Five Minute Friday: Bloom. (Plus the most amazing quilt ever!)

Today's Five Minute Friday writing prompt is: Bloom!

Blooming.  Blooming rain!  (said in a British accent)

Not sure why I thought of that.  It's not raining here in St. Louis.  Actually it has been nothing short of perfection this week.  Surely this can't be July!

Back to that British accent thing.  In high school, my brother Adam was in our high school's production of My Fair Lady (side note...one of my least favorite musicals).  He was Cockney #3 or something like that.  He stood around and warmed his hands by the garbage can fire.  On the final night of the show, we thought it would be a hoot if I pulled my hair up, put on his cockney costume, smudged some dirt on my nose and did his bows for him during the curtain call.  I think our mom was quite surprised when he snuck in to the chair next to her before the end of the show.  I tried my best to mimic Adam's walk and stage mannerisms.  I must have been concentrating too hard because the curtain nearly knocked me over as it was being pulled shut.  With a little bit o' luck, I made it out of the curtain call in one piece.

On a separate note...yesterday I got the most wonderful surprise at my door.  My little sister and I were eating breakfast in our PJ's and we heard a noise at the door, thinking the mail had arrived.  But, lo and behold, it was my friend Laura and she was bearing gifts!  Get ready to be amazed at the most incredible quilt you may ever see:

It's all Harry Potter!!  Complete with the Knight Bus, Hogwarts crest, Deathly Hollows symbol and even a "Make Cupcakes, Not Horcruxes" block! Feel free to zoom in on this puppy and take a gander at all the intricate paper piecing she did here.  Just WOW.

And on it the most incredible baby wizard you may ever see:

Bless him, he knows his mummy!

Needless to say, Laura is crazy talented at this quilting business.  (Seriously, look at all these amazing quilts she's made!)    And a crazy thoughtful friend.  Thank you forever, Laura.

Five Minute Friday: Belong

Another edition of Five Minute Friday!  This week's one-word prompt: Belong.

GO.

Belong.  For some reason, it made the Cheers theme song pop into my head.  "Sometimes you want to go where everybody knows your name..."  I love that show.  Favorite character, hands down is "NORM!"

It also reminds me of cafeteria school lunches.  Once you hit junior high, you're suddenly able to pick where you want to sit for lunch.  How terrifying.  Especially on the first day of the school year.  You're not completely sure which of your friends are in this lunch period with you.  So you sweat.  You walk in and scan the cafeteria desperately looking for a table with people you know.  But you try to look like you don't care.  And you sweat.  The clock is ticking and you're sure everybody is staring at you now.  You sweat some more.

"Oh crap, I'm sweating.  Did I put on deodorant today?" (clamp arms at sides)
"Oh crap, I'm sweating.  Are my mega-bangs falling flat?" (poof up bangs)
"Oh crap, I'm sweating.  And everyone probably sees it under the arms of my No Fear shirt!" (unclamp arms from sides, but just a little bit)

You find your friend in the lunch line.  All is well.  Until you both realize you still need a table to sit at.  And you sweat.  Together.

STOP.

Five Minute Friday is a weekly one-word writing prompt by Lisa Jo Baker in which you have five minutes to write whatever pops into your head.

Five Minute Friday: Exhale

GO.

I have had two distinct moments of "exhale" today.  Both a little out of the ordinary.  It was a day with lots of rushing and rearranging plans, last minute packing and frenzy.  But on the way to my parents house, where I am currently typing away, the baby and two dogs were all asleep and it was silent.  For a whole 45 minutes.  So I just listened to the quiet.  My husband thinks I'm nuts.  He blares his music in the car turbo loud and I tell him my favorite sound is silence.  Total opposites.  But we're married and it's wonderful.  While listening to the silence on the road, I had a chance to just pray and think.  It's amazing how clear everything sounds in your head when it's silent.

My second exhale is actually right now.  I'm sitting here at my parents house alone on the fourth of July as the baby sleeps and the dogs make muffled barks at the sound of firecrackers in the distance.  I was thinking, I don't remember the last time I've been alone at the house I grew up in.  It feels kind of weird.  My mom just texted me directions on how to turn the TV on and how to find HGTV.  But I think I like the quiet again.

