Tuesday, August 24, 2010


I was just in my "Manage Posts" area of my blog and saw a few draft posts that never got published.  I can't even remember why I wrote this draft or what the rest of the story was in my brain... too bad... but I thought it was fun to read.  Mac was sitting here while I read it and he read it too.  My ten year old son pursed his lips, raised his eyebrows and said, "Huh.  Pretty good, Mom.  I think you should write a book."

I'd love to, Mac.  But first, I've just got to get myself writing again.

Here is my never-published draft of something unknown.... I wrote it on June 10th, 2009.

Kate saw him on the train that day. Cold air rushed past her as the doors opened, carrying the din of the commuters as well as the scent of his cologne. Sam's cologne was, as usual, too strong and she felt an almost irresistible urge to reach out and touch him. 

He hadn't seen her. Kate's fingers twitched toward him and then fell still as her mind played out the outcome of taking action on her urge to feel that soft spot below his earlobe. Sighing and biting her lip, she attempted distraction by looking out the window at the streak of scenery that flew by the oblivious commuters.

Who's Kate?  I have no idea.  But I think I'd like to figure it out.

Monday, August 23, 2010

Missing Manic Monday: Bit

When my Grandma Carol passed away I inherited a double bed that was in her house.  It was the very bed Dustin and I always slept in when we went to stay there.  This bed is now where Mac sleeps.  I was tucking him in tonight and as he was saying his prayer I had my face down on his bed.  As I laid there with my nose buried in his blankets, I realized that there is a lingering bit of the scent of my grandma's house embedded in the mattress.  It was a very faint trace, but as I caught that smell I started crying.

I would give almost anything in this world to be able to walk into my precious grandmother's house one more time and inhale that distinct Grandma-Carol's-house smell, walk up her brown-carpeted stairs, into her kitchen and see her sitting at her dining room table or on her couch and soak up the warmth of her smile as her face lights up in greeting.

I miss her so acutely in this moment. 

Grandma Carol and my baby Ella Brae, 2002

Friday, August 20, 2010

Friday's Fabulous Five and MMM Preview

1- Dams breaking.

2- 1 hour massage gift certificate.

3- Overtime pay.

4- Horizon full of the promise of autumn.

5- Happy Birthday to me.


Missing Manic Monday word preview:


Happy Friday.

Tuesday, August 17, 2010


She's always called it
a constellation. 
A mural of her indifference.

a picture
of the deeper places.

Her weakness revealed
on this map
of her self-inflicted turmoil.

Monday, August 16, 2010

Missing Manic Monday: Noise

Every night it's the same. 

'Ridiculous,' I tell myself.

'Why do you do this?', I question.

'Sleep should be a priority,' I reprimand.

But it isn't.  Night holds freedom from the demands of the sunlit hours.  The noise of responsibility is sleeping, blanketed by the darkness.

And I just never quite want it to end.

Friday, August 13, 2010

Friday's Fabulous Five and MMM Preview

Whoops.  The blog revival fell flat on it's face for a few days.  (Clancy likes alliteration)  But, I can persist. 

1- I am now the proud owner of a four bedroom TWO bathroom house!  (I've been the owner of a four bedroom, one bathroom house for almost six years but now we have two bathrooms, officially.  Actually, if we're getting technical, I was the owner of a two bedroom one bathroom house for the first three or so years and then it became a four bedroom and now it's a two bathroom too.  It's just all so wonderful...)

2- Android phones are awesome.  AWESOME, I say!

3- I was able to catch up with an old friend today.  Always a bonus.

4- My sister, Sarah, brought her kids up last weekend and then left them here with my mom so my kids have had playmates all week.  Cousins are the best.

5- Money seems to show up right when we need it, often in unexpected ways.  I'm grateful for that.

Oh, and if anyone wants to play Missing Manic Monday on Monday next, the word is:


So, come back Monday and leave a comment if you want to play. 

Monday, August 9, 2010

Missing Manic Monday

It's a blog revival, apparently.  I find myself missing my old schedule of posts.  I always knew what I would be posting on certain days and that's a good thing for a blogger like me.  I need that.

Mondays used to be my favorite.  There was a guy named Mo who made up a meme called Manic Monday.  For this meme, Mo would choose a random word every Monday and then everyone who played would write whatever they wanted that included that random word.

