Day 115: Takin' the night off...

Hi everyone--thanks for checking in! I'm taking the night off from writing to let the last part of the story simmer. I think I know how I want to write it, but I need to spend some time mulling it over. :)

Thank you for reading. Seriously. You have no idea.

I'll be back tomorrow.

Becca

Day 68: Jerusalem

I wish I could've seen Jerusalem. It seems almost pathetic to know so much about a place, and never have seen it. I wish I knew what all those places looked like and smelled like and felt like. I wish I had those memories. I wish I had gone when I had the chance. I imagine a certain way the air would look from the Mount of Olives, looking down at the temple mount. I wonder how it would feel to sit under an olive tree with an open notebook in my lap, and close my eyes and listen to the leaves. I wonder how it would feel, and how my heart would feel, to lean my head against a stone in a garden. I wish I could have my ears filled with the calls of muezzins and their call to prayer. To feel grit in my teeth and have sunbrowned skin from sitting and listening to lectures outside. I wish I had the chance to listen to Yiddish and Hebrew and be able to sort out a few phrases. To study hard and learn new things and see new things. And to be young again, truly young. With nothing to worry about but myself, and a sense that even the problems of this place could be solved. But I chose a different road, or--rather... the world chose a different road for me.

I wish things were different.

Day 63: Where Credit is Due...

I claim credit for two inventions. I didn't patent them, but I still think I had the idea first.

First. When I was in second grade (or maybe third) we had to "Invent" something. Come up with the idea, draw a picture of it, and explain it. My idea? You could have paint brushes, but there would actually *be* paint in the brush, so you wouldn't have to dip it in paint. It would be less messy. Isn't that brilliant? Well, you can imagine what I thought, years later, when I saw these...

Someone stole my brilliant idea!! I'll bet it was that kid in my class, Nathan. He was always stealing my best ideas and taking credit for them. Like when we decided to start singing "Don't Worry, Be Happy" in the middle of a multiplication tables test because our teacher hated that song, and we figured turn about was fair play.

My second brilliant invention? *smile* That. That's my second brilliant invention. To the best of my recollection, I started typing *smile* and *grin* and *grimace* in e-mails in mid-1997. I came up with it on my own, and have yet to find evidence that anyone used it sooner than that. Now, it may be possible that it was invented by more than one person at the same time. Like calculus, the Spouse informs me. I'd like to believe that the people I e-mailed, used it too, and then the people they e-mailed used it, and so on.

I can't prove it, but that's my story, and I'm stickin' to it. Have you ever invented anything--whether you meant to or not?

Day 61: Put a lime in the coconut...

Woe to me. I am trying to think of something to write, and I'm coming up empty. Truly. In trying to tune into my own mind, I'm getting either a busy signal or a monotone hum. I can't really tell which.

So I wrote an entry with some of my political opinions, but then thought, "Wasn't yesterday's entry punishment enough for these poor people, Bec? Do you want to scare people away for good????"

So I "saved draft" but didn't "publish" my opinions on the war in Gaza, Barack Obama, The Freedom of Choice Act, or No Child Left Behind. (Quick summary: against, pro, against, against).

But if I'm not going to drag you all through the mud of my opinionated, red-personalitied rantings, then what is left to write about????????

The answer? Lime sherbet.

I LOVE lime sherbet. I love how it looks, on top of an ice cream cone. Vibrant, fresh green in all it's shimmering, slow-to-melt goodness. That first bite, when the cold smell reaches your nose and clears out all the cobwebs that have been hanging around in your mind. The tart, tingly taste of it wakes me up and makes my toes wiggle, a sure sign of delight.

I have loved lime sherbet since I was a little girl, and my mom took me to Ray's Drive-thru on the hill for a mother-daughter date. She handed me this gigantic, towering ice cream cone with green sherbet and a little, plastic pony on top. I had never had such a treat. It rivalled even her late-night red pudding as my favorite treat.

I swear it does wonders for my soul. Especially if I'm having a night where my head is stuck in the sea of mental doldrums. Right now, it's all I want in the world. But I mayn't have any because it's Sunday and, you know, thou shalt not, and all that. But I can dream. And it's better than punishing all of you with my political opinions. (If only this blog were scratch n' sniff. Then it really would be my best entry ever...)

