Monthly Archives: March 2009

Ready, Set, Self Discipline

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Last week I received a comment on this blog that has infiltrated my mind and despite my attempts to ignore it, I’m giving in and embracing a personal challenge.  Here’s the simple, but under my thoughts, taunt? tease? dare? suggestion?…….

 Evidence….”I get to kick it in the best way here, please write daily” …and then she did it again (double dare) yesterday in a comment…”daily is best :) ” ..Those haunting words and wicked smiley face came from Jana. Jana writes in her own slice of Internet over at  www.rootedinstyle.com. I recommend a visit to her site for a visual feast of photography and design~  BTW Jana, you get full blame for this little adventure into daily blog writing~

Now, for those of you that have read my words for awhile now, you can attest that my blogging has always been sporadic at best, if not downright lacking in routine. In other words, I’ve been mostly a slacker without a shred of predictability. So, to you friends who already know that about me, you understand why this is sorta a big deal in my little world.

The thing is, I am a prolific writer. Full on gluttonous of the word scribbling kind.  But I break it up all over the place. I write in Word docs, I write handwritten letters, I write in handwritten journals, and catch all notebooks. I write on Twitter now. I write on my hand when I can’t reach paper and have been known to write on walls in an emergency. Paint is easy to score, recapturing a thought once it’s escaped is a frustrating head banger. I write in the dust on the dashboard of my car when I’m driving and if I was really in a panic I’d probably scratch a thought into someones back with my fingernail……it’s just my thang.

 BUT- Disciplined writing? Preset obligations of the organized and responsible kind? Daily quotas and personal deadlines? Self imposed goals that I set, adhere and publicly declared. Whoaaaaaaa I have been possessed by some sort of Spring Voodoo spell. Medic!  

Thankfully April only has 30 days. 30 days of disciplined writing sounds wayyyy better then 31. I don’t know why, I can’t explain it, but it just does! So that’s it, I’m going to embrace the 30 days/30 entries concept and see if I can achieve the level of writing discipline I admire in so many others. (Plus, Jana will be happy and I like to make Jana happy)

I have made a preemptive plan. I scribbled about it in one of my notebooks yesterday because that’s what highly disciplined and organized people do right? They make a plan. The headline of my “plan” reads as follows  “What in the hell will I write about for 30 day” ……..followed by possible topics to ramble about. Since I’m fairly certain I’ll succumb to terrifying mind blank, my eye’s will glaze over and I’ll be found incoherent in my computer chair, hypnotized by a blinking curser…. I do have an emergency plan. I got a book for Christmas this year called “The right to write” by Julia Cameron that features daily writing prompts. Since it’s been sitting on my shelf this whole time, lonely and ignored, I figured it was high time to put it to use. I’m afraid I’ll need it.

I’ll try not to cheat.

large_writeillOr post 3 sentence entries.

Nor attempt trick date modifications.

I’m just sayin………

Let the game of personal accountability begin~

Fourteen

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~Kaitlyn Anne Fall 2008~

~Kaitlyn Anne Fall 2008~

Today my youngest daughter turns the highly esteemed age of fourteen. Well, she thinks it’s esteemed because it sounds so much more respectable of a ‘teenage’ number then 13 which just sounds like a newbie position as far as teenagehood goes. She’s explained this theory to me in great detail. She LOVES a good theory.

I’m glad she’ll feel more worldly and wise with this new age assignment. She made a good rookie teen at 13 years old, so I can only hope and pray that will carry over into the all so important 14 year old designation.

Raising Kaitlyn has been both a delight and extremely interesting for me. She is like other children on one hand, on the other she’s never been like other children. The simple truth is she is different in her own unique way. I’ve always felt awkward talking about Kaitlyn’s differences because most of it falls in the lines of you have to see it to believe it, know her to understand her and witness how great her smile is to see she’s also a normal kid, with a few extraordinary bonuses.

