Friday's Fabulous Five

Oh man. Life is fabulous and I love that I get to really look at what is great in my life every Friday. Some days I have to look harder than other days, but there's so much to find!!!

1- Dustin has been home all week!! (working everyday, but coming HOME at 5:00 just like the good old days!) It's amazing. My dinner making ambitions have shot through the roof this week. I feel like a domestic goddess again! (or something)

2- Remember how I won an iPod? Well, it actually arrived yesterday and let me tell you how much fun I'm having with my new toy! I got so much done today simply because I got to walk around jamming to music as I did everything! If I had the ambition to and the toothpicks to hold my eyes open, I could listen to music for 27 hours straight and not hear the same song twice... and we're just getting started, baby!!!

3- My incredible friend is getting baptized tonight! I'm so happy for him and for his wife and his sister. Congrats, Jazzy. You 'da MAN!!!

4- My two bedrooms that we're remodling have shelves in the closets and the doors will be hung tomorrow. I found a really good deal on carpet, pad AND installation. AWESOME.

5- Chiropractors rule. Especially my chiropractor. He hurts me, but I love him and I can hardly wait to go get hurt again on Monday.

Yeah, Write... Amendment to Rules

Our little game is getting very interesting! I'm fairly excited about it. Ginny brought to my attention that she hasn't gotten any prompts for her writing. I realized that I left that out of the rules and that's part of what makes it so fun! So, please note the amendment to the rules as follows: I will pick two random phrases or things that you must use in your chapter. I will pick them and post them when I post the story. For next week, Ginny, your prompts are....

...and we make this world our own heaven or hell...

and

... the smell was nearly powerful enough to bring me to my knees...

Happy writing!!!

Yeah, Write...

As a reminder, this is a writing project that I started a couple weeks ago. I wrote a story using prompts from my readers and ended it with an abrupt cliffhanger. In the comment section, it was decided to let it be a bit of a game. Maria took my story and wrote the next "chapter". It is posted below and it's AWESOME! Well done, Maria! Next week we will hear from Ginny. And the following week, our contributor will be Polly. If anyone else is interested in playing, please let me know and I will assign you a week to write.

The rules: Pick up the story where it was left off and write where you think it would go. Thursdays are the day I'll post the chapters. Email me your chapter by Wednesday. You only get one week as we want to keep the story flowing and keep "our readers" interested! I will play editor in this, here, game. Don't get your feeling hurt if I edit something. I'll only do it for flow, not content. I'll try to approve any edits if there's time enough before posting, but I will say that as this is my blog, I'll reserve the right to have the final say. Additionally, you agree to grant me copyrights if you agree to play the game.

To be brought up to speed on the first chapter of the story, click here.


Chapter 2

My vision was blurred and I brushed my arm across my face. The coarseness of my jacket scratched at my raw cheeks. My tears were flowing freely and were physically causing pain because it was so cold outside. I did not know where I was going, I thought in the direction of the apartments. I was just running, running away from him. I stumbled onto a road, managed to cross it quickly, and felt my feet bog down in gravel. I looked around briefly at the playground I had found and then crumbled onto the rocks. My body shook with the sobs I had stifled in my hasty escape. How could this be? Was this real? It was truth so painful, so awful, I could not bear it.

My world crashed around me as I listened again in my mind to his confession. The pain in my jaw flared as I gritted my teeth at the sting of my most recent memory. The physical pain was nothing compared to my internal suffering. I wanted to run to the apartments now just thirty yards away. I willed myself to run, but my body would not go. I could not pick myself up. My desperation, or perhaps something even stronger, held me there. As I tried to breathe deeply to calm myself, I turned back toward the car and saw him emerge, looking at me. I was hit with a wave of nausea and I tried to turned away. I felt like my center of balance was shifting under my very body. It was vertigo with an intensity I had never experienced before. I was spinning out of control. I collapsed with sheer emotional exhaustion onto the gravel and laid my head on the cold stones. The coolness was comforting now and I closed my eyes. A memory flickered.

What was her name? Why did I want to remember her name? There was a little white mouse in my fifth grade classroom. When she first arrived, she would cower in the corner of her cage, afraid of the noise and the greedy fingers pressing through the bars of her sanctuary trying frantically just to touch the soft white fur. She would pile up her bedding into a sort of hill and try to bury herself from sight, only her bright pink nose periodically poking through, giving her away. As she adjusted to the sounds and smells of the classroom, she gradually eased her way back out. She warily tolerated our interest, but usually just ignored us. I used to chuckle with some melancholy pleasure at her running wheel. I found it sadly humorous that she would spend so much energy, running in a circle, going nowhere. She would hop off the wheel, clearly pleased with her activity and I used to pity her, because she was not going anywhere. She was still stuck, she was still caged. Looking back, perhaps it was myself I pitied because here was an animal every bit as caged, as frightened, and as stuck spinning as I was. And still, her name would not come to me.

