beeker121

***This week we each had to write two pieces for Idol.  Mine are best read in this order: canard, then tool box.***


Thomas walked home slowly, nodding to everyone he saw, holding the small cage in front of him like a jewel. He had tricked the grey witch had bought the enchanted bird to be his wife.  Once at this father’s house he went straight to his room, closed the door and all the windows and pulled the drapes.   He opened the cage door and stood back with his arms wide, ready to receive the embrace of the grateful woman in blue.  Instead the thrush flew out of the cage to the top of a sconce, and sang a lovely tune.  Thomas was certain that being away from the grey witch would be all the help his near-wife needed to revert to her perfect form, and left the bird closed in his room as he went about his day.

( Read more...Collapse )

“Wait a second Ted, before you go running out of here.”

( "Yes, Uncle Clarence."Collapse )

Zepar thought it unfair, to be sent to this new world to obtain the heart’s desire of a man.  But it was what his family had decreed; until he completed his task he couldn’t return home.

( Zepar arrived at a small townshipCollapse )

Now.

“Honey, are you okay in here?  I brought you some tea.”  Garret nudged open the door to his mother-in-law’s study.

( Cathy was sitting...Collapse )

As Band of Sisters trickled into their home base, they were very discouraged.

( "This is not going well," Olivia said.Collapse )


***It's time for the infamous Open Topic at LJIdol.  Several years ago I was voted out just before the topic "Captcha the Flag" was used, and I've had this story idea in my head ever since.  Find other takes at the link.***

Wednesday 11:45am, Lunchroom

Emily smiled as she sat next to Rose at lunch.  “Look what I found in my locker this morning.”

Rose took the piece of paper from her friend and unfolded it to read.  “’Do you have a date for Prom?   Meet me in the science lab at 4:04p today (come in from the North hallway).’  And its signed Peter.”

“I was hoping he’d ask me.”

“I thought the few dates you’ve been on were only okay, and he stuck his tongue way too far down your throat at the end of the last one - I remember gagging sounds when you told me.”

“I know, Rose, but Prom is this weekend and I want to have a date.  Peter isn’t forever, he’s probably not even until the summer, but he’s nice enough and will be cute in the photos.”

“That’s cold, Em.  As long as you know what you’re getting into.  What’s up with the specific time and directions?”

“Probably he has something planned for the asking – you’ve seen those videos.”

“Sure, but I think the idea that Peter is going to come up with something like that is giving him more credit than he deserves.  I think it’s weird.”

“Maybe so Rose, but I’m going.  I’ll call after and tell you all the details.”


Wednesday 1:20pm, Lockers

Laura bemusedly looked at the note she had pulled out of her locker.

“Is that a note?  Did someone actually leave a note in your locker?” asked Blair from the next locker over.

“It is.  Apparently now that I’ve broken up with Cody every guy in school thinks he’s going to be the one to take me to Prom.”

“Who is that from?”

“Peter – who wants me to meet him at the science lab this afternoon.  It’s not even asking me to the dance, exactly, but its implied.” said Laura.

“So wait, which one is Peter?” Blair closed her locker and leaned against it.

“He’s on the football team, has dark wavy hair.  I thought he was dating Emily.”

“Apparently he wants to go to Prom with the head cheerleader instead.”

Laura glared at Blair.  “I barely know him, we only speak in AP Lit class.”

“You going to toss the note?”

“No.  I think I might go.”

“What?”  Blair yelped.

“Shh.  I don’t have a date for Prom, and nearly everyone is already taken.  This is, okay, weird, but I’m curious.  Worst thing that happens is I tell him no and waste a few minutes of my afternoon.”  Laura shrugged.

“Fine, but text me immediately afterwards.”


Wednesday 1:45pm, Library

 Nicole sat down in the library.  “Sophia, what are you so zoned out about? I waved when I came in and you didn’t notice.”

“Sorry.  I got this weird note in my locker from Peter.”

“Peter, the guy you tutored through Chem last semester?”

“Yeah.  I think he’s asking me to Prom.  Or asking me to meet him so he can ask me to Prom.  Here see for yourself.”

Nicole read the short note and looked back at her friend.  “That’s …odd.”

“Right?  He never made any move to ask me out before.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Show up, I guess.”  Sophia shrugged.  “It seems rude to just ignore him.”

“I don’t know, he put a note in your locker.  You could just claim to have never seen it.”

“He’s a nice enough guy.  I don’t know why he’s asking me to Prom, but it could be fun.  Or not.  I get out of the newspaper editorial meeting just before that, no harm in stopping by.”

“If you say so.”


