Fiction: Legal Theft Project -- The Daycare Report

"I have forty-two minutes."  Bradley sank down into the chair opposite Angel, who handed him a slice of pepperoni pizza, a box of fries, and a soda.  “Assuming another eighteen minute drive and five minutes to get back to my desk, which gives us nineteen minutes, so go.”  Bradley took a big bite of his pizza and smiled across the table at his wife.

“You’re ridiculous.”  She laughed.

“And you’re wasting time,” Bradley spoke around his pizza.

“Fine. I talked to Marta this morning.  Apparently Adam has started walking.  Marta is beside herself.”

“I’d imagine so. Marta was thrilled when Adam figured out how to touch his own face, walking must make her lose her mind.”

“Yes, well, Stevie is less than thrilled though, because now Adam can reach a whole new level of things that Marta is making him go around and child proof.”

“And that precisely is why I child proofed absolutely everything in one run. I don’t want to do it again.”

“Also, Izzy is smarter than Adam, so we don’t have to do quite as much work as Stevie.”

It went on like that for the nineteen minutes.  Angel gave Bradley all the details from their friends in the daycare social circle.  Bradley ate them all up.  As they stood up to leave, he wrapped his arm around his wife’s shoulders and kissed her on the head.  “I hate the days that I have to work.”

“And I hate the days I have to work,” Angel smiled back, “But I think we’ll both appreciate them when Izzy heads off to school, and we can help her pay.”

“Logic.”  Bradley gave his wife a proper kiss as they came to the front of the parking garage, and then stepped away, heading to his own car.  “Tell Adam congratulations for me.  And Stevie, good luck.”

“Can do.”  Angel waited and watched as he got into his car, and waved as he drove away. Then she got into her own car and headed back towards the house with all the other mothers and toddlers.  She loved it when it was her day to not work.

The first line of this story was legally stolen from my dear friend Gwen. See what she did with the line I gave her today, and see what she originally wrote for this starting line tomorrow over at http://apprenticenevermaster.wordpress.com/.   <3

Time Travel

You know I’ve been watching too much Doctor Who when I decide for myself that “Time Travel” would make a good prompt for a blog post.  But, I have been watching too much Doctor Who, so I suppose here we are.

I do wish that time travel existed. Not to change anything, though.  I feel like so many people talk about time travel in the context of wanting to go back in time to prevent XYZ from happening, or to make this decision or that decision different.  I don't want to change anything--I just want to observe, to know for a fact what happened when, maybe to relive a moment just to see how it actually happened instead of the warped memory I formed by living it.  Maybe I'd go back to see exactly what happened in an event that people claim different timelines or chain of events.  Maybe I'd go forward, just to see how it all ended.  To know for a fact about what's coming.

I've already admitted I'm not good with the unknown.  I'd rather know everything.  To me, if time travel could or does actually exist, then I would use it as a tool to know as much as I really could.

And yeah, I hope in that silly little part of my brain that still believes magic exists that The Doctor exists too, and that he's running around with his companions and saving all of our lives at any given moment without us having a single clue that it's happening. And if he does look like David Tennant, well, that'd be quite alright with me too.

<3

Names

I've got a weird fascination with names.  I know it sounds strange, but I believe that names have power in them.  Not to the point of ancient mythology know a person’s name and you can control and bind them kind of power, but a calmer, quieter power that is quite impossible to actually explain properly.  Because of that, I avoid using people's names. I don't necessarily do it on purpose, but I've noticed that it happens.  In conversation, I'll use general descriptors, or vague hand gestures and let other participants fill in the names for me.  I think I say "What's his face" or "What's her face" more than I use all real names combined.  Or when I do have to refer to people by name, it's generally some bastardized form of a nickname.  One that isn't actually their name or a name they go by, because for some reason that helps minimize the damage. A friend named Gwendolyn becomes "Doly." A friend named Robert becomes "Bobert." And people just roll with it.

To be perfectly honest, I'm not sure why I get away with making up nicknames that people didn't ask for, want, or need.  Maybe it's because I'm so incredibly charming.  More likely, people just understand that I am strange, and roll with my weird little name game because I'm not likely to stop anytime soon. 

