The lady dug through her purse, impatiently trying to find her wallet.
"Here it is!" She pulled the wallet out and waved it triumphantly before the cashier's face. Her sister had given her the wallet last summer as a gift for her birthday. The bright flowers sewn across the front of it were a vibrant blue, like the woman's eyes. The sister lived in Washington, so any gift from her was treasured. Perhaps, thought the lady wistfully, we might one day live closer.
The cashier rolled her eyes and continued ringing up the items.
Two little daughters began tugging on the woman's jacket.
"Wait, honey... and Emma, put that chocolate bar down. I bought you some doughnuts for the car, remember? You can eat them on the way to my yoga class."
"Yoga, mommy?" the girl said curiously.
"Yes, baby. I am starting the class today. Aunt Lily suggested I try it out... though I'd prefer knitting, or something non-athletic... but you know you can't say no to Aunt Lily."
"Mommy?"
"Yes?"
"What does the word athletic mean?"
"Never mind, honey. Now go sit with your sister on that bench. I'll be right there." The little brown haired girl danced away, sporting a high pony tail like her mom.
"You'd think," the lady said to the cashier, "that yoga would be more appealing to me, seeing as my job is so stressful at the office, but..."
"Lady?" interrupted the cashier.
"Yes?"
"Here's your receipt."
"Oh, thank you...." She turned, heaved her purse over her shoulder, and waved her daughters to her. She pushed the shopping cart in front of her. "And God Bless!" she called back to the grumpy cashier.
Thursday, September 29, 2011
Mugs
Mugs are universally acknowledged as a tool used for drinking hot, steamy cups of goodness. (Credit to Jane Austen for the phrase "universally acknowledged".) I have come to the conclusion that I wouldn't be half as excited to drink coffee if it were in a boring mug. Some mornings I will wake up, bleary eyed, and walk into the kitchen. I'll see my dad standing immobile, looking into our kitchen cabinets in deep contemplation, and I'll know.
He is deciding which mug to use. It's in the family genes, I promise you. I always need to take at least thirty seconds to decide which mug will hold my hot beverage of choice.
Will it be the Thomas Kinkade landscape? The Valentine's Day mug that I bought for my mom in the second grade? Will it be a small mug? Do I have enough coffee left for a big mug? If I sip tea, should I perhaps use a tea cup instead? But then there's that mug from Aunt Karen I received for Christmas that has beautiful flowers painted onto it...
One day I brought my dad a cup of coffee in a mug. He took a sip, nodded, and said, "Great choice, Abby."
"Thanks," I replied. "Columbia Fair Trade, from Giant... I ground the beans myself...."
"No," my dad interrupted, "not the coffee. The mug. Nice sized handle, clean white color. The perfect mug."
He is deciding which mug to use. It's in the family genes, I promise you. I always need to take at least thirty seconds to decide which mug will hold my hot beverage of choice.
Will it be the Thomas Kinkade landscape? The Valentine's Day mug that I bought for my mom in the second grade? Will it be a small mug? Do I have enough coffee left for a big mug? If I sip tea, should I perhaps use a tea cup instead? But then there's that mug from Aunt Karen I received for Christmas that has beautiful flowers painted onto it...
One day I brought my dad a cup of coffee in a mug. He took a sip, nodded, and said, "Great choice, Abby."
"Thanks," I replied. "Columbia Fair Trade, from Giant... I ground the beans myself...."
"No," my dad interrupted, "not the coffee. The mug. Nice sized handle, clean white color. The perfect mug."
Muffins
Don't you just love the smell of muffins? Tonight my mom made pumkin muffins. Warm, fresh baked, with just the right amount of brown sugar and pecans on top. I almost dropped over when I first saw them.
And then we smelled the smoke.
See, you need to clean an oven if caramel and toffee bubbles over the side of the pan to the bottom of the oven. My mom was on her way to clean it, but of course... she did not reach it soon enough.
"DAVID!" she shouted, calling to my dad. "DAVID!" My dad came walking up the stairs a few moments later, though he confessed later that he did not rush to us because he thought my mom was only hollering because she saw a spider.
However, fire extinguisher in hand, my dad charged the oven.
"Wait!" hollered my mom. She grabbed a box of salt and hurled handfuls of the tiny white crystals into the crackling, brilliant flames. My dad and I stared, open mouthed, wondering what she was doing with some salt when there was a fire in the oven. A FIRE! Within a few moments the flames died down.
