4/1 Plot Ex 6 PP 274-5

A lie that got out of hand.

It was such a stupid thing to lie about. Really, who would have thought that one little fib would grow into such a huge incident. You see it all started last summer. Halley decided that she wanted to see and help the world and what better way to do that than missionary work, and she could get some footage for her documentary if she was persuasive. The problem was that most of the applications wanted you to speak a foreign language. The better you were at the language the more preference your application got in the agency. So, she checked “fluent” in Spanish, instead of “I speak it a little”. How was she to know that they would make her a group leader in charge of relations with the community leaders? All she wanted to do was help people and travel and now the entire group was in trouble. Big trouble. Halley confused the word for record “rodar” with the one for shoot, like a gun “disparar”. Leading the community to think the group was coming to harm the locals. Now they were all sitting in a circle surrounded by gunmen waiting for the consulate to show up. All because she checked the box marked ‘fluent”.

2/24 Filtering pp 66 Ex. 3

The storm was a violent fight for superiority. Nature versus Man. Wind and rain versus dirt and fire. The wind raged against the buildings, ripping the roofs off homes and shelters. The rain pummeled the ground, bridges giving way to the floods. Electrical lines were pulled to the ground starting fires in the grass that was seeing rain for the first time in weeks. The people raced for shelter, a basement, a ditch, a brick building that had been designated safe for this purpose. Some never made it, their vehicles picked up and tossed around like a feather in a pillow fight. Those who did find a safe haven huddled together trying to find comfort in those around them, and desperately hoping their loved ones have made it as well.

When the wind dies down and the rain slows to a drizzle the sirens sound the all clear and people try to make it to their homes, or what is left of their homes. It is crazy how the tornado seemed to pick and choose which buildings and trees to decimate. One house standing tall and unharmed, while the next is in ruins. The neighbor’s car is in the tree down the block. A bicycle somehow found its way on to the roof.

                      There was no doubt who the winner was in this war. Nature always wins.

“The Flowers” and “A Visit of Charity”

Both “The Flowers” and “A Visit of Charity” use flowers as a prop. In “The Flowers” they are representative of youth and innocence. The girl is picking flowers to make a bouquet. She is happily walking around trying to make something pretty and does not realize that there is something dark on the horizon. In “A Visit of Charity” the flowers have two very different meanings. To the old women in the nursing home they represent hope and beauty. They give them something pretty to look at. But to the girl they are just part of the assignment. A way to get extra credit. In both stories the girls experience something that changes them. The discovery of a body kills the innocence of the girl gathering flowers. The fear and overwhelming uncomfortableness the girl feels at the nursing home strips some of her innocence as well. She does not see the women in their best light. This may be, in part, because the adults did not prepare her enough for what she was about to do.

“Binocular Vision” & "Mud"

“Binocular Vision” is written from the point of view of a child living next door to the object of his scrutiny. We do not get to see everything that is going on in the house next door, just what the child sees looking into various windows. We do not get to know more about the residents than what the child observes and assumes. We find out at the end that looks can be deceiving and that the child’s assumptions were incorrect. He assumed that the couple was contentedly married and the man went to work every day while the woman took care of the house. But, he was wrong. They were not a couple but mother and son and they were not both content. The man was depressed enough to commit suicide in the garage. There is very little dialogue in the story.

“Mud” is written from the point of view of a widower. He sees the ghosts or bodies or spirits of those he has lost. We, the readers, do not get a clear understanding of why he is seeing them now. He just sees his father and grandmother doing what they did all the time when they were alive. She was in the kitchen and he was in the living room watching television. He wants to talk to them and to hug them, but he has an important meeting to go to. He has the most difficulty not going to see his wife when he hears her voice. This story unlike the previous one is moved by the dialogue. We don’t get a complete sense of what the people were like before death, we only see his interpretation of them after death. Which is similar to “Binocular Vision” because we are only seeing what the main character saw in his family members.

