Thursday, June 27, 2013

Assorted letters to people, places, and things in Iowa

Dear Iowa;

I love you and your green rolling hills, your miles and miles of nothing but cornfields, your cinematic thunderstorms (well, I love them less, for reasons I'll get to), and how your dotted with quaint farmhouses and little towns with their main streets and beautiful parks. I come to you and I feel at home.

But we have to talk. I don't know that I have the intestinal fortitude for you any more. My mouth is more eager than my stomach, in other words. Sure, I want to eat my way through you, as a state, but I'm not really sure I should. Sure, The pork chops and mashed potatoes, and pork tenderloin sandwiches the size of my head seemed like a good idea as I was eating them, but apparently my large and small intestines completely disagreed. Or maybe it was the strawberry rhubarb cobbler, the triple berry pie or strawberry crumble followed by a brownie that made my digestive system revolt, I'm not sure which, but something did not sit well with me.

We've got to figure this out, Iowa, if I'm to come back.

Love,

Me

To the kid with crutches and the broken foot at my aunt's wake;

I think I love you a little bit. If I was 11, I'd be fawning all over you. You were cuter and sweeter than I knew what to do with. Also, stop breaking your legs before summer starts! Three broken legs over three summers is no way to spend your childhood. Get off the motorbikes and into the pool. Also, you have my permission to smack your sister with your crutch (not hard. Geez, I'm not a monster) every time she tries to steal your crutches. That just ain't right.

Thanks for the moment;

The BM

Dear my cousin the chiropractor;

Thanks for the adjustment. Although we may have to talk about your technique a little bit. You're a little bit like the Swedish Mafia, efficient but deadly. Not that I'm complaining because my hips hurt a little less (my headache still hasn't eased up, but that's another letter for a different day), but ease up just a tad. Not much, but just a tad.

Kaythanxbye;

Me

Dear Strawberry Rhubarb Cobbler;

If it would be possible for me to marry a food, you'd be my partner for life, regardless of my intestinal fortitude. But now that a big chunk of DOMA has been dumped, who knows, maybe I will. You'd have to brother husband it with my husband, but I'm  sure we can arrange something. I'd have to add your cousin, strawberry rhubarb pie, which would get really tricky, but I don't care. If this loving is wrong, I don't want to be right.

With my deepest love and respect;

The BM

Dear the lightning storm that lasted all freaking night;

Don't get me wrong, I got nothing against you. When I was a young child, I spent hours watching you roll through town. (Hey don't knock my childhood. When you knock the power out, what choice do I have?) But when my cousin's room has an uncovered archway with which you decide to blast a laser light show into at 3:00 in the freaking morning, and I can't get back to sleep because suddenly the entirety of Pink Floyd's the wall is playing in my head, you and I are going to have a problem. So cut it out you noisy, bright bastard. Some of us are trying to sleep.

Shut up and let me sleep;

The BM

Dear My Aunt's garden;

I am so jealous of you I can't stand it. Nothing but rows and rows of ripened strawberries in you and I can't get my strawberry bushes to grow but two strawberries and they are picked over by bugs? I'm so angry I can't stand it.  But the strawberries are just the tip of the iceberg. Rhubarb and snap peas, and melons and green beans and corn and god knows what else just abound. I walk through you and I feel utterly at peace. Heh, I spelled peach right then. I would love to be utterly at peach. Sadly, there were know peaches that were ripe. Maybe next time.

Sincerely;

The Bloody Munchkin

Dear Intestines;

I'm sorry.

The BM (heh. Because you know I'm The BM, but the BMs that are moving through my system are killing me. It works on so many levels)

Tuesday, June 18, 2013

Trifecta Challenge: Club



Howdy. Things have been crazy around these parts and I'm just trying to keep my head above water right now. But I was able to write a little something for the Trifecta Challenge. This week's word is club. Enjoy.