Perhaps that's why I am so comfortable with the variety of nicknames that people come up with for me.  When I was asked today what version of my name I wanted put on a name tag, I genuinely didn't care which was written down.  When no one else would decide for me, I just went for the nickname that was the most all-encompassing, and assumed that people would continue to call me whatever they were already calling me.  Because people can call me whatever they want, even late to dinner (because nine times out of ten, I am late to dinner).  I don't really care.

Well, except for Becky. Don't ever call me Becky.

<3

Starting a Story

The start of a story is always the hardest part for me.  I can have a hundred different ideas, but when it comes to actually putting that first line on the page, I get intimidated.  I have been known to just start at the blank page, thinking over and over again about how I should write that first line.   It’s the beginning, it’s the introduction to the story, and it will set the entire tone for the piece.  It’s a big deal.

And yeah, I know that nothing is set in stone anymore.  That I can always go back and change that first line a hundred different times until I settle on exactly what I want it to say.  But nevertheless, it’s still difficult to put that first line down on paper.

A fellow writer sympathized with my hatred of writing the first line.  In my typically over dramatic fashion, I told her that the paper was mocking me, laughing at me as I failed to put pen to paper.  She gave me a very simple solution.   Across the top of the page I wrote “Take that you smug piece of carbon by-product.”   That got me laughing.  The page wasn’t blank anymore.  After another four minutes—I finally got the first line down, and started writing.

That first line was changed four or five different times before I even got finished with the first draft, but I had gotten it down, and that was the important part.  It’s what I try to remember when the pages start mocking me again.

<3

Some Thoughts on Freedom

Freedom is a very tricky word.  According to the handy-dandy dictionary on my phone, freedom has five different definitions.  The one most fascinating to me is the third, which reads “The power to determine action without any form of restraint.”  That is a freedom that I long for, would absolutely hate to have, and wonder if even truly exists.

I’d love to make any decision to act without personal restraint, emotional or physical.  Just way my options and I’d be off, doing whatever it was that I decided to do in that moment. However, I know that if I had such freedom, that would mean very likely that I had no obligation to work, to friends, or to my family.  Since I currently have several obligations to work, friends, and family, it would mean that something very tragic had happened to all three.  I have absolutely no desire to have something tragic happen to my job, my friends, or my family.

That’s what makes me wonder if the “The power to determine action without any form of restraint” actually exists.  Maybe it’s just an extremely limited and self-centered view of humanity to assume this, but I’ve got to imagine that everyone has an obligation to someone or something, whether it be external sources like a job and other people in their lives, or an internal source like their own moral code, or their own hopes for the future. They aren’t necessarily negative restraints, but they are restraints, aren’t they?

<3

Fiction -- Kroger at 3 AM

Sometimes, she hated her father.  Not truly hated, but that kind of hating that only someone who truly loves them can achieve.  Today, she hated him for four simple words.  "Let's have another baby." So he knocked up her mother, and then got himself reassigned to something top secret several thousand miles away, for at least six months.  Now, Charlotte was driving to the grocery store at three in the morning because her very tearful and bedridden eight months pregnant mother really wanted some Little Debbie cakes and it just couldn't wait until morning. 

Still mostly in her pajamas, with her pea coat buttoned up to the top, and her hair in a messy bun, Charlotte grabbed a single box of every type Little Debbie she could find, and headed towards the one still manned register at this hour.  Andrew saw her coming and stifled a laugh.  At another time, Charlotte would find this funny, but not at three in the morning.  He knew for a fact that Charlotte didn't find anything funny at three in the morning.

"You're going to make someone a fine husband someday," Andrew couldn't help himself with that little one. Charlotte made a sort of noncommittal grunt, and put her head down on the little platform for signing receipts.  She looked perfectly content fall asleep right there, and Andrew thought she might if he didn't keep her talking.  "So, when's the baby due?"

"Twenty six days." Charlotte responded without lifting her head off the ledge.

"And I'm guessing he's going to receive hell if he's even a minute late."

"Oh, you don't even know.” Charlotte finally stood up, "Now, I understand I wasn't the most traditional of children, but I'm twenty one now.  What made them decide to have another child now? Where is the logic in that?"

Andrew chuckled. "Charlotte, I know your parents.  I'm going to bet that logic had very little to do with it."

Charlotte sighed, "Yeah. You're probably right,"

Andrew stuck her treats in two bags and handed them to her over the little ledge. "I will miss seeing you when the kid is born.  You're the highlight of the night shift."