Today, my husband's grandpa passed away while a marching band paraded by the house.  Silence and noise.  On Independence Day.  In a way, I think it's kind of beautiful that he went home today.  Independence…freedom…today Jim is truly free, and no doubt there was a lot of noise and celebration (perhaps even a celestial marching band) as he was welcomed home at last.

STOP.

Five Minute Friday is a weekly one-word writing prompt by Lisa Jo Baker in which you have only five minutes to write whatever pops into your head.

1992 World Cup

Apparently this whole World Cup thing is a big deal.  I watched a little bit of the US v Belgium game yesterday with my hubby, and I even got into it a little bit!  In addition to the downright creative costumes in the crowd, the commentators were an unexpected highlight to me.  In what other US sport do you hear such poetic statements as, "He was plucked from his youth at the age of 16 (i.e. He was recruited early)?"

My youngest brother and sister would be so proud of me for watching.  They're pretty awesome at soccer, but it seems I didn't get those genes.

Flashback....1992, Hillsboro, a small white house on Rountree Street.  A young Ree gets ready for her first soccer practice.  She pulls on her bright orange soccer shirt, cut-off sweatpants shorts, and pulls her hair back in a high-and-tight pony tail.  And there, sitting on her bedroom floor staring back at her mockingly, was her arch nemesis...Shin Guards and his crony Tube Socks.  Mom comes in to check on her.

"Are you ready yet, Ree?"

Tears well up in her eyes and her cheeks flush hot with anger.  "No."
 
"Well you need to hurry up; we're going to be late!"

"I'm not wearing these things! They look stupid! No one else will be wearing them!"

"Put them on and let's go."

Fuming, young Ree straps on her shin guards and pulls her tube socks up over them.  She tries desperately to hold it all together as she silently hops in the back seat of the cream-colored Ford Escort.  As they pull up to the soccer field, Mom gets out of the car.  Ree doesn't.  Instead, she starts crying.

"I won't get out of the car!  I look stupid!"

Exasperated, Mom looks over at Coach Sheila.  Horror of horrors, Coach Sheila has the gall to actually walk up to the car and see what's going on.  Ree stares straight ahead, tears streaming down her face.  After a brief explanation, Coach Sheila tries to rally young Ree.  "But look, everyone else is wearing shin guards too!  It's part of playing soccer!"

Ree held firm, refusing to get out of the car.  Mom and Coach exchange a few brief words, and Ree was driven back to Rountree Street in the backseat of the cream-colored Ford Escort.  World Cup Victory.

At least for a day.

The next day, Ree was dropped off at soccer practice, shin guards and all.  And she played for one whole season, making one glorious goal...for the other team.

Five Minute Friday: Lost

Lost.  I got lost once...well, at least my parents thought I did.  We were on a family day trip to White Oaks Mall in Springfield.  I was just old enough to walk around the mall by myself...sometime in junior high...and my parents said to meet them outside of Sears in an hour.  So I did.  An hour came and went as I sat on the little bench outside Sears.  There were lots of interesting people to watch, especially a lot of mall cops with big flat brimmed hats on.  I was starting to wonder where my family was...they must've got sidetracked looking at the puppies in Pass Pets.

Finally, after a loooong while, I see my family rushing up to me, escorted by one of the mall cops.  My mom was shaking and my dad was mad.  "Is this your daughter?",  he asked my parents.  "Yes."  After a few seconds of very heated questioning, and lots of confusion on my part, it turned out my parents asked me to meet them outside of JC Penney.  The wandering mind of an adolescent girl...  I was probably too busy ogling at all the plastic jackets and chunky shoes when they were telling me where to meet them.

Five Minute Friday is a weekly one-word writing prompt by Lisa Jo Baker; set a timer for five minutes and write whatever pops into your head.

Five Minute Friday: Release

START.

Catch and release.  Fishing…catching lightning bugs.  I love to do both of these things.  Fishing is a peaceful experience if you don’t think about the gross parts. 

