Back Up At It

I think I need to focus on at least a day of writing, or an hour of writing. I'm focusing more on knitting and crafting than anything else, and it's causing my brain to begin feeling kind of numb. I don't like that. So this week I'm going to do The Red Dress Club Meme as well as my knitting. I'm decent at multi-tasking, so this should work out.

Hopefully.

Christmas Time Is Here....

It is still hard to believe that Christmas is already upon us, and right around the corner is 2011. Where has 2010 gone? We certainly had our ups and downs this year, but all in all it wasn't half bad. I'm working this Christmas (volunteered for the OT when the supes were fretting about making sure we had enough coverage) and while it means I'll be spending my first Christmas morning without watching my girl open presents. Granted, at 13 I think we're a bit beyond the whole Santa-coming-down-the-chimney notion, but it's still always special to see her face as she opens her gifts. This year cash was a little tighter than usual, so we had to get creative. We got her the usual art supplies, and a drawing pad, as well as a new binder to keep her drawings and stories in. A little candy for the stocking, and a hat I knit myself that is Texas orange and white for the Texas Longhorns. There was supposed to be a scarf as well, but that didn't work out so much. I've never drafted a pattern before, and I tell you- it's harder than I thought!

Speaking of knitting, that is something right now that I am truly enjoying. I've made little bits of extra money off items people have requested (mainly hats- it got kind of cold here!), and I've also made a few baby blankets. Now, I'm trying out a pattern using what I call my practice yarn (it's yarn the hubster's grandmother gave me that I think is older than I am) to try and knit some finger-gloves for one of my supes as a gift set for her daughter. I've never made gloves before- never even made mittens- but I figured what the hell, I have to learn sometime. I also have a trapper's hat the hubster's coworker has requested, but he wants it in Oklahoma University colours. Normally the hubster would have told him where he could put an OU hat, but I think he actually likes this guy. They've taken several business trips together and they get along swimmingly. After that, there are 2 dog sweaters for a teacup chihuahua, and possibly the scarf to match the girl's Christmas hat.

This is going to be a rough Christmas, I think. It's going to be our first Christmas without our dog Luke. That big oaf was such a sweetheart, but he and his brother Anakin got out of our yard and Luke was hit by a car. I don't think I've ever cried so hard over an animal. Well, maybe my rat Jeremy, but I was also 2 weeks shy of having my girl, so I think hormones were key. Luke was MY dog. I adored him, and the way he'd try and be as frisky and agile as Anakin, but being twice his weight it was impossible. When AC picked him up they weighed him, and told the hubster he was 135 lbs. We were guessing maybe 100, tops 110. Solid muscle too. I still miss him. Some friends have some mutt-puppies they are trying to give away, and I've considered trying to talk the hubster into taking one, but I don't know if I'm ready for it. Maybe. But I'm still on the fence about it. Maybe when we see them on New Year's Eve we'll decide.

There hasn't been any orchestra rehearsals since our concert on the 7th. It's been a nice break, but we start back up on the 4th. That means it's time to begin practicing again. One of the next concerts we'll be playing some music from "Pirates of the Caribbean", and my girl and I will be playing our fifes. That will be exciting. Since we're also going to be playing some folky-type music, I may have to break out the recorder and pennywhistle as well.

It's just about time to close up shop and head home. We're spending Christmas with our extended family at the MIL's house, as we do every year. I think it'll be a fun year. Now it's on to 2011 and whatever it holds for us. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that I get a breather and can sit and knit a sweater for myself. Two years (almost) of knitting and nothing has been made for myself. Go fig. :)

Vera modeling my girl's hat.

Red Writing Hood Meme: First Love

Okay, so this week's Red Writing Hood Meme courtesy The Red Dress Club was a lot of fun to write. I chose a subject I normally try to stay away from (love) for fear of it becoming too cutesy, and got to add a good spin to it. Can you tell who my first love is? Good luck :)

Scoundrel

I was young when I first laid eyes on him. He wasn’t what my parents would have picked for me in the long run- he was indeed tall, with rugged good looks, hair that always seemed unkept, but he had a swagger about him that pulled me in faster than my mind could comprehend. From Day One I was smitten. Maybe it was indeed that swagger that told all around him that he was One Bad MoFo who knew the men wanted BE him, and the ladies wanted to be WITH him. But I saw something different, something in his eyes that was begging to be loved, and cared for, and adored for being himself, not who others thought he was.