I knew something was up with her by the time she was a year old. She was already talking up a storm which threw people for a loop because she was so teenie tiny. An early talker didn’t exactly send out red flags, but by the time she was 16 months old she started drawing things. For example, hearts and little stick people. Babies just don’t normally do that.  I won’t admit what age she started reading because that always feels like gratuitous information. And lets just say, she’s been 13 and taking AP High School courses. (no matter how I talk about this kid, it still sounds gratuitous) So, ya know, one of those kids…..Of course I wish I could claim she inherited her highly evolved brain from yours truly, Me, and you all just didn’t know you were in the presence of a genius all this time……….but sadly no, I was and am, just a normal strain of brain.

Kaitlyn is fascinated that I don’t know all the things she sees and comprehends. The jig was up by the 3rd grade when I could no longer look over her specially designed school work and help out if needed. Until that point in time I’m certain I had pulled off a brilliant Mother mastermind facade, but when her homework surpassed my abilities (super ego ouch), I was roasted and had to fess up I didn’t know everything. It only got worse from there. I haven’t helped my daughter with her homework in yearsssssssss….A humbling truth to fess up.

But on the flip side, it’s rather cool to watch her mind work. A few years ago she redesigned lobster traps for the good people of Maine because she had watched an episode of something or other on TV. She deemed their traps inferior and thus sketched out a new lobster trap and requested I send it to the captains of the ships ‘over there.” Once, Kaitlyn measured the interior of our home, up and down and around, just so she could calculate air space by the cubic square footage. I asked her if it was homework and she said, “No, I was just curious”  Yaaa, I’ve often wondered if this child actually came from my uterus or another planet— Just last night she brought me a bottle of Lysol disinfectant and let me know it was ridiculous that cleaners only kill 99.9% of bacteria and she was going to chemically enhance cleaners once she becomes a part time scientist (she has other things on her agenda for the other half of her time) so people can get their full money’s worth at a 100% kill rate. As she explained, leave that .1% and the little singular bacteria bugger will reproduce! You go girl. Just wait everyone, she has notebooks filled with ideas to make the world a better place for us all……….

And then, there is Kaitlyn the human. Although I can’t join her on the evolution of brain power, she forgives me because I take her fly fishing. We hang out and read books. We talk writing because she loves that as well. Writing is the one thing I claim I genetically passing onto her and she’s gracious enough to let me take the credit. Of course, if her novel gets published before my novel……nevermind~ Kaitlyn is an amazing drummer, and has self taught herself various other musical instruments. My Mother gets huge bonus points for being her mentor in that department since musical inclinations evidently skipped a generation. I am without musical skills. Kaitlyn has a close knit group of girlfriends and when she’s with them she acts just like any other teenage girl, which I am thankful for.

I’ve walked a very slim line all these years in my attempt to give Kaitlyn a normal childhood and let her mind do it’s thing. It hasn’t been easy to make the right choices for her, hold her back there, let her go there.  Keep her home for a summer of fly fishing and camping or let her go to Hopkins University for a summer of brain tantalizing challenge. For fourteen years it’s been exciting and worrisome, amazing and mind boggling with this child of mine……Time will tell if I took the right turns, and made the right choices by her. I look forward to seeing what this kid does with her life~ Could be very interesting……..

sized77Happy Birthday Darlin,

Love Mamma

In Black & White

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black_and_white_flowers_There’s something about my previous illicit entry that has my right cheek quivering from time to time and my mind swirling frantically to grasp onto something, anything that I could write about to get it moved out of front and center spotlight. Pretty daisies and random words should sway my reputation back to the near innocent column…right?

The record should be duly noted that both parents read recorded D-rated entry and I, Rebecca Anne Garlock, blood daughter to Dan and Anna, remain unscathed and alive to write another day. Thank Gawd.

Would it be bad to admit that since I’ve invited the famdamily here, it sorta feels like open season? I think my reluctance in writing about them in the past  (unless it was really warm and fuzzy) was based on this simple philosophy: Don’t write anything about anyone that has the authority to cut you out of a will or potential inheritance behind their back. In other terms, don’t write about specific people and one shall keep thy ass out of hot water!