"Well, thanks, Andrew, but I think we're just going to have to find other ways to see each other. Thanks." Charlotte waved with the bag of treats, then turned on her heel and headed away.  Andrew tried to swallow down the little bubble of hope that rose in his chest at that small comment.  He had another three hours of boring nothingness before he could return to his own bed.

Quotes

For a variety of reasons, I collect quotes. Quotes from real people, quotes from books, quotes from movies, quotes from graffiti, anything that I find fascinating, interesting, funny or beautiful, I make a note of it, either mentally, or physically writing it down.  Over the years, I’ve developed quite a collection.

My College had a tradition of making senior robes, robes that were decorated in sometimes quite ridiculous ways, but designed to represent the wearer in their own unique ways.  I put a few key things on my robe to represent me—The Nickname ‘Moony’ and the phrase Mischief Managed from Harry Potter, The phrase “From this Place Go Build a Better World” from a stone at Geneva Point Center where I’ve attended Winni CFO since I was a baby, and a picture of a book, a laptop, and a remote control to display just how I spend my free time.

And then, in almost all of the remaining empty space, I wrote in quotes. I wrote 187 quotes on my robe, alternating colors between red, blue, and yellow, because those are Superman’s colors of course.  Early tonight, I shut my eyes and pointed at the quotes at random. I came up with the following:

“Youth cannot know how age thinks and feels. But old men are guilty if they forget what it was to be young.”

“I swear on my momma I will blow a hole through your bedroom and Spiderman out of the side of this building.”

“You can get just so much from a good thing

You can linger too long in your dreams

Say goodbye to the "Oldies But Goodies"

Cause the good ole days weren't always good

And tomorrow ain't as bad as it seems.”

The first is a quote from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, said by Dumbledore. The second is Leverage—Hardison in the episode titled “The Three Card Monte Job.”  The last is a section from the Billy Joel song “Keeping the Faith.”  Since those are the three I picked, they are the ones I’m actively thinking about, and that makes them my favorite quotes of the collection.  Ask me to do the same thing tomorrow, and I’ll think I was an idiot tonight, because clearly the three quotes I chose tomorrow are my favorite quotes.  I’ve never been very good at settling on a favorite.  They’re all good, and they all mean something.  That something will change from person to person, and from time to time, but Something is enough for me.

<3 

Re-Watching

The best thing about living in this age is that I can re-watch my favorite shows with relative ease.  It is so much fun to dive back into shows that I loved ages ago, or even last season but I already forgot how good it was.   It doesn’t matter if I’m re-watching shows that have been off the air for over seven years, or a show that will be back on my screen in just over a month—It is a good way to spend time going back and re-watching all the episodes you loved, and sometimes just groaning through the less than polished episodes that made it to screen. 

The re-watch of the week is Psych.    Psych is one of those very special shows that I actually watch the pilot episode as it aired. Normally, I get involved with shows after the fact. I watch so much television that if I sat down to watch every show that I thought it might be fascinating, I would never have time to watch anything but first episodes.   But Psych had commercials with Dead Zone, which I loved.  James Roday was funny, and my mom thought the commercials looked good, so we sat down and watch the pilot as it aired.   That was seven years ago.  I have sunk a lot of time into this show in those seven years, including about four and a half seasons worth of watching in the past two weeks.  For anyone who hasn’t watched it.  Look it up.

Yes, this was a really stupid blog post. I wrote it as I was watching an episode of Psych. (Three Episodes, actually, I’m easily distracted and there were some great guest stars.)  Feel free to ignore all this.  I’m just a little insane.

<3

Fiction: Legal Theft Project -- Pacing.

“I don’t know how you do that. I would get so sick, so quickly.”  Maggie looked up from her book to see Peter sitting on the couch.  She had been so wrapped up in her book that she hadn’t even noticed that he had come in. In fact, she hadn’t even noticed he’d gotten to her house.  Well, in her defense, it was a really good book.

“Have you been—“

“About an hour, but I was back in Logan’s room so I’ve only been out here for about ten minutes. Don’t worry about it.” Maggie nodded, and crossed around to the front of the couch, sinking down into the cushion at Peter's side. "So, why do you do it?"

"why do I do what?"

"Pace like that. You're always pacing.  You’re studying, you pace.  You’re playing DS, you're pacing. You're reading for fun, you’re pacing. You’re watching Netflix on your iPad, you're pacing--"

"I get it.  I pace a lot." Maggie punched Peter lightly on the arm.  "I don't know.  I get restless. I'm not in anyone's way, and it keeps me happy. I get so wrapped up in the stories of whatever I'm doing, and I just have to move."