"Eleven" & "Bullet in the Brain"

The story “Eleven” describes a young girl on her eleventh birthday and how horrible that day was for her. I love idea that you are not just one age, but all of the ages that you have experienced before that too. There are days that I really do not feel the age that I am, but much younger. The characterization of the teacher in the story is one that I can really relate to. I have had a teacher like that. One who automatically assumes that the first person to speak is telling the truth and you cannot change her mind. The dialogue is also relatable because sometimes adults refuse to listen to children because they don’t feel that the children can have anything of interest to say. It is extremely frustrating. The main character does not get the chance to say much out loud. Mostly we see her inner monologue.

In contrast the main character in “Bullet in the Brain” speaks quite a bit. He cannot seem to help himself. He keeps insulting the dialogue of the men with guns. He is inappropriately amused by the situation that he is in and they are paying too much attention to what he is saying. While the little girl in the first story only has to wear and ugly sweater for a while on her birthday, which is admittedly humiliating, Anders winds up dead because of his inability to stop his inner critic from coming out.

“St. Lucy’s Home for Girls Raised by Wolves” & "Currents"

“St. Lucy’s Home for Girls Raised by Wolves” begins with the girls living in nature. They’re pulled into a school setting that is completely unlike anything they are accustomed to. They are changed by the school and have new ways thrust upon them purposefully by people who think their ways were wrong. The girls progress through the stages of change. We learn quite a bit about their personalities before and after the changes.

In “Currents” the plot moves backwards. We start with the children being changed, but then we find out the circumstances that changed them. Both play on nature. One group is changed by people forcing their will on the children, the other is changed by nature’s effect on people. We don’t get a lot of information about the characters but we find out the circumstances that change the. 

4/4 Fictional Place pp. 191-2 Exercise 4

Christmas

The tree is covered in bright lights, garland, bulbs and homemade decorations. The house is filled with people of all ages. There are over thirty people in the tiny house and it is snowing outside. How is there enough oxygen for everyone? Is there enough oxygen for everyone? Ana really wasn’t convinced.

“Auntie, Auntie, Willow is picking on me. She took my new doll and won’t give it back. Help me!” They walk towards the basement door but were stopped before they could start down the steps.

“Hey, Grandma wants you to help set the table” Her cousin tried to hand her the plates.

“I’ll be right back, I have to deal with a kid situation.” She started down.

“Hurry up, Ana! Everyone is hungry!”

Ana made it down the stairs this time and started down the hall.

“Hey,” one of Ana’s aunts stuck her head out of the freezer room, “can you take this up?” She was holding out bags of frozen corn.

“Sure, just a minute.” Ana set the corn on the stairs to grab as she went up.

They finally made it to the play room. “Willow, give your cousin her doll back. You would not like it if she took one of the toys Santa gave you.”

“I wouldn’t care.” Willow was a bit snotty sometimes.

“I’m serious. Give her back the doll. Right now! You don’t want me to get your parents involved in this. And, we haven’t opened gifts here yet. I might take mine back until you learn to ask before you take.”

“FINE! It isn’t a very good toy anyway!” Willow dropped the doll on the ground and started to walk away.

“Hold it, Willow. Pick it up and hand it to her nicely. You know better.”

She grumbled, but followed directions.

Ana patted her niece on the head and started up the stairs, grabbing the corn on the way up. As she reached the kitchen, she passed off the corn to another aunt and started setting the table. Just as she got everything set out…

A head popped through the door. “Ana, we are out of propane for the heater, I need your car to go get more from my house.” Her brother’s car was blocked in.

“Alright, I’ll get the keys.” She made her way to the bedroom and just as she found the keys, one of the babies woke up and started screaming. She picked up the infant and carried him out with her, tossing the keys as she tried to stop the screaming. Someone handed her a diaper bag. There was nowhere to change the diaper in here. 

