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May 31, 2004
Hey You! Yes, you.
I need your eyeballs for a moment, please. No, I won't get them dirty, and I'll give them right back. Promise.
I need to know how this new layout works in various browsers. I realize there are problems with it in the Safari browser, and possibly Mozilla. Let me know if it looks funky to you, and if you're really smart, tell me how to fix it!!
All done. Now see, your eyeballs are just fine.
Well, except for that one. I swear it was like that when I got it, though.
Posted by WonderGirl at 1:32 AM | Comments (10)
May 27, 2004
A Thousand Words
In my early years, someone put an empty journal in my hands and said, "Write."
So I did. I composed poems, girlish and emotional. I wrote letters to God. I hid my secrets in the pages, the loves and hates that lived in my heart. I found and lost myself a thousand times, in a thousand words. There is no better definition to my life than what can be found in those compositions, even to this day.
Reading them is a humbling revelation. It exposes the weaknesses that I couldn’t see at the time. It reveals inner strengths that have come and gone over and over like birds to warm weather. There are more lessons to be found in the past, in those crinkled and ink spotted pages, than I had intended.
Yet, for some of the bitter, there is plenty of sweet. Watching the people I love grow through those pages, becoming the people they are today, what a delight! To remember the silliness of childhood, the awkwardness of youth, the fumblings of adolescence, and the bloom of adulthood- I chronicled not just my own path. I carried everyone around me into those books, and their stories became part of mine.
What a gift that empty journal was. It directed me down a path that changed me, and taught me. I see in those written strokes that I am Flawed and Imperfect. And yet, the beauty, the joy of writing… there is always a blank page to be filled. A new chance, a time for evolution into something better. What gift is greater than the promise of new beginnings and unwritten destinies?
So now, this is your invitation. The empty journal placed in your hands. Endless blank pages, waiting for your words, regardless of age or ability.
I say, Write.
Posted by WonderGirl at 10:45 PM | Comments (3)
May 26, 2004
Some Things Shouldn't Be
We love to stop in at the little antique places that pepper our route to our parent's houses. Our stops used to be much more frequent, before the arrival of the Short Ones. Now, they are rare little luxuries we occasionally indulge in.
Anyway, we stopped this past weekend at a very promising spot, an old storefront on the mainstreet of a tiny town. Amidst the collection of old rocking horses, cast iron cauldrons, and traveling trunks was a piece that left me a little puzzled. An old outhouse bench- for two.
I really don't want to know what prompted that invention. And I won't question the "sold" sign either. I'm not sure which is more disturbing!
Ah, the joys of junking!
Posted by WonderGirl at 11:53 PM
Moolah.
Hello bills. Back again so soon?
Posted by WonderGirl at 10:14 AM | Comments (2)
May 24, 2004
Untitled - aw. I hate that.
Fortunately, the stars were shining brightly in the field that night, and the girls had no trouble picking their way carefully through the tall grass.
“Shh… I think I hear them,” whispered the smaller girl. They ducked down behind the weeds and peered into the darkness until they spotted the figures framed in the moonlight. Two men bent over a large tub, and a third was filling mason jars with a ladle from a second tub.
“They’re m-moonshiners,” the girls said in unified horror. “I can’t believe Pappy would do something like that!” Tears gathered in disbelieving eyes, and the girls sunk dejectedly back into the grass.
“I knew we shouldn’t have come here. Mama told us not to go poking our noses into this! Why do you always have to go and ruin everything?” asked the older girl hotly.
“Cara, don’t get mad at me! I'm not the one moonshining or lying to his family!” said the younger girl defiantly. “Besides, I couldn’t make you stay in bed. You wanted to come.”
“I’m not mad, Jillie. Well, I am, but at Pappy, not you.” She sighed. “Come on, let's go home. We know the truth now. I don't want to watch this anymore.” The older girl grabbed her sister by the hand, and they edged away from the troubling scene.
Cara took one more look at her father, her brows creased in frustration, and she fought the urge to confront him right away. She knew daughters weren't supposed to question their fathers, especially a man like Pappy. His word was law in the Folsom house, but she'd come up against him several times in youthful rebellion. He had quickly set his oldest daughter straight, and the rule of the house endured. This time was different though. Moonshining was wrong, Pappy himself had expressed disapproval of it in the past. Tomorrow will be soon enough, she thought to herself, dreading the moment she'd have to admit she'd left the house in the wee hours of the morning. Even more though, she feared the look in his eye when she confessed what she'd seen him doing.