I am missing this every Monday, not only because I haven't been blogging, but because Mo stopped doing his meme.  His heart wasn't in it anymore, which I can certainly relate to.  I now have no Manic Monday to turn to.  :(

So, I've decided that I'll just pick my own random word for the Mondays that I blog.  I'll aim for getting something regular going, but this blog revival might be a slowish process, or maybe I'm just going to jump right in and blog a lot like the old days??.... who knows.

Anyway, I am using  a random word generator website, so I won't try to cheat.

And today's random word is



I remember walking to school as a kid with my little sister.  We were often late in getting out the door so we would be in a hurry as we walked.  (ME late?  Yes, I know it's shocking to imagine, but I am late sometimes in my life)  My dear, sweet Lacy was a dilly-dallying kind of girl sometimes (a lot of times) and she just didn't seem to feel the stress I did about getting to school on time.  Lacy would often lag behind a little and drag her feet stating that she was too tired to hurry. 

Like any good big sister, if she lagged behind I simply punched her in the face.

Just kidding.

When my cute little Lacy would lag (Clancy likes alliteration), I would make up games to try to get her to hurry, because, let's face it, getting mad at her just made her mad back and that would make her move even slower.

Two games are prominent in my memory.  One, I would tell her to RUN!  She didn't like that very much so I would tell her I'd pull her for a minute and then she could pull me for a minute.  Really what we'd do is hold hands and I would pull her foward in a run and when she reached the length of our holding hands arm span she would pull me forward, running all the while.  Then I'd pull her again and she'd pull me and we'd run in that disjointed fashion and make it there faster.

The second game I really remember well was so silly.  I'm just embarrassed to even write it.  In our tardy moments, I tell Lacy to pretend that Dr. Harding, our principal, was the king of our school and Pat, the secretary, was the queen.  If we got there after the bell then we, the lowly servants, would be punished for our crime and get our heads chopped off.  She knew it was pretend, but it always made us hurry just a little faster.

And that's it for today's Missing Manic Monday post... for now... I'm literally falling asleep as I type.  Maybe I'll add more to the post later, or maybe I'll be correcting the typos I've missed while editing.  Just now, as I woke with a jerk sitting up in my computer chair, I was having a dream about laying sandstone rocks on our new patio instead of editing this post.  Pretty soon I'll be drooling.

So, forgive the mistakes.  I'll make it right later.  Or not.

Friday, August 6, 2010

Friday's Fabulous Five

Remember how I made up this game to play on Fridays?  I barely do. 

1- I'm blogging more.  Probably no one cares, but I think that's pretty fabulous.  It's an interesting thing because I can really see a difference in the ease of writing when I'm writing more.  This "break" I've taken has left my brain feeling like mud.  Blech.  But, I'm slowing cleaning it out and my thoughts are starting to flow more like they used to, which is fabulous.

2- Dustin has been out of town this whole week and I miss him.  He'll be home in about 2 hours. 

3- I will have a toilet/sink/shower in our new bathroom in the basement NEXT WEEK!  I can hardly wait.

4- My baby Brynja is growing so fast.  This is both fabulous and tragic all rolled into one.  I live the dichotomy of wanting her to grow up, see her personality emerge even more and gain some independence vs. holding and snuggling my last baby.  But it's mostly fabulous.

5- Late-afternoon thunderstorms. 

Thursday, August 5, 2010


Rohan is playing Legos.  I'm trying to fix my blasted printer that suddenly decides it's not going to "communicate" with my computer.  (Yessss, I love technology.  But not as much as you, you see.  But sssstill I love technology.  Alwaysss and forever.  Alwaysss and forever.) 

Anyway, Rohan is quietly playing with our cubic yard of Legos and he says to me, "Mom?  Does Jesus live on a dead planet?"

I'm thinkin' to myself, 'What the...???'

I reply, "Ummm, no?"

Rohan says, "Well all the people that live there are dead."

"Ohhhh..." I say.  I'm sorta following his train of thought now. 

Rohan... "Does it take a long time to float up there?  To Jesus?  When you're a ghost?"

Fortunately for me, he's not looking at my face at this point because how can you not smile when  you're having a conversation like this? 

My reply: "I don't know, honey.  I've never died."

His mind chews on that for a minute.  "But when you die, Mom, maybe you'll tell me?"

