Writer's Workshop Thursday

It has been a long while since I last participated in Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop. I am going to try to be more faithful about doing just that. 

Here is one of this week's questions:

5.) A quote you saw on Pinterest that inspired you.

"I'm not beautiful like you. I'm beautiful like me."

I think that if we could all keep this in mind it would help to curb the comparisons that threaten to drive some of us mad and wreck the relationships that we hold most dear.

I don't have to be a size zero, or twenty-two years old, or have a plastic surgeon's number on speed-dial on my phone to be beautiful. I am me: sized larger than I would like, almost forty-eight years old, and want nothing to do with being re-shaped by silicone "enhancements".

Eventually, all of that pretty wrapping gets old, faded, and wrinkled, and all that is left is what is inside the package. That is where true beauty lies, inside that ever-changing, aging package.

I am the most beautiful me that there is. So are you. No one else can compare.

Another thought to take to heart: He made us in His image, and if we are enough for Him, then we are enough. Period.

Genesis 1: 27  "So God created man in his own image, in the image of God created he him; male and female created he them."

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Writer's Workshop

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The prompt that I chose this week is:

Describe an outfit you LOVED wearing.

Back in the late 1980s, I had a blue chambray skirt and top. The skirt was supposed to be about mid-calf length, but on me, it came to my ankles. I like skirts on the long side, so that was OK with me. There was a ruffle at the bottom of the skirt. The shirt had pearl-like buttons. I wore it out instead of tucked in.

I also wore a metal belt that had circle links and ovals with some sort of design that I can't remember at the moment. This belt is about as close as I've been able to find in a web search. While the links on mine were round, the closed metal pieces were ovals.

I had white boots with little pointed heels similar to these Victorian boots. The boots were just above ankle high and had pointy toes. I loved those boots, although they were exactly the best choice for climbing on Stone Mountain. I wrecked them there.

I don't think that I have any pictures of myself in this outfit. It was one of my late father-in-law's favorites to see me in. Because he really liked it, this is the outfit that I wore to his funeral. My husband really liked it, too. I don't know whatever happened to it, but I would love to have an outfit like that again.

Writer's Workshop: Don't Want To!

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3.) Create a reverse bucket list that names the top ten things you never want to do.
(Inspired by The Hairpin)

I never want to...

...OK, I had my list of ten "don't want tos" and then my husband pointed out that writing those down was one sure way to cause them to happen. So, I deleted that list and here is a sarcastic version. :)

I never want to...

  1. ...eat cotton candy.
  2. ...ride a roller coaster.
  3. ...see Monticello.
  4. ...live in the Biltmore House.
  5. ...win the Powerball lottery.
  6. ...play ping-pong 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 365 days a year.
  7. ...have the most productive blog on the Internet.
  8. ...have a totally toned body.
  9. ...publish a #1 best-selling serial killer novel.
10. ...have "Shattered" hanging in the Louvre.

Writer's Workshop: Goals

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The prompt that I chose this week is:

5.) Okay okay I have to ask…what are your New Year’s Resolutions for 2012 and/or how did 2011's resolutions turn out?

I don't make resolutions, but I do have goals. One of our goals for 2011 was to have an increase in business and we were successful at achieving this goal. However, this has not necessarily translated into an increase in usable income because when things get better on one side of the table, they get worse on the other side. It seems we're always playing musical chairs with the money, hoping that we're still in the game when the music stops. One of our goals for this year is to increase business and income as well as to decrease expenses wherever possible.

Another goal is to get down to a safe, healthy weight. I was on track before I had surgery to remove the tumors in October 2010, but have been in Plateau Land since then. Basically, my weight fluctuates daily in a ten pound range, but I can't seem to break free and start losing again. Maybe my body has decided that it had better hold onto whatever it has tightly in case the surgeon's knife decides to come after me again. Who knows. I just wish that it would get on the move again.