Wednesday 4:04pm, Science Lab

Peter adjusted the jacket of his tux.  He gave a thumbs up to his friend Jacob who was livestreaming this, and called out “It’s time.”

Emily, Sophia, and Laura each entered from their instructed doors.  Peter grinned wider, he had known this would work.

“Ladies, welcome to – Prom Invitational.  One of you lucky ladies will be able to claim me as their date for this Saturday’s prom.  Don’t worry, it’s just answering a few questions, nothing physical.”  Peter paused and winked.  “Unless you want it to be.  Who wants to start?”

Emily stared and looked hurt.  Laura looked confused.  Sophia burst out laughing.

“You expect us to compete?  For you?  Oh, that’s not happening.” Sophia continued laughing.

Laura looked to Emily and Sophia.  “Well you’ve got good taste, I’ll give you that.  But do you really think you’re worth all this?”

“Not the way he kisses he’s not.” Emily said, walking towards Laura.  “In case you’re thinking of asking me out again ever Peter, the answer’s no.”

Laura took Emily’s hand.  “Absolutely not.”

Sophia joined the other two girls.  “While I admit to being curious about what the questions could possibly be, I don’t think so.  Bye Peter.”

All three girls turned to walk out together, and started laughing as they got to the hallway.


Saturday night, Prom

Peter stayed in the corner of the gym.  He had asked Jacob to film his ask thinking there might be a catfight, but instead the three girls turning him down had gone viral, everyone in school had seen it.  To make things worse they had come to prom as a trio, they all looked amazing, and were having a great time.

He was getting ready to slink away when Matt, the class president, took the stage.  “Everyone it’s time to announce the Prom King and Queen.  Or not quite, there were a lot of specific write-in votes this year, so” he paused and held up an index card “we have three Prom Queens.  Laura Errington, Sophia Tam, and Emily Zawada please step forward.”

The gym burst into applause and hoots of congratulations.  Peter left by the closest door.


Wednesday 2:30pm, Study Hall

“Wait, Dude, how is this going to work?” asked Jacob.

“I invited three girls to the science lab and told each to come in through a separate door at the same time.  When they come in I’ll be there in a tux and tell them that one of them is going to win the chance to go with me to Prom.”  Peter grinned.  “I made a cool sign that says “Prom Invitational” to put on the easel, and I have one perfect red rose in a vase in my locker, I’ll give it to whichever girl wins.”

“Do you really think any of them are going to go for this?”

“Prom is in four days and none of these girls have dates.  I am a prime catch.”

“I think you’re a prime idiot.  Why didn’t you ask Emily last week?”

“She wasn’t a great kisser.  And hey, she’s still in the running!”  Peter slapped Jacob on the back.  “So you’re going to be in the corner filming it, right?”

“Why do you want this filmed again?”

“Come, on, there might be a catfight.”

“I think that’s unlikely Peter, but yes I’ll be there.”

“I’m going to run home after final bell to change.  Meet me in the science lab at 3:45p.  I’ll put up the sign, find the perfect place for the rose and you can check the lighting.  This will be awesome.”



***LJ Idol continues,  There are 34 of us still writing, check out everyone's take on this week's topic Invitation.***

I am where I want to be in my life.  I am married, have a good job, and we’re getting ready to buy our first house.  What I don’t have is children.

It was a little awkward this Mother’s Day.  I am of a ”Mom” age, and the frequent assumption from kind strangers is that I must have children.  When a grocery store clerk and my yoga teacher each wished me a Happy Mother’s day, I smiled and said thank you, knowing there’s no need to explain or correct random folks.  But it feels weird, like I owe the world an explanation why I’m 44, in a good stable marriage, and childless.

My now-husband and I talked about having children before we talked about marriage.  I brought it up because I am a few years older than he is, and if we were going to try for babies I wanted to do so with as young a body as possible, especially given some medical issues that had recently come up.  He asked my opinion and I said I wasn’t opposed to children, but not very excited about the idea either.  If he really wanted them, then we should try.  J laughed, and said he felt exactly the same way, not opposed but not excited, and two people meh on the idea should probably not be parents.  We each had siblings who had kids, so we decided to lean into being Auntie and Uncle.

It helped that our parents were already grandparents.  For me, it would have been much harder to make this decision otherwise.  My mom, who is and was a great Mom, is a fantastic Grandma.  In all the pressure I’ve occasionally felt, none of it has ever come from her.