The only good thing about carrying a screaming, smelly kid was no one stopped to ask you for anything. She made her way upstairs, the forbidden area to most. But she knew Grandma would understand. She set the baby on the bed and began to change him. After she was done Ana sat in the old rocking chair and sang the little one to sleep, happy to finally escape the craziness for a bit.

2/17 Characterization pp. 154-5 Exercise 1

Not my usual type of story.

Wrong place, wrong time, Ella could not think of a situation that was better described by that over used phrase. All she wanted in life was to fall in love, start a family and run her flower shop. She had always had an affinity for flowers, growing them, arranging them, deciding which scents worked best with each other. On this particular day she was dropping off a bunch of arrangements for a dinner at a hotel. She got all of the flowers unloaded and the center places on the tables. Ella got into the van and drove away. Heading back to the shop to start the flowers for the wedding on Friday. She glanced in the rearview mirror and saw him.

He was at least six feet tall and looked like he could tip a bull. But even more concerning was the gun pointing at her.

“Drive,” That was all he said. It came out more as a growl rather than a word.

Ella had no choice. She drove.

“Where do you want me to drive to?” She didn’t want to do anything to endanger herself or anyone else.

“Just keep driving. I don’t give a damn where you go.” She was a bit thrown off. He didn’t seem to have a plan in place, which made him even more dangerous.

She kept driving, looking behind her regularly to see if he was still holding that gun, he was. After about fifteen he finally spoke again. “Get us out of the city. How much gas do you have in this tank?”

“I have about half a tank. We should be able to drive a couple of hundred miles.” Ella knew her voice was shaking, but what did she expect, she was driving a lunatic around.

“Good, that’s good. Hopefully, by the time we get that far they will be off on a wild goose trace.” He looked relieved.

“Um…who?” She hoped that if she kept him calm and talking she would make it out of here alive.

“The bastards that tried to double cross me. Did the idiots really think I wouldn’t notice the cops surrounding the place. Somebody tipped them off.” He was starting to get worked up, that was definitely not the plan. She needed to find a different tact.

“Are you hurt? There is a first aid kit back there. I tend to nick myself a lot with my shears and on the rose thorns. It is in the cupboard to your left on the middle shelf.” There, that should not bring on more anger, at least not towards her.

“Thanks,” he opened the cupboard and pulled out the kit. As he shrugged out of this black leather jacket he let out a groan and flinched. There was blood, a lot of blood. She kept looking behind her to check on what he was doing. He began to clean it up with some of the clothes in the back of the van. Then he took the towel from the kit and tied it tightly around the wound. It should stop the bleeding.

By this time, they were outside of the city and about fifty miles from anywhere with help. “We are going to need fuel soon and I still have no idea where we are going. Now I am more than okay with driving as long as you want me to, as long as you don’t shoot me, but I would like to know where I am going.”

“Where are we now?” He looked around, trying to get his bearings.

“We are fifty miles from Glenville.”

“What is Glenville?”

“It is a tiny town about a hundred miles from the city. There is nothing but a few houses and a gas station.”

“Perfect, pull in and fill the tank. I will give you more instructions then.”

She was nothing if not good at following directions. Especially when her life was on the line.

He had her pull over near a power plant on the side of the road. He forced her to get out first and followed her behind a small shed. He looked at her, “I’m sorry.”

Those were the last words she ever heard.

2/19 Dialogue pp. 115 Ex 6

How am I going to tell my mother? What will she think? How do I even start this conversation? I need to figure it out before I get there and I only have a few minutes. How should I bring it up? How about the direct approach?

Mom, I’m pregnant.

Her: Oh my goodness, I didn’t even know you were dating. When is the wedding? We’ll have to do it before you start to show. Who is he? When can we meet him?

Um, I am not getting married and the father will not be involved.

Her: I can’t believe this, are you kidding me? How irresponsible can you be? Didn’t I talk about protection enough? I told you that you can’t rely on the man to take care of it.

Okay, that is not where I want to go with it. Let’s try another way.

Mom, remember how you always told us that you wanted us to wait longer than you did to have children and not to get married unless you are in love? Well, I waited until I was older than you to get pregnant and I am not in love so I am not getting married.