"Even studying?  You get wrapped up in the thrilling story of textbook writing?  Margaret my dear, you might be insane."

"No, the pacing while studying might be a 'Don’t fall asleep' kind of thing.  Also, I'm sure I could ask Logan to come up with some biological explanation for getting blood flowing improving memory retention or something like that. Sounds like something she could justify, right?"

"I'm pretty sure Logan could justify anything given proper time and motivation."  Peter watched as Maggie tapped her foot softly against the floor.  He watched on silence for a minute and a half before he finally sighed, "You want to go back to your pacing, don't you?"

"It's just that they're in the middle of a really big battle and I think that--"

"Go," he laughed.  I'll talk to you later." Maggie was up and pacing before he even had time to finish the sentence.
<3

Fiction: Legal Theft Project -- Mother and Son

When Eric was eight, he skinned his knee, jumping down from the tree in his backyard.  He would recount the event as his first “brush with death” as he fell out of a tree that was twenty, maybe even thirty, feet tall, and he had climbed all the way to the top. His mother would kindly remind Eric that he was only on a branch about three feet off the ground, and he didn’t fall, but made the deliberate choice to jump. When Eric argued that it was deliberate, his mother calmly recounted that right before he “fell” he yelled “Watch me Mommy, I’m going to jump!” After that, Eric was forced to pout and wonder aloud why his mother always had to ruin his fun, and in front of his girlfriend too.

Her response was always the same.  "Because that's a mother's job.  Now eat your peas.". It was especially fun when they weren't actually eating peas, because Eric would get even more flustered.

Not that Sarah, the longtime girlfriend, had ever believed the thirty foot tree story, but she loved when Eric and his mother got into the frequently reoccurring "Tree Fight." There was something so lovely about a twenty eight year old man acting like a sixteen year old boy out of love for his mother.  There was a tradition in it that Sarah found wonderful, and the fact that Eric played along with it--well, it just made it that much better. It was a silly thought, but she hoped that someday, she would be able to ruin her own son's fun, and in front of his girlfriend.  And if that kid loved her half as much as Eric loved his mother, well, then she'd be doing all right.

Writing Challenge -- Riding the Waves

It’s like playing in the ocean. On the level, the water is around my waist, and there are some great waves coming in. I’m jumping over them, diving under them, laughing, and having fun. It’s something simple, and it's excellent.

Then the water level drops, waves aren’t challenging to jump over, and diving is no longer an option, and yet, I’m having more fun than I was before. The people around me don’t understand why I’m so happy, and to perfectly honest, I don’t know either. I know that I probably should be concerned, but I don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, because I prefer this to the alternative.

But the alternative comes anyway. It’s like a wave completely over my head. I've been swimming since I could walk and I am a strong swimmer, but suddenly I'm drowning. A small voice in the back of my mind remembers all the rules to follow, and reminds me that I've done this before, but the loud forefront part of my brain is panicked and refuses to follow the rules.  I’m sure that this is worse than the other times; this time I am going to drown.  I make promises to myself, things I'll do if I can get my head above water again, promises that will fade away to nothing once I can breathe again.

And I always do breathe again. The waves pass, and the water settles on the level again.  No one has noticed how bad that almost was, or if they do, they don't say anything.  I feel normal again, and I'm too embarrassed to admit anything had changed.  And every time, I hope the water won't drop again.

<3

Random Thoughts

So, the prompt that I wrote for myself today was just "Random Thoughts." There is nothing quite as intimidating as trying to think of random thoughts when all you've got to go on is "Random Thoughts." So, I think I'll just give you an honest glimpse into a random moment of my life.  Specifically, this one. 

I'm off work , but I'm at work.  My roommate and I share a car, and today she has it, so I brought a change of clothes and my iPad.  I'll be sitting in the lobby of Starbucks until she gets off work and comes to pick me up.  I'm working on my blog post because I figure if I'm going to be sitting here, I might as well work on things to cross off my to-do list.  I'm listening to the Glee station on Pandora, because I've had a really obnoxious song stuck in my head all day, and I find that Glee covers are more likely to stick and replace songs than any other group.  I've got a bug bite of doom on my right elbow, and it is taking every ounce of willpower that I have to not scratch at it. My foot has fallen asleep, but the rest of me is really comfortable, so I'm likely to stay in the position I'm in until the pins and needles win out against the rest of my comfortableness.  I was people watching  before starting this blog, and I'm likely to return to that as soon as I'm done writing.  Gah, my arm itches. I'm a little annoyed with myself for not being better prepared for this down time, but there is nothing I can do about it now.

