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 

Reaction to third set of essays

“42 Tattoos” Moore 243-51

I love the piece-mail design of this essay. The author did not write all of the quotes. He found them. All of them said something about tattoos, but they were in no means reiterations of each other. It never would have occurred to me to put different quotes together in this way to form an essay. It was an interesting read.

“Somehow/Family” Moore 143-50

This was, again, not what I expected from the title. I was expecting to read about adoption, either legal, or just the forming of a family from a group of friends. Instead it was more about the writer’s relationship to the television. There were parts about his family interspersed between episodes of “The Brady Bunch” but it was mostly about the television shows. The topic is one that can strike a chord with anyone. There are always certain shows that you equate with a particular time in your life.

“In Praise/Comma” IB 79-82

I love that this one is about a punctuation mark. It proves than anything can provide a spark for a writer. It can be family, friends, strangers, television shows, inanimate objects and even punctuation. There is always something to write about, something that hasn’t been said about a subject. You just need to provide your own perspective to it.

“Clan of/Women” Moore 257-2

There is a history of cancer in many families. There is not always a reason for it. You cannot always pinpoint why a family is so afflicted with this horrible disease. It is heartbreaking, but you have to keep living.

“Hope” IB 76-77

“Hope” really drills in the fact that you do not know another person’s story just by looking at them. They may have had sufferings or triumphs that you can only imagine. You would have known it to look at this woman, but she had a story, a history that could be turned into a published essay. Don’t judge a book by its cover.

“Alive” IB 103-4

The fact that the woman was a police officer made her feel comfortable in general, but in the moments that she needed to be, she got more and more nervous and scared. She did keep her wits about her and get some information. No matter how safe you feel, no matter how much training you have, fear is a natural emotion and you should not be ashamed of it. But you also cannot let it paralyze you to the point that you can’t remember the details that may be important later.

“You’ll Love . . .” IB 105-6

This tells the story of a flight attendant who was willing to help someone even though they were ill and there was a chance that she would catch something from him. The person was so grateful to the flight attendant that they gave her a tip on the way off and whole heartedly agreed with the company slogan “You’ll Love the Way We Fly”. I think that everyone has had someone come into their life that made them uncomfortable. I had a man that I was supposed to teach to use computers that I was uncomfortable with. He was very blunt about everything and always wore sweatpants. I was uneasy with him, but I did my best to make him comfortable and help him. I never got over that uneasy feeling. It was not fear, just uneasiness. I worked with him for three months. He learned what he needed to know and I hope that he is very happy now. 

4b. What Makes Me, Me.

She is a stubborn person. She hates to ask for help. She does not like to socialize. She is not a big drinker. She would rather stay home and watch opk’s (Other People’s Kids) than go out to the bar or even to the movies. She can be selfless or selfish depending on the situation.

She grew up with a mother who would do anything for anyone and a father who “Looked out for number one, and I am number one”. These are two very different parenting styles. Neither one was a great way to raise children. The father put his own comforts and wants above anyone else’s. The mother would sacrifice herself over and over again to do things for others.

The girl grew up doing things for others, but not with others. She did not see herself as number one. Ever. She was always secondary. What a woeful way to grow up, a secondary character in your own life. She turned to books and imaginary worlds as a way to cope with the internal struggles of adolescence. Struggles that affect her today.

She finally got her own apartment, but not until she felt her nieces were either okay or had the support that they needed. She finally rebelled. At twenty-five years old, she took a hold on her own life. She does not make rash decisions, she always plans them out. Even if they seem impulsive, she has put more research and thought into it than most do after weeks.

She likes to be alone. Always has. She is the type who can gladly go without seeing anyone for days and be perfectly fine with it. As a matter of fact, she can get testy when others invade her solitude.

She is learning to speak her mind. It is not that she does not care about the people she is seemingly insulting. She cares immensely and does not want to see them get hurt because she did not tell them they were acting in a way that might hurt them. She tells her mother when she is worrying and stressing so much that it will cause physical dangers. She tells her mother that she really hopes that the stressing and worrying will cause a heart attack if she is not careful and that a counselor would be paid to listen to her grievances and then she would be able to air them without bringing down those around her. She tells her eldest niece when she is acting like a brat, she does the same with her siblings. It is a freeing revelation to her that she is capable of doing so in a manner that will not completely alienate her.

She is learning to take care of herself. She is trying to get better about saying the ever so difficult word, No. She is going to be okay eventually.

Yes, she is me and I will be okay.