Her: What?

I am going to have a baby, on my own. The father will not be involved.

Her: Didn’t I talk about protection enough? I told you that you can’t rely on the man to take care of it. How are you going to afford a baby on your own?

Mom, I have a good job and I make good money. We’ll be fine.

Her: Are you sure about this? It is not easy raising a child on your own. It should not be decided lightly.

I’m sure, you know I always wanted to be a mom, and I am in a good place financially and career wise. It was not a plan to do this alone right now, but I think I can handle it, I hope that I will have your support on this.

Her: Of course you do, I am just concerned. And what about the father? Have you talked to him about it? Are you sure that he does not want to be involved? It will be harder if he comes back later and wants to be a part of the child’s life. Have you thought about getting a lawyer and getting him to terminate his rights?

Mom, I have thought about all of that, and I am working on it. I only found out a few weeks ago, I haven’t had time to do all of the leg work yet. I am working on it. I have talked to the father and he is adamant that he is not ready to parent. I will work on what that means legally and otherwise. Knowing that you will support me will help. A lot. Thank you.

Her: Honey I love you so much and I will love my grandchild too. It is hard for me to think of you as an adult and not my little girl, but you seem to have thought this through and I am proud of you.

Well that is best case scenario, but probably not completely realistic. I don’t have time to figure out a different way to do this. I have just parked in front of her house. Time to take a deep breath and jump in.

2/15 Choosing a subject: pp 19-20 Ex 3

Have you ever unloaded a delivery truck full of flowers and other plants? It is not as easy as it seems. The good part is the smell. All of those flowers and herbs. Who can resist it? You are immediately transported to a beautiful, peaceful garden. When you have help it is even better. There is the comradery and fun of working together. This is a very good way to get to know your co-workers.

I worked in retail for a few years and the best part of it was the summer that I worked in the Lawn and Garden department. I started slow, just ringing up purchases and clipping the ‘deadheads’ off of plants. Eventually I was trusted enough to do the watering and determining which plants should be clearanced before they completely died. Finally, I was trusted enough to help unload the truck and put up the displays. I was very excited about it, but it might not have been the best idea on the supervisor’s part.

I am incredibly accident prone. I am the only person that I know that can trip over dust. This particular day was sunny but not too hot. It was the perfect day for being outside. Me, my supervisor and three coworkers were unloading the truck. Thankfully they did not allow me to use the forklift. I would wait for one of the racks to come off of the truck then move it to the proper staging area and unload it. There was a lot of chatter about how pretty the plants were and how good they smelled mingled with stories of childhood and joking with each other. Everyone else had done this before but it was my first time. That is why I made the mistake. I was pulling a cart, about six feet tall, two feet deep and four feet wide. I was laughing but paying attention to the ground so I didn’t trip. As I approached the display I heard my supervisor tell me to push the cart, not pull it next time. It was easier to control that way. Her saying this must have been some kind of cosmic signal. At that moment the back wheel hit a dip in the parking lot and the cart sped up. The front wheel hit the back of my ankle and I fell forward landing flat on my stomach. The cart tipped sideways causing petunias to go flying.

I immediately began to laugh. Laughter has always been my way of avoiding crying. In this case crying tears both of pain and of embarrassment. I knew that I had cut up my hands a bit and my ankle hurt, but I was basically okay. The supervisor and my coworkers came over to check on me, they must have thought I was insane sitting on the ground covered in dirt and flowers, laughing like a lunatic. I kept assuring them that I was okay, but the supervisor went in the store to fill out an incident report. We all began to clean up the mess, fortunately most of the trays of petunias were salvageable. All in all, I think we only lost three flats.