Cara watched him stir the tub with a large wooden spoon. She nearly turned away, when a sudden movement behind him caught her eye. Squinting her eyes to focus in on the motion, her heart lurched as she realized that one of the other men was pointing a shotgun at her father’s back. She opened her mouth to yell a warning, but it was drowned out by the sudden reverberating shot that rang out in the night. She watched in dismay as he fell forward, tumbling over the vat and onto the ground. Jillie’s hand slid out of hers and the younger girl cried out as she ran forward to her fallen father.
Cara propelled herself after Jillie, fearful that her sister would meet the same violence, and terrified that her father was already dead.
“What have we here? The old man’s brats?” asked one of the scruffy men angrily. He yanked Jillie up by her hair, and held her as she kicked and screamed at him. “Get that other one,” he ordered, as Cara flew to her sister’s rescue. She was quickly caught up in big arms, and she gagged at that odor that assailed her.
“You shot my pappy!” yelled Jillie. “I hate you! You’re a bad man, and –“
Her words were cut off when he clamped a dirty hand over her mouth and growled in a menacing voice, “If you want to end up like your precious pappy, you keep talking, missy.” He jerked her cruelly and her small whimper tore at Cara’s heart.
She yelled at Jillie to be quiet. She knew these men. They were hired hands that skulked into town at the beginning of the summer, and had found work on the Anderson’s farm. After a few run ins with the local boys and inevitably the sheriff, the men had earned a reputation for being bad tempered and mean. Everybody in town had avoided the pair, recognizing that trouble followed them like their bad smell. Even the Andersons kept their distance, and had only hired them out of desperation. The town had been holding it’s breath until the end of the summer, hoping and praying the two brutes would leave after the harvest, with as little harm done as possible.
Cara’s mind was racing as she considered her options. If they didn’t escape, she was certain they would share their pappy’s fate, if not worse. Cara knew that men like this didn’t care how young a girl might be, and it was only a matter of time before truly evil thoughts occurred to one of the murderers. Fortunately, Cara was a quick thinker. She remembered the hunting knife she had in her pocket, the birthday gift she had begged for and finally received, despite her mother’s protests that knives were for boys. It was never out of her reach, and she was thankful for her persistence at that moment. Because her arms were pinned at the chest, her hands was near her pocket. Careful not to draw attention with the motion, she slid her fingers into the fabric, and encircled the blade with shaking fingers.
The men laughed as Jillie tried to wiggle out of reach, and Cara knew their time was running out. If she was going to make a move, she had to do it quickly. She watched the men, looking for her opportunity, when she saw Jillie nodding at her in the direction of their father’s body. Cara nearly shouted in joy to see that it was not there. He must be alive! She rejoiced at the thought, and her eyes darted around looking for signs of him. In that instant, a heavy shovel came crashing down out of the dark onto Jillie’s attacker, and he landed with a thud. Cara seized the moment of confusion to thrust her knife into her captor’s thigh. Her hand came away wet with the man's blood. He grunted and let go of her, long enough for Cara to grab her sister’s hand in her own bloody one. “Run!” yelled her father weakly, and the two girls took off into the tall grass, looking over their shoulders at him, utterly torn. He roared at them again, this time loud and fierce, and the natural instinct to obey their father sent them fleeing through the fields.
The shotgun blasted in the shadows again, and this time, both girls knew their father would not be able to save them. They ran harder, racked with fear and grief, fervently wishing they’d never left the comfort and safety of their shared bed. With that simple act, they had forever lost the solace and innocence of their childhood, and the one man that had provided it for so long.
***
~~Not the end~~
Posted by WonderGirl at 11:20 PM | Comments (7)
May 23, 2004
Help
I know there are spam comment blockers that you can put on your blog, but I don't know how to do it. Can somebody talk me through it? As big a fan of lipitor as you guys know that I am, I will not be a big advertising board.
Take that ye vile spammers.
Posted by WonderGirl at 11:45 PM | Comments (3)
May 20, 2004
A Writer's Blog
What a cool tool this is! I'm adding it to my blogroll, even though it's not exactly a personal site. Enjoy!
By the way, you'll notice I'm doing a little maintenance on my links. I'm slowly adding some sites I've been reading for a while, and I removed a few inactive ones. My editing of that list is in no way a reflection of how I feel about the authors!! It's just a matter of keeping things concise and easy to navigate.