1a : a heavy usually tapering staff especially of wood wielded as a weapon
 b : a stick or bat used to hit a ball in any of various games
 c : something resembling a club
2a : a playing card marked with a stylized figure of a black clover
  b : plural but sing or plural in constr : the suit comprising cards marked with clubs
3a : an association of persons for some common object usually jointly supported and meeting periodically; also : a group identified by some common characteristic   
- See more at: http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/#sthash.gKv4Ct2i.dpuf
CLUB
1a : a heavy usually tapering staff especially of wood wielded as a weapon
 b : a stick or bat used to hit a ball in any of various games
 c : something resembling a club
2a : a playing card marked with a stylized figure of a black clover
  b : plural but sing or plural in constr : the suit comprising cards marked with clubs
3a : an association of persons for some common object usually jointly supported and meeting periodically; also : a group identified by some common characteristic   
- See more at: http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/#sthash.gKv4Ct2i.dpuf
CLUB
1a : a heavy usually tapering staff especially of wood wielded as a weapon
 b : a stick or bat used to hit a ball in any of various games
 c : something resembling a club
2a : a playing card marked with a stylized figure of a black clover
  b : plural but sing or plural in constr : the suit comprising cards marked with clubs
3a : an association of persons for some common object usually jointly supported and meeting periodically; also : a group identified by some common characteristic   
- See more at: http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/#sthash.gKv4Ct2i.dpuf
CLUB
1a : a heavy usually tapering staff especially of wood wielded as a weapon
 b : a stick or bat used to hit a ball in any of various games
 c : something resembling a club
2a : a playing card marked with a stylized figure of a black clover
  b : plural but sing or plural in constr : the suit comprising cards marked with clubs
3a : an association of persons for some common object usually jointly supported and meeting periodically; also : a group identified by some common characteristic   
- See more at: http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/#sthash.gKv4Ct2i.dpuf
CLUB
1a : a heavy usually tapering staff especially of wood wielded as a weapon
 b : a stick or bat used to hit a ball in any of various games
 c : something resembling a club
2a : a playing card marked with a stylized figure of a black clover
  b : plural but sing or plural in constr : the suit comprising cards marked with clubs
3a : an association of persons for some common object usually jointly supported and meeting periodically; also : a group identified by some common characteristic   
- See more at: http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/#sthash.gKv4Ct2i.dpuf
1a : a heavy usually tapering staff especially of wood wielded as a weapon
 b : a stick or bat used to hit a ball in any of various games
 c : something resembling a club
2a : a playing card marked with a stylized figure of a black clover
  b : plural but sing or plural in constr : the suit comprising cards marked with clubs
3a : an association of persons for some common object usually jointly supported and meeting periodically; also : a group identified by some common characteristic   
- See more at: http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/#sthash.gKv4Ct2i.dpuf
1a : a heavy usually tapering staff especially of wood wielded as a weapon
 b : a stick or bat used to hit a ball in any of various games
 c : something resembling a club
2a : a playing card marked with a stylized figure of a black clover
  b : plural but sing or plural in constr : the suit comprising cards marked with clubs
3a : an association of persons for some common object usually jointly supported and meeting periodically; also : a group identified by some common characteristic   
- See more at: http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/#sthash.gKv4Ct2i.dpuf
1a : a heavy usually tapering staff especially of wood wielded as a weapon
 b : a stick or bat used to hit a ball in any of various games
 c : something resembling a club
2a : a playing card marked with a stylized figure of a black clover
  b : plural but sing or plural in constr : the suit comprising cards marked with clubs
3a : an association of persons for some common object usually jointly supported and meeting periodically; also : a group identified by some common characteristic   
- See more at: http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/#sthash.gKv4Ct2i.dpuf

*****************************************************************
 
At first, I doubt I’m in the right place.  The place is too cheery and comforting for the meeting.  But then 
I start looking around at the faces milling around and I know.  We can spot our own kind.

It’s the hang dog faces and that look of pain that lies just beneath the surface.  The scars that are hidden away from our neighbors, our cube mates, the person who pours our coffee every morning are painfully obvious to those of us in the room.  Maybe it’s a locket we keep touching, or a spot in our chest we keep rubbing, or something that resides in a pocket we constantly reach for. All the tell-tale signs are there when you know what you’re looking for.

For me it’s a scar just above my right wrist. I compulsively brush my thumb against, like it’s a rubbing stone.  I have ever since…. It doesn’t do me any good but that doesn’t stop me from continuing to touch it.  To stop, I walk over to the carafe and pour myself some coffee.

Someone has started talking and everyone starts grabbing seats.  I find a seat in the back next to an older lady who smiles gently at me. I keep telling myself I just want to watch and listen.  Maybe I’ll share some other time.  One by one, everyone tells their story. I’m heartbroken and moved with each telling.

Before I know it, it’s my turn.  The older lady nods and pats my hand, noticing my resistance to share. I don’t know what to say, and then the words come out. I tell them about my son, how he was born and how he died. I save the story about the scar for another time. A catharsis happens. I’m suddenly lighter than when I walked in.

“Thank you for sharing that with our parent bereavement support group.” The moderator says.

“Welcome to the club,” The older lady said, with an odd smile. What a club.

Friday, June 14, 2013

Trifecta's Summer challenge

Trifecta asked us to describe summer in 33 words or less:



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Flaky golden-brown crust, vine ripened strawberries combined expertly with tart and tangy rhubarb, baked to perfection, just slightly warm served a dollop of ice cream on top. Summer on a plate.

*******************************************


Summer isn't summer until I have a slice of strawberry rhubarb pie. The farmer's market has a bakery stand and they have strawberry rhubarb pie there. I have to have at least a slice if not a whole pie once per summer. It is sunshine in my mouth and summer in a spoon. God, I'm hungry now. Thanks a lot Trifecta Challenge!  

Wednesday, June 12, 2013

Dumb White Husband is smarter than we think



Just wanted to quickly note that something I wrote got featured on Dumb White Husband today. Maybe they aren't as dumb as they are leading us to believe. Maybe they are dumb like a fox! ( I have no idea what I was trying to say right there) Maybe they aren't always wrong, but on W4 I decided to tell them why they are.

