I’m writing every day of March for the Slice of Life Challenge at Two Writing Teachers.
It’s not spring break anymore It’s just a regular Saturday
I just got used to the spring break way letting my cats be my alarm I’ve been wearing sweatshirts to keep warm I write whenever I want I leave email un-responded I even make lunch when I’m hungry Once I took a nap at three I got stuff done! From my list! (well, not as much as I wished…)
It’s not spring break anymore Tomorrow it’s just Sunday Soon, it will just be a Monday
I’m writing every day of March for the Slice of Life Challenge at Two Writing Teachers.
I told the lady offering wine tasting at the grocery store the truth about the wine when she asked.
“It’s good,” I started.
I was remembering last time when the wine was okay but not great and I said I didn’t need any more Riesling at home. I mean, I didn’t, but that wasn’t really the reason I wasn’t going to get any. The real reason was it wasn’t really any better than the cheaper wine I usually buy.
I was wondering why I feel like I need to protect this woman’s feelings. It isn’t like she made the wine. Even if she had, I don’t think it’s my job to make her feel good about the wine.
Although, I don’t like to make people feel bad either. . .
“The finish is just a little bitter for me.” I finished, telling her the blunt truth. And immediately feeling icky about it.
“Well thanks for trying it!” She told me and she turned to the next customer.
it’s almost like my harsh truth didn’t actually ruin her day.
I’m writing every day of March for the Slice of Life Challenge at Two Writing Teachers.
I’m not complaining.
Last year for spring break we drove to Florida and took a million boat rides and saw a billion alligators and crocodiles. The sun was shining and it was warm.
It snowed here yesterday – and the sun does not seem to make it warm.
I’m not complaining.
I’d like to tell my pre-spring break self that being on spring break does not suddenly turn me into a person who likes to make phone calls and go to the UPS store. So, that long list of things to accomplish? Um…
Why are there so many phone calls on my to do list?
I’m not complaining.
I’d like to cross off more on that to do list. So I better add some things to help myself out.
Paint the basement Drink hot cocoa and read a book Take the dog to his favorite store for birthday treats Play with the cats Do the dishes a hundred thousand times Play the piano Take a nap
I’m writing every day of March for the Slice of Life Challenge at Two Writing Teachers.
I did the few dishes that were in the sink just now, looked up at my window and didn’t startle at the face looking back at me: Saul Goodman
I didn’t startle because I watched my 16 year old put that cutout of his art work up there.
In fact, I watched him cut it out on the way to dinner. He had laminated it with strips of packing tape, leaning against the dashboard.
It’s not exactly the art I used to have all over when the kids were little. It’s not exactly the decor I’m looking for in my kitchen. But, I left it up in the window frame. I live with teenage boys and I’m kind of used to nonsense. I mean, a million pairs of socks have been discarded in random spots.We laugh a lot, though, which makes it worth it.
So tonight I’m finding Breaking Bad character art — I think I noticed Walter White on my nightstand…
I’m writing every day of March for the Slice of Life Challenge at Two Writing Teachers.
My mom measured and marked giant pieces of cork today, and then drew straight lines before cutting with a small blade.
We’re working on my basement, but I kept thinking back to when I was in elementary and middle school and got big projects. My mom would measure and mark and help me make the lines straight. She’d also help me plan, draw and execute the best school projects.
Do you remember book reports? Research projects you did mostly at home? What was all that homework all about? I don’t know – but I do know that one year of elementary school I did my whole report on a scroll of paper that we then installed in a cardboard box. The box had a large square cut out of it, and was decorated like a TV. To view the report, you twisted a dowel rod to scroll the paper past the whole.
Man, I wish I had that Cardboard box TV report to look at one more time!
I might not have any of my old projects from school, but, 35+ years later, I still have my mom and dad helping me with new projects! How lucky is that?
Apparently my son isn’t getting as much done as he wants on his story he’s writing in school.
I had a quick idea. I didn’t think it would work. I said, “Well…where do you want to do your writing? Do you want to write here, or do you want to like go to a cafe or something?”
Knowing that usually my ideas are not my 13 year-old’s favorite, I waited with bated breath.
“That sounds fun,” he cautiously said. “We could go to Barnes and Noble, and then we could maybe look at books too.”
Score!
We packed our bags, dropped my 16 year-old off at work, and drove to Barnes and Noble.
(Bonus point for me: Before I could forget, I dropped off the 5 goodwill bags that have been in my van for a week since Goodwill is next to Barnes and Noble!)
With our bags slung on our shoulders, we walked through the store to find a table. A toy played “If you’re happy and you know it clap your hands.”
Like the embarrassing mother of teenagers that I am, I clapped my hands. Lightly.
My son smiled and said a little sarcastically, “Are you happy?”
And just as I thought it, he said it. “Is this your dream come true?”
I’m writing every day of March for the Slice of Life Challenge at Two Writing Teachers.
When I woke up this morning, I was already hours late for work. We had driven and driven, but I could not get to school. I had also burned a bunch of bagels for my daughter and her friends in some big old house I’ve never seen before. There was an unsuccessful search for vegan cream cheese at a very strange Walmart.
I’m not going to look that up in a dream dictionary. I am going to blame the dream for my all day headache, the jelly I somehow spilled on my hair this morning, and the fact that the dog woke up early and I had to take him out when it was still dark.
Shoot. I actually did look up dreaming of bagels. Did you know this was a thing? Especially the cream cheese part. Wild.
“…An unfilled cream cheese bagel symbolizes the absence of an essential component of one’s life.” That’s what this website says anyway.
Do you look up your dreams? Do you remember your dreams? I find them fascinating.
I’m writing every day of March for the Slice of Life Challenge at Two Writing Teachers.
I want to know how my cats know it’s 5:42, and also why they can’t just wait 3 minutes for my alarm to wake me up.
Maybe they know I’ll hit snooze.
But, I can’t snooze Theodore. He’s the fluffiest cat I’ve ever known, and usually the chillest too. But, like clockwork he jumps on my nightstand and starts swatting things off of it to wake me up. It is almost always at 5:42. It’s not really my favorite way to wake up, hearing my books hit the floor. This morning I noticed the spray bottle I had set out to try to stop this situation was also on the floor. Well, that strategy won’t work I guess.
The cats pace around until I get up and then then chase each other down the steps, ready for breakfast. It’s actually super cute, or would be if it weren’t 5:45 in the morning.
If they are this smart, I could probably teach them to press “Brew Now” on my coffee maker.
This morning they were heartbroken. I forgot to set up the coffee maker last night, so before I fed them, I had to get the coffee started. Luckily they get over the sting of betrayal much faster that I do, and they were able to enjoy their breakfast.
Just like every morning, Clyde kept me company while I drank my coffee. Although, I think he was wondering why my hands were busy writing instead of petting him.