Sadly, I lost touch with him. I furthered my education, met new people, saw so many new and exotic places. He was always in the recesses of my mind, hovering there like a shadow, something seen out of the corner of my eye but never fully acknowledged. Life was always too busy, too moving, to slow down and think, “Where is he now?”

Fast forward a handful of years. I was a little older, a little wiser, and somehow I found him. He was in Egypt of all places, someplace I’d never expect to see him. He had pursued an education, taken to traveling the world, a modern day treasure hunter. His unending thirst for knowledge had taken him to the far ends of the earth and back, but he never seemed to stop searching. He had changed in more ways, though- he was harder.  He had been hurt, and it showed. His eyes, still caring, had an edge to them. This was what my parents saw- this is what they wanted to keep me from. But I was pulled in once again, hovering like a moon to his planet, wanting to be closer but never being able to break through the defenses he had surrounded himself with.

I followed him as if in a dream from Egypt to India to Utah. We traveled from Portugal to Venice, and on into Europe- always an adventure with him, not finding what his heart desired. Even when he thought he had found it, it wasn’t truly what he was pining for. If he looked behind him, beside him, and looked me in the eyes, I was positive he’d see that it was me he was needing. If he only took the time to get to know me as I was now and not as I was then, he’d see that we belonged together, that my laidback style complemented his swagger. That my quest for knowledge was second only to his (except maybe his father’s, if we were talking medieval literature), that together we could conquer the evil of the world.  I could only stand back and watch as he moved on without me.

I did see him once more a number of years later. I was raising a family; he was reconnecting with his, with a son he was just learning he had. Seeing him wasn’t the same as it was back in the day when the draw he radiated was undeniable, but it was still nice to see the familiar blue eyes, the unkept and now-graying hair he hid under his battered fedora, and as always, his trusty bullwhip at his side.

:)

Had to Restart

Doesn't it suck when someone comes in and decides that what you have, they want, so they take it? Well, that has happened in this case. My email was hacked and I lost not only it, but my Facebook (I'm in the process of getting that back), my Google Docs, and... *sniff sniff* my Blogger page. So I'm having to start over again. But don't worry- while it'll take some time, I'll get my posts back up here, add in a few more (maybe more personal and crafty stuff), and make this just an all-around blog.

Just bear with me. We'll get there. I promise :)

The Red Dress Blog Meme: Song Inspiration

Wow- it's been a while since I've written anything! I've been so busy the past few weeks. One of our supervisors at work is out on surgical leave and I've stepped in helping with the tasks she usually does. I've also been working on handknit items that I sell. So far all are commissioned, and need to be done well before Christmas. My email was hacked, which led to my Facebook being hacked, as well as my Blogger page since both were connected to that email account. Add to that one of dogs being struck and killed by a car, and you can see that writing inspiration is just not there. I just had no heart. But with music always being integral in my life, this week's meme was something I felt I just HAD to write. So I did about 15 minutes ago. I'm not going to edit anything, just throwing it up here and saying "Have at it". Enjoy.

"How the Dog Broke Your Bone"

The twelve-year anniversary is coming up soon. Twelve years since she was taken from me, leaving me to wander and wonder why. It was her hand that took her, her mind holding her hostage, driving her along the fatal course that I couldn’t navigate, as much as I tried, just to save her. In the end, it was nothing but tail lights and me alone in the road.

It seemed she was destined to follow his lead. He, with the silken voice and cloudy eyes, he with the demons that only seemed to draw her in tighter. His word was gospel and I was the heretic, speaking out against his truths, and I was condemned to burn at the stake for the witch I was.

And then he was gone. Overpowered by his demons, he spiraled into oblivion and was gone. She was shattered, fragile, full of feelings of failure that she could not save him. My words gave her no comfort. His demons became hers, feeding on the darkness filling her soul. Internal voices picking apart her mind, clouding her thoughts, crushing the spirit I had fallen in love with. She never showed she was hurting. Always the strong one.

And in his footsteps, on a different path, she traveled. While she had the sky as her playground, she chose the coldness of the ground to lay her head. Lost as prayer on the wind, never again to gaze at the stars that once held her childhood dreams, our love she held was not enough to save her. The agony for her was felt by us all when we realized holding her would never again happen.

I hold onto the thought that a soul as beautiful as she is in an eternal realm, as equally beautiful. I see her in my dreams, in my child who bears her name and is too young to remember. I see her in the sunlight that streams through my window and caresses my cheek as she once did. I hear her voice on the wind as it rustles the leaves on a fall day.