One goal for this year has already been achieved. It is one that has been a goal for a very, very long time now. I have searched high and low for years for any information that I could find on one of my great-great grandmothers. Story has it that her daddy, who allegedly was very well-off, disowned her for marrying my great-great grandpa. Whether this is true or not, I do not know. You know how all families have their stories. Anyway, I located Josephine's death certificate online yesterday and this death certificate also told me her daddy's name. I may never be able to prove or disprove the whole disowning thing, but at least now I stand a chance to learn more about that part of the family.

The last major goal is to get our two youngest children tested and registered for their first semester in college. They have grown up way too fast!

Writer's Workshop: That Red Dress!

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The prompt that I chose this week is:

5.) Put together a holiday outfit you’d love to wear at a holiday party should a holiday party ever be on your list of things to do.

It is totally weird because it is so not me, but the first dress that came to my mind was the red dress that Rhett Butler made Scarlett wear to Melanie's party in Gone With the Wind. It was so pretty and sparkly and a body would have to be thin to fit in it. I'm way too conservative for that dress, but I'd love to be able to fit in it.

In reality, I would probably choose something dark green and very conservative, as in not too short on either end. I would add to that diamond stud earrings and the necklace that my children gave me for Mother's Day one year. I would wear basic black pumps, not too low but not stiletto-height either. I don't want to break my neck! To top it off, I would consider getting my hair back to the color it was when I was a little girl because that red was totally beautiful with the green dresses that my mama bought me way back then.

Merry Christmas, everybody!

Writer's Workshop: George Bailey

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The prompt that I chose for this week is:

What is it about that movie that makes you cry every time?

The desperation that George Bailey feels, feeling like everyone would have been better off had he never been born, those things get to me every time. Sure, the scene at the end where the whole community comes to his rescue is heartwarming, but it is the bridge scene that makes the biggest impact on me. Maybe I don't bawl my eyes out on the outside, but it grabs my heart. I've been there.

When he's at the bridge rail contemplating jumping into the water, Mr. Potter's words drilling through his head and heart that he's worth more dead than alive, looking back over a lifetime of waiting for his turn only to have his turn always be just out of reach, I understand his frustration completely. He had hopes and dreams to see the world, to escape the force field of his home town and nothing worked out as he had planned at all. The harder he pushed to leave, the more things happened to hold him there.

In the end he realized that, although he didn't get to see the world, his world, his place, was right there in Bedford Falls. He had all that he needed right there and always had. What had seemed a restrictive force field before was now a comforting hug.

Writer's Workshop: Little Mouths

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The prompt that I chose for this week is:

4. Kids say the darndest things…describe a time a child’s honesty made you think. (Inspired by Ashley’s Closet)

When my youngest daughter was an itty bitty girl, my mother-in-law and her current husband came to our house in South Carolina for a visit. My baby girl was maybe four years old at the time. The family was sitting around the living room talking and my little one put in her two cents worth. I don't remember what the conversation was about, just her little voice saying to my husband's mother "back when you were not fat". I think that I must have stopped breathing and I know my heart stopped. I couldn't believe my baby girl had said such a thing. But, it's a risk you take when you raise them to tell the truth. My baby girl is a lot like my granny. She speaks her mind and doesn't generally beat around the bush. She's like her mama, too. I tend to be blunt. We both got a good dose of Granny's DNA, I think. It causes some rather amusing moments.

Writer's Workshop: Messy Moments

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The prompt that I chose this week is:

The SITS Girls are giving away a Canon Rebel Camera and are asking people to enter by writing a post following these directions and answer this prompt: Spending time with friends and family can lead to fun and memorable moments, but also some very messy ones. Tell us about the messiest moments that you’ll always remember! Let’s hear yours!

Early one evening, way back in 1997, my husband and I were occupied in our room, either playing online or watching TV, while the little people were somewhere playing in the house. At this point in time, we had seven children between the ages of two and twelve years old.

