Things only a Mother hears

Today (April 1, 2011) My little Ashley (5) walked into the kitchen when I was making dinner---teriyaki chicken---- and I was stirring a bowl full of raw chicken that was brownish because of the teriyaki and she looks at me and says in a normal voice, "Is that poo?" and I said without thinking that was a weird question "No. It's chicken." she looks at me and says "ewww" and walks away.
Now there are a few things wrong with this...
1st. why would I be stirring poo in the first place?
2nd. why would I be doing it in the kitchen if I was stirring poo?
3rd. why would she think of poo first? Why wouldn't food come to her little mind?
4th. Why would she think chicken would be worse than poo?

Crohn's, Running, and Me

I am a Runner. I love it! I run almost everyday and the days that I don't, I miss it. The thump of my feet on the asphalt, the sun warm on my shoulders, my breath even and true, and the small adventures that happen on the streets around my house.

It's just amazing to me and I treasure it.

I also have Crohn's disease, I have for about 10+ years. It was the most awful, painful thing I have every encountered, and doctors told me I was crazy. I have had an intestine resection (about 2 feet taken out), but for the past 3&1/2 years I have been on Remicade and it is my miracle. I have a Life now!

Now you're asking "What does Crohn's and running have in common?" Everything...at least to me.

Crohn's is horrible. Imagine the worst stomach flu you have ever had and then times that by at least 4 and live everyday like that. Imagine feeling like shards of glass are slowly twisting away through your intestines. Of living in the bathroom half the time and barley able to move the rest of the time. Remember that, and all the while you must be a Mom, Wife, Sister, and Friend. That you should still make dinner, do the laundry, play with your kids, laugh with family, help at school, and smile through all the pain and embarrassment. Crohn's is one of those diseases that you really don't want to share the details with everyone (at least until you can be clinical about it).

Remicade had changed my life so much that I can live a "normal" life. It is by no means a cure. I still have very bad days when I need the bathroom nearby and just to sit in bed. And the side effects are unpleasant, but it's All Worth It! If it gives me a tail and mouse whiskers it will still be worth it.

Remicade has triggered what seems to be rheumatoid arthritis in me too. There have been times when I couldn't even sit up and get out of bed. I would have to roll to the side and fall out of bed onto my hands and knees, crawl into the kitchen to my arthritis-friendly bottle of Advil, and then crawl back into my bed until it kicked in so I could make my kids breakfast.

Alright...boo-hoo, sob story almost over.

Running, to me, is a way to stick it to my body. To scream at it "You have to do what I want! You have to listen to me and deal with the pain that I Earned." Running was unimaginable when I was sick. Moving off the bed was bad enough, but to run 3 miles....Never!

I ran 14 miles the other day. The sun was shining, it smelled like things were growing. When I crested hills I could see forever, and my body worked the way I wanted.

Every step was a blessing.

Every mile I run is throwing it in Crohn's face, saying "You do NOT define me. You will NOT force me to be weak."

I am a Runner, Mother, Wife, Friend, Aunt, Sister, and Marathoner!
There is no room on that list for Crohn's.

Every time I step out in all my running gear I am itching to run faster than yesterday, longing to go farther than last week, begging to push this wonderful body that God gave me harder, wanting to be strong, healthy, and Free.

Running is all this and more to me.

It lets me be just Me.
To compete against my best.
To let my mind wander over the fields and valleys in my head with no on asking anything of me.

One day---who knows how soon---my Crohn's will catch me, fast as I am, and arthritis will be more that a stiff discomfort. On those days when I must sit, when I must be in pain, I can call to mind the clear winter morning running my favorite road. The mountains in the distance frosted with snow. The neighborhoods quite and still in their blankets of glittering snow. The air clean and cold as it flows through my lungs. My body strong. My footfalls sure. My favorite song playing in my ear. The road open and free in front of me.

Those are the times running will mean the most.

But until then, I will strap on my water belt, turn up my Ipod, tie up my New Balance, and feel free on the road just outside my door.

William S. Black

William S. Black

Born: October 14, 1953. Age: 57

Hair color: Blond, but starting to be more white than blond. He wears the classic cut, but a little longer around his ears and collar, just not touching the collar.

Eye color: faded blue, like old, worn jeans.

Build: He was an athlete in school, and has kept his physique up through the years through running and swimming. He is very trim and fit for his age. Average height, about 5'10.

Job: Collage professor at Dartmouth University in Hanover, New Hampshire. He teaches American History and is the Chairman of the History Department.

Most admirable action: Every year he hosts a marathon to raise money for a scholarship for underprivileged kids.

Least admirable action: He thinks that most women are stupid and shouldn't be in the collegiate situations. So he always grades women harder, and since he is the Chairman of the History Department, he blocks women from promotions within his department.

Greatest fear: Being buried alive.

Greatest desire: To be the Dean of History Dept. and maybe have a Hall named after him.

Darkest Desire: To have complete dominations over someone. Almost to the point of a kidnapper, with someone tied in his basement, totally dependent on him.

One Sentence: Carpe Diem

Things that would drive him to tears: News that his beloved father or estranged brother had died.

Things that would drive him to murder: Power. Either in work or over another person.

　

Enthusiastic- Every Saturday he organizes a run with students that want to better their grades. They must keep up with him, and be able to answer the questions he poses.