"An old technique I remember from cooking class," my mom informed us. "Salt will put out oven fires."
After we made sure the fire was gone, we all burst into laughter. Laughter releases tension, and we were all very tense.
Before my dad returned the unused extinguisher to the basement, he grinned and said, "Next time, honey, just buy some muffins."
And then we smelled the smoke.
See, you need to clean an oven if caramel and toffee bubbles over the side of the pan to the bottom of the oven. My mom was on her way to clean it, but of course... she did not reach it soon enough.
"DAVID!" she shouted, calling to my dad. "DAVID!" My dad came walking up the stairs a few moments later, though he confessed later that he did not rush to us because he thought my mom was only hollering because she saw a spider.
However, fire extinguisher in hand, my dad charged the oven.
"Wait!" hollered my mom. She grabbed a box of salt and hurled handfuls of the tiny white crystals into the crackling, brilliant flames. My dad and I stared, open mouthed, wondering what she was doing with some salt when there was a fire in the oven. A FIRE! Within a few moments the flames died down.
"An old technique I remember from cooking class," my mom informed us. "Salt will put out oven fires."
After we made sure the fire was gone, we all burst into laughter. Laughter releases tension, and we were all very tense.
Before my dad returned the unused extinguisher to the basement, he grinned and said, "Next time, honey, just buy some muffins."
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Fear
I am afraid of losing my eye sight. I use my eyes to do so many things. As an artist, I am always taking in details around me. I love color. God has given this world rich, beautiful colors to enjoy, and I would miss them so much if I lost my eyesight. I think of my backyard after it rains. The rain soaked leaves are so vivid green and the ground so earthy brown that it makes me want to sing. The thought of not being able to see those colors is awful. As a reader, I use my eyes! What if I could not pick up a copy of my favorite book and read through it? If I only saw darkness before me... let's not think about that.
God says to trust in him and not worry, but I find myself in fear. Never seeing the smiles of my family would break me, I am sure. So I will trust in God to direct my footsteps. I will keep praying to not be afraid. Finally, I will treasure every moment I have seeing the world around me!
God says to trust in him and not worry, but I find myself in fear. Never seeing the smiles of my family would break me, I am sure. So I will trust in God to direct my footsteps. I will keep praying to not be afraid. Finally, I will treasure every moment I have seeing the world around me!
Sick Days
Well, today I was home from school. I was sick. Scratchy throats, clogged nasal passages, and runny red eyes never mix well with school hallways, homework, and thinking. When I walk through the hallways with a cold, every sense seems heightened. A shout down the hall rings through my head and causes a headache. Staring at the white board, or those tiny black letters on a page, makes my eyes hurt.
So today I slept. I had some chicken noodle soup. I wore my fuzzy slippers and a big sweatshirt and pretended to be a bum in my own home. Sometimes you need a day to rest and give your body some rejuvination. Sick days are perfect for that.
Tomorrow, though, I am headed back to school. Time to break out the tissues and get some work done! Hopefully all of the vitamin C I consumed today will kick in. I am grateful for the relaxation that God gives us- even in the form of sick days- but I am very glad to be rid of this cold.
So today I slept. I had some chicken noodle soup. I wore my fuzzy slippers and a big sweatshirt and pretended to be a bum in my own home. Sometimes you need a day to rest and give your body some rejuvination. Sick days are perfect for that.
Tomorrow, though, I am headed back to school. Time to break out the tissues and get some work done! Hopefully all of the vitamin C I consumed today will kick in. I am grateful for the relaxation that God gives us- even in the form of sick days- but I am very glad to be rid of this cold.
Would you like some tea?
I love tea. That might not be hard to guess, seeing as my blog is entitled "Let's have some tea! (Abigail Style)". For me, any time is tea time. If I am having a bad day at school, I just think about a cup of steaming English Breakfast tea waiting for me at home. (Can I have two spoonfuls of sugar and a splash of milk with that, please?) In the summer, after I am out in the shining, hot sun all day, I crave a tall glass of sweet raspberry iced tea. When my mom goes to the store, she will try to find me some tea that I have not tried before. Only recently have I found that chai tea is actually very good. (I had a chai truffle once and it did not go over well. From that moment on I shunned everything chai, until I tried the tea.)