All of a sudden, I heard wild laughter from the two youngest, my sweet little babies, ages two and three, and shrieks of "MOM! MOM! Come quick!" from the older children.

I ran into the dining room to find my babies dancing on the dining room table, wearing nothing but huge smiles and covered in peanut butter, from the tops of their fuzzy little heads to the bottom of their yummy little feet.

Have you ever tried to bathe a toddler that is covered in peanut butter, determined to stay that way? The closest comparison that I can think of is trying to bathe a cat.

The dining room was never the same after that!


I received information about Clorox’s Bleach It Away campaign and am sharing my messy moment for the chance to win prizes from The SITS Girls. To learn more about the messy moment program, check out www.BleachItAway.com. Sharing your story on the Clorox fan page gets you entered for the chance to win $25,000 and daily prizes, and you can grab a coupon for Clorox® Regular Bleach.

Writer's Workshop: FAQ

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The prompt that I chose this week is:

Create an FAQ page for yourself that answers frequently asked questions if people were to frequently ask you questions. People make those up all the time. YOUR TURN!

OK, since this says "for yourself" and not "about yourself", I am using the questions that I hear the most. :)

1. Is the bathroom free?

NO!

2. Why?

Because I said so!

3. Mommy, can I rub your head?

Sure, baby girl.

4. Are ya'll playing ping-pong in there?

Nunya!

5. Where are you working today?

Everywhere between here and Corpus Christi.

6. How old are you?

46

7. How are the kids?

They are doing great! Thanks for asking.

8. What mileage are you getting in that car?

About 31 mpg.

9. What's the outside temp?

This answer varies, obviously.

10. Can you go here to do this job?

It depends on the job, where it is, and what you're willing to pay.

11. How long have you been married?

Twenty-seven years (today is our anniversary).

12. Where did you two meet?

We met at the chemistry room window at Crescent High School.

13. How old were you when you got married?

19

14. How old were you when your first baby was born?

20

15. Who are you named after?

My daddy's paternal grandmother Annie and her sister Susie. My daddy wanted to name me Susie Annie. The compromise was Suzanne. At this point in my life, I kind of like the idea of Annie.

Writer's Workshop: So Over It!

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The prompt that I chose this week is:

Describe something you did with your spouse when you dated, but that you’re now “over”.(Inspired by Scary Mommy)

My husband and I agree on this one: going to movies.

We love watching movies and do so fairly often but, with the exception of Lion King 3D during the Brony meeting a few weeks ago, we haven't actually gone to a movie in a theater in YEARS. We're perfectly happy to sit here in our room and watch them on our own television, pop our own *much cheaper* popcorn, and with being able to hit pause and go to the bathroom when the mood hits without fear of missing some majorly vital part that pulls the whole movie together. AND we can run it back when we do miss something important. Can't do that in the theater.

Hats off to Roku, Netflix, Hulu, and Amazon for making movie nights possible at McClendon Villa!

Writer's Workshop: Haiku

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My response this week is from the following Writer's Workshop prompt:

Write a Haiku for Fall and pair it with a favorite Fall photo you’ve taken this year.

Play, little kitty
Young and free, green eyes ablaze
As the leaves fall free.

Writer's Workshop: Don't Make Me Eat That!

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My response this week is from the following Writer's Workshop prompt:

5.) A recipe that went all kinds of wrong.

Setup:

Who: Newlyweds
What: New recipe
When: Suppertime
Where: Kitchen table
Why: Because he loved her.
How: Very carefully!

Herbed livers. To a person that used to love livers, it sounded like a fun kitchen adventure, only I didn't have all of the necessary ingredients. OK, so I'll improvise and it will be alright.

I substituted this for that and that for this. Hey, it's green, so it should work, too, right? In it went. I was happy and hopeful. My man would be home soon and he would see how well I was learning my way around the kitchen.

He came in the door to smells that were interesting. Who doesn't like the smell of chicken livers cooking?