Posted by WonderGirl at 9:41 AM
May 19, 2004
In Case You Were Wondering
Things I am currently pondering...
- So, what’s the new “black” this year? Brown? Pink? C'mon Cosmo, I need some answers.
- Rain, rain, go away. Come again another day. I’m serious. I’ve got a gun.
- This time next year, boo-yah!! Something’s going down, and I ain’t telling.
- Welcome to the world, Apple Paltrow. (or whatever the last name is). And a side note to Rumor. Sorry, hon, your time’s almost up.
- Saki—for the love of all that’s decent in this world, someone please get me a cup of saki, quick! It’s for um… medicinal purposes. I have a cough. Seriously.
- Could I be any more bored with this layout? No. I could not.
- I think Marlena might really be Kristin D’imera. Unless she’s possessed by the Devil. Again.
- No, that’s not my car. Aw, alright, it is. But you don’t have to laugh.
- I still want a pair of tretorns, and it’s starting to concern me.
Posted by WonderGirl at 10:34 PM | Comments (7)
May 18, 2004
That'll Bug Me All Day
I dreamed last night that I got a tiny tattoo on my hand, below my thumb. I didn't know what it was of, and just as I was about to lift the bandage to investigate... I wake up. Of course.
I think it was a clue to some ancient mystery I'd been researching. Shucks. I always wake up before the Big Reveal.
Posted by WonderGirl at 9:57 AM
May 17, 2004
The Alter Ego
Liel is his name. He's the mysterious scamp who steals the remote controls, and knocks over glasses on the coffeetable. He's the one who puts the tonka trucks in the toilet bowl, and pulls all the pictures out of the photo albums. And somehow, this mischevious little creature manages to frame poor, innocent HeroBoy for his misdeeds. HeroBoy is just as surprised as his parents to find the ink on his fingers. And the wall. And the carpet. It was Liel, he says with wide eyes. He just left, I promise! You have to believe me! I mean, come on... Look at me! I'm way too cute to do that kind of thing!
He does make a good point.
Posted by WonderGirl at 5:36 PM | Comments (3)
If These Walls Could Speak
The Old Farmhouse.
A crystal spring, a sunny hill,
A gray old house with mossy sill,
Hemmed in by orchard trees,
With massive trunks of age untold,
Whose luscious fruits, like mounds of gold
When autumn nights grow crisp and cold,
Lay heaped about their knees.
And when the trees, bare, gaunt and grim,
Tossing aloft each naked limb,
Breasted the sleety rain;
When the summer sounds were heard no more,
When birds had sought a southern shore,
When flowers lay dead about the door,
And winter reigned again:
Then met the household band beside
A clean swept hearth, a chimney wide,
Where roared a maple tire.
When all the streams were fettered last,
When fiercely blew the wintry blast,
And clouds of snow went whirling past.
The logs were piled the higher.
How fondly memory recalls
The cheer within those old gray walls,
Beside that shining hearth.
0 peaceful scene of calm content!
Where happy faces came and went,
And heart with heart was closely blent,
In sadness as in mirth!
I see them all: the aged sire
Deep in some book; the glowing fire
Gleams on his silver hair.
The mother knits; her loving eye
Smiles on the children flitting by;
Her needles, clicking as they fly,
Tell of her household care.
A group of stalwart boys I see,
Brimful of mirth as boys will be
When evening tasks were done:
And least of all a little maid,
Her small head crowned with auburn braid,
Who, when the merry games were played,
Was foremost in the fun.
How gay we were! what songs we sang,
Till the old walls with echoes rang,
While the wind roared without.
Again we sat, wild-eyed and pale,
And listened to some ancient tale
How witches rode upon the gale,
Or white ghosts roamed about.
'Twas long ago; those days are o'er:
I hear those songs no more, no more,
Yet listen while I weep.
Time rules us all. No joys abide.
That household band is scattered wide,
And some lie on the green hillside,
Wrapped in a dreamless sleep.
~~Ellen P. Allerton.
Posted by WonderGirl at 2:41 PM
May 16, 2004
Flawed
“You take everything so personally,” he said carefully.
“Yeah, I know. It’s my tragic flaw.” She replied, with no suggestion of sarcasm or ire. She traced the rim of her brandy glass, and stared out the window into the night sky. “It’s not easy to be me, sometimes.”
