Your Move: Writing Prompt

May 3, 2016

Writing Club

Writing Prompt: "Your Move"   ( Yep, that's all we got!  See what you get in 20 minutes of writing.  It led to some pretty great stories in group.  Just jot down whatever comes to mind.)

The first thing Toby noticed upon reaching the doorway was the void of the room itself.  Painted a drab shade of gray and the concrete floor a variation of the same, her eyes made a quick round of the space.  Completely empty.  Where had the white rabbit gone? Had she only imagined it?  Surely as she drew breath, she’d seen it scamper around the corner, down the hall to dart into the room.  Curiously she set after it, in hopes of scooping it up so she could stuff it back down the top hat Harold had left on the bench centre stage.

“Look up!,” Toby heard.  Following the voice, Toby’s gaze rose.  There in the corner of the ceiling sat a simple wooden stool.  And tucked away underneath hid the white rabbit.  His albino pink eyes peered down at her.  Or did he look up at her.  Was she up or down?  With her confusion, Toby suddenly felt dizzy and stumbled forward into the space.  Then she was tumbling towards the ceiling or was it the floor.  
It had to have been that tall drink of water Harold had passed her just before his trick back fired and he sent her on this wild goose chase.  And now up was down and down was up and she was scraping herself off the ceiling.  
The rabbit, startled at her sudden arrival, scurried out from under the stool across the floor/ceiling just out of reach where Toby lay.  Looking back over to her as it reached the doorway, it leapt over the door frame and left the room.  Trembling on the floor, or was it the floor, Toby watched the white ball of fur hop down the dark hallway to disappear into inky black.  
Pulling herself to stand on shaky legs, she slowly rose and crossed the room.  With a struggle, she pulled herself up to the door frame.   It seemed much higher than before, with a huge heave, she was up and over the lintel and suddenly falling into darkness towards a wooden surface. 

            Her hand brushed against velvet as she tumbled and she grabbed on for dear life.  Light came from the beside her and there she was with a plop head over heels, tangled in a red curtain clear as day in the spotlight.  Harold stood on the stage holding the white rabbit by the scruff.  It wiggled it’s nose contemptuously.

“It’s your move.” Harold laughed as he quickly stuffed the rabbit back in the large black top hat resting on the stage.  

Benched for the Moment

June 14, 2016
Being sidelined sucks! There's no way to pretty it up.  It's happened enough times in my life and I deal with it by trying to see the sunny side up.  What can I learn from it?  I'm no Pollyanna, but as so often in life, things get flipped around and I find myself dealing less than stellar circumstances.

I sprained my ankle yesterday out trail running.  One little misstep and find myself on the couch today trying to rest and ice it.  As many times as I go over the moment in my head, I can't even picture what I stepped on.  As soon as it happened, I was kicking myself because I know what it means: no training for a few days at the least.  Hopefully and I have a race coming up.

As I walked out of the forest, I had plenty of time to think.  I will admit, I am thankful that I could walk out.  It did send all the feelings of vulnerability back.  As a cancer survivor, at I've had my times where I felt I was made of glass.  I've felt fragile.  I've felt mortal.  Even when I am at my strongest, I know how easily physical strength can be stripped away when things go wrong.

Plodding along the way I had come, I had time to take in the beauty of the forest.  When I'm running the trail, my eyes are on the ground.  I miss the complexity of the trees, the deep green of the leaves in contrast with the blue sky.  I found myself thinking about coming back to walk the trails and drink in the details.

 I usually have every step planned out a few paces ahead so I can charge along the path whether it be sand, gravel, roots, wet leaves.  Sometimes I slip, but when I'm paying attention, I can usually catch myself.  I might walk an incline because I don't want to jack up my heart rate or waste energy on a longer run.  Sometimes it's more efficient to walk.  Trail running requires more focus and strategy, making use of the momentum of the terrain, changing pace and stride from near sprinting to stepping wide over an obstacle.  It's totally engaging.

In a sense, it's how I live life.  I am a long term thinker, a planner.  I love thinking about probabilities and problem solving.  And life is sure good at knocking my plans for a loop.  I'd be one of the first to say that despite my best efforts, often things don't go as planned.

One thing for sure, yesterday is a time I wish I'd have skipped my run for a nap on the couch. Five hours of restless sleep does not make a person surefooted, but after getting up at 5 am to drive to the hospital at with my son for an appointment with his rheumatologist, I was seeking some stress release at the end of the day.  Throwing on some sneakers is my way of coping.  I know I need other outlets for dealing with life.  It's not a new lesson.

My ankle will heal in a few days and I will be running again after my little rest.  I really can't complain when I see what my boy goes through regularly.  Hopefully this little hiatus will have little to no impact on my race in a month.  My son's new nemesis is juvenile arthritis.  Most mornings he is stiff and sore and he has days where he doesn't feel like running or playing.  With his doctor's help things are getting better and he's becoming more active again.  Cody's a tough kid.  We keep on moving, one step at a time, living life.  Sitting still and moping doesn't do a thing for you.