So, go check out my piece on Dumb White Husband, and while you are there, maybe you could say hi, leave comments, tell Ben Wallace and Steven Luna how rad their site is and how rad they are in general? For me, maybe could you?

Tony Danza and a Toilet

The following took place this weekend:

"What's that?"
"Plunger for the toilet.It's been running a lot. Also, I've been having dreams about my toilet lately so I thought I'd fix it."
"Oh really?"
"Yeah, I dreamed that as I was fixing the toilet, Tony Danza walked in and tried to pee in my broken toilet and I kept swatting at him to stop, but every time I tried to get him to stop he tried to hug me and he kept talking to me as I'm fixing it and I was really annoyed with him."
"Tony Danza ruins everything."

This conversation serves no other purpose than I actually had it and I wanted to preserve it for future generations.

You're welcome world!

Tuesday, June 11, 2013

Movie Reviews: Warm Bodies



Not all the time, but sometimes a movie comes along that somehow makes a perfect connection with a person and its Movie kismet. It is the thing that people talk about when they talk about fate. Well I think I met my soul mate in movie form and that movie is Warm Bodies.

I’m not huge into the Zombie genre really. I’ve tried to like it in fits in starts but it’s never been my bag. Other than Romero, I haven’t been into it as a whole. That’s not to say there haven’t been some bright spots here and there *cough Shaun of the Dead I love you cough*, but I’ve never really gotten hooked into the genre. So I’m not sure what I was expecting when I saw Warm Bodies. All I knew is that it felt like a new take on the genre and I was interesting to see what would happen.

What I didn’t expect is how well it blended older, much older ideas into the genre. The Romeo and Juliet notes this movie hit were exactly the right ones. I mean, the characters’ names are R and Julia for crying out loud. And that balcony scene almost caused a fit of hysterics in me for reasons I can’t quite explain. The idea of a zombie courting a girl in that old-fashioned way just makes me smile every time I think about it.

And everybody was great in this movie. Nicholas Hoult was doing yeoman’s work as R, the zombie who was finding his humanity again, which could not have been easy. And finally, miracle of all miracles, I like Rob Corddry in something. I didn’t think I’d ever see the day, but he was strangely perfect in this. But the biggest stand out of all for me was surprisingly. Perhaps I’m still angry she didn’t win her season of ANTM and I think it is fitting revenge when she’s in things and she’s excellent. Or perhaps she was just this perfect quirky palate cleanser to the whole thing. If you want to jump aboard the Analeigh Tipton needs more work train, I’ll be your conductor.

I’m so utterly pleased with this movie that I’ve seen it twice and I hope it is on cable enough that I can watch it about a gazillion more times. Love. Through and through, it’s an A.

Monday, June 10, 2013

Trifecta Challenge: Light

You'll have to forgive me, I'm in a very somber nostalgic mood this morning. I'm Contemplating life and death and all that for reasons I won't get into.  That's probably why the latest Trifecta challenge triggered the following story. This week's trifecta challenge:

LIGHT (noun)


1a : something that makes vision possible
  b : the sensation aroused by stimulation of the visual receptors
  c : electromagnetic radiation of any wavelength that travels in a vacuum with a speed of about 186,281 miles (300,000 kilometers) per second; specifically : such radiation that is visible to the human eye
2a : daylight
  b : dawn
3: a source of light: as
   a : a celestial body
   b : candle   
 
*************************************************************
 
I can remember it clearly even if it was a dream. But sometimes dreams aren’t just dreams.

I was in my grandparents’ house. Grandma was having one of her episodes again. There was something about her ranting that would throw me into a seething rage. I know now that it wasn’t her fault, not really. She’d lost her partner in life and had just given up and decided to join him. Her mind and her body were in race to see who could get there first. But even in my dream I was mad at her for what she was becoming. I’m still not sure why. Blame it on my youth, on my hormones, on my own selfishness, I don’t know. 

The kitchen’s a mess and she’s pacing on the linoleum looking at me and crying in turns and I’m getting angrier.

Then I spot it in the hallway, just in the periphery of my vision. It was a small point of light, and then it burst open. At first I just saw the beams shooting off in thousands of directions like the sun streaking through the clouds after a thunderstorm.

Then it dissipated and he was there. I looked at him, tears in my eyes and immediately I feel the thoughts whirring, the millions of things I wanted to tell him before he passed that I never got a chance to. The pervading thought I kept coming back to is ‘I love you and I’m sorry.’ But I can’t even get that out.

But what I could or could not say didn’t seem to matter to him at all. He just walked toward me, hugged me the way he use to and whispered into my ear. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” he said as he squeezed me tighter.

Then I woke up. I don’t know if it was my grandfather, or something my subconscious made up to give me closure. All I know is sometimes, dreams aren’t just dreams.

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The above story is 330 words.