Running toward Summer

  

 The sidewalk seems to glow as my feet hit the pavement. The sun’s reflection on the white cement makes it nearly impossible to look down as I run. Rays from the sun sit on my skin but a whisper of a breeze makes it bearable. It’s early afternoon and Chris and I are not the only ones enjoying the return of warmth. My limbs are finally starting to thaw from an impossibly long winter and my body is soaking up the heat as though it is my life source. Running outside is nothing like running on a treadmill at the gym. Instead of the smell of stale sweat and the ever present humidity that hangs like a cloud in the air, the air is fresh and new and on each block I get another whiff of Summer. The tangy scent of fresh cut grass coupled with the growl of a lawn mower takes me back to high school Summers where my biggest concern was the proper amount of time I should lay out on my back before flipping over. Waves of intoxicating gasoline from an idling truck mixed with the sun make me long to spend the Summer on a lake in a boat that we don’t own. Even the baking asphalt appears to have familiar smell, welcoming me back to simpler times.

My feet continue to pound the sidewalk in an even, rhythmic pattern. My favorite part of running is finding this groove and letting my body fall into routine so that my mind can wander. Each deep inhale tastes warm and dry. Even though he could run faster, Chris keeps pace with me and I am glad for the companionship. We encounter the last hill before our house and lean forward to pick up speed. We are both quiet, focusing on the task ahead, panting seemingly in time. With our  sharp breath and the beat of our tennis shoes slapping the street we create a song that carries us up the hill in its melody. Our house is in sight and my legs move faster than I thought possible. I picture myself as a cartoon character with a cloud of dust behind me. Chris easily matches my pace and we race to the driveway where we both collapse in a heap on the hot ground. Beads of sweat roll into my eyes and I close them. The brightness of the sun shines through my eyelids. My chest heaves up and down, my breath slowly regulating. The sun lays a blanket of heat gently on my entire body and despite my overheated state, it is a welcome comfort. It is Summer and I am home.

If you give Jocelyn a Broom and other forms of ADCD

Adcd

via

If you give Jocelyn a broom, she’ll likely sweep the kitchen floor. But as she goes to put the broom away in the laundry room, she’ll notice a load of laundry that she forgot to put in the dryer. But to put those clothes in the dryer she has to take out the load that’s already in there. Once she piles the clean, dry clothes into a laundry basket, she’ll take them into her room to dump on the bed so she can fold them.

But once in her room, she’ll notice that the bed isn’t made and decide to set the basket down to make the bed first. As she goes onto her husband’s side of the bed to tuck the sheet in, she’ll see a pile of discarded objects that he was too lazy to put away and scoop them up to take them to their proper home. As she places a magazine in it’s spot on the bookshelf she’ll see how dusty the bookshelf has become and rush off to get a rag to dust it.

When she opens the cupboard with the cleaning supplies, her eyes will completely pass over the rags and focus in on how unorganized the cupboard has become and she’ll pull everything out so she can replace each item in an orderly fashion. But once she has emptied the entire cupboard she’ll see that she is out of toilet bowl cleaner and get up from her place on the floor to add toilet bowl cleaner to her shopping list.

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Good thing for good friends

Every so often I need a bit of nostalgia and I head for a visit with my good friends. We hang out a lot, I feel like I know everything about them. There are times when due to our busy schedules, we don’t get to spend as much time together as we would like. But the best thing about our relationship is that it doesn’t matter how much time we spend apart. When we see each other it’s like we pick up right where we left off. It doesn’t matter how much has changed in our lives since the last we’ve visited, as far as we’re concerned, we’re in exactly the same place we were before. There is something comforting about being together. It reminds me of all the good times we’ve had and the different stages of life we’ve both been at.

Whenever we spend time together it goes the same way, it’s almost predictable some might say. We’re always at my house. At first it was my parents house, when we first met, then my dorm and all the various apartments I’ve lived in and finally, you get to see me as a homeowner! We’ve grown up together you and I. And sometimes we go to your house. I’ve visited you at work and school, you’ve taken me out to your favorite places to eat and heck, I’ve even been to your parent’s home.

But we don’t hang out just the two of us. I appreciate how you’ve introduced me to all your friends and co-workers. Some of them are quirky, well all of them are quirky but that’s what we love about them, you and I. I’ve met all your boyfriends, a few of which I’ve liked, but we both have always known who you would end up with. I watched the whole process of you opening your own business and I’ve always been impressed at your work ethic and your ability to get through anything that has come your way.

I’ve been with you for all your daughter’s big moments too. When she went to that big fancy school, got so smart and graduated college. I cried with you during her valedictorian address and I was with you when we took one last run through her high school hallways. I helped you move her into college and move the old dorm mattress in and out and in and out. I commiserated with you on each of her break ups and sometimes, I too worried she was with the wrong guy. Like the one who kept her out all night, or the other one that helped her steal a yacht. I jumped up and down with you when she landed that big internship and was devastated when she dropped out of school. We’ve been through all of it together, you and I.