He reached out his hand, and let his fingers glide through her long brown hair. As he watched his fingers disappear in the dark waves, he thought of all the reasons he loved her. She radiated something indefinable that had mesmerized him, captivating his senses completely. He was introduced to her and in greeting, had taken her hand. At the brief contact, he had felt with a stunning certainty that this hand was formed for his. The revelation shook his normally composed demeanor, and he retreated into silent awe until he could collect himself again. As he watched her laugh and smile through out the night, he reveled in his secret knowledge. He vowed to live his life in pursuit of the moment that she would recognize the same truth.
It had been, in many ways, a difficult path.
She was like a wind in his life. At times, her presence was a peaceful and gentle breeze that surrounded him and refreshed him. In darker moments, she was a tempest that shook the foundations of his soul, challenging the strength of his being. He had learned through the years, when to bend in the storm and when to stand fast. His careful navigation of her elemental spirit had saved her from herself a thousand times, and she knew it.
She turned her cheek into his hand, and looked at the man with the soft brown eyes. “I don’t deserve you, you know.”
He smiled, and tucked a stray lock behind her ear. “Yeah,” he whispered, “I know.”
Her laugh was sweet, and wrapped itself around him like a warm mist. He bent close and as he kissed this woman, this force in his life, he thought to himself, It’s not about getting what we deserve. It’s being deserving of what we get.
Posted by WonderGirl at 8:33 PM | Comments (3) | TrackBack
May 15, 2004
Why I Heart Homer
"Maybe, just once, someone will call me 'sir' without adding,'you're making a scene.' "
Have a good weekend, y'all!!
Posted by WonderGirl at 11:41 AM | Comments (1)
May 13, 2004
Farewell from the Prince
"Tell Daddy goodbye," she urges the little munchkin.
Blank stare.
"Come on, say bye-bye," she holds his hand up to help him wave.
Crickets chirp.
"Kiddo, tell your daddy goodbye," she says a little more firmly.
He points to a ball on the floor.
"Oh forget it!" his mother says in exasperation, and kisses her husband goodbye as he leaves, shutting the door behind him.
"Bye!" announces the baby proudly, and laughs. Mom rolls her eyes.
Posted by WonderGirl at 11:56 AM | Comments (1)
May 12, 2004
Overheard in the Breakroom
"They're good guys, you know. They'll work, seven days a week, never have to worry about them trying to live off you. They mow their lawn, they pick up after themselves. Oh yeah, they're good guys. Now, after work, they'll go have a beer, but that's okay, they're still hardworkers"
Sounds like a good catch... until...
"The thing is though, you're gonna have to buy them some teeth. Cause they don't have a tooth in their head, God bless 'em."
I love the breakroom.
Posted by WonderGirl at 9:18 PM | Comments (1)
May 11, 2004
Wha?
You know it's going to be a weird day when you wake up craving Caramel Corn and wishing you had a pair of Tretorns.
Posted by WonderGirl at 6:30 PM | Comments (8)
May 10, 2004
Things I Learned This Weekend
Crawfish, yummy as they may be, are still extremely boring traveling companions.
Satellite XM is heaven sent.
Mole crickets do, indeed, bite. Or pinch. Whatever, but it hurts.
It is possible for a one year old to sustain a low grade whine for an entire 3 1/2 hour ride.
This year, flip flops were the Mother's Day gift du jour.
Pink porcelain fixtures in a bathroom are way cooler than you expect them to be.
It was a good weekend... busy, but fun. I'll be posting more about that later, but for now, I must unpack and clean. "Yay for Mondays!!", she says enthusiastically.
Posted by WonderGirl at 10:08 AM | Comments (5)
May 8, 2004
Titled "Saturday Morning", or "Why Am I Not Sleeping?"
Ugggghhh... I have what appears to be a hang-over this morning, despite a glaring absense of alcohol last night. I 'spose it was the class I went to at the gym yesterday morning, and a late night, combined with a full week of work--- but my body is rebelling at the idea of sudden movement. And daylight.
I am driving up to my mom's this morning, after a quick stop for some live crawfish at a fishmarket down here. My company for the drive will hopefully not stink or die along the way. And hopefully they won't scuttle too much either. That kind of freaks me out.
After the traditional Mother's Day Crawfish Boil (hey, doesn't everybody do that??), I am hitting the town with an old friend of mine, Catherine. If you live in Vicksburg and you plan on doing something tonight, scoot over, cause we'll be there too. It's one big happy party in old VB.