I was excited for him to taste what I had been working on for longer than it takes Christmas to arrive for a five year old. He sat down at the table like a good, hungry hubby and I gave him his plate. Usually, I would wait there while he took the first bite. This time, I had to get back to something in the kitchen. So, he was unchaperoned as he took those first bites...

I came back to the table with my plate and sat down to eat with him. I asked him how he liked it. "It's interesting, baby." He was nice and polite. I went to get him more...if only he had told me what he was really thinking. I came back with his re-load and sat down to take a bite of mine.

"ICK!!! Spit, spat, sputter! This is gross!" was my response to my own lovely creation. Those livers had to be the most disgusting things on the planet at that moment.

David hadn't wanted to hurt my feelings, so he led me to believe they were fine. He was so relieved that I found them disgusting, too, because he really didn't want to eat that second helping. I think he honestly thought that he would die if he had to put another of those herbed livers in his mouth. How he even swallowed the first one, I'll never know!

Thankfully, I learned how to cook and he thinks that I'm a great cook. I have always enjoyed experimenting in the kitchen, but never have I re-tried that recipe, even with the correct ingredients.

The policy now is if he doesn't like it, he tells me the truth and we figure something else out for that meal. That works a whole lot better than letting me think that I did something great and having us both potentially die an icky food death. :)

Writer's Workshop: Arguing

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My response this week involves two of the prompts from this week's Writer's Workshop, as follows:

1.) Share a disagreement you’re having with someone and let your readers be the judge!
2.) Tell us about your song.

The disagreement, and sometimes flat-out yell-fest, around here these days is women that are constantly putting their "stuff" in my husband's face. He says they're nothing, not a threat, that he doesn't even notice, and that I shouldn't worry about them, that I should just ignore them and not let it upset me.

I say they should keep their parts to themselves and not be advertising the "goods" like they are two-bit hookers or something, and he shouldn't be looking (he says he isn't). It makes me blinkin' mad to have them shoving their stuff at him everywhere we go. I feel like he shouldn't get mad at me for being upset with them...That makes me feel like he wants to look at them and perhaps prefers them over me.

There is more to this, but I won't get into that here. My security overall is in the toilet. I realize that some of my issues stem from aging (I'm 46), menopause, and having some pretty major parts removed along with tumors last October. I feel vulnerable and less of a woman and that has me in hyper-sensitive mode regarding things that maybe otherwise I wouldn't pay attention to.

It all boils down to one angry, scared Suz that doesn't know how to work it out and be honest at the same time.

Anyway, the second prompt regards my song. This song says exactly how I feel regarding the whole blasted mess.

Writer's Workshop: Where I'm From

The prompt that I chose for this week's Writer's Workshop is:

Where I’m From poem. Copy this template and fill in the blanks. (inspired by our Bloggy Boot Camp Writer’s Workshop)

I am from Dr. Pepper and Big Macs and big rigs, ’57 Chevys and ’68 Thunderbirds and Smirnoff Silver.

I am from the white, wood-frame mill house at the end of the street, at the end of the sidewalk. From a house that was the turn-around, the Kool-aid house, and I can still hear the bat cracking on his head. It was my turn and I didn’t want to let go.

I am from the yellow forsythia growing out of the huge tire where the bike split and the zillion-foot tall pine tree hiding the rusty nail and the ER knew me by name.

I am from banana pudding Thanksgivings and brown eyes and short ladies, from Maggie and Evelyn and Callie and Carrie. I am from Gunter and Spence and Pressley and Black.

I am from attitude and “survivitude” and “don’t mess with me!” “What’s your hurry?” and “Come back and see me.”

From tin buckets that couldn’t hold tunes and they’ll like me more than you and you have to learn to skate forward first and the bumble bee was pretty, but it didn’t win.