I’ve been to your town and walked the windy streets. I’ve been to the crazy events and laughed at the kooky people. I’ve walked with you in the square on a bright summer day. I’ve stood with you in my pajamas in the evening of the first snow. I’ve smelled the crisp, fall Connecticut air and enjoyed the colors that come with it. I love your town, I love your friends and I love everything that comes with being in your life. [Read more…]

Hiccups

hiccups

You’ve felt it. I know you have. There you are, minding your own business and suddenly your rhythmic breath that you haven’t been paying attention to is interrupted. Your upper body experiences a slight convulsion and a most unattractive noise escapes your mouth. You didn’t ask for them and no one gave them to you, but somehow you have gotten the hiccups.

They say to hold your breath, but let’s be honest, that never works. You try it anyway but then gasp for air and its as if your hiccups have decided to stay with a vengeance. You begin to breath very methodically, just hoping that you can get through this next breath without another ‘episode’.

This army of small hiccups has invaded your body and their plan of attack is to escape one at a time by force with a loud battle cry that to you sounds like some kind of gasping, chest/throat exasperation. And if by chance they catch you while you’re talking, the sound is even louder and can be quite offensive to whoever the hiccup solider lands on.

Suddenly you remember some old adage about a glass of water. But that only seems to make them angry. You can’t even get one gulp down before the hiccups force you to spew the water back out at a surprising velocity, leaving a mess on the floor.

[Read more…]

Meeting Mrs. Langford

mrs langford

February 10, 2004

Dear diary,

I had the strangest day today. It started off like every other day:

I woke up to my alarm reminding me to exercise and hurried down the ladder on my bunk bed to turn it off before I woke up Savannah or Sierra in the next room. I found the page ripped from my Seventeen magazine on the table next to my alarm clock right where I left it. The glossy page showed a thin girl in athletic clothes doing a series of simple workouts. The title promised a Bikini- Ready Body in 6 short weeks. I gave up after a few crunches and studied my body in the full length mirror leaning up against my window. I looked like a marshmallow. Or rather, I looked like all I had eaten in the past 4 months were marshmallows. I pinched a roll of fat on my stomach and sighed with frustration at the weight I had gained since moving in with Darla. This was my life.

Next I headed downstairs to find some breakfast and do my daily chore of unloading the dishwasher. Darla was already in the kitchen, getting breakfast ready for my two adorable little cousins sitting at the table.

“Good Morning,” I said cheerily, wiping the sleep from my eyes.

“Jocie!” Savannah smiled from her booster seat and I walked over to give her a morning kiss.

Darla turned from the sink and smiled, “Morning Joce.”

The big window in our kitchen showed another gloomy, snowy, England day. Which gave me exactly zero motivation to get out of my warm Hello Kitty pajamas. After breakfast I helped Dar get the girls ready for preschool. She told me that she had a doctor appointment after she dropped them off and I was welcome to come with her if I wanted. But obviously, as you can tell from my earlier statement, I declined.

I was determined that today would finally be the day I would catch up on all my homeschooling work up to this point. I made out a schedule so I could get everything done I needed to, even if I had to stay up all night. I was not going to be the only one of my friends that had to do 7th grade again. Well in my case it would actually just be for the first time because if I do have to stay back, it will be because I didn’t do my homeschool stuff in the first place.

I headed back upstairs to my room, plopped down in the middle of the floor, and pulled out all of my school books. I checked the schedule I had created to get everything done. It was colorful with little drawings and bubble letters. It was the way I spent my ‘homeschooling time’ the day before. But obviously it had to be pretty or else I wouldn’t look at it and therefore get nothing done. Obviously. I consulted my schedule:

8:00 am-9:00 am: Read ENTIRE Science textbook

at complete assignments at end of each chapter.

It was already 10:30 am by this point, but no matter, starting a teensy bit late wouldn’t make that much of a difference to the whole day. I picked up my Science textbook which I was already supposed to have read the majority of and opened to the first page. But then I got hungry. Well I wouldn’t be able to get anything done with the grumbling in my stomach so I went back to the kitchen to find the perfect study snack.

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Rainy Day

rainy day header

I woke this morning to the soft pitter patter of rain on my window. I love rain. I love the smell of it and the sound of it and the way it makes the day feel. I really didn’t want to get up and get ready for work. Then, much to my surprise, Chris got a phone call from Hanauma Bay.

“Good Morning Chris, this is a service call to let you know that Hanauma bay has been closed for an undisclosed reason. Thank you and enjoy the rainy day.”

Unexpected? Yes. Unappreciated? No. With that good news, we cuddled back underneath our blanket and drifted off into a light morning sleep. When we finally did wake up, an hour and a half later, the rain was still steadily beating on our window. We rolled out of bed and made a delicious warm breakfast of homemade waffles with gooey syrup, fluffy eggs with cheese, and hot chocolate.