There is never a day where she is not in my thoughts, and I can only pray that when my time comes she’ll be there, waiting for me, her arms open and warm, and a smile on her lips. “Syd, say hello to heaven,” and in her embrace I’ll find it.



“Say Hello 2 Heaven”, Temple of the Dog

http://www.songlyrics.com/temple-of-the-dog/say-hello-2-heaven-lyrics/

Red Writing Hood Meme: Where I'm From

Wow- this week's meme was interesting for me. It's sort of like a Mad Lib, but not quite as funny. I got a chance to really sit and think about growing up and some of the things I've experienced, and the people I've met- it was rather eye-opening. It was also nice to write after stepping away from the pen for a bit to focus on some knitting projects I've had lined up for people. So. Here's this week's writing assignment...




Where I'm From  I am from a giant picnic table suited to seat many from Dad’s own handiwork and hours in the workshop, building and planning, to ensure we were all able to have a nice sit-down meal together.

I am from the scary-looking yet comforting 175-year old farmhouse that was restored by my parents on the weekends when there was time between school functions and appointments.

I am from the rose bushes Mom wanted along the property line that she tended to daily, the small orchard that bore fruit, the garden from which we got our vegetables (and punishment of weeding when we misbehaved).

I am from advent calendars and candles on Christmas, homemade birthday cakes and presents, and learning to look past disabilities, both physical and mental, from siblings Becky, Carly, Peter, Kevin, John, Esmeralda, Jenny, Susie, Timmy, Matt, Dennis, Mark, Bart and David, to the numerous cousins, aunts and uncles we spent holidays with.

I am from the family of love, sharing, and tolerance, no matter the differences.

From being selfless and helping others before helping yourself, because their smile and word of thanks is reward enough.

I am from a spiritual family, but as an adult choose to worship in nature.

I'm from blended families, both birth and chosen.

From the drive to Chicago to greet my new brother in from South Korea, from waiting anxiously to hear the news that our new sister was born to another mother and father, to grieving together as our eldest brother succumbed to MD.

I am from two loving and selfless people who welcomed two boys into the world, then opened their doors to 13 other children who were not considered “adoptable” because of physical ailments, mental slowness, or emotional issues. Two people who brought these children together under one roof and taught us that we are indeed worthy of love, and of acceptance, and of understanding. Two people who reminded us that there are others in the world who need our help much more than we do.

Red Writing Hood Meme: Dramatic Entrance

Red Writing Hood Meme: Dramatic Entrance

This week's meme was a doozy for me. The prompt: "An art opening at a lavish downtown gallery. A car crashes through the plate glass window. The driver's door opens, and an eight-year-old girl steps out." I think I must have started this a thousand times before almost decided to just forget it and wait until next week. I didn't feel like I was thinking very coherently, and it may be due to the fact that I am on my 7-day rotation for work, and the phones have been rather hectic all week. It's hard to put together a decent thought when you have back to back to back calls. This idea hit me as I was driving home last night, and I wrote it when I came in this morning, and all it took was looking at the scene from a different perspective. And nothing saucy this time. Sorry. Maybe the next meme I do can be Skinamax suitable? ;)

“Mom? Mommy, are you okay?” She was lying on her chair, the brown one that Grandma had given her when Dad left. She didn’t look right, and it scared me. She barely looked at me when I shook her, and her skin felt weird, like she was sweating, but she wasn’t hot. She actually felt kind of cold. I covered her with a blanket, but she started shivering. I wanted to cry because I was so scared, but if I am crying, I couldn’t help her. I tried to remember what my teachers taught us when we were learning about how to help someone, but it was hard to think. Oh, that’s it! I have to call 9-1-1 and let them know I need help!

“Mommy, I’m going to call for help, okay? I’ll be right back.” She didn’t respond, but I could tell she was trying to look at me. At least her eyes moved towards me. She was drooling a little bit, like my friend Abby’s baby sister Maggie Mae. Abby says that Maggie Mae is drooling because she’s getting in new teeth. But I don’t think Mommy was getting in new teeth. I ran into the kitchen and picked up the telephone that is on the wall next to the back door, but when I listened, there was no sound. Now I was even more scared. The phone is supposed to work when you need help, but ours must have been broken. My heart was beating so fast in my chest I thought it was going to fall out. I have to get her to the hospital so the doctors can help her. I ran back into the living room.