But now that the screeching cat (me) is out of the bag, game on.  I have the official, sealed with a kiss permission card!! (or was it probation?) Either way, I am all systems go and my family has always been a magnet for strange and unusual situations, so my writing bag of topics has just quadrupled with potential and opportunity.

Now, on the topic of records and at the risk of bringing more illicit thought into this entry, I do feel inclined to add one thing to my prior story. I do this because after my Father read the story below, he let me know I forgot the most important and most mortifing piece of the Flesh Gorden story from his perspective.

Father Dan said, “Rebecca, aside from losing my money, which hurt to the core, the worst part in hindsight was actually when I paid for the movie. You see, back then seatbelts weren’t a big deal, so you kids did as you pleased in the back seat. You two had the back windows rolled down and when I was paying for the movie, both of you were hanging out the window, side by side, grinning and just as happy as can be to see a movie. When I was pulling away defeated, all I could think about was the people in the booth that took my money. They must have been wondering what kind of perverted parents we were that took little kids to see a porno!”

Two things. One, Father Dan still swears on his life the newspaper said FLASH Gorden, not Flesh.

Secondly, I still think the game of Whack’ A Kid was the best part of that night. I know I had fun.

D-Rated Moment

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I am, just a Mother after all. Occasionally we Mothers make innocent mistakes and yesterday proved that undeniable fact.

Now, before I admit this stumble in judgement, let me just say—I rarely watch television. I also don’t go to movies and therefore, don’t watch previews. Because of this lack of interest, I usually don’t read or pay attention to reviews of movies either. Lastly, NO, I have never embraced my inner geek and read comic strips, books, or graphic anything. All clear on that?? Basically, this falls under the ignorance was bliss catagory~

My 13 year old daughter, (although, she’s saying “Fourteen Mom!”  since she turns that magical number next Monday), mentioned she would like to see the movie Watchmen. I asked her, “what’s it about sweetie?” to which she replied, “I don’t know, it’s one of those comic book turned superhero movies.” Images of Spiderman, Batman and Superman danced across my mind…..so why not Watchmen? I made the call to let my parents know their granddaughter would love to go see the movie Watchmen. The three of them are movie buddies and go often enough to get free this and free that from using their Regal Entertainment cards, so this wasn’t exactly an unusual request in the family dynamics.

Yesterday afternoon I got a call from my Dad. “I was just looking at the times for the movie. Did you know this movie is R-rated and it says ID required?” I immediately asked my 17 year what was up with the R-rating and Shelby said, “Oh don’t worry about it, if Kaitlyn is with an adult she can get right in.” Great! Problem solved. No fake ID needed.

And now, today, I realize not one of us asked the most basic of questions. WHY is it R-rated….Superman, Spiderman, WatchmAn?….Mother stumble…Fast Forward 6 hours.

The phone call I shall never forget.

My Mother, calling me. As much as I’d like to dialogue the entire conversation I won’t even try. My rock solid and normally calm Mother, who NEVER says bad words or cusses, (ever) was on a rip rolling rant. I’m pretty sure I didn’t say much other then, “OH” and “OHHHH sorry!” but the highlights of this one sided conversation are just too good to lay to rest. The most important heart stopping moments of my Mothers rant are as follows……..

  •  
    • Naked through the whole damn movie
    • Grandparents (good god grandparents!!) taking a 14 year old into a movie like that!
    • What those other people in that theater must have been thinking of us!
    • Dick swinging here. Swinging dick there (All I could think was, oh my god, my Mother said, dick)
    • Semi-erect and hard ons
    • Almost human but no doubts what IT was
    • I will never, ever, trust you and your Father to pick a movie again
    • 3 long painful hours of Porno
    • long dongs and asses ( I’m fairly certain hell hath frozen over now)
    • Grandparents! Child! Mortified!

 Now, I’m sure some people are wondering here why they didn’t just get up and leave. So, to answer that question one would need to fully understand my Father. He is the man that does not waste a penny, extraordinary circumstances be damned. A notorious penny pincher who will cling to his monetary investments to the bitter end. When it comes to movies, there is only one retreat on record. An infamous and historical moment when he thought he was taking his young children and sweet wife to the drive in movie theater to see Flash Gorden. Quality Family Time.