By the time we were finished I was starting to realize there was a squishy feeling in my shoes with each step I took and I was starting to hurt. The adrenaline had kept me pain free for a while, but it was wearing off. I told everyone I was going to go in and sit down for a bit while I waited for the paperwork to sign. I got to the office and sat in the chair. I took off my shoe and realized what that feeling had been. My socks were drenched in blood and there was a fairly large cut on the back of my ankle. Needless to say, I did not work anymore that day. I did not need stitches, but I did need to rest and bandage it. The worst part about it was that I was not allowed to work in Lawn and Garden for ten days after that. I had to work the register until the wound healed completely.

I wound up with a scar on that ankle. Being me, I decided to make it a more prominent reminder of the incident, paired with other things. I had a tattoo put on the side of my leg. It is a bouquet of flowers. 

2/1 Point of View P 315 Ex 5

I work in a carnival. Traveling all year long is wonderful, moving from state to state as the weather changes. I also get the chance to work all of the games and the rides. I have always loved studying human nature and at the carnival you see it all. Everything from the suit wearing business man talking on his phone instead of waving to his kid on the carousel to the man in a matching outfit doing his very best to knock over three milk bottles to win his son a stuffed lion  to the family running around together obviously having more fun than everyone else.

Everyone in the carnival bands together to help each other. If they didn’t set up and take down would take days instead of hours. I got to learn how to put together and take apart each of the attractions and help out with the acts when needed. My favorite thing to do is assist the magician. The wonder on the faces of the children helps me believe in the good in the world. 

1/29 Characterization P 154 Ex. 2

Tom is a regular guy. There is nothing extraordinary about his short brown hair or his average build. His tan did not set him apart, everyone had a tan in Texas. His less than stellar grades made getting in to a large college impossible, which is why he is studying business at a community college outside of Austin. The only good thing about the school was the debate team, he loved to argue, and being able to research and argue both sides of an issue was exhilarating. At least here the debates did not turn physical, everyone had to be civil, something they weren’t in his hometown. He had never won a fight, but he did manage to avoid most of them with reasoned arguments.

That cookie cutter brown skinned Neanderthal, Tom, was going up against me in the debate. It is a good thing we were not going head to head in an all-out fight, he would lose all of that mud brown mop he called hair. The judges always favor him because they needed to keep the enrollment numbers up at the ridiculously tiny college of his. He must have chosen the small school so he could be the big man on campus, if he went to a real school he wouldn’t even make the team. 

1/13 Significant detail Pg 66 Ex 4

What in the world have I gotten into? These people are crazy! 

What is that? 

Her nine year old mind wouldn't stop. Ari had spent the last year moving from foster parent to foster parent, but none of them had prepared her for this. Standing at the top of the driveway looking across the lawn, everything was unfamiliar. The peals of laughter coming from the contraption on the hill by the water caught her attention. All of a sudden water started shooting out of it onto the ground and there was more laughter. Littler kids wearing life jackets started running to the top of the hill, but a tall, exotic dark skinned woman beat them to it. She ran and jumped on a tube and cheered all the way down the hill. As Ari inched forward to see what had happened to her, a couple of gangley blond teen-aged boys grabbed the rope and pulled the tube back up the hill. The little ones climbed in and were pushed down the hill and were caught at the bottom by the woman. 

"Come on. Do you want a turn?"

She looked up at her new foster mother, Jenna, with wide eyed apprehension and excitement. 

"Let's go find you a life vest and change into our suits. You can decide if you want to go down after we get changed." Her smile was reassuring.

They walked down a hill along the opposite side of the house, and were greeted by several dogs of varying sizes and breeds running towards them. Jenna said "Down!" with such authority that the dogs stopped and wagged their tails and shook with excitement. "They won't hurt you on purpose, but they do jump when they get excited. You should let them smell you, so they know who you are. It's ok, like this." She extended her hand to each of the dogs and let them sniff her. Most just smelled her fingers and waited for a pat on the head, but a couple put their paws on her hand for a handshake, making Ari giggle and try it herself. The largest of the dogs, a big black pit mix, seemed to have the kindest eyes she had ever seen, but you could see the scars on her face. "What happened to her?" she whispered. 