I am from King James Bibles and filled church pews and Old Rugged Cross and homecoming. I am from loudness and burning hell and crying at the altar and “why wasn’t he wearing a helmet?” and please save me. I am from preacher-uncle and are you ready?

I’m from Anderson and Belfast and Glasgow, and sliced tomatoes, cornbread dressing, and pineapple-coconut cake and they don’t like each other. Same notes, same singers, different holidays and they end the same. I am from over three hundred years on this side of the pond and even longer over there. I am from the landing and the founding and the writer of the Declaration.

From the accident and she’s under the car, then under the marker and seven and I don’t understand, but she’s gone. I’m from confusion and grandpa was married before and so what is she to me? I’m from gunshots in Mississippi and orphaned babies and broken hearts and lies.

I am from little frames on grandma’s nightstand and a big wooden room divider, Parcheesi and Jeopardy. I’m from Aunt Mae’s back room and a tall, skinny man with a long, white beard that lived in the oval frame. I am from old books and dusty smells and words much bigger than me. Loaded albums chronicling the years and photos are slipping because the magnetism didn’t hold. From baby girls in red forever glued to the glass in the tri-frame on the TV stand. Little wooden airplanes and Fiberglas and vanilla extract. From Avon swordfish cologne bottles and Sweet Honesty and bouffant hair and Burt Reynolds grins. I am from hand-pieced quilts and long, country roads, outhouses and granny’s “stories.”

I am from there…but now I’m here, writing a new story, working my way back. I am from the place that I couldn’t get out of quickly enough and can’t get back to soon enough.

Writer's Workshop Thursday: Hoarding

If you were a hoarder, based on your personality…what would you hoard? (better yet, ask someone who knows you well, what they think you would hoard).

Magazines and books, definitely! I love them and can't live without them. I buy the magazines for specific reasons and for keeps, otherwise why buy them? Coming in second would be blank journals or notebooks because, next to reading, my favorite thing to do is write. I have them all over the place here, which is good because I never remember where I put one down and just start a new one when I can't find the old one. :)

Writer's Workshop Thursday: Ireland

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I would love to visit Ireland, but until the airport security measures change, that will not happen (unless I learn to do long distance swimming!). I refuse to be subjected to the humiliation of strangers seeing parts of me that I don't even want to see myself.

Anyway, I would love, love to go to Ireland. It is the country that the majority of my ancestors came from, to meet up with the other already-here ancestors (Cherokee Indians). I want to walk where they walked over there, breathe the air that they breathed, see the ocean views from the Cliffs of Moher, visit the graves of grandmothers long gone. I want to see with my eyes what has long been in my heart and in my blood.

I want to know the people. They have struggled for so long...at least a thousand years the battle has been. I want to know what makes them tick. I want to know their hearts. Our blood is the same, but experiences have been an ocean apart.




While Hollywood movies tend to glorify some of the Irish experience, I don't hold any notions that everything is a piece of cake over there. I know it isn't. There is ugliness in every country, in every group of people. But, these people are MY people and I want to be there some day and experience it outside of a movie drama or book. I want to experience it fully. There is a big part of me missing until I can visit where my heart so longs to be.

Note: I found these photos online several years ago, but cannot find the reference that tells me where I found them. It was a site with free images of Ireland. Any copyright violation is completely unintentional. If they are your photos and you want me to remove them, please contact me: Suzanne McClendon

Writer's Workshop: Death of Social Media, Birth of a Hobby

If Social Media died tomorrow, describe another hobby you might get into.

If social media (as in Facebook, MySpace, Twitter) died tomorrow, it would not negatively affect me. Facebook, in my opinion, is a time-sucking, home-wrecking, something-I'd-rather-do-without and am only there because other folks think that I should be. I much prefer e-mail. If e-mail died tomorrow, that would be a problem for me. If blogs died tomorrow, that would be upsetting, but it wouldn't stop the writing. I would pay more attention to my neglected in-the-flesh journal.

