When I was a kid, my cousin insisted he wanted to be a trashcan. No, that's not a typo. Trashcan.
We fussed over him and tried to figure out if he really wanted to be a trash man or trash collector, or anything else that rhymed with trashcan, but he stuck to it. He wanted to be a trashcan. (Probably the attention he got for it contributed to his insistence.)
Lucky for him, we don't always grow up to be what we want to be as kids.
The prompt for this week: If you'd grown up to be what you wanted to be as a kid.
Enjoy!
*****************************************************************************
My response:
The whirring of the fans drowned out the radio that always played in the background of the ceramic shop. I picked up the last mold and carefully angled the opening towards the funnel. The mud splashed as it started to pour, but I'd done this one more times than I could count, and I didn't spill a drop. When the mud stopped running, I set the mold back down and eyed the thin layer of mud on the sides. Not bad.
I grab the egg timer and set it, then turn and look at the short row of molds I just finished. I know it's risky to pour lots of molds at once, but five or six is manageable.
The bell rings, and I smile as one of my regular customers walks in, a large box in her arms. It's full of shredded newspaper, but nothing else. She drops it to the floor by the front counter and heads towards the shelves of greenware. "I'll just leave this here ..."
I nod, and she disappears into the shelves. I turn to the sink and run the water, rinsing the dried mud off my hands.
(I'm going to stop here because ... really, where do I go with this?! To me it sounds like the beginning of a murder mystery. Maybe she finds a corpse in the trash behind her shop. Or a romance; the bell would ring and Mr. Tall Dark And Handsome would walk in. But I don't write mysteries or plain romance, so I'm going to let this one go.)
Monday, July 27, 2015
Monday, July 20, 2015
Bad places to fall asleep
Prompt for the week: A bad place to fall asleep.
Enjoy!
**********************************************************************************
My response:
I blame it on the jetlag.
And of course, on whoever decided Grandma's funeral had to be in the evening. Why couldn't we be normal and have a nice, morning service followed by lunch? No. We had to be different, and the viewing didn't even start until 4pm.
Of course, four o'clock pm Mountain Standard Time is midnight in Germany, where I'd been living for the past two years.
And it's not that I don't stay up until midnight, on occasion. No, the problem was that I'd spent more than 36 hours awake, catching this delayed flight, missing that connection. And I've never been able to sleep on planes anyway. If anyone were to ever torture me, they'd put me on a plane until I was so brain-fried from lack of sleep that I couldn't help myself. Four different flights, and I couldn't sleep on any of them.
That gets blamed on paranoia. I realize the likelihood of the plane going down is less than getting in a car crash, but at least a car crash is on the ground, without 30,000 feet to fall to your death if something happens in the air.
But I digress. (Exhaustion. 'Nuff said.)
If we'd had the funeral in the morning, I would have been fine. But after a not sleeping forever, then spending the day preparing for the funeral, when it finally came time, I had nothing left. I sat down, notes in my hands, and listened to the song that opened the services.
My brother jostled me awake. There were already snickers in the audience, and when my brother realized I'd been drooling, he laughed, then tried to stop laughing and choked. I had drool all down my chin and my note cards had fallen to the ground. I wiped at my face and snatched at my cards, but the damage was done.
Aunt May did not approve.
Neither did Grandpa.
So much for my inheritance.
(For the record, this is NOT a memoir. I have not suffered this particular shame in my own life. Thank goodness!)
Enjoy!
**********************************************************************************
My response:
I blame it on the jetlag.
And of course, on whoever decided Grandma's funeral had to be in the evening. Why couldn't we be normal and have a nice, morning service followed by lunch? No. We had to be different, and the viewing didn't even start until 4pm.
Of course, four o'clock pm Mountain Standard Time is midnight in Germany, where I'd been living for the past two years.
And it's not that I don't stay up until midnight, on occasion. No, the problem was that I'd spent more than 36 hours awake, catching this delayed flight, missing that connection. And I've never been able to sleep on planes anyway. If anyone were to ever torture me, they'd put me on a plane until I was so brain-fried from lack of sleep that I couldn't help myself. Four different flights, and I couldn't sleep on any of them.
That gets blamed on paranoia. I realize the likelihood of the plane going down is less than getting in a car crash, but at least a car crash is on the ground, without 30,000 feet to fall to your death if something happens in the air.
But I digress. (Exhaustion. 'Nuff said.)
If we'd had the funeral in the morning, I would have been fine. But after a not sleeping forever, then spending the day preparing for the funeral, when it finally came time, I had nothing left. I sat down, notes in my hands, and listened to the song that opened the services.
My brother jostled me awake. There were already snickers in the audience, and when my brother realized I'd been drooling, he laughed, then tried to stop laughing and choked. I had drool all down my chin and my note cards had fallen to the ground. I wiped at my face and snatched at my cards, but the damage was done.
Aunt May did not approve.
Neither did Grandpa.
So much for my inheritance.
(For the record, this is NOT a memoir. I have not suffered this particular shame in my own life. Thank goodness!)
Monday, July 13, 2015
Dream Vacation
In honor of summer, I think it'd be fun to do a prompt about vacations. It doesn't have to be elaborate. If your dream vacation is the basement of a library, go with it. Have fun.