However, as evidenced by the rocket ship in the first scene that was shaped like a penis, it was actually Flesh Gorden. An interesting porno twist on his beloved action hero. Truth be told, he didn’t want to abandon that ship either. He paid good money! But my brother and I wanted to see what all the panic and hoopla in the front seat was about because, well… parental panic makes things tempting and exciting. We became difficult kiddoes who refused to lay down and go to sleep.  

It wasn’t an instant retreat and surrender. My Dad put in a good effort to save his investment by trying to corral and push our heads below the car seats and out of sight of the movie. But,  if he got one of our heads pushed down, the other kid would pop up just out of reach. It was like a game of Whack ‘Em with our little mole heads popping up here and there. Jolly good fun for my brother and I if you think about it. Our first porno flick with a side of carnival games! He gave up eventually, replaced his speaker phone on the pole and drove away, a man ripped off from his money. Father Dan does not like to waste his money under any circumstance……..

So, currently both my Father and I are lacking one side of our asses, and we both get a black mark for not investigating the movie and it’s R-rating thoroughly. Now that my Mother has access to this website I figure I’m taking my life into my own hands by writing this. So, my darling Mother, I’m really hoping you’ll see the after the fact humor in all this…..now……(smile!)  

By the Way, under the guise of damage control and to guesstimate possible permanent damage, I asked Kaitlyn what she thought of the movie. She said, “It was a nice idea and (long pause) interesting.”

Love, Love is a Verb

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 ’Love is a doing word. ‘

~I think the first thing I should do here is apologize to the good people of Boise Idaho. I will take the blame for the drastic change in weather since Saturday. I know, I know…I had to go and brag about our Fridays near 70 temperatures and the blissful sensations of Spring. I tempted fate in every sense of the word. I wore a tank top. I went outside and basked in the sunshine. I kicked my pets outside. And I unknowingly cast a spell of Spring Voodoo on the region. One hour after I posted my last entry the clouds rolled in and rained for 2 days on my parade. Rumor has it I’m taking the blame for Utah’s sudden change in weather as well. So Sorry everyone.

~I’m sure in another month or two it will warm up again~

When my Grandmother passed away last year I received a treasure trove of written correspondence that had been my Grandmothers collection.  I’ve tried to savor them out over time like a good book that I knew would come to an end. Letters from the 1940′s to notes written just last year. So much handwritten sentiments that I feel like I inherited history and connection to her like no other gift could have accomplished.

There is one set of letters that continue to pull at my heartstrings and I just can’t seem to walk past them. The voice of a lonely woman I don’t even know, has crept into my heart through her words.  The letters make me look around at every elderly person I see on the street and wonder if they feel the same as the Margaret who wrote to my Grandmother about her loneliness. 

“I have to walk with a cane and often need help. I bought a motorized wheel chair, but now I’m having problems with getting anyone to load it. You and I seem to be the only ones left in our age group. I miss them. (her friends that passed away) Young people seem to think I am boring and I get very lonely. I would love to have you and Dorothy come over to see me. We could go to lunch. I can’t cook anymore. You are lucky to have your friend. Some people have no one. [...] I can still do my laundry. When my legs hurt in the night I get up and do some laundry. Walking makes my legs hurt less.” Love, Margaret

In an effort of sending a piece of this hard truth outward, I made copies of a few of the letters and sent them to a friend, Mary of  RejectedTruth, who advocates for the elderly. A small step, but it’s something. Margaret’s words will now reach far more then she could have imagined…………..

I don’t have any Grandparents now. They have all passed along and as a Grandchild without a Grandparent, I remain with plenty of love left over that should be lavished on someone. I can do that. And perhaps…… having a public journal such as this, writing about the loneliness of the elderly will remind some that still have Grandparents that a phone call, or going over to help load a wheel chair, or taking them to the store, or cooking a dinner for them, or spending time listening to their stories could mean the world to someone at that age…………

Just think about it.

The action of Love. A verb more divine then anything else I can write~~