But the topic doesn’t ever go all the way away.  Friends and relatives still ask when we’re having kids.  That’s always the question, when we’re having kids, not if.  It took some practice but I’ve gotten better at replying “We chose not to have kids” and then saying nothing else, even after the almost inevitable follow up questions of “Why not?” or “Are you sure?” or my least favorite - the knowing “You’ll change your mind.”

If I’m honest about it, even in my daydreams I never saw myself married with kids.  Occasionally with a child but no husband, never as a classic family unit.  I’ve heard women describe that yearning to be a mom, but I’ve never felt it myself.  I’m happy to hold someone’s baby, but don’t melt and wonder what if when looking at tiny infant hands.  I love my Mom and know we share a special bond.  My Grandma (her Mom) and I were super close too.  When it occurs to me that I’m never going to experience the other side of that bond I feel wistful, but that’s all.

I do wonder every once in a while if this means something is wrong with me.  After all if you’re in a hetero-normative relationship, having children is still the common thing, so we’re the odd ones out.  Or I am, it fascinates me that J almost never gets asked about us having kids.  Somehow answering for this decision we made falls entirely to me.

We are content with our decision.  I don’t feel like anything’s missing from my life.  But it’s still hard sometimes, to put my best face to the world as a woman who doesn’t have or want kids, and to be that person unapologetically.  Sometimes it feels as though the world is maneuvering me into a story where I’m among the broken, and I’m the bad guy for not wanting to be fixed.


***For LJ Idol this week everyone partnered up and wrote one of two topics.  My partner is tonithegreat (and she is), her entry on very different Mother's Day thoughts is here.  As I started thinking about this topic I got lyrics from Chess stuck in my head "Now I'm where I want to be and who I want to be and doing what I always said I would and yet I feel I haven't won at all." which led me to take location in a more introspective, less physical direction.***

The truth is that we’re all getting older.  Whether you are in the suspended animation of youth or have the over-40 aches I do, it all comes from the same place, our bodies are technical marvels that wear down over time.  The desire to keep us young forever has inspired researchers for years.  More and more studies are coming to similar conclusions.

Bodies are meant to move, through all of their possible range of motions.  Movement is medicine.  But throughout history we’ve created ideas and machines that in their drive to simplify tasks take our movement out of the equation.  That’s a wonder and a time-saver and a joy and it might be driving us to a future where we all become the people from Wall-E in the auto-loungers.

Human bodies are amazing.  Friday night I stayed up way past my bedtime to watch ‘Breaking2’, the Nike sponsored attempt to “science the shit” out of running a sub-two hour marathon.  Eliud Kipchoge finished in 2:00:25.  At the final straightaway to the finish, after having maintained an already blistering pace, he sprinted to the finish line.  Sprinted!  That time is faster than any person has run that distance in recorded history, and after the finish he smiled, and high-fived the spectators who were there, and thanked his pacers (most of them world-class athletes in their own right who gave up spring racing to be there and assist).  He did something that no one else has ever done.  There are limits to what the human body can do, but one of them was smashed.

I’m not going to run a two hour marathon.  I’m unlikely to even run a four hour marathon.  Like many distance runners, I’ve daydreamed about qualifying for Boston and have a plan.  Get 15 minutes faster than my current personal best, and maintain that for 15 years so I can qualify when I’m 60 – heh.

But to do that, to do anything really, I have to move.  After my husband threw his back out this spring it became obvious that we also have to move smartly.  So I am figuring out how to re-build my body from the ground up, or more accurately from the hips out.  If I kept running but did nothing else I’d have a few years left before the tightness in my right hip and glute and the plantar fasciitis in my right foot meant I was done.  But if I get smart, I can still run when I’m 60, or even 80.

So I’ve started a proscribed set of stretches that take about 25 minutes every morning, with additional stretches that should happen in the evening.  Every few weeks I feel out what’s working and what isn’t and add more things as needed.  I am waiting for the day something feels fixed enough that I can remove a stretch but that hasn’t happened yet.  Yoga class once a week is a necessity and more than one would be better.  I need to warm up before a run, and stretch out after.  Sitting up straight, especially at my desk (and I was slumped as I started typing that sentence) is vital since it’s where I spend the majority of my time.  I want to realign my skeletal system to make good posture the default and to do that I need to stretch and strengthen some muscles that have been dormant for a long time.

All of this hurts a little and is time consuming.  Changing habits is never easy, I find myself still skipping things I know I should be doing, thinking that I’ll get to it tomorrow.  But I’ve only got one body, and this is the time and effort I need to put in now to get the results I want: to still be moving with as few restrictions as possible in twenty years and beyond.  I’ll continue to marvel and take inspiration from the athletes who spend their lives perfecting their bodies for a single activity, and remind myself that living is an athletic feat too.