In the future I would like to go to many different countries to try all of their teas. It seems silly, but in my mind tea might taste just a bit better if I am having it in England, sipping it from a delicate cup, sitting in a cafe overlooking the Thames River.
Now I am off to make a cup of tea!
In the future I would like to go to many different countries to try all of their teas. It seems silly, but in my mind tea might taste just a bit better if I am having it in England, sipping it from a delicate cup, sitting in a cafe overlooking the Thames River.
Now I am off to make a cup of tea!
Thursday, September 15, 2011
What's in a Purse?
She carries pieces of her life in a purse. The finely woven, softly textured bag is always on her shoulder. When she needs something, she has it! Where? In her purse!
When she needs to keep track of homework, she jots it down in her assignment book. The assignment book goes into her purse.
There is a bottle of Bath & Body Works eucalyptus mint anti-bacterial hand gel. Have some germs? (Pssst.... look in the purse.)
Her license is in her bag, with her smiling face looking up at you when you see it.
She has her phone there, in a side pocket, to keep in touch!
During geometry class, when she needs to do some quick calculating, she can find a Sharp calculator in one of the inside pockets.
Hand wipes, essential toiletries, sharpies, pens, pencils, loose change, etc. all sit inside, patiently waiting for her to use them.
There are car keys in the dark bottom of the bag, and a flashlight is attatched to her key chain so that you can find those car keys. (This flashlight is in the shape of a quacking duck.)
Yup, it is all there. Everything she needs is in her purse, just waiting.
(Thank you, Miss Katie H., for allowing me to peruse your purse. I love you!)
When she needs to keep track of homework, she jots it down in her assignment book. The assignment book goes into her purse.
There is a bottle of Bath & Body Works eucalyptus mint anti-bacterial hand gel. Have some germs? (Pssst.... look in the purse.)
Her license is in her bag, with her smiling face looking up at you when you see it.
She has her phone there, in a side pocket, to keep in touch!
During geometry class, when she needs to do some quick calculating, she can find a Sharp calculator in one of the inside pockets.
Hand wipes, essential toiletries, sharpies, pens, pencils, loose change, etc. all sit inside, patiently waiting for her to use them.
There are car keys in the dark bottom of the bag, and a flashlight is attatched to her key chain so that you can find those car keys. (This flashlight is in the shape of a quacking duck.)
Yup, it is all there. Everything she needs is in her purse, just waiting.
(Thank you, Miss Katie H., for allowing me to peruse your purse. I love you!)
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
I wish I had a million....
I wish I had a million dates with Ben Barnes. Okay... PAUSE.
Now I know that this should be a million somethings to help society. In the back of my mind I am thinking that I really wish the world had one million cures for cancers, or one million homes for survivors of a huricane. But for right now, I am going to say that I want a million dates.
I really do not plan on dating until college. Perhaps even after college. But you know how American women are when there are actors from England that happen to be a bit dashing in movies.
Yeah. I wish I had a million dates with the actor Ben Barnes.
Date number one would be simple. Maybe we could go to a coffee shop.
Date number two would be a visit to a museum. I like art. Art is fun! And in my dreams, Ben Barnes will like art museums, too.
Date number three will be... wait one moment. PAUSE.
One million dates? If I went on one date with Ben Barnes every day for seventy years, we would only be able to go on twenty-five thousand, five hundred and fifty dates. So to reach a million dates with Ben Barnes by the end of my lifetime at an estimated age of seventy (when God chooses to take me is not being factored into this) I would need to go on an average of forty dates a day. (I think I did this math properly.)
Why would I ever want that? When would I have time to eat? When would I be able to read my Bible? Or spend time with family?
Maybe a million dates with Ben Barnes is not such a good idea.
Or is it?
Now I know that this should be a million somethings to help society. In the back of my mind I am thinking that I really wish the world had one million cures for cancers, or one million homes for survivors of a huricane. But for right now, I am going to say that I want a million dates.
I really do not plan on dating until college. Perhaps even after college. But you know how American women are when there are actors from England that happen to be a bit dashing in movies.
Yeah. I wish I had a million dates with the actor Ben Barnes.
Date number one would be simple. Maybe we could go to a coffee shop.
Date number two would be a visit to a museum. I like art. Art is fun! And in my dreams, Ben Barnes will like art museums, too.
Date number three will be... wait one moment. PAUSE.