While I was limping out to hang my laundry on the clothesline today, I heard a flutter of wings above my head.  A baby robin fluttered down just beside me in a failed attempt at flight.  It didn't stop because his first try was a bust.  It's do or die for him.  A bird needs to fly to survive, so he flapped his pin feather wings and scurried on, hoping to catch the wind.

For me, it's ice and the couch for a few days and then I'll try again.  Running is has been a part of my life for a long time.  It's one bit of continuity I have through adolescence to adulthood and I hope I'll still be trotting along when I am a senior.

"S" Poem

Mar 22, 2016

Writing Club

Prompt:

It’s not about me.  Write a 20 line poem where every line begins with the first letter of your first name on a topic that isn’t about you.  

Get going you have 20 minutes!

So the requirement of twenty lines so staunchly stood,

Some topic I sought that I’d fill with “S”s if I could,

Seeking something of interest that’s not about me,

Sinking deeper into distraction this topic might be,

Seems to be that there’s little connection between a line,

Sitting between an alpha “S” and an omega rhyme.

Sort of like a Dr. Seuss book that swings along,

Sailing through salt and sand and ends in snow sing song.

Set in 1981 with scary eyed swordfish and someone named Billa Bing Bong.

Something nonsensical a tot reads aloud,

Storing phonetically those measured syllables and sound.

Starting points of literacy are in those inky apes.

Students of reading and writing and shapes.

Staring at “O” like an open mouth bass.

Snake says “SSSS” et dans cette case,

Si tu cherches en Français, le son est le meme,

Serpent dit “SSSS” aussi.

Sentences state and hopefully sate a requirement of twenty, maybe.

Some staunchy lines that saunter sort of together,

Searching for some silky sweet sounding little lyrical tether.

It's no cake walk when....

Mar 22, 2016

Writing Club

So I don't know if I have ever explained where some of these rather random posts come from.  I am part of a writing group that gets together and we have a box of prompts.  Someone selects a paper from the idea box and we take anywhere from 15-30 minutes to write about it.  Then we read what we've each created to each other.  It's just as interesting to see what everyone ended up with.  Sometimes we have huge variety and sometimes we end up with similar trains of thought.  
So usually I write about the first thing that pops into my head.  That's pretty much all there is time for.  

This was a fun one.  The only prompt we were given was as below.  I don't know why I ended up with this craziness, but here it is.  

Prompt: It’s no cake walk when….
30 minutes

It’s no cake walk when the cook’s lost in thought.

As to where his silver flask has got.

Beery batter overflows or fish in the pan flops and cowers,

Or bother, the bottle’s been tipped and into the brink drips.

The pound cake pummels to the floor like a stone to the pastry’s chef’s moan.

Well sugared, the wine clerk sets the tone.

Passing on the flask in favour of a coloured glass,

He hides in the cooler.

When plastered thickly, cook let the oven cool too quickly.

So he’s turned up the flame on the burner for the meal orders to fill.

After a pint or a pebble, the dishwasher’s screechily singing treble.

Gin or no, the sotty sods on so.

Soaping suds and glugging down duds.

Or tripping gaily over floured pots until,

The soda’s gone sour and the cook’s a mite dour,

Or dough faced, he’s soaked in the swill.

Stirring up broth and adding carrots he sought,

Amid the mire no one’s noted the kitchen’s afire.

Till the waiter’s come back full plates on the platter.

Dishes come to a clatter when he sees the matter.

And along marched the Maître’D,

Who’s really quite sober since his tankard is full of tea.

It fell with a splash, he froze a gasp the torrid array he did see,

The chef’s en flambé, the staff’s run away.

Then manager gawks as a fireman knocks

Through the frosted window pane with a ladder.

Bad luck or a little something called life

October 15, 2015

     Recently, someone jokingly suggested that I might have bad luck.  We were talking about health issues.  I was kind of surprised at her assessment, not entirely, because she wasn't the first suggest it.  It was more so that as l talked about what our family has been through and listed all the positive outcomes and I guess I don't see my circumstances as cumulating into bad luck, mainly because for one, I don't believe in luck, good or bad, because of my faith.

   Life has got me down many a time, but hope in better days and believing that God walks this life with me keeps me from getting overwhelmed by the blues.  We need rain to appreciate the sunshine.  Sometimes it's easier to hear God's grand symphony amid the tumult of the storm because you're straining to hear it. As in anything and everything, it's all perspective.  Cup half full/cup half empty.  Sometimes I tend to think about the gravity that's keeping the liquid in the cup and the cup on the table.  All things work together for good, right?  Sometimes, though hindsight still seems blind and all I can say is God is God.  Sometimes, heaven only knows the "why" of it.