As for a hobby that I might get into...I can't think of any new hobbies. I would just spend more time learning more about the hobbies that I already have: genealogy, digital art, crocheting, knitting, reading, writing, beading, etc.


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Writer's Workshop Thursday: Road Trip!

The following prompt comes from Mama Kat's Losin' It Writer's Workshop. Please visit her site and join in the fun!

"Share a memorable road trip story!"

I think that it was the summer that I turned eight years old, my aunt and cousins came from Virginia to visit us in South Carolina. My aunt had two boys and two girls just like my mama had, with the boys in both cases being in the middle.

My mama has an album full of pictures, but I don't really remember much about the actual visit. However, I do remember parts of the trip to take them back up to Virginia.

Three adults, eight children, one 1960-something Plymouth, and miles of road ahead of us. What possibly could go wrong, right?

We were packed in that car anywhere that they could fit us. I was one of the two assigned to ride the trip in the floorboard because there was no room for another booty in the seat. OK, no problem. Everyone wants to sniff other peoples' gas-station, public bathroom walking, stinky feet for infinity. Or fourteen hours, which feels like an eternity when you're seven-almost-eight. It was the weekend of my birthday.

We pulled over onto the side of the highway to have a picnic lunch. We all know that it is every parent's dream come true to entertain eight kids on the side of the interstate wondering which one is going to escape and become a pancake under a Mack truck. Thankfully, none of us did.

The most memorable part of the trip (for me) happened after the aforementioned picnic. We loaded back up in the car. I remember my oldest cousin asking "is everybody ready?" Thinking that I was as ready as I'd ever be, I said yes. She closed the car door. It was then that I realized my answer should have been "NO!"

You guessed it, my foot was in the door, more specifically, my big toe. And it was even bigger after that. I don't remember anything about the rest of the drive after that, at least not anything beyond extreme pain. I don't even remember if my boo-boo garnered me a place on the seat rather than the floor.

The next thing that I remember is being at the beach, hobbling around, but wanting to go into the water. I remember my daddy carrying me out into the water so that I could feel the water on my feet. My toe was huge and blue and green and hurting.

An emergency room visit wasn't part of our landing in Virginia. We went to our own hospital back in South Carolina after we got back home. It had something to do with daddy's insurance coverage. After having the hospital x-ray technician confusing my big toe for a car's gear stick, I would have rather foregone the whole hospital visit. It wasn't pleasant. There was more screaming and I'm sure yet another "uncooperative patient" notation on my medical record.

All this and it was only cracked. Not some major compound fracture or something really cool enough to get a cast. Just a crack.

So, that is one of my most memorable road trips. What about you?

Writer's Workshop Thursday: The Haunting

The following prompt comes from Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop Thursday.

“One need not be a chamber to be haunted. One need not be a house. The brain has corridors surpassing material place”. -Emily Dickinson What haunts you?

I am haunted by things that I cannot remember. There are wide spans of my life that I cannot remember and I wonder what I don't remember and WHY I don't remember it. I know it shouldn't be this way.

I am haunted by guilt, guilt over things that I didn't do and should have, or did, but didn't do soon enough...And guilt over things that I did do, but shouldn't have done at all, but should have found other ways to deal with the hurt and anger I was feeling at the time.

Sometimes I am haunted by my dreams. Some of them are just too weird to figure out, while others are so vivid that it is hard to tell what is real and what isn't. Then, there are those that come true. It isn't always clear which ones are message dreams or what the message is.

What about you? What haunts you?

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Writer's Workshop Thursday: Starting Over

One of this week's Writer's Workshop prompts is:

Write a poem about starting over.

You started something.
You tried to sway me.
You flustered me
With your brattitude
...and gorgeous grin.

You messed me up.
You knocked me down.
You broke my heart
With your arrogance
...and wandering eyes.

The world stopped spinning
And I stood straight
Put the pieces back
I opened my eyes
...and started over.

©26 May 2011 Suzanne G. McClendon

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