"She was rescued from some very bad people who used her to train other dogs to fight. She got taken to a foster home until my brother met her and took her to her forever home. She is very loving, but you need to tell her to stay down, or she might jump up and knock you down. She is still learning and doesn't know how strong she is."

"Oh, ok." They continued into the house, but Ari's thoughts were on what Jenna had said. When they walked in there were more people and they were right in front of the pair, there would be no way to avoid talking to them. It would be the start of a myriad of introductions. 

"Hey everyone! This is Ari, my new foster daughter. Ari, this is my mom, Ann, my aunt Kate and my cousin Bree. And this little cutie is Jay." Jenna introduced everyone while bending down to scoop up the toddler running around the table, trying to escape his mother and the diaper she carried. 

There were so many other kids here, of all different ages. It didn't seem to matter who belonged to whom, everyone was connected. Ari was out of her element.

"I'm going to put on my suit. Where can I change?" Ari really wanted to escape and collect her thoughts.

Jenna pointed her to a door in the corner and handed her the bag. "Let me know if you need help." Ari just nodded.

How many new people am I going to meet? What will they expect of me? How could I ever fit in with these people? I'm too shy to yell and cheer like them. 

After getting changed and sprayed with sunblock, Ari and Jenna went outside. The large black dog followed them up the hill. Ari stopped suddenly before they reached all the people. "I am going to sit here for a bit. You go down the hill." She said to Jenna.

"Are you sure? You could come with me." The concern in her voice was somewhat comforting, but not enough. Ari sat down and began to pet the dog that had laid her head on Ari's leg.

"Okay, I will be back in a minute." Jenna raced towards the tube yelling "My turn!" Everyone turned and looked and one of the boys held the tube steady as she jumped on and flew down the hill. Ari smiled as she watched. 

When Jenna came back up, she grabbed a towel and walked back to Ari, stopping to hug the children that ran to her. The children came with her. 

Ari was a bit nervous, more people to meet. 

1/25 Plot P274 Ex1

She swerved to miss the object in the road. Thank god, I did not go in the ditch... Shit! Mary hit a patch of ice and the car spun out of control. The economy car hit the snow in the ditch at just the wrong angle and landed on the passenger door. Mary, who was not buckled up, banged her head on the steering wheel and roof. Glass embedded itself in her flesh and she was on the wrong side of the car. Her last thought before passing out was of the mass in the road shaped like an animal.
She awoke in the hospital, the nurses told her that her car was totaled and she was lucky to be alive. The dog that had been in the road was alive as well, but they had not been able to find its owners. Mary, left the hospital a few days later and went directly to the pound. She adopted the animal that had been the cause of her accident and they kept each other company for several happy years. And she never drove without a seat belt on icy roads again.

1/20 Fictional Place Pg 191 Ex 3

Lana felt the cool breeze on her face, a relief from the burn of the midday sun, as she sat with her back against the tree. She surveyed the meadow she was resting in. Taking in the purple and yellow wild flowers blooming in the early summer heat and the fish swimming in the clear running stream. But focusing on the lack of any other shelter. One lonely tree, that was all, no cover for as far as the she could see. It would be beautiful under most circumstances, but when your hands are tied together and you can’t remember how you got here, the lack of landmarks was disconcerting. How did she get here? Who brought her? Because she certainly did not tie her own hands. Why just her hands? Why not her feet? No blindfold? It didn’t make any sense.

She knew she had to get out of here, even if she didn’t know how she got here or which way was ‘out’.  Lana struggled to her feet, thankfully whomever had tied her hands did so with them in front of her rather than behind her back. But, while she could see the knots, she could not untie them.  She quickly glanced around, searching for a rock or stick that might be sharp enough to cut the ropes, but there was nothing. She was going to have to do this without her hands, at least for now. She began walking across the vast field of green, her eyes flitting between the horizon and the ground, watching for danger of any kind. The plan was to make it to the top of the hill so she could better access which direction to go.