One million dates? If I went on one date with Ben Barnes every day for seventy years, we would only be able to go on twenty-five thousand, five hundred and fifty dates. So to reach a million dates with Ben Barnes by the end of my lifetime at an estimated age of seventy (when God chooses to take me is not being factored into this) I would need to go on an average of forty dates a day. (I think I did this math properly.)
Why would I ever want that? When would I have time to eat? When would I be able to read my Bible? Or spend time with family?
Maybe a million dates with Ben Barnes is not such a good idea.
Or is it?
Simple Thoughts
One of my favorite memories of my childhood is when my Aunt Debbie came to stay with us for a few weeks. She lived in Alaska and it was always a treat when she could come to stay. I was seven years old at the time.
One morning my sister and I snuck downstairs to where my aunt was sleeping. We tried, but did not succeed, at trying to stifle our laughter as we crept and crawled closer to the couch. In the early morning darkness of the basement, we were unaware of the smile on our aunt's lips.
She was not sleeping.
Emily and I crept closer and closer...
We did not surprise my aunt that day, of course. She surprised us. But years later, I find myself surprised again. Why does this memory stand out so clearly for me? I can't even remember what I ate for breakfast yesterday!
Perhaps I remember that memory because it was so dear to me. It was such a simple time in my life. The laughs shared with my sister and Aunt Debbie brought me joy.
Joy that is still surprising even today.
One morning my sister and I snuck downstairs to where my aunt was sleeping. We tried, but did not succeed, at trying to stifle our laughter as we crept and crawled closer to the couch. In the early morning darkness of the basement, we were unaware of the smile on our aunt's lips.
She was not sleeping.
Emily and I crept closer and closer...
We did not surprise my aunt that day, of course. She surprised us. But years later, I find myself surprised again. Why does this memory stand out so clearly for me? I can't even remember what I ate for breakfast yesterday!
Perhaps I remember that memory because it was so dear to me. It was such a simple time in my life. The laughs shared with my sister and Aunt Debbie brought me joy.
Joy that is still surprising even today.
Monday, September 12, 2011
Book Characters
I am generally inspired to write a story because I imagine a character first. Every good story starts with a good character. It does not need to be the main character. In fact, many of my favorite book characters are those that play a key role in the story but do not claim center stage. Gollum, Dr. Watson, and Reepicheep are fabulous examples.
(And I must admit that having an excellent villian is very important. I really like when the villians are, well... incredibly villanous!)
A great character takes you into their mind, their thoughts, and their life and leave you knowing sufficient information to love them (or hate them) but still keep you guessing about what they will do next, long after the last page of their story has been turned.
What would the story Hamlet be like if Shakespeare had made Hamlet solemn and timid, not passionate?
Would Miss Havisham still be so captivating and crazy if she had taken off that wedding dress on the day her fiance left her? Charles Dickens knew that Great Expectations needed Miss Havisham and her eccentricities.
Personally, Voldemort would be a little less scary if he did not have red glowing eyes, a forked tongue, and serpent nostrils! J. K. Rowling knew that her books needed an enemy that roused both Harry and the readers to action!
I love discovering book characters that capture my attention. What is my favorite one, you might ask? I have no idea! But I think that is a great problem to have.
(And I must admit that having an excellent villian is very important. I really like when the villians are, well... incredibly villanous!)
A great character takes you into their mind, their thoughts, and their life and leave you knowing sufficient information to love them (or hate them) but still keep you guessing about what they will do next, long after the last page of their story has been turned.
What would the story Hamlet be like if Shakespeare had made Hamlet solemn and timid, not passionate?
Would Miss Havisham still be so captivating and crazy if she had taken off that wedding dress on the day her fiance left her? Charles Dickens knew that Great Expectations needed Miss Havisham and her eccentricities.
Personally, Voldemort would be a little less scary if he did not have red glowing eyes, a forked tongue, and serpent nostrils! J. K. Rowling knew that her books needed an enemy that roused both Harry and the readers to action!
I love discovering book characters that capture my attention. What is my favorite one, you might ask? I have no idea! But I think that is a great problem to have.
Monday, September 5, 2011
Playing Cards
"You know how to play Rummy 500?" asked my Pappy as we sat at my kitchen table when I was ten years old.
"Rummy 500?" I replied, confused. I had never even heard of it. "Will I need to drink?" I asked, "Because mommy says that drinking is bad."
My grandfather laughed. "No, Abby. You won't need to drink. Absolutely no rum involved. Unless we lived in the Wild West."