On a side note, we went to a little shindig last night... okay, I guess let's call it a kegger. Surprisingly, it was my first and only kegger. It was all the kids from King Pen's classes celebrating the end of a huge project and the semester. It was fun to meet all the people I've heard so many stories about, and everybody was really nice and funny. I guess the downside was when one of the girls called me "MA'AM". Oh yeah. Talk about sucking the life right out of me. This chick was probably 21. Of course, I gave her a really hard time about it. I told her I was going to go home and cry about it. She felt pretty bad..... SCORE!! Now, if that's not mature, I don't know what is.
Well, I must be away. Things to do, people to see, crawfish to eat.
Happy Mother's Day! Especially to my own.
Posted by WonderGirl at 9:19 AM | Comments (4)
May 6, 2004
Who Says Grownups Can't Watch Cartoons?
Aqua Teen Hunger Force: Love this cartoon. It's on when I come home from work every night, so I get to catch part of it. If you liked Space Ghost Coast to Coast, or Sifl and Ollie, you'll like this one.
I was so sad when Sifl and Ollie got cancelled. That show rocked!
Posted by WonderGirl at 12:33 AM | Comments (5)
May 5, 2004
Music
There's a commercial that comes on mtv of Eric Clapton and another musician going to Africa. They are going to learn from some of the tribal musicians, because, in their own words "Africa is obviously where it all started".
I don't know if I agree with that. Music is multi-cultural - every human being on this planet has that inborn urge to make music, in some form or another. Why is it attributed to Africa specifically on many occasions? I can follow the idea that traditional tribal music influenced the development of rock and roll in America, because of the blues and early African American music. But, I just don't like the blanket statement that the root of all music is African. Music is a shared human quality, cross culturally.
Just thinking out loud.
Posted by WonderGirl at 2:44 PM | Comments (2)
He Said It, Not Me
"Beer is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy."
Who said it? Take a guess- but no cheating!!
Posted by WonderGirl at 12:26 AM | Comments (7)
May 3, 2004
This Amused Me
I never hated a man enough to give his diamonds back.
~Well said, by Zsa Zsa Gabor
Posted by WonderGirl at 1:17 PM | Comments (1)
May 2, 2004
Just When You Get Comfortable,
I go and change things!! I tinkered around a little this afternoon, as you can see. I just felt like something different- something with stronger, bolder graphics, but still that breezy, enigmatic feeling you get looking at the girl. my blog is a constantly evolving creature, if you haven't noticed that yet.
Some girls collect shoes. I collect stylesheets.
Yeah, you don't even have to say it. I know. Geek.
Posted by WonderGirl at 7:31 PM | Comments (3)
May 1, 2004
Raining
There's something wonderful about being by yourself on a rainy day. I light my candles, all of them-- in every room. I clean my house so my space is as uncluttered as my mind. I put on my favorite pair of jeans and a tank top, and no shoes. I make an ameretto sour, I turn on my favorite music, and I just let the day go where it will. Whatever takes my fancy, that's what I do.
When I was little, my mom used to put out these big pots to collect the rainwater, and that night, we'd use it to wash our hair. I remember watching from the window as the pots filled up, and I can still feel how cold the water felt on my head. Clean water, pure, straight from the heavens... Washing away the normalcy of life. It was such a wonderfully strange thing to do.
I think that's why days like today are so meaningful to me, because it's not my normal day, my normal way. I get the chance to wash away all the mediocre, all the repetitions of my usual life, and just for a minute, feel nothing but the refreshment that falls from the sky.
Posted by WonderGirl at 7:37 PM
Sharpening Stones
I'm too complicated. I even exhaust myself sometimes, and I'm sure the rest of you wonder about me, too on occasion. I just would like to say, I'm truly sorry if any of you were disappointed in me for writing that last bit. I won't delete it, because that's part of the process, and it's a testament to the fact that we as humans aren't perfect. That I am not perfect. You take the good with the bad, and the consequences that go along with both. I struggle with myself, and I've chosen to do that publicly, here. If I only ever post the positive, the uplifting, then it's not genuine. I cannot erase my vices and highlight my virtues, or I will be presenting a lie to you.
I can, however, seek to become a better person. I said in the comments section, that I am a "work in progress". Oh, how truthful that statement is. I have so far to go, so much to understand better. Each step I take closer to solid ground, the more I realize how near the edge I have trod.
I sincerely hope that in a year, in two, in ten - I can look back at the things I have written and chart my life as steps forward by their content. That is my goal here, and I hope that you will continue to forgive the stumbling I often do on that journey.
Posted by WonderGirl at 2:18 AM | Comments (1)