    I have this to say.  I am still here and I'll keep on keeping on as long as there is breath in me.  Yes, life isn't a bed of roses as my grandma used to say to my mom and my mom would say to me.  (Or maybe it kind of is.  Roses are beautiful, but they have thorns.  They aren't free of disease and pests.  They can need a little soapy water to rid the aphids.  They need to be pruned back and they need fertilizer (there's a more commonly used 4 letter word for that one) to grow more beautifully.  Three times my life has been spared (and God only knows how many other times) and I am still here, continuing to step forward.  It's been on my mind that perhaps I shouldn't be afraid to blog about my own struggles- a huge hurdle for me to cross for many reasons.  Perhaps someone else will relate to me or find what I have to say helpful.

    I am a cancer survivor.  17 years and counting remission from thyroid cancer.  Something that I have been hesitating to post online for fear that one day a potential employer may read it and so not pass me over for a position in the great rat race world of working, but fear can make a person miss out on opportunities untold.  (Another thing to write about another day.)  I bear the scar on my neck proudly, it's a war wound of sorts and as my son would say a reminder that by God's grace I am still here.

     My husband would say my experience with cancer is a point in time that I revert back to and rant about until his ears are numb.  He would know.  We were engaged when I got the diagnosis and he has walked through it with me.  I admit I do get down about not getting the degree that I wanted.  Cancer created a huge pivot point - it happened in university and changed the course of my life.  Did I mention I don't have a dream career the younger driven me thought I would have?  I am a different person.  I have my moments where I feel like a huge failure.  My life forked off in an entirely different direction.  I am still struggling to find my normal, something I know I am definitely not alone in.

    There are things I have had the chance to do because my life changed directions I may not have otherwise got to experience.  I like to think I am a more compassionate person because of it.  I cherish the moments I get with my family, hug them a little tighter and I definitely try to take time to smell the roses between the everyday trudge.  My focus definitely shifted post cancer.  Who knows whether I would have my two beautiful children if I had not passed through that crossroads?  Had I not got sick, perhaps I would be nose deep in a stack of books, still engrossed in learning or tucked away in a lab somewhere working crazy hours all efforts honed in on one engrossing puzzle.  I haven't lost my passion for study, developed more of a healthy balance.  Being home with my kids gave me time to teach myself french so I could help my kids with their homework since they are both in french emersion.

     I am thankful for the education that I did receive because when my son was in crisis at two days old, I was able to understand what was going.  Our son, Cody, has long segment Hirschsprungs Disease, a congenital condition where parts of the intestinal tract didn't develop nerve cells, meaning simply his large intestine didn't work, long story short, he lives with no large intestine due to surgery. Another fork in the road of life.  It's a messy and sometimes painful problem to live with, but he is here and he is a wonderfully creative, intelligent and kind-hearted kid.  His life has been spared many times over.  God orchestrated the circumstances that he got help when he needed it.  It is the one time that I have thanked God for my high blood pressure.

     During my first pregnancy, my blood pressure put me into the hospital on bed rest for two weeks before my little girl, Sydney, was born at 36 weeks.  Later with my son, the blood pressure problems started around 12 weeks into the pregnancy.  So the plan was for him to enter the world at 36 weeks.  As usual with him, he didn't quite cooperate.  Cody decided that he would come one day early.

    Cody was a tiny little guy at 5lb.1/2 oz. but otherwise seemed ok.  That was until he started projectile vomiting across the room.  With my crazy blood pressure, I was in a rough state.  The nurse looking after us that night offered to watch him for a while she did her charting so I could get some rest.  It was while she had him that Cody's bowel perforated.    It's worst case scenario as far as most babies are diagnosed before this happens and yet the nurse was there with him when it happened so Cody had help right away.  I thank God for her.  By the time she woke me, Cody was packed and ready to transfer to Hamilton with surgeons ready to operate on him.

    With all that happened that night, people have asked if I blame anyone for not catching Cody's condition sooner.  I don't.  Hirschsprungs isn't common.  I was told the hospital hadn't seen a case in many years.  Doctors and nurses are people with a particular field of knowledge and experience doing the best they can at the job they do.  And of course, people are just people, stuff happens, stuff gets missed.  I am thankful for the people who have helped and are helping my son continue to live a healthy life.

     In this day and age, we likely would have been sent home a few hours after his birth had I been well.  Hirschsprungs is a condition that doesn't become evident until the baby is born and begins to eat.  There was no sign there was anything wrong initially when Cody was born.  He might have gone home and died in the night.  Who knows?  As I tell Cody, God wanted him to live.  Those first few years with were no cake walk.  Living without a large intestine has its challenges.  There are so many other times I could mention where I have seen God at work in Cody's life.

    Sometimes the stuff we go through sucks, but there is a greater good at work.  The storms of life help forge who we are, help us be better people hopefully.  But by the grace of God go I, one foot in front of the other, even though sometimes it doesn't seem like I'm moving forward.