Day 50: Excuses, excuses...

Woohoo!!! 50 entries! This feels so significant. Only 314 to go. *pale*

I didn't write yesterday. Here's why:

Do you ever envision that your weekends are going to be totally different than the reality ever turns out to be? I was so hoping for a relaxing, laid-back weekend. In my imagination, I would slip into my darling "date" ensemble and Dave and I go on our Friday night date, to our favorite restaurant, holding hands and already missing each other in anticipation of his impending departure. Saturday morning, we'd wear matching robes and make banana pancakes in our sparkling kitchen, and then go to the park with the children. There, we would run gleefully down the grass, holding pudgy hands, and laughing like we were in a laundry detergent commercial. After the kids drifted happily off to sleep, we'd talk and relax in the house that was still clean from a week ago. I'd head into this week, and into his 9 days away, feeling ready to go. Is this too much to ask???

Apparently. Because, instead, I want to fall over where I stand. I'm on the South Beach diet, which completely killed our Friday night date because we couldn't go anywhere fun, because I can't eat anything good!! Saturday morning I made banana pancakes that no one wanted to eat until I threatened them with tears. I bolted out the door to a church meeting, leaving Dave to command the troops, and--by the time I got home and he got home from going shoe shopping with said troops, he just wanted the afternoon off. Our kids were happily bent on destroying anything and everything in sight, all in the name of sibling solidarity. I was almost relieved as I bolted to the car to go watch someone else's children for the evening.

Don't even get me started on today. Let's just say that I ended up at church in a black skirt wearing brown shoes, a nursing bra that suddenly wouldn't unhook when the Wee One started to holler, and legs that haven't been shaved in so long they could belong to a yeti. My kitchen would make SuperNanny shake her head at the camera and whisper, "How are children supposed to learn struc-tuh in a home like this?" That, combined with the incessant pleading for Signing Time viewing was enough to drive my carbohydrate deprived body over the edge and right into the crock pot. I ate a pot roast. Almost all of it.

Somehow, creative writing just didn't make it into the mix.

Day 44: In search of a shadow...

Oh, how I wish I had something wonderful to say tonight. My writing prompt for the night is: Right now you should be doing ______ instead of being on the computer.

Goodness. I should be doing dishes. I should be flossing my teeth. I should be putting couch cushions back on the couch for the hundredth time this week instead of thinking "Why? They'll get pulled off first thing in the morning anyway." I should be grateful that my daughter goes back to preschool tomorrow, rather than being thoroughly bummed that her break went so fast and wishing she could stay home a week longer. I should be sleeping so that I'm not a zombie when the Wee One wakes up at 3:00 and wants to eat.

More than that, I think part of me believes I should be running my fingers through azure blue water rather than being on the computer. That I should be in a time zone far away, jotting notes furiously in a notebook and contracting odd stomach diseases from local cuisine. That, rather than the static hum of the laptop, I should be hearing the rise and fall of babbling languages--some of which are coherent to me, but not all. That I should look odd and out of place in a sea of NOT blonde people.

Now, I'm not complaining. I'm really not. I've had a lovely day, and I have a *fabulous* life, but do you ever flip open Reader's Digest and read about the guy saving orphans in Nepal and think, "Wow. Now that guy has a calling"? Well. I do. Not all the time. I read Into Thin Air once and decided that I should stay as far away from the Himalayas as humanly possible. And when I went to Indonesia on a whim and *did* contract some odd stomach bug from eating pizza with local goat's cheese on it, I regretted it the entire 17 hour long flight home.

Strangely enough, very soon my husband will be the one taking a flight that is many hours long, over an ocean, to a different continent to visit his parents, who happen to live in the kind of country that you need some serious vaccines to visit. He'll be seeing the Atlantic from the other side, while I hold up the walls of the home we've made together. And you know what? I can't say I'm jealous. I wish I could go, to be with him. I wish I could go, to see his parents. But a yellow fever vaccine so that I can fill up on fuu-fuu, chicken, and rice? I think I'll pass.

I think it was Buddha who said that if you leave your own backyard in search of happiness, you're chasing a shadow. Maybe, rather than being on this computer, I should be making a list of all the reasons that home is the very best place for me to be right now.