I was pulled back to the present and the vertigo eased. I sat up slowly, glancing again to the car. I was on the playground and he was still watching me. His shoulders were drooped in despair and his expression was pure agony. Had I caused that? Was I now causing him pain? How could I bear to cause him pain? What about him held me here? I had wanted to run away and now I knew that I could not. Is that why I was drawn to him? Is that why I was pulled with some deeply rooted magnetic reaction to others with confidence, with direction… because I was devoid of that trait and I was searching for some way to glean it from others? I should have been aware of the pattern I was creating for my life. I had always gravitated towards confidence that was as fragile as my own skittish nature. Friends and boyfriends had often betrayed me and left my life in shambles. Somehow I managed to extricate myself from the wreckage of those relationships, only to find another new and equally damaging one. But he seemed different. He seemed to pull me further from my own center and further into his with ease. And now, how could I possibly pull away from him. This wreckage was different. I had not cowered in the corner enough. I had allowed his fingers to close around my meager consciousness, my delicate self-awareness. I had allowed his scent to become too familiar. I had enjoyed the warmth of his body and the intensity of his gaze. I had reveled in the knowledge that he talked with me, not to me. He was mysterious and I was boring, and yet he still wanted to be with me. And now, I was inextricably linked to him. I knew a secret so dark, so intriguing and yet equally revolting, and instead of being repulsed, I actually felt I was a part of it. But how could that be?

I did not know how it could be, it simply was. As soon as I accepted that I was as bound to him as he was to me, I stood up, not with confidence yet, but with resignation. I turned back toward the car and took the first step in his direction. His face lit in a way I had never yet seen.

Come back next Thursday to see where Ginny will take us!

From The Jar... #30

And the Jar says...


How do you feel about death? Tell about your philosophy of after-life.


Hmmm.... not the easiest pick to be starting at midnight, but I'm going for it.


{WARNING: Macabre content in this post. Read at your own risk. I considered editing parts, but this is for me. I want to remember this.}


I believe that after this life we have the opportunity to be reunited with loved ones. I believe I will carry with me everything I've learned in this life and that I will have the opportunity to continue growing and learning. I believe in resurrection and eternal families.

I am not afraid of death. The dying part could be another story, but we'll cross that bridge when it comes. That being said, I am terribly afraid of death around me. I have always had a terrible fear of cemeteries. As an adult, I'm more or less over that one, but as a child I would hide my face if we even drove by a cemetery. I was terribly disturbed by them and I don't know why.

Dead bodies hold a very deep rooted fear for me. I remember being at a funeral when I was about 14 years old. It was for my sister's then-boyfriend's brother, Roman, who was killed in an avalanche. I watched person after person go to his casket and hold his hand, stroke his face, or touch him in some manner. I was absolutely mortified. I didn't understand it and, frankly, I still don't.

My grandma passed away almost three years ago. We tried to get there in time to say goodbye, but she passed just before we arrived. The grief in the room was tangible, and I watched my mom and dad go and kiss her and touch her face and stroke her hair while they cried. I stood against the wall with my arms folded. My mom said to me, "Do you want to hold her hand or anything? She's still warm...?" I felt like my eyes bulged at the suggestion. I shook my head vehemently and stayed put. In a few minutes I walked over to her thinking maybe I could do it. I even reached my hand out, but in the end, all I could do was look and cry.

For a long time after that, I couldn't even walk past that room without wishing I could run. I love my grandma so dearly and I was deeply and mortally terrified all the same. When I would go in the room, I would avoid even looking at the side of the bed where she laid. But I could feel it. I don't know what I feel, but I feel something. Even now, when I sit on her bed (which belongs to someone else now) I think about her laying there so still.

It isn't just people. I remember when our great dog, Fergus, died and my little sister sat there petting him long after. I did reach out and touch his shoulder and I recoiled as if burned. I couldn't stand the emptiness. I was terrified.

Not exactly a ray of sunshine either, was it? I am being nice though and that's all I promised. This was an interesting subject to explore for me. It brought to mind many things that I'll mull over. I don't think I'll post them, but I'm glad I got to look at this fear of mine.

Tue Pose a Question

I've been really diggin' my pet peeves lately. Or should I say, they've been diggin' me? I've been really irritated with a lot of little simple things. And so, as I often do, I wondered....