"Then will you teach me how to play?" I asked.
"Sure." And then my Pappy pulled from his pocket a deck of old, used, and quite grubby playing cards. "You start with a deck of cards..."
That was the day my collection was born. From that moment on I became a connoisseur of cards, a collector of Bicycle packs, a lover of aces, and a dealer of spades. I asked for playing cards for Christmas, relatives brought me packs home from vacations, and I hunted down interesting playing cards in Goodwill shops.
Fifty-seven card decks later and I am still not tired of finding a new card pack for my collection.
I think I enjoy collecting them because of the memories attached to playing cards- my grandpa and me playing Rummy 500, for example. I also think they make great souveniers. I have cards from Alaska, Arizona, Florida, M&M world in New York City, and from Georgia, to say the least.
I have Elvis cards, early 1900's cards, and Easter bunny cards. I especially love packs of used cards that are missing an ace, or a two of clubs. It makes me wonder where the missing card is now. In the trash? In someone's book as a bookmark? Lost in a dark corner?
So if you need a pack of cards, chances are I have one. If you want to know how to play Rummy 500, just ask me. And if you happen to have a renegade ace of diamonds in your junk drawer, there might be the slightest possibility that I have the deck to match.
"Rummy 500?" I replied, confused. I had never even heard of it. "Will I need to drink?" I asked, "Because mommy says that drinking is bad."
My grandfather laughed. "No, Abby. You won't need to drink. Absolutely no rum involved. Unless we lived in the Wild West."
"Then will you teach me how to play?" I asked.
"Sure." And then my Pappy pulled from his pocket a deck of old, used, and quite grubby playing cards. "You start with a deck of cards..."
That was the day my collection was born. From that moment on I became a connoisseur of cards, a collector of Bicycle packs, a lover of aces, and a dealer of spades. I asked for playing cards for Christmas, relatives brought me packs home from vacations, and I hunted down interesting playing cards in Goodwill shops.
Fifty-seven card decks later and I am still not tired of finding a new card pack for my collection.
I think I enjoy collecting them because of the memories attached to playing cards- my grandpa and me playing Rummy 500, for example. I also think they make great souveniers. I have cards from Alaska, Arizona, Florida, M&M world in New York City, and from Georgia, to say the least.
I have Elvis cards, early 1900's cards, and Easter bunny cards. I especially love packs of used cards that are missing an ace, or a two of clubs. It makes me wonder where the missing card is now. In the trash? In someone's book as a bookmark? Lost in a dark corner?
So if you need a pack of cards, chances are I have one. If you want to know how to play Rummy 500, just ask me. And if you happen to have a renegade ace of diamonds in your junk drawer, there might be the slightest possibility that I have the deck to match.
Expectations
I think that we all have expectations. We fall asleep each night expecting to wake up in the morning. My teachers expect me to remember my homework. I expect my mother and father to provide a house for me to live in.
What about my expectations for the future?
I expect to go to college. I, hopefully, expect to publish a book. I expect chocolate will always be my favorite food group. (French fries follow in at a close second.)
But what about when our expectations fail us?
We expect a good grade... but we forget to study.
We expect someone to be there for us... but they aren't.
We expect God to be able to give us what we want... but he has his own plan.
What do we do then?
Sometimes I complain, grumble, and throw a tantrum. My fists fly through the air as I shout and scream at the heavens. (Okay, mayble I don't do this.) Other times I sigh and appear depressed. Sometimes, I expect something bad to happen, but something good comes my way. Then I rejoice! I dance. I laugh.
So here's to expectations.
Expectations for a new school year.
Expectations for my creative writing blog.
Expectations for life.
What about my expectations for the future?
I expect to go to college. I, hopefully, expect to publish a book. I expect chocolate will always be my favorite food group. (French fries follow in at a close second.)
But what about when our expectations fail us?
We expect a good grade... but we forget to study.
We expect someone to be there for us... but they aren't.
We expect God to be able to give us what we want... but he has his own plan.
What do we do then?
Sometimes I complain, grumble, and throw a tantrum. My fists fly through the air as I shout and scream at the heavens. (Okay, mayble I don't do this.) Other times I sigh and appear depressed. Sometimes, I expect something bad to happen, but something good comes my way. Then I rejoice! I dance. I laugh.
So here's to expectations.
Expectations for a new school year.
Expectations for my creative writing blog.
Expectations for life.
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