“The phone is broken, so I can’t call for help. There has to be another way.” Then I saw her keys on the coffee table. Mom had told me before how everything worked in the car. She also told me that I had to have a special card that says I’m allowed to use the car that I’d get when I was old enough, but I think because it’s an emergency it’d be okay. I grabbed the keys and ran outside to unlock and open the doors, then went back inside. It was hard, but I got Mommy to her feet. I helped her outside and got her in the car. I even put her seat belt on her, just like she taught me.

Now it was my turn. I got behind the steering wheel and closed the door. It was bigger than I thought. But I put the key in and turned it, just like I saw Mom do, and it spooked me a little when the car started. Okay, brake on the left, which makes it stop, and the go on the right to make it move. The stick that makes it go forward or backward, she said put it in “D”. I couldn’t remember what the “D” stood for, but I put the orange arrow on it, and the car started to move forward. I stepped on the brake and it stopped. I think I can do this. Seeing Mom as sick as she was, I had to do it. I stepped on the go softly, and we rolled forward. Yeah, I can do this.

“Hang on, Mom,” I said, still trying not to cry. “I’m going to get you to get some help.” I started to drive really slow because it was hard to see over the wheel, but once I got onto the road by our house I was able to go a little faster. Every once in a while Mom would moan, or whisper something, but I couldn’t understand her very well. The radio was on, so I sang along with the songs I knew, hoping the music would make her feel better since it always made me happy when I was feeling sad.

It took a while, but I found my way to the city. The hospital had to be close by since we always saw the buildings when we were going to school on the school bus. But the streets were more confusing than I remembered. The buildings were too tall for me to see anything, and the traffic lights made me have to stop a lot. I was having a hard time stopping the tears, but I kept reminding myself that I had to stay strong for Mom, because I was all she had left.

I didn’t notice how fast I was going. I was crying and telling Mom to hold on, we’re almost to the hospital, when a dog walked out into the street. I screamed and turned the wheel, a little harder than maybe I should have. The tires squealed and the car lurched, and I almost threw up. The car bounced up onto the sidewalk and we were heading right towards a building. The front was all glass, like one of those fancy restaurants we saw on TV, and there were people inside dressed really nice. I tried to hit the brake to stop, but I didn’t hit it in time. With a crash, the car went through the window and into the building.

I don’t remember the car coming to a stop, or me getting out of the car. It was almost as if I had fallen asleep and was sleepwalking, but drove a car instead. When I opened my eyes I was inside the building filled with the nicely-dressed people who looked really surprised. There was broken glass all around on the floor, and it looked like some paintings as well. They were broken and some were ripped. I felt bad about that, because I know I did it. But I was so worried about Mommy.

“Please, someone help my mommy.” I cried. “She’s sick and I don’t know what’s wrong with her.” A lady stepped towards us and looked into the car.

“Oh my god, Nathan! Help me!” She pulled the door open and a man helped her pull Mommy out of the car. Another lady who looked old like Grandma was talking on a small telephone and another came up to me.

“C'mon let’s get you taken care of,” she said, her voice very soft. I couldn’t fight my tears anymore and I started sobbing. My vision blurred really bad and it was hard to see, but she took my hand and took me to sit on a chair nearby. I could see the lady and the man with Mommy, and soon the ambulance arrived with the police. She asked my name and how old I was, and I told her my name was Crystal Marie Humgardner and I was almost 8 years old. She told this to a policeman while I had some fruit punch that was given to me by someone, but I couldn’t see who it was. It was good, and it was cold. I was also given a cookie. I like cookies, especially chocolate chip. Those are my favourites.

The policeman came over to me and asked me questions, and I told him about how Mommy got sick, and the phone wasn’t working so I couldn’t call 9-1-1 like I was taught by Mrs Arntz in school, so I got in the car and drove it as best as I could as Mommy had explained to me. He was so nice, and gave me a tissue to wipe my eyes because I was crying again. The ambulance people had Mommy on a stretcher and were putting her in the back of the ambulance, and he said I could go with him and we’d go to the hospital. He said I was a very brave girl, and that he thinks Mommy will be alright. He even gave me another cookie.

As we were driving away, I looked back at the building. The policeman said it was an art gallery and the lady who helped Mom out of the car was the one whose paintings I had broken. “Was she mad? I didn’t mean to do it.” He shook his head and said she was just glad that my mom was getting help. That made me happy. So happy that I started to hum a song that I knew Mommy liked alot. That would make her better. I just knew it.