What are your pet peeves, my lovelies? Since I am so utterly and completely narcissistic on my blog I think I'll expound on a few of mine.

#1 When one has to travel some distance out of town... let's say it's to a place that is south of where they live, and they're talking about it with me or someone else, it bothers me way more than it should when they say, "We're going UP to such and such place". Why does that bother me? Because in my brain, if you are going up to a city, it should be a city that is NORTH of where you currently are. Or conversely, if someone says, "I'm headed down to Canada." they better be living at the North Pole.

Say it with me... Up = North. Down = South. If I was going to Salt Lake and I lived anywhere in Idaho I would say, "I'm going to head DOWN to Salt Lake City." That's the official way things are done in Clancy's world.

#2 Carrying groceries in from the car. I don't like it. On the rarest of occasions Dustin is around to help me carry them in, but mostly not so. My kids are getting bigger now and are much more able to carry than they used to be... especially Mac. Pretty soon I'm just going to say, "Kids, you want to eat any of this food we just bought? OK, you have to carry it all in the house." That will be a beautiful day and we'll have cupboards that are stocked better than they are currently.

#3 The never ending war waged on mated socks by the washer and dryer. Where oh where does that ONE little sock go? Why must the dryer or washer eat it? And what do I do with that one irritating sock? Save it? Toss it? It is so disturbing.

#4 I have a talking caller ID phone. This is not the pet peeve. The pet peeve occurs when one who is used to a phone that talks is in her basement and the phone rings on the non-talking phone. It is annoying. I can almost hear it from upstairs. Almost.

#5 January. I am looking forward to February 1st.


Well, I'm just a bundle of light and joy this week, aren't I? Sorry about that. I'm just ready for some sunshine and the lack of visible breath when I'm out in it. I'll be nicer tomorrow. Promise.

Manic Monday: Office

As if in a dream, she floated along, pretending like she was doing all the things she was supposed to be doing. Sleep-deprived by her own volition, her brain felt like it was in a bubble, floating away with the slightest breeze, or worse, threatening to pop with the slightest touch. Where was her husband? At his travel-sized office, bored out of his mind, playing solitaire and occasionally actually having something to do. She wanted him home all day every day, but the bills have to be paid. 'Life doesn't always give us what we want, thank goodness.' She heard that thought drift through her mind and watched it like it was far away, not her mind at all.

Sometimes it seemed like the only thing that kept her one with her body was the ache in her neck. The pain was her lifeline. The pain that shifted from a small seed, easily ignored, to a gigantic, impossible weed that could only be uprooted with great force, kept her here in her body, or so it felt. She knew that she should look at what that pain was, at what her body was telling her by planting that seed, but she didn't want to. She had looked before. Dug with her trowel, turned the dirt, cried at her pain, forgiven, loved, healed and thought she pulled the weed out. But the weed had dropped seeds. Seeds that waited patiently to grow with her own neglect of her garden. Of herself.

She wondered idly if other people realize that their pain is a signal? If they know that their body is trying to tell them about an emotional hurt? Do they realize that they can let it go with some digging and some love?

She decided she didn't really care right now. The rest of the world can live without her people-pleasing heart for a time. She knew she'd care again, but at that moment she and her apathy were having an intense reunion as she bathed herself in distraction and wondered, again, why such times come to call.

Casting By...

What I want to know is, who told Pearce Brosnan he could sing? I just watched Mamma Mia! tonight. Fun show, but dude! Was anyone else a little teeny bit anxious for his dignity? I will admit, there is something charming about a guy that doesn't sound that great just BELTING it out! I admire that. A lot. But don't you think, maybe, they could've picked a guy that didn't sound like he was singing with marbles in his mouth? I'm just sayin....

Yeah, Write...

So, here's the deal for those of you who didn't read last week's comments. We are playing a little community writing project with my story from last week. My friend Maria is going to write a "chapter" after my little cliffhanger I left. Then next week my friend Ginny is going to take a chapter. This is all for fun and I want to make it clear that anyone who wants to participate can and should speak up in the comment box if you want to. There is no pressure to participate, but I think it would be fun if lots of you got involved. So, if you so choose, make your comment now. I'll make the assignments for each week and we'll see where our story leads us. :) Sound good?

And... I am still writing my own version of the story. Some of you requested that and I wanted to let you know that it is actually happening. I spent a long time writing yesterday. I'm not sure when I'll publish it but it is in the works.

Hopefully I'll have Maria's chapter up today. :)

And keep the prompts coming. I think it would be fun if the writer has to use at least one or two of them. What do you think?