After breakfast I opened the windows to let in the rainy breeze and light mist of water making its way through the screen. I wrapped myself in my oversize, blue fleece blanket and settled into the couch, putting my steaming mug of hot chocolate on the coffee table, to watch a Simpson’s marathon. I barely pushed the play button and heard the familiar theme song start to play, when Chris rushed into the living room, hands still wet from washing the breakfast dishes.

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The Perfect Summer Day

summer day 001

My body is slowly aroused from sleep by the chirping birds and growing light outside my basement bedroom window. The light shining through the hunter green blinds make lines on my tiled ceiling and shines awareness into the holes where a tile is missing. I have somehow ignored my mother’s calls to ‘get up’ and ‘not sleep the day away’ and she has inevitably given up trying for a more rewarding task. I lay in my bed, eyes open, enjoying the feeling of having nowhere be and no one to answer to. I glance around at my purple walls, the black and white posters of old movie stars, the way the small round mirrors cast a glow on the opposite wall. I smile, pleased at my decorating abilities and giving myself a mental reminder to hang  my red, flying V guitar above the red bookshelf that I painfully stripped and repainted. I finally pull myself out of bed and my feet find the clothes-carpeted floor, just the way I like it. I carefully avoid several dust bunnies and manage to find the cleanest looking bathing suit on the arm of my futon where I left it the last time I wore it. I pull a thin cotton dress over the bathing suit, grab my cell phone, and shuffle up the stairs in search of sustenance.

Luckily, no parental figure is immediately in sight, clearing the way of any danger of possible chores. I crack an egg into a hot skillet and as it sizzles, check the blinking envelope on my phone. It’s Mallory, who has also gotten up late but is on her way over. I quickly finish cooking my egg and immediately crack another and put in two more pieces of toast. Soon both egg sandwiches are finished and plated and shortly afterwards Mallory waltzes in the front door, parks herself at the table and in mid chew bids me good morning. My best friend looks stunning first thing in the morning and I would hate her for it if she weren’t so humble about her beauty. I can see her bikini poking out of the top of a short summer dress that hangs loosely on her thin frame. The elegant picture stops there as she pulls one leg up into her chest and leans over it to finish eating. She denies my offers of apple juice but I guzzle my large, cold, glass in delight.

As we run out the door, bare foot with towels, ipod, book, sunscreen and phone in tow, I yell something about heading to the pool, hoping that my mom has heard me but not waiting for her response. We take Mallory’s car an easily walk-able distance to the pool. The air smells warm and damp in the Georgia summer. I get sweet wafts of honeysuckles  on our way down the hill and briefly wonder when I last tasted their nectar.

[Read more…]

Water on the Windowsill

windowsill water

Have you ever seen Clue? At the end it gives you three alternate endings. That’s how I’m going to tell this story.

Let’s start off with a little background. Chris and my bed is up against a window looking over a beautiful view of the valley. We used to have our bed on a frame but we moved the frame into the guest bedroom to put our extra mattress on for when Chris’ family came to visit. So instead of having a headboard in between our bed and the windowsill we just have a big windowsill. It’s a pretty big windowsill so we always keep a glass of water (or two) on it for when we get thirsty in the heat of the middle of the night. (Yeah I know it’s December but I think we have the heat on too high or something because I always wake up in the middle of the night completely parched because of the heat.) And obviously we can’t get up and get water in the middle of the night because monsters. duh.

Version 001

SO last night we had two glasses of water sitting on  the windowsill above our bed, one from several nights ago that didn’t get drunk (drank? drinked?)…that no one drank (there we go).

Chris has to get up at 5:30AM (a whole hour before me). And I can tell that he’s jealous that I get to sleep a whole hour longer than him. So this morning he woke up in a fit of jealousy. “Why do I have to get up an hour earlier than she does?! How is this fair?!” He thought in that cute little head of his. That’s when the wheels started turning. “You know what, it’s not fair. She should wake up right now…with me.” And with that he dipped his fingers in one of the cups on the window sill and flicked some water on my face.But that didn’t do the trick. I’m a deeper sleeper than that. Well then he got frustrated at that point, and took it to the extreme. He picked up the cup in his fist full of rage and then he proceeded to pour it on my head. The water was very cold. I sprung out of bed, just as he wanted and yelled to first word that came to my head which just happened to be the ‘S’ word.

“SOCK!”

“That’s what you get for sleeping an hour later than me.” Then he got up, stormed out of the room and headed off to work.

That’s how it could have happened…

…But what about this?

[Read more…]

Morning and Night: Poetry

I don’t write poetry very often but sometimes something random will inspire me and I just can’t help myself. When I wrote these, it just happened to be an early morning storm and a starry night. They seemed to compliment each other nicely.

 

dance of the trees header

 

I woke up this morning to watch the trees dance

Each one moving to the bass in the sky.

I watched as they shook their leaves in excitement;

Some drooped their branches and appeared to cry.

 

With arms outstretched they swayed back and forth,

They reached out to the tree by their side

And in perfect time the trees switched direction

Each leaf along for the ride.

[Read more…]