            As she reached the apex of the hill, she looked in all directions. To her left she saw a group of teenagers hanging out on their tailgates. She could hear their country music drifting on the breeze. If front of her she saw a cabin in the distance with an older pickup parked outside. If you asked her later, she couldn’t have told you what made her choose, but she followed her gut and walked quickly towards the partiers, casting wary glances over her shoulder at the pickup. Reaching the teenagers Lana could see the shock and apprehension in their faces as they took in her slightly panicked expression and the rope around her wrists. She tried to explain, “I am not sure what happened to me, I woke up in a meadow not far from here and I don’t know how I got there or why my hands are tied. Can you help me? Do any of you have a knife that will cut through the rope?” One boy, he must have been seventeen, pulled out a pocket knife and made quick work of freeing her hands. The group quickly decided to drive the woman back into town to the police station. As they pulled away, Lana looked back towards the cabin and saw a very large bald man, with a scowl on his face watching them drive off. She could feel the animosity dripping off of him and knew she had not seen the last of him.

1/18 Summary & Scene Ex 2 pg 228

One sentence:

Cabbage shouldn’t have a streak of red in it.

One paragraph:

I was shredding cabbage with a serrated knife to freeze for soup. There was a towel under the head and I was having a great time watching a movie and cutting up vegetables. All of a sudden there is a sharp pain in my hand. I had sliced open my finger. Ow, Ow, Ow, that hurts so much. Dang it, dang it dang it. Tears started to well up as I covered the wound in the part of the towel that had been hanging over the edge and hobbled to the bathroom to run water over it so I could see the damage.

Scene

I had gone this morning to pick up my “Bountiful Basket”. A basket filled with half fruits and half vegetables. You never knew exactly what you were going to get, just half and half. This time there were carrots, cabbage, lettuce, grape tomatoes, apples, pears, and bananas. The tomatoes were dropped off at a friend’s house before she even got home. Now it was time to prep everything else for storage. I peeled and chopped the apples and pears to put in the freezer to use later for baking or smoothies. The bananas were put in a paper bag on the cupboard to ripen. The carrots and lettuce were cleaned and stored in the refrigerator. Now, to deal with the cabbage. 

Who needs this much cabbage? Well, I guess shred it and freeze it for soup. I got out a towel to put over the table, and grabbed a knife to do the job. Dang, all the smooth blades are in the sink to be washed. Serrated it is.

Now, how to start this? I guess I will cut out the end and just go for it. I began, cutting the head of cabbage into quarters to make it more manageable, then beginning to shred one quarter of it. All of a sudden there is a sharp pain in my hand. I had sliced open my finger. Ow, Ow, Ow, that hurts so much. Dang it, dang it dang it. Tears started to well up as I covered the wound in the part of the towel that had been hanging over the edge and hobbled to the bathroom to run water over it so I could see the damage.

Damn, does that need stitches? I don’t know if it needs stitches. Who would know? I feel so stupid, but I guess I’ll call Mom. I dialed the phone, it rang and rang, no answer. Shoot, okay, Stacy, she is a first responder at work, she should know. Dial again, “Hey, what’s up?” She sounds sleepy, Did I wake her? Is she not feeling well? Great I woke her up because of my own stupidity. “Hey, how’s it going? Did I wake you?”

“Not really, I am just watching a movie.”

“Oh, okay. Listen I feel really dumb about this, but could you come over and look at something? I cut myself and need to know if I should go for stitches.” Jeez, I hate asking for help, especially when it is for something so dumb.

“On my way!” Okay, now she sounds frantic, dang it, it is not that big of a deal.

“Thanks, but it is not a huge deal, it is just my finger, just forget it. I’ll just bandage it up.”

“No, we’re on our way just sit tight” click.

Well shoot. I paced back and forth while I waited. Trying to resist the urge to look at the finger again, knowing that I shouldn’t take the pressure off of it yet.

Oh, there they are. I can see the truck pull up through the open door. Stacy doesn’t even make it to the door before the questions start.