This week's prompt: Dream Vacation
********************************************************************************
My response:
Coming over the hill, the brine floats in on the wind. I roll the window down and let it in, sucking it into my soul. My fingers on the steering wheel tingle in anticipation and chills run down the backs of my arms. I hit the main boulevard and turn left, heading towards the docks. Dunes block the view I long to see, but I'm close enough now to hear the waves, and they call to me.
All at once, the dunes end. I get a quick glimpse of blue before I hit the buildings. Old warehouses and brick shops line the road leading up to the dock. Most of them have been turned into souvenir shops and ice cream stands, but the history of Cannery Row shines through, though the packing machines have long since stilled.
I drive on until I get to the beach and pull into the lot. A pair of divers stand in the showers, rinsing out their gear. One of them laughs and pulls a sprig of seaweed off the other's mask. My tank sits in my trunk, unfilled, so I'll have to wait to get in the water, but I can walk out on the levee. Sea gulls dive and swirl in the sky, and sea lions lay like lazy pigs in the sun.
I wish I could stay forever.
(One day I will get back to Monterrey Bay ... )
This week's prompt: Dream Vacation
********************************************************************************
My response:
Coming over the hill, the brine floats in on the wind. I roll the window down and let it in, sucking it into my soul. My fingers on the steering wheel tingle in anticipation and chills run down the backs of my arms. I hit the main boulevard and turn left, heading towards the docks. Dunes block the view I long to see, but I'm close enough now to hear the waves, and they call to me.
All at once, the dunes end. I get a quick glimpse of blue before I hit the buildings. Old warehouses and brick shops line the road leading up to the dock. Most of them have been turned into souvenir shops and ice cream stands, but the history of Cannery Row shines through, though the packing machines have long since stilled.
I drive on until I get to the beach and pull into the lot. A pair of divers stand in the showers, rinsing out their gear. One of them laughs and pulls a sprig of seaweed off the other's mask. My tank sits in my trunk, unfilled, so I'll have to wait to get in the water, but I can walk out on the levee. Sea gulls dive and swirl in the sky, and sea lions lay like lazy pigs in the sun.
I wish I could stay forever.
(One day I will get back to Monterrey Bay ... )
Monday, July 6, 2015
Closed
Today I got my kids in their swimsuits and all sunscreened up, only to get to the pool and find it closed for maintenance. Lucky for me, milkshakes put smiles back on the kids' faces, and the pool will be open tomorrow. But I thought it was a good start for a prompt.
Prompt: What is the worst place to find closed?
Enjoy!
********************************************************************************
My response:
Nothing like a bout of food poisoning to take you down the week before your wedding. All the last minute decisions, all the things we'd failed to think of beforehand, all the excitement of our friends getting into town got lost as I lay, in soft, lovely blankets my fiancé got for me, on the floor of the bathroom. Curse that roadside stand, and curse my brother for telling us it had the best tamales in town.
I missed my dress fitting. I was supposed go in and make sure the final alterations were good, then take it home on Wednesday. With the wedding on Saturday, I felt like we'd have plenty of time.
Tuesday night we ate the tamales.
By the dawn of Wednesday, I was in the fifth circle of hell, and going to my fitting didn't seem as important as my impending death.
Thursday, I was feeling well enough to complain about my fate.
Friday, since I wasn't dead, I figured I needed to drag my decimated self from the bathroom to my own bed. My mom and my three sisters were only too glad to "handle everything" for me ... something I would never have handed over, if I hadn't seen my life flash before my eyes.
Saturday dawned, and after a shower, I felt nearly human. The wedding was at 11am. The dress store opened at 9am. Assuming the alterations were okay, and reluctantly handing over the preparations for the morning to my mom again, I should have been able to pick up the dress and get back in plenty of time.
When I saw the sign, I wished the food poisoning had killed me off.
"Due to illness (our entire staff), Kelsie's Bridal is closed until further notice."
Prompt: What is the worst place to find closed?
Enjoy!
********************************************************************************
My response:
Nothing like a bout of food poisoning to take you down the week before your wedding. All the last minute decisions, all the things we'd failed to think of beforehand, all the excitement of our friends getting into town got lost as I lay, in soft, lovely blankets my fiancé got for me, on the floor of the bathroom. Curse that roadside stand, and curse my brother for telling us it had the best tamales in town.
I missed my dress fitting. I was supposed go in and make sure the final alterations were good, then take it home on Wednesday. With the wedding on Saturday, I felt like we'd have plenty of time.
Tuesday night we ate the tamales.
By the dawn of Wednesday, I was in the fifth circle of hell, and going to my fitting didn't seem as important as my impending death.
Thursday, I was feeling well enough to complain about my fate.
Friday, since I wasn't dead, I figured I needed to drag my decimated self from the bathroom to my own bed. My mom and my three sisters were only too glad to "handle everything" for me ... something I would never have handed over, if I hadn't seen my life flash before my eyes.
Saturday dawned, and after a shower, I felt nearly human. The wedding was at 11am. The dress store opened at 9am. Assuming the alterations were okay, and reluctantly handing over the preparations for the morning to my mom again, I should have been able to pick up the dress and get back in plenty of time.
When I saw the sign, I wished the food poisoning had killed me off.
"Due to illness (our entire staff), Kelsie's Bridal is closed until further notice."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)