I love that child.  So much.

Tuesday, August 3, 2010

School Shopping



Tuesday afternoon

One sassy ten-year old

One dramatic eight-year old

One "floppy" five-year old

One fussy four-month old

Three school supply lists

One sleep-deprived mother

This is a recipe for disaster, people.  When did school supply shopping become such a huge undertaking?  I think I remember buying pencils, a lunch box and a backpack when I was a kid.  And one new outfit. 

These lists are going to cost me some serious cash... I'm guessing we'll break a hundred just for the pencils, highlighters, notebooks, crayons, markers, paint, tissues, glue, glue sticks, scissors, hand sanitizer, blah blah blah... the list goes ON and ON! 

We got some of it, but I couldn't finish.  I needed to regroup and come back later all recharged.  I'll see if I can hit it again tomorrow.  Phew.

The Ties That Bind Us

I have an uncle that lives in Texas.  His name is Lex.  I've only been around him a handful of times, so he's remained a fairly enigmatic part of my life.  He's a music man.  He's an amazing guitarist and he has fantastic naturally curly hair.  He has a sweet wife that I've only met a couple of times and two beautiful daughters, my cousins, the oldest of which I've only met once, and the younger, not at all.

Through the medium of Facebook, Lex and I have been able to connect to a certain degree, be it sparsely and about fairly trivial things like discovering that we both love Imogen Heap, my straight hair vs. his curly hair, and comments on photos now and then. Those times we have interacted on Facebook are rare pearls that I've unconsciously tucked away in a safe place in my heart. 

Today my mom sent me a link to a video.  This video woke up an awareness of those safe heart-places and I am compelled to write about it.

I tell you that he's a music man, but that's not giving him enough credit.  He's been involved in music his entire life.  I don't know the whole story, and I realize as I type this that it's a story that I have a deep desire to hear, but I know he started playing the guitar when he was very young, and he never stopped.  As far as I know, he's always been in one band or another.  Music seems to be embedded in the fiber of his soul, filling all but the capacity of his mysterious heart. 

Watching this video, my eyes smart with tears.  The time I've spent with him in real life is scant.  To see him moving and breathing rather than frozen in a photo gives life to so many amazing connections.  In his face, I see my grandmother's eyes and my grandfather's mouth and nose.  In his movements, I see my brother and my mother.  In his voice, I hear that music that sings through so many generations of my family.  In his eyes, I catch a glimpse of his mysterious heart, quiet and unassuming, gentle and soulful. And, as I watch him move on the screen, just singing a country song, I realize that, despite the miles between Idaho and Texas, despite the gap in our age, despite the acute lack of interaction between us, I know him.  I feel a connection that goes beyond reason or cognitive understanding.  I love him as though we had eaten dinner together every Sunday of my life.

In this somewhat simple, broken-hearted country song, my Uncle Lex sings his soul.  And it resonates all the way to Idaho.

 (He's the cute one closest to the camera with the guitar and the amazing voice)


Sunday, August 1, 2010


I don't like chicken.  I love chickens... but I don't like chicken.

My mom has chickens and I think they are the funniest, cutest little things ever.  I love to watch them peck and scratch and cluck.  I love to eat their eggs.  I love when the hens sit themselves down on their little eggs and grow babies.  I love when they hatch and little baby chickens run around my mom's property.


I don't like to eat chicken.  I used to, but ever since I was pregnant with Ella... 8+ years ago... I stopped eating it.  It's kinda weird, I know.  I really do.



Some people don't like tomatoes.  Some people don't like nuts.  Some people don't like olives.  Do they get gasps and slack-jawed stares?  Maybe.  But not likely. 

What's the big deal with chicken?  Why is it not okay with so many people that I don't like chicken?  I don't really get it.

And it's equally hard to understand the incredulous shock people exhibit when I tell them I don't like warm cookies from the oven.  I just don't.  Sorry.  The world will continue rotating on it's axis if I like my cookies cooled completely, not even warm a little bit in the center..  Just so you know.

Next time you're in a restaurant, I want you to think of me.  I want you to read over that menu and see just how many dishes include chicken.  There's usually only one salad that is lacking this foul fowl.  I think us non-chicken lovers need more options.  This is discrimination.

I'm totally calling my lawyer.  Totally.