***This is my entry for LJ Idol week 17.  There were four different topics handed out at random this week, you can collect them all!  My favorite quote from Kipchoge in the pre-recorded stuff Nike created so we didn't just watch men run in a large circle for two hours: "Running is thinking.  You need to focus fully and think positively."  He is completely amazing.***

The Pierce children desperately wanted a pet.  Not just a pet, a dog.  Mom and Dad had tried several other options: goldfish that died, a hamster that ran under the couch and never reappeared, and a canary who sang too shrilly and had to go back to the store.  Finally the parents came to me, as the tutor and nanny, and asked me to help the children pick out a dog from the local shelter. Their only specifications were that the dog should be medium sized and something the children could take care of themselves.

Of course the children had a lot more ideas.

“He has to want to run around in the back yard with me and chase sticks” said Tony.

“SHE has to cuddle on the couch with me” said Grace, sticking her tongue out at her older brother.

“Mark, what do you want a dog to do?” I asked.

The youngest Pierce looked at me with big brown eyes.  Everyone told me he could talk, but in the three months since I arrived I hadn’t ever seen his mouth without his thumb inserted so I couldn’t prove it.

By the time Tony and Grace finished the list of things this one dog should be, it was immense: fluffy, but not shed; friendly with people, but protect the family; give dog kisses, but not too slobbery; jump excitedly in greeting, but not on people.  Grace admitted she wanted to play with the dog, and Tony whispered to me that he hoped the dog would sleep in his bed.

With this list in hand, I took the children to the shelter.  We spent a fabulous morning petting and playing with all the dogs they had.  We narrowed it down to two: one was friendly and energetic, but it was a small yippy dog that jumped on everything.  The other was fluffy and gave non-slobbery kisses, but was too calm and didn’t seem to like any of the children much.  Neither Tony nor Grace was certain which dog they wanted, and Mark did nothing to break the tie.  We went home without a new dog that morning.

But I knew I could fix this.  Since moving to the city, I hadn’t had a chance to use my family’s talents.  Finally all the equipment I had secretly moved into my room would be useful.

A week later I asked the children to bring me something special to them, something that represented what a dog would be in their lives.

Tony brought a shooting marble.  “It’s my best one; I hardly ever miss with it.  It’s because I want a dog to be playful and fun and good, but live in my room at night.”

Grace brought a piece of fabric.  “It’s from Mom’s dress…”

“You cut up Mom’s favorite dress?”

“It’s not Mom’s favorite dress; it’s my favorite dress of Mom’s.  It has a scalloped hem now, I stitched it all even, and this is what I cut off.”

“You’re going to get in trou-ble” Tony sing-songed.

“Won’t.  I want a dog to be friendly and cuddly and bright and soft, and I kept thinking of Mom.”

I smiled.  “That’s a lovely idea, and both the fabric and marble were very thoughtful.  Mark, did you bring something?”

Mark pulled a small jar out of his pocket and put it on the table.  Floating in it was a thumb.  I checked quickly to make sure Mark still had both of his, one in his mouth and the other attached to the hand on the table.

“Mark, you know you’re not supposed to go into my room when I’m not there, and certainly not take things.  Why did you bring a thumb?”

Mark looked at me and stopped sucking his thumb.  He sat up straight and said, “Igor”.  Then he deliberately put his thumb back in his mouth, watching me closely the whole time.

“So you do know my name.  Would you care to explain the thumb?”

Mark sucked his own thumb, loudly.

“Or not.  Thank you children; with these gifts from you I will be able to finish the Pierce family dog.”

“Can we see it?”  “Can we watch?”  Tony and Grace’s voices tumbled over each other.

“When you’re older I will teach you more of my special arts, but now you are too young.  Run along and let me do my work, your new dog will ‘come home’ tomorrow.”
The children left and I went into my workroom.  I removed a small piece from the center of Tony’s marble, so it would still roll, and took several threads from Grace’s piece of fabric.  I clipped part of the nail from my Uncle Igor’s thumb, and returned the jar back to the cabinet.  I added all three of the items from the children inside the animal, in a small pouch of my own design that wouldn’t interfere with any necessary organics, and began the finishing stitching.  That night a thunderstorm rolled in as predicted.

The next day I introduced the children to their new dog.  His eyes were different colors and his tail seemed small for a medium-sized dog, but he was fluffy and friendly, played games and cuddled, and was all the best parts of a dog (or two).  His name is Scraps.


*** Yet another week of LJ Idol, you can go and read all the other takes on Patchwork Heart here.***