So, random enough?  Probably.  It didn't really seem that random to me, but then again, it is my brain.

<3

More Thoughts on the Future

Thinking about the future is a very bittersweet experience. On the one hand, there are a hundred thousand possibilities. Who knows where I'll be, what I'll have reached in a year. Two years. A decade.  I could go anywhere, be anything, and fulfill my wildest dreams.

But, by the very same token, I could get nowhere and do nothing.  I could work my ass off and still be sitting in the exact same spot in a year, two years, a decade.  Or worse, maybe worst, I'll lose motivation altogether.  I'll be in the same exact spot, because I gave up hope and I gave up trying.  The sad thing is I know myself well enough to know that it is not out of the realm of possibilities for me. Not by a long shot. 

The truth is, I don't know where I want to be in a year, two years, a decade.  I can't set out a plan, or dive head first towards a goal, because I don't know what that goal is.  I'm indecisive with the best of them and, although I hate to admit it, I am absolutely terrified of the unknown.  A friend’s blog posed an interesting question.  If you were present with a book that contain all of your life, every moment from life to death, and if you read one line you had to read them all, cover to cover, would you read it?  My answer would be an immediate and resounding yes.  I want to read it.  Would I regret that? Probably.  Probably immediately.   But I want to know. Almost more than anything, I want the future to stop being a mystery.

<3

The Thrill of Movies

So, I really like movies.  It’s almost an addiction, and probably something that I should get checked out, but I really, really do. And while I own plenty of DVDs, and more often than not will be found watching something in the dark of my room, nothing compares to going to the movie theater and watching a movie on the big screen.

This is a point that a lot of people will argue with me, actually.  I have heard arguments that range all over the board as to why going to the movies isn’t actually an enjoyable experience.  The most popular argument is that they are too expensive.  If I insist on being legal, I can be patient and see the exact same movie for a dollar and change at a Redbox in a couple months.  If I’m not worried about legality, I can see the same movie for free anytime I want. (Just for the record, I do insist on being legal if there is any way possible to get my hands on it legally.)  But for me, I’m not just paying to see the movie.  I’m paying to go and sit in a dark room, where I can’t do anything else, so I don’t have to worry about feeling guilty that I’m not multi-tasking.  I get to sink back into a comfy chair, and watch the story unfold, literally larger than life, surrounded by some of the best audio equipment that I will probably ever have access to, and get so wrapped up in the story that I lean so far forward in my chair that friends are afraid I’ll topple right out onto the floor.  The whole package is something that I can’t get for a dollar and some change out of the Redbox.

The second most popular argument is the one that I can agree with.  Other people ruin the experience.  In my own living room, bedroom, wherever I take a laptop with DVD capabilities, etc, I know who I am watching the movie with, and I have very few qualms about telling most of them to shut up or go away so I can see my movie.  You don’t have that luxury in a theater, where other paying guests might be rude, and theater employees might be too lazy to do anything about it.  Good ol’ Firefly taught us that there is a special level of hell for those who talk in the theater, and I would like to say, I think that texting is included in that.  My personal favorite “What are you doing?” moment was when a guy got a call from a friend, and answered the call without getting out of his seat.  After telling the friend on the other end of the line what movie he was seeing, he then preceded to describe what was happening in the movie with a running commentary for the next twenty minutes, not just at a normal speaking volume, but actually bordering on shouting.  Normally, I’m the first to be a pain when my movie experience is ruined, (a side effect of really enjoying those good experiences) but with this guy, I was just so stunned that was actually happening, I just started at the back of his head with my mouth open. Luckily, that was when I was working at the theater and could go and see the movie again for free, or else I would have been one very annoyed Rebekah.

But movie theaters  when done right and not filled with annoying people, are a magic that in some ways, I can’t believe actually exists.  Want a sure fire way to make me a happy camper?  Take me to a movie theater.

