Humbert.

When he assembles a writer's club, I'm the first of eight to sign up.
After one of the meetings, he takes us all out for Cokes at the Denney's.
and because I've fallen quite in love with him by this time,
I look at the event as though it's our first date--
sitting next to him in the booth and wishing everyone else invisible.
Each time he moves, his sweater's soft wool brushes against my arm,
and I swear the air is so thick and sweet I can hardly gulp it down.
How Nabokovly divine it all is.

A few weeks later, I try to tell him how I feel.
While helping to grade a stack of quiz papers, I remark--off-handedly as I can--
that I need a boyfriend twenty-five or older, then use my palms to cover the quick pink in my cheeks.
He laughs between red slashes, calls me "jail bait".
I have to ask three friends what the term means, and when I finally find out--
take it as a compliment.

By early May though, there are still no secret drives around the lake,
no long, slow gazes when he passes me in the hall, no notes telling me to meet him after class.
I'm no nymphet.
So my teenaged longings wander off toward the "kind of "men at the high school across town.
But before the whole quest is completely drowned in the swimming pools of summer,
I write him a letter--far more heated than anything I can muster even now,
and almost leave it on his desk. Then, fearing it may get him in trouble,
I fold it instead into the pages of my yearbook next to the place he's signed with a little heart
by his name
where it lays dormant today--
Fantasy relapsing only when my eyes are closed and my lips about to meet anothers
when I hope-- just maybe-- to taste a bit of stubble.



****I know! I was and am and will forever remain a BIG, PATHETIC DORK! But still I want to know---did any of YOU have a crush on a teacher?!

******hilarious (or not) update: apparantley I'm such a NAUGHTY writer that my friend Summer's computer actually BLOCKED this post. WHAT AM I COMING TO?! :)

****Hmmm....there seems to be an abnormal amount of **** going on here.... I just have to add that I realize Lolita is a very, uh, racy book and that the, uh, "things" that took place in it were not what I had in mind for my poor English teacher. I was a good girl. And stayed a good girl. Just with a very active imagination. Some things never change!