Monthly Archives:November 2012

18 years old and a Minor Consuming charge filed . . . just one among many listed in the local paper. Each one brings a mental, if not audible, sigh. But one more than the rest, because I know this particular 18 year old. This teen is someone treated as family by all of us – loved by all of us.

The legal charges do not change that love, but they do hurt the heart.

Our state, like most, is tough on drunk drivers: licenses get taken away; special insurance needs to be purchased at a very high cost; names are in the paper causing embarrassment; substance abuse treatment of some sort is often ordered; jobs often lost.

Adults aren’t the only ones facing these consequences. Minors, while treated in a slightly different manner, must also face some sort of consequence.

Up front I will say this – I had my first drink as a minor. In fact, I had several. However, I did not get my drivers’ license until I was 21 (there was no need in a big city with abundant public transportation). I was never one to drink and drive (whether under age or not). We were blessed in those times hubbymoose chose to drive – we are here, safe and sound in our 60’s.

Hubbymoose stopped drinking some 30 years ago. I had my last drink about 20 years ago. We were casual drinkers and decided we did not want to become more than that – in fact did not need to be that. We do not feel we are better than anyone else who chooses to drink. We all make choices.

However, we tried to teach our daughters to be responsible – to call us if they needed a ride (no questions asked) – to please never to drive while under the influence. We did tell them that if they were arrested we would not bail until the next day, but we could still be called.

Our daughters have told their young’uns the same. The grands know that they can call us as well.

In the meantime, my heart hurts for this one – I’m glad nobody was hurt. Our love is still there – and the phone numbers are still the same and open.

The ants go marching two by two – hurrah, hurrah!

Over and over and over again, Gina sang tunelessly. Greg grabbed his head and moaned. Reaching out with his left hand, he touched her shoulder, stopping her forward progress.

“Gina, please stop. Daddy has a headache.”

He felt a flush of regret as Gina began to rock side to side.

“I’m sorry, sweetie. I know you like that song. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. Let’s go on home now.”

Gina shrugged and turned with Greg towards the crosswalk. At the corner she stopped and rocked again while they waited for traffic. Greg gasped as Gina broke away and darted through the traffic to the other side of the street.

“Gina, sweetie, what in the world? You scared, Daddy, kiddo. What . . .?”

She stood and rocked back and forth and began to hum another tune, “I love you truly . . .”

Greg looked down to see the tiles and what he’d forgotten was there; a message from Gina’s mom, his life partner. It was the last thing she had done before the accident, laying that tile with a lasting message for them: “Hi, I’m _________________ and I’m completely in love with you.”

He touched his daughter’s shoulder. Together they rocked and hummed, “I love you truly, truly, dear.”
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After a group participation challenge earlier in the week, the weekend Trifextra challenge was to write 33-333 words about these three photos:

photos are from the trifecta site.


Rosy cheeked builders
Following fresh fallen snow
Snowmen rise upward
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Time for Friday Haiku with Lou.

Charts and optimal dates and preferential temperatures. One line or two. As if she could summon whatever it is that makes up the human soul as easily as she could a cab on a busy New York avenue.

She and Mike had been together 6 years. They’d spent three glorious years of young love and infatuation with all things “couple”.

It was the coupling that was mechanical now. The past three years had seen highs and lows and way too much cotton padding.

Tessa wiped, opened the door, and walked into Mike’s arms, hungry for a touch that wasn’t scheduled or intended.

Looking up, she gave away nothing, instead she simply tilted her chin.

When his mouth found hers, she melted against her husband. Furiously working to release the buttons, Tessa slipped the shirt from his shoulders and pushed him onto the bed.

Mike moaned with false hope. Smiling she sank down into the betrayal with a passion she hadn’t felt for him in years.

The letting go was easier than she anticipated; as easy as flushing the blood and dreams away had been.

“Honey?” she whispered, “I’m leaving you.”

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Edited to add: the italicized portion is Kirsten’s addition/conclusion to the story. Both Hubbymoose and I gave it the PurpleMoose seal of approval with a clap of the hands and loud guffaws. Serves Mike right, we think.
🙂 Thanks, Kirsten – much fun writing with you. And many thanks to Velvet Verbosity for co-hosting the prompt contest.
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The first 38 words of this piece were written by (now) Trifecta editor Joules who won that week’s challenge. Present day – an anniversary challenge from Trifecta’s editors is to pair up two trifectans to continue the story. I have completed the first part and now turn it over to Kirsten of Kir’s Corner. She is madly typing even as I post this. Watch for the next part soon..

Whee!

Reisa calculated: in 8 weeks she had lost 10% body weight. She gave herself a 95% chance of succeeding in her new goal. Working out is fun as soon as it stops hurting.
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The Trifecta weekend challenge is to give our own 50-50-90 rule as written by Andy Rooney.

Until I had figured it out in percentages I had not realized that the numbers on the scale worked out to a 10% weight loss. That is incredible to me. And encouraging to keep on keeping on. Thankful to my daughter for her encouragement – and her workouts.
🙂