“What happened?” she demands.

“I was shredding some cabbage and cut my finger.” I know how dumb it sounds, but what can you do.

“How long ago?”

“Just before I called you. Listen, it is really not that bad. I think I over reacted.”

“Let me see” she sounds like she might be calming down a bit.

1/11 Getting Started Ex 1 pp19-20

The song says “Scars are tattoos with better stories”. I disagree. The first scar I remember getting is a small checkmark on the back of my ankle. It looks like someone was giving it their approval. That is not at all what it is, it is a scar, one with a slightly embarrassing story behind it.

I was working in Lawn and Garden one summer and it happened the first time I helped unload the truck. There was very little training, there were seven people pushing and pulling flower carts having a good time. They all learned an important lesson that day, ‘Never pull a flower cart’. I was doing just that when the wheel hit a crack in the parking lot. The cart picked up speed and knocked me to the ground. The embarrassed laughter started first, it was bad enough to trip, but to trip in front of management, horrifying. The supervisor helped me to my feet and went in to start the accident paperwork. It took me a bit longer to realize I was hurt, well more than my pride. I didn’t know that I was hurt until I felt blood seeping into my sock. Then I had to limp across the parking lot and into the office to get bandaged up.

The song says “Scars are tattoos with better stories”. But, not all scars are visible. Many of them are internal, no one can see the scars left on your soul, the many turbulent situations that you have worked through. A tattoo is a visual reminder of your strength. It can give you the boost you need to carry on. It can be a reminder of a special person, animal or time in your life. As a tattoo artist, Jenna had heard all of the stories. She had laughed and cried along with her clients while listening to their stories and trying to help them find the perfect image to express themselves.

There is a lot more to her job than meets the eye. You have to have artistic ability. You need to be able to ask the right questions to get the best image. You have to be able to read people and know that this really is something they want permanently on their bodies. Jenna had developed a sort of sixth sense about human-kind over the years. She knew who was the “Let’s do this now” type, and she knew who was the “I need to think it over a bit more” type. When Ivory came into the shop Jenna knew that this was going to be a difficult one. This was going to be a heart wrenching story of loss. The look on the woman’s face was a mixture of determination and sadness.

“Good morning” Jenna tried to put on a happy face. “What can I do for you today?”

“I want to get a tattoo, in remembrance of my daughter.” Ivory said the words like she had practiced them over and over again until she could say them without breaking down in tears.

“Okay, do you have an idea in mind? Or, do you want to tell me a bit about her and work out something together?”

“I have never done this before, and I am not sure what I want exactly. Can you give me some ideas about what other people have done?” Jenna could tell that the young woman was close to tears, so, she did something she only did occasionally. She walked to the door and flipped the closed sign and locked it. She led the shaking woman to the couch in the waiting room and sat with her.

“Tell me about your daughter.” It was said with kindness and genuine interest.

Ivory began the story, “I have always wanted to have children, I was born to be a mom. When I couldn’t find the right guy, I decided to go it alone. I had invitro-inseminaiton. I was so excited when I took the at home test and it was positive. I took four more just to be sure. After a doctor confirmed it, I went on a shopping spree. I bought every gender neutral baby item I could find. I wanted to have time to get the nursery set up perfectly before my baby came. I was giddy before each doctor’s appointment. When I heard her heartbeat for the first time, I felt like my life was finally complete. I spent hours just listening to the recoding of my baby’s heartbeat at night. I felt such peace.’

“Everything was great, until my twenty week appointment. That morning I dressed hurridly, I didn’t even put on make up. I was the first appointment of the day and I wanted to be there early. I couldn’t wait to see my baby for the first time.’

“The doctor got quiet when he found the baby, and my heart sank. ‘What is it? What’s wrong?’ He told me that they needed to do some tests. I went from serene to panicked in a matter of minutes. After a myriad of tests the doctor said the words that all parents dread. ‘There is something wrong with your child. She has