Monthly Archives:December 2011

It might as well have been a scarlet letter
Branded on her forehead for all to see

If it were the colonial days it would have been
And she would have borne it in grief

Scarlet letters for hussies, for
Sellers of bodies at night

Scarlet letters for the ones who took
Another’s husband – sent him home fulfilled

Scarlet letters cause shame and regret
But for only one of the guilty parties

It’s not a scarlet letter she wears
In this day and age but it burns even still

It’s in the way she lowers her head
In shame when his wife befriends her

It’s in the way she goes about alone
And gives up all her joys for him

It’s in the way she waits for calls
That don’t come often enough

She says it doesn’t matter but
She doesn’t believe it in her heart

It might as well be a scarlet letter
This love she feels for your husband

The love she carries within her womb
The love you cannot share

She thinks she will name his daughter Scarlett
and Scarlett will be loved – never ashamed
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written for Trifecta – Week 5 challenge. Write from 33 to 333 words using the THIRD definition of the word challenge. This week was SHAME – used as a verb. This piece may or may not qualify, but it is what came out as I sat to type.

I know, I know . . . you ALL have done your Christmas shopping right?

Well, just in case you have a couple of folks still on your list and no idea of what to get, let me introduce you to a couple of crafty folks I know.

Dawn Hay used to live in Kenai – she currently lives in Simi Valley, CA. Dawn crafts some of the coolest, quirkiest jewelry you could ever hope to own. And, her pieces do NOT cost an arm, a leg, and your firstborn, either.

Check out Dawn at Creative Touches Too.

Cottage Monsters is a truly Alaskan enterprise. I have a couple of Cottage Monsters living with me . . . One, Chandler Moose, is a PurpleMoose of my design which Brandi crafted quite nicely.

Both of these crafty ladies are on facebook as well. Be sure to check them out. You will be taken care of in extremely great fashion.

I love living in Small Town Alaska.

Attended the Kenai Middle School/Kenai Central High School combined Christmas Band Concert this afternoon. I have two grand-younguns in the KMS Advanced Band . . . and several other kiddos I know and care for throughout all of the bands. I love that so much of the community is supportive and comes out for these concerts.

I love that this one is held on Sunday so I can attend. (the others and the choir concerts are mostly during the week on one of the two nights I have to work late.)

There are the usual squeaks and squawks from the beginning band group and those make us smile because we remember all of the squeaks and squawks we’ve heard from ours over the years. Daughters and I always smile, throw a thumbs up and say “been there – heard that.”

The bulk of the music is spot on and wonderful.

Today – I love small town livin’ because of what happened one or two songs before the intermission. You see – it’s been snowing ALL day today – huge flakes, heavy wet snow. The power has been flickering all day also. But it never went out – and the show must go on – so we all slogged through nearly a foot of snow to get to the auditorium. (it was packed, btw)

And then just before intermission . . . the power went out and the only lights (until the minimal emergency lighting came on) came from the myriad of cell phones and digital cameras throughout the hall.

The band teacher paused, then finished the piece that was being played. The custodians came forward to talk to her (whereupon daughters and I muttered what we imagined the convo to be . . . the lights are out! What do you want to do? I dunno – what do YOU want to do?)

Finally the decision was made – the band members currently on stage moved all of their chairs forward so they could be in the emergency lights – they got really friendly in their seating – the band teacher raised her hands and then realized they could not be seen. A call went out to the audience:

Does anyone happen to have a pair of white gloves?

Small town livin’ to the rescue . . . one of the moms came forward with a pair of white gloves and all could proceed.

Normally intermission ends with a flickering of the Commons lights . . . no lights – what to do? We were promised something unusual would call everyone back to the concert. After about 10 minutes we heard a trumpet sound and everyone came back inside.

There were two final numbers. About 8 measures into the Hallelujah Chorus . . . the emergency lights went out and the string of Christmas lights lining the stage came on. Another moment for the mercury lights to power up and soon we had lights on the stage again.

Those who stayed past the intermission had a real treat as the night ended with a rendition of Auld Lang Syne.

Those of you who live in a small town that is community minded know whereof I speak. Those of you who do not . . . I hope you will find that someday.

If you simply MUST flirt with danger, Rod, won’t you at least wear a helmet?

It was part of Rod’s aging mother’s mantra: wear a helmet – get a job – marry that girl – don’t marry that girl – buy a house – live on my street – for land’s sake, GET A JOB!!!

Every time Rod visited his mother it was the same thing. Five minutes of joy at seeing each other again followed by hours (at least as many hours as he stayed there) of relentless nagging.

I know, Mom. Yes, Mom. For God’s sake, Mom!

Rod generally took it until he could take it no more. It sometimes only lasted an hour before he was high tailing it back out the door and kicking his bike into gear.

Today he’d hoped it would be a more pleasant visit. He had news for his mother and it would be good if she could accept it for what it was – GOOD news.

Mom, listen. Sit down here next to me. I want to tell you something. Please just listen so I can get it all out. Listen before you start in on me.

Okay, Sonny, go ahead I’m all ears.

It’s this way, Mom. I took a job on the new pipeline. I’m leaving tonight. You’re all I’ve got, Mom and I love you. I really do. But I have to get out of this hellhole, and the money is good. It’s gonna buy you a new house, or fix this one up. Whatever you want.

I’ll be in touch. I got you a computer and we can talk on it, okay?

Sonny – are you sure? I’ll miss you, but if it’s what you want to do I guess I have to let you go sometime. Okay, I’ll give you my blessing.

But one last thing, Sonny.

Rod shook his head. What, Mom?

Be careful. And don’t forget to wear your helmet.
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The Trifecta Challenge this week is Flirt – as in flirting with disaster.
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As a mother myself, I know how hard it is to love our adult kids enough to let them make their own decisions while knowing that those decisions might bring problems with them. It’s hard to bite my tongue. I love the idea of a mother being bent on keeping her son safe.

The first thing Jason noticed was the echo of his footsteps.

Lindy had been at the hospice center for months, but Jason hadn’t noticed the echoes before now.

He walked to the bed and sank to his knees. He shakily opened the box she’d said was there; her tiny gold key fitting perfectly into the lock.

Cedar scent greeted his nose as he reached inside and drew out a tattered bundle of letters. On top was her loopy handwriting: Jason, I will always love you.

His shoulders shook and his sobs came in waves. Oh, Lindy, I already miss you.
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Velvet Verbosity’s 100 Word Challenge for the week is BUNDLE. These are my 100 words about that.