<3 

Safe and Unsafe

Everything I do, or everything I do normally, is concentrated on making me feel safe.  Really, that is what I’m motivated by most of the time, finding the unsafe items and situations and making them better.  It’s why I am obsessed with things like checking locks, and why I’m unsettled when a door is found to be unlocked.  I can’t help but wonder how long it’s been unlocked, and how it managed to get by my other checks. It’s why I am not a fan of being in large groups of people, because I don’t know exactly who or what is coming into contact with me.  It’s why I am stubbornly untrusting of restaurants I have never been to before, sure that something there is going to make me sick.  I just want to make it to tomorrow morning as un-diseased, un-maimed, and undead as I was when I woke up this morning.

And yet, I am attracted to a plethora of things that are not safe.  On the list of places I want to live, several are known for having high crime rates.  Two items listed on my bucket list are bungee jumping and sky diving.  I have been the first to jump into a dark unknown body of water in the middle of the night, for the fun of it.  And every time I get in a car, I am tempted to see just how face I can make it go—once, on a particularly boring long drive, I indulged in that impulse.

It’s a balancing act, I guess. Trying to find that fine line between responsible, safe, and protected, and wild, free, and enjoying what life gives you.  I tend to lean and tilt which ever what the wind blows on any given day. I just hope that when I eventually fall to one side of the other, I’ll be happy with where I end up.

<3

Fiction: Legal Theft Project -- Homecoming.

They knew, even before they got married that their life together was going to be rather atypical, and therefore rather stressful.  While they may have a joint home base, a house that they called theirs, they knew their times overlapping there would be few and far between.  He would have to go spend a month in London, then she’d have to spend a couple weeks in Vancouver. She had to visit with a backer in Tokyo for a little while, then he would have to go supervise in Montreal. They both had to spend a couple days in New York City, but of course those days never overlapped.  Sometimes they would meet up at the airport for a quick dinner, but more often than not she would fly out a solid six hours before he was scheduled to land, and she would have to be half way around the world by the next morning.

But days like this, he revealed in.  He’d been working at it for days, calling in favors wherever he had them, and now, heavenly, they had come through for him. He had managed to get himself free from work and flying home two days ahead of schedule, and his lovely wife had no idea.

It was two in the morning when he finally pulled into their driveway.  Smiling like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth, he paid the taxi and let himself in.  As he expected, the house was quiet, his wife having gone to bed probably around midnight.  In the dim light filtering through the windows from the full moon, he could see where she had been working--papers, notebooks, books, and her laptop all spread across the coffee table, positions where she could work and still see the TV hanging above the fireplace.  He could just picture her sitting on a cushion in front of the couch, pretending to be hard at work, chewing on the end of her pen, but her attention focused entirely on Chuck or Leverage or whatever DVD it was she had popped in before getting to work.

Making sure the sound system was off as to not wake her, he clicked on the TV, but found that she hadn’t been watching a DVD at all right before she went to bed.  Instead, the Xbox’s YouTube app was pulled up, and the video was paused at him and one of his good friends, an interview they had done ages ago, shortly after he and the woman asleep in his bedroom had met.  He couldn’t help but chuckle at how ridiculous he had looked in those days.  But for some reason that he would never really understand, she fell in love with him anyways. 

He turned the TV off again, and made his way quietly into their bedroom.  Just as he expected when he wasn’t there, she sprawled out, taking up most of their queen sized bed, laying diagonally with her limbs out in every which direction.  She wore an old t-shirt of his, and a pair of short shorts, which he just found wonderful.  The sheet was twisted almost into a rope, wrapped around one of her legs, her waist and pulled under her head where a pillow would normally go.  As for her pillow itself, it was laying under her right arm, while her left arm clutched a beat up old stuffie, an old teddy bear she had since she was a little girl, tightly into her—her chin resting on top of the animals head.  (He’d never admit it to his other friends, but on the nights that they were both home, he slept with the teddy bear clutched tightly to his chest. That way, when they had to separate, the bear would smell more like him then her.  She loved it.)

He hadn’t thought this part through, though.  In their however many years of dating and being married, he had never really had to wake her up.  She was always the first one awake in the morning. When he came to bed after she had already fallen asleep, she was aware that he was coming and was always asleep on her side, so he could just crawl under his side of the covers.  Now—he was drawing a complete blank.

