State of Obvious

With so many tough issues facing our future, it's important to take a minute and vote for the best My Little Pony Show.  You can make a difference! Online Surveys  &  Market Research I guess you could take a minute and vote in that other election, too.

I was in seventh grade the first time I felt like maybe I was a writer. My language arts teacher coaxed it out of me. She was a young, pretty, newly-minted college graduate with blonde hair that fell softly to her shoulders. Funnily enough, I can’t remember her name or another other features, but I do remember that she would read to us from chapter books almost every day. At the time, I kind of felt like I was too old for story hour – but, our whole class would sit transfixed while she read books like Matilda , and The Witch of Blackbird Pond . Somehow, those stories would transport me from the classroom into a wide world completely constructed from words. It had never happened before. My teacher also read some of her own creative works. The one I remember best concerned the despondent life of a house fly. So convincing was her portrait of the measly, black fly that I spent years believing flies really did want to be swatted so they could end their miserable existence as quickly as pos...

Oh, hello again. I'm taking a creative non-fiction class right now at school.  It's pretty interesting, and I feel all the time sort of like "I've done this before."  Because, essentially, that's what blogging is.  Sometimes it's maybe not so creative, but it's usually non-fiction.  Although, I do make things up a lot.  I don't let credibility get in the way or anything. Anyhow, one of the most interesting things I've learned is that there is no right way.  Sometimes, for my class, I spew out what seems like trash.  But it ends up working.  I've also noticed that my real problem is not so much that I don't have material, but more that I'm afraid to explore it.  Disecting the goods and bads that make me is downright frightening.  But, it ends up working.  Besides the non-fiction class, I'm also taking a regular fiction class and 3 other online courses.  Plus working as a tutor.  Also, Eric keeps going out of town f...

The world is hard. Hard days, hard times, hard faces. Uphill. Sometimes I want to just stop the spinning. Stop the whirling, flying, crashing motion. I want to be still. I can feel the breathing, beating rhythm of change. Every moment advancing. An endless march of moments. Everything morphing into something new. Most of the time not even realizing it. Most of the time feeling like we are standing still, aren't we? Outside the sun sinks low. Dropping into tomorrow without even a sound. Just light. The world is hard. Hard faces, hard times, hard days. Downhill.

I asked you tonight what the very best thing was about being Carly.  I was expecting some kind of sweet, funny, interesting, touching answer.  But you said: Playing in my room. So here are my top seven very best things about Carly: 1.  You love life.  You spin, dance, sing, jump, run, whistle and flip your way through it. 2.  You love your daddy with your heart and soul. 3.  You have an endless, unquenchable curiosity (sometimes a bane, but really a blessing). 4.  You never turn me down when I ask for a snuggle. 5.  You try really hard to be good. 6.  You are a little daredevil; you want to swing higher, go faster, swim deeper, jump farther. 7.  You're my little baby girl, now and forever. Happy birthday!

These days I don't feel much like writing.  Which is sort of a lot alarming since it's how I plan to make my living when I'm all done with school.  I mean, what is that?  It's silly, that's what it is.  Did I run out of things to say?  My husband probably would answer that question with a firm NO.  Maybe I have too much to say, but I can't or shouldn't or won't.  So I read this really funny (though a little swear word heavy) book review after our cousin linked it up on facebook.  The thing that made it really funny was the gifs.  Now, I'd link this review but it's not really appopriate for polite company and we're just going to pretend you're all polite.  Sorry.  To make up for it, I'm going to shamelessly steal the gimmick and use it here to update you on all the (you almost care about them) important events of my life from the last couple of months that I haven't been writing about.  First I was having a great summer...

I sometimes wonder what my children will remember when they get old, like me.  Because 35 is just so, so ancient.  You know, compared to 34.  Or 30.  It's kind of a shock, actually, but I'm off track. I used to think I would remember so many things.  The color of my favorite dress, perhaps.  The deserty smell of Tucson (not to be confused with the desserty smell of Thanksgiving pie).  The names of my very best (for the moment) friends.  The little moments of childhood that seemed so large and important. But I don't remember much of it at all.  Little glimpses of the past, so tiny they often feel unreal.  In fact, I don't really even remember the early days of motherhood - Josh's first laugh, for example.  So important at the time, and now lost in the dusty folds of memory.  I remember moments, tiny little moments, and not much else.  I remember feelings, but mostly those feelings are overtaken by the feelings of today....