I remember running around my grandma and grandpa’s backyard with an old Jiffy jar trying to catch lightning bugs.  My brother and I usually made quite a haul.  Back then, I used to love the part when I could rip off their rear ends and make beautiful glow-in-the-dark jewelry for myself.  Seriously…who thought of that?  “Hey, how about we tear the lower half of this bug off, smear it on our fingers and call it a diamond?”  Usually, though, I think Mom made us let them go.  Probably because she didn’t want to deal with a jar full of dead bugs in the house the next morning; who can blame her?  They’re pretty to look at, flying around in the sky at night.  I feel like I see less and less of them these days, even when I am back at home in the Boro.  Hope they stick around for a while.

STOP.

Five Minute Friday is a weekly one-word writing prompt by Lisa Jo Baker.  You have five minutes to write whatever pops into your head.

Five Minute Friday: Messenger

START.

Don’t shoot the messenger.  Messenger bag.  Deborah “Messenger”.  Messenger.  I have no idea what to write about this word.  But the clock is ticking, and I have to write whatever pops into my head about this word.  Messenger bag.  I keep coming back to that.  So let’s go with it.

I took piano lessons for ten years growing up.  One year for my birthday, I got a little messenger bag for my piano books.  It had a black and white keyboard on the front and zipped all around three corners.  On the very front in little gold letters it said “Kelli Marie”.  Eventually after a few years, the little gold letters started peeling off.  But they hung on for dear life.  I loved carrying around my little “brief case” of music.  I felt very professional…me and my bag full of Beatles sheet music.  Or Elvis.  Or whatever my fancy was at the time. 

When I was younger I wanted to be a lawyer.  I could picture myself in a smart pantsuit carrying around a brief case.  Then I saw Jurassic Park, and all that changed.  There was one scene where a lawyer was running from a large scary looking dinosaur and ended up in a porter potty screaming.  The dino got him.  And with the death of that poor lawyer my childhood dream of legal stardom died with him.  Porter potty…is that how you say it?

STOP.

Five Minute Friday is a weekly writing prompt from Lisa Jo Baker in which she gives you a word, you set a timer for 5 minutes and write whatever pops into your head.  Fun times!

Five Minute Friday: Hands

I really want to get back into writing again.  Just because I love it.  I found a lady with a blog, and she started something called Five Minute Fridays.  Every Friday, she gives a new writing prompt on her blog (a word, a picture, etc) and you have five minutes to write about it.  It can be anything: a stream of conscience, a poem, ramblings, etc.  And you can't be worried about grammar or anything else like that.  You just WRITE. I really like the idea of this, and apparently so do hundreds of other women who have joined in on the fun.  Now that I am a mom, it seems my time and brain power are slightly more limited than they used to be.  But I think I can handle five minutes on Fridays.  Here was last week's prompt: Hands.

My hands.  My mom’s hands.  My grandma’s hands.  My great-grandma’s hands.  My baby boy’s hands.  The older I get, the more and more my hands are starting to look like my mom’s.  I am 30.  She is 53.  And my baby boy is 4 months old.  Almost.  His hands are soft and mushy and have dimples on the knuckles.  I love his hands and I kiss them over and over every day.  His hands grasp my finger and hold on tight.  His hands go  in his mouth and are covered with drool.  His hands recently just started reaching down to his nether regions when I change his diaper.  I love his hands. 

I also imagine a potter forming a something or other with their hands.  Covered in clay.  Some of it is dried and some is still wet.  A big mess.  But creative.  It will turn into something beautiful.  I had a little kids’ pottery wheel when I was younger.  I never quite got the hang of it.  Plastic piece of junk.

On my left hand is a wedding ring.  This year we will be married 8 years.  I cried when he asked me to marry him.  And I cried on our wedding day.  My fingers swell at night so I take them off.  Sometimes I think my hands will shake when I get old.  And that is okay.  They may get stiff.  And wrinkly and freckled.  Age spots.  But I will always remember that these hands held the face and hands of my little baby.  And it felt so soft and squishy.  And he smiled at me, sometimes with his tongue sticking out.