From The Jar... #29

And the Jar says....

Where were you, and what were you doing the day the Berlin Wall came down?

Ummmm.... I have no idea. OK, I have a little bit of an idea. I know I was in school and some teacher turned on the T.V. I didn't really even know what the Berlin wall was. I just remember watching youngish people grabbing parts of this colorful wall and everyone was amazed and talked about it for weeks. I've always been a very informed girl.

I looked it up on Wikipedia and apparently it was on November 9, 1989. So, 1989 would put me in sixth grade. There you have it.

LAME. Let's pull another one and see if we can shave some time off of my SEVEN YEARS! (did I mention I'll be 37?)

Wow. The Jar has indigestion and is throwing up all the junky stuff today. The Jar says, again...

Tell about a frustrating experience you've had on a wash day, with the machine, what was the outcome od the clothes.

That was a nicely worded sentence, don't you think? The "od" was copied exactly from my slip of paper, as was the lack of question mark. Whoever wrote these questions was not a grammar buff. I often sheild you from the awful grammar in the Jar by editing or restructuring the sentence (since I'm an editing FREAK!), but I decided to leave that one as I didn't want to think about how to reword it's retardedness.

So anyway... back to frustrations on "wash day". Firstly, I don't have "wash day". By now you've surely realized that I'm not that organized. Wash day is whenever I feel like it. And my machine has always ran swimmingly. (no pun intended) So no frustrations with the machine, but I have had frustrations with my husband and "wash day" (which, incidentally, is whenever he happens to think about it, or when he's out of underwear cuz I haven't felt like it).

He's so sweet. I love him so much... and... my dear hubby is not "into" fabric softener sheets. You know the ones where if you don't put them in then your underwear are sizzling and popping with all the static electricity that covers them? Yeah. That's a frustration to me. He used to not be "into" sorting colors either. We've had some lovely darkened underwear and socks, shirts and hand towels. Frustration? Why yes!

But, for the most part, these frustrations are a thing of the past. Dustin almost always puts only darks or lights in (not both), and he often (instead of never) uses dryer sheets. But when he does use those sheets he has to be a budget conscious guy and cut them in half. That's fine except when I'm being a budget conscious girl at the point of sale and I grab the cheapest off-brand dryer sheets on the shelf. You need a whole one of those babies. Trust me.

I actually do have my own frustrating laundry experiences, but that's more to do with me than the machine. The outcome of the clothes is not very good. Here is the problem: I do a fairly decent job of keeping up on my laundry. I like to put laundry in my washer and get it all nice and washed. I don't even mind changing it to the dryer. Where I fall short is when it comes out of the dryer. I always sort it into piles or (if they're all there) baskets... Dustin, me, Mac, Ella, Rohan and towels. Then it sits in those piles or baskets (if I'm lucky) for a long time. I, currently, have a HUGE laundry room. HUGE! It allows for widespread pileage of laundry. Me and folding... we don't get along so good. That's my frustration.

I did have one goofy thing... the clothes were fine. It was the cell phone that wasn't. I sent Dustin's two-day old phone through a complete wash, spin, rinse, spin cycle. It was a tiny little thing and I, apparently, didn't check pockets that time. (I always try to) After I freaked out and cried for a minute, I took it apart, dried everything I could and let it all sit in pieces for 24 hours. Amazingly, it worked perfectly! Then Dustin proceeded to loose it two months later...

I will say that my dryer has been making a rather strange and shockingly loud noise lately. I don't think that's such a good thing. Lucky for me I have TWO vacant apartments. And luckier still... BOTH have a dryer in them. I might just go rob one since I would only be robbing from myself... AND... since their both not being used right now, I get a choice! What a lucky girl!

End Zone

Everyone close your eyes. No wait. Open them, read this paragraph, and then close your eyes. Now, just picture me catching a football, running some yardage and scoring a sweet touchdown for my team. Now, imagine me dancin' in that end zone! (For those of you who have seen me dance, I'm sorry for that visual. For the rest of you, imagine me as a good dancer, please! Or at least a funny dancer. I guess that first group has that funny dancing image covered.) Ok, now close your eyes. But still read the rest after you get a nice (or dorky) visual.

For reals, I'm not playin' football... although I did play flag football in November with my pal LarLar and a lot of her big friends. I even earned myself a taunt cuz I kept snatching flags or rushing the QB. They called me SoccerMom and told the other team to watch out cuz SoccerMom is goin' home after this and makin' some Rice-A-Roni! But that's another story.

I'm just doing a little dance of joy right now because I FREAKIN' WON!!!!!