He watched as she muttered something in her sleep, and twisted onto her side a little more.  In spite of himself, he had to smile.  Maybe she was going to whap him around the head with that teddy bear when he tried to wake her up, but when she saw who it was and gave him that smile, it would be worth it all.

---
This was the original story to go with the first line that I gave to Gwen yesterday.  Check out her blog to see what she did with my first line yesterday, and to see the original story from yesterday's first line. It's all over at http://apprenticenevermaster.wordpress.com/

<3

Fiction: Legal Theft Project -- The No Voice Love Story

Laryngitis was not a pretty word; it did not belong in a romance novel. It certainly did not belong in a true love story—nor did it belong in a sweet “how they met” story.  But every time someone asked how Mike and Danielle met, Mike burst out with “Laryngitis!” before anyone else could say anything, always earning him a glare from his lovely significant other.

It’s not that it wasn’t true.  Because it was. Danielle had one of those stereotypical jobs working as a personal assistant for the legend of her selected field, who was a pain in the ass to work for, wanted things a specific way which often left Danielle in increasingly complicated situations trying to attempt the impossible.  Danielle could only hope that in the end she would learn some great lesson about self-respect and how talented she was—like the movies.  Or else, she was going through a very stressful year and a half for no real reason.

Because of that, Danielle couldn’t afford to be sick.  So, when called with a long list of Starbucks drinks to bring to the office at 5:30 in the morning, and not given time to even respond that she was on the way before the line went dead, Danielle ignored her sore throat, and got out of bed. She’d felt sick for days, but it wasn’t worth mentioning, because she would never get time off, and she needed the money.

It wasn’t until she was first in line with four very annoyed people who didn’t have coffee behind her that she realized she had absolutely no voice.  For the first time in a very long time—She had no idea what to do.  She started at the annoyed barista behind the register baffled for a moment, and then tried to mouth the drinks to her.

“Look, lady, speak up or move on. It’s too early for this and people need their coffee.” Danielle tried again, but the barista just shook her head. “I can’t read lips.”

“I can.” The man behind her stepped forward. “Don’t over exaggerate; just mouth the words exactly as you would say them normally.”   A minute and a half later, Mike turned to the Barista. “Two Grande Chais, one with soy milk, one with one percent.  A Venti Earl Grey Tea Latte, two pumps vanilla, one third water, two thirds milk, and a Quad Venti Salted Caramel Mocha, yes she’s aware it’s out of season and you don’t have the salt topping but everything else will be fine.”  He turned back to me, and laughed, “It’s a miracle that you have all that memorized.”

In a moment of desperate relief, Danielle kissed him, probably with a bit more force than was strictly necessary.  She paid for the drinks, and slipped down to the pickup section.

Four days later, Danielle was back at the Starbucks, with a similar, but not identical list of drinks because her boss wanted to keep her on her toes.   A only slightly annoyed and very pink cheeked Mike met her at the front register.  He handed her a note, and a pen. “I’ve lost my voice as thanks for helping you. I’m pretty that earns me at least your number. I promise I call once using a phone is logical again.”

Danielle thought that was fair enough, and wrote down the number. And as they say, the rest is history. 


The first line of this story was legally stolen from my dear friend Gwen. See what she did with the line I gave her today, and see what she originally wrote for this starting line tomorrow over at http://apprenticenevermaster.wordpress.com/.   <3

Things I Learned

Is it too early for a “Things I learned in 2013” list? Well, the overachiever that I am says “No!” because I have learned a lot.

-- There is no sensation quite as uncomfortable as having snow inside your shoes, but outside your socks

-- The worst kind of sick is when you’re trying to act like everything is fine, and people are still telling you that you look bad and/or telling you to sit down.

-- Keeping secrets from friends does nothing but make everyone feel sick.  It should be avoided at all costs.

-- The definition of the word opprobrium (disgrace or contempt, for those who were wondering)

-- Just because I’ve known something since I was a small child, that doesn’t mean it is easy and/or common knowledge. This goes for everything from silly cup games, to diseases.

-- I am much better at letting myself make mistakes then I used to be. Either I’m coming to hold myself to a healthier standard, or I am becoming a bad person.  Only time will tell which.

-- Anyone willing to go head to head with me on movies and actors automatically earns my respect. 

-- My bucket list is going to take a LONG time to complete. Even with the best of intentions, I’m not very good at getting things done.

That’s all—for now.  Here’s to all the lessons that the next three hundred sixty three days are going to teach me.

<3