Dependable- Every Monday and Wednesday at 5:15 am, William walks into the school's pool and swims his 100 laps. Then at 8:00 am, he opens his office for students with questions or who need extra tutoring. At 12:35, exactly, he eats his lunch at the same table in the teachers lounge overlooking the quad. Then every evening at 6:30 he walks to his tidy bungalow just off campus

Gifted- William always tested in the top 2 percentile on everything he did, but what really made him gifted was his charisma. Unlike other highly intelligent people, he could talk and relate to others. In fact, he could charm the devil if he wanted. He made people feel at ease and included in every situation, never made them uneasy with his intelligence, and told stories that had everyone laughing so hard they cried.

Studious-William ran a 2 hour study group in the library every week for those who wanted his help. He has 2 Doctorate's and was working on his 3rd. He writes for the school paper as a advisor, and consults with various T.V. shows and movies needing advice on American History.

Exacting- His classes were the hardest in the History Department. He worked hard on his lectures and expected his students to work just as hard. He didn't accept typos, spelling or grammar errors; they were in collage and there were word processing programs after all. Although he was tough, he wasn't heartless. If a student showed he was putting in the work, but still struggling, he would make exceptions with the grading.

New Character Profile 1

I number and label these posts as if we will ever have more than one.  In the past, this has not worked so well, but we'll see.  Maybe this time we'll get something going... or maybe not.  Oh, well.  That's what this blog is for, right?  Messing around.  Maybe you can title the next blog with the name you choose for this character.

Here it is:  Your character is a male.  His 5 most prominent qualities are that he is:

1. Enthusiastic
2. Dependable
3. Gifted (hmmm. you can decide in which way)
4. Studious (maybe's he's in college.  Maybe he goes to Harvard even)
5. Exacting (this seems to be a flaw.  The dictionary definition of this is  "tryingly or unremittingly severe in making demands")


So, to get a better idea of how these traits define him, write a few sentences about each one, and how they are specific to him.  Or whatever.


Should that be all you do for now?  No, you need to pick a name and stuff.  So answer as many of these next questions as you feel like, I can answer the rest if you want because this exercise can get pretty time consuming, so you decide.


1. Name:
2. Age:
3. Color hair/eyes:
4. Build/weight/height:
5. Job:
6. Most admirable action:
7. Least admirable action:
8. Greatest Fear:
9. Greatest desire:
10. Darkest secret:
11. One sentence philosophy on life:
12. Things that would drive this character to tears:
13. Things that would drive this character to murder:
14. How would he react to:
      Getting in trouble:
      Danger:


The next step, one I particularly love in getting to know a character, is (after you answer all these questions and already have a pretty good idea) listen to a random song on your ipod and imagine it relating to your character in some way.  Maybe it describes him.  Maybe he's singing it on stage at a bar or something.  Maybe it captures his emotional state.  Regardless, you decide how or why that song matters to him.

Things That Annoy Me Thursday

It annoys me when people use the word "literally" wrong, though I admit that I have done this before.  (Do you ever just annoy yourself?)  For your information, people of the world, the word actually means the opposite of "figuratively".  However, you all (okay, and sometimes me) seem to want to use it as a way to exaggerate, thus losing its true and wonderful meaning somewhere along the way.  And this is the reason it bothers me; the word is such a powerful one when used correctly.  For example, if you say someone was literally laying down on the job, you better mean that that person was horizontal.  You know what? Robert Pattinson does this a lot.  Go listen to one of his interviews and if you watch for it (it's not hard), it will start driving you crazy too.  Literally.  (Sorry.)

Rule Number Seven

I really do believe that you can't grow as a writer unless you grow as a person.  And some of us just have further to go, ok?  For example, take the fact that I am extremely inflexible.  My days are scheduled out in such a way that if someone asks me to go to lunch, I have to say, "I'm sorry.  I can't.  I have to write my blog."  Now, on the one hand, this has given me a large measure of self discipline... but, balance in all things, right? I have now figured out how this is handicapping my story.

It comes down to killing your darlings.  Do you think a person that can not drop a blogging appointment with herself to go to lunch can kill her darlings?  Seriously, who knows what I gave up in my life to write all that darling stuff in the first place.  A date out to lunch, to be sure.  It feels a lot like opening a drain and just letting a portion of your life flow down it.  Sounds very depressing, eh?  Yeah, I thought so too.  Until I figured something out.  We are in a learning process, and the opposite of rule number seven is also true.  As we write, we grow as a person.

I have more motivation than ever to learn to be more flexible, because you just can't write good books when you are unwilling to bend.  I need to treat both life and writing more like clay and less like glass.  It's better when you look at it as something that can come undone and re-molded better than it was the first time. Be willing to change everything if necessary.  It's easy.  Or this is what I try telling myself.

I will say this: I have learned never to spend 20 minutes picking the right word again, unless you are very sure it's the final draft.

Progressive Story 3

As I approached, someone grabbed me from behind.  I was already nervous so I instantly screamed, but it was muffled... his hand was covering my mouth.  I couldn't turn my head to see what the perp looked like because he held me with his arm clamped around my forehead and against his armpit.  It smelled of Old Spice deodorant, and I could tell just by the feel of it that he was wearing a suit.  Who were these people?

"You can't kill me!"  I tried to yell into his hand, but it was no use.  Before I knew it, I was being dragged down the walk and around the corner.  This was a nice neighborhood, where was everyone?  Why wasn't somebody standing outside watering their grass and witnessing this so they could call the police?  Stupid urban people.

The man kicked open the cellar door with a shiny black shoe and threw me in.  I fell several feet and landed on a dirt floor.  The door slammed shut above my head before I could see what the man looked like and everything was dark around me.  I was surrounded by the overpowering scent of stale dead things (or what I imagined stale dead things might smell like) and the faint aroma of turpentine, or something like that.  Maybe gasoline.

And that's when a light came on in the distance.