Thursday, October 21, 2010

Peter, Peter.

This is a short children's story, I suppose, anyway it was a prompt for October, I participated and here it is.

Peter, Peter.

Samantha had just moved to town and quickly became friends with her neighbor Ryan. Ryan walked beside Samantha on the way to her new high school, the autumn air was crisp and the wind blew cool. Samantha could not help but see the cat, the strange wild cat that sat on the porch of an abandoned home. Ryan shrugged his shoulders as he told the town’s story.

“The town calls him Peter.” Ryan settled his back pack on his shoulders and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Some even laugh, and tease him, call him ‘Peter, Peter, pumpkin eater’.”

“Well that’s just stupid, why would they do that?” Leaves traveled across them in an angry swirl, like a mini leaf tornado. Peter continued the story, he told Samantha the same way his mother told him, and his grandmother before her. A tale about Peter, and his wife named Hazel. Hazel was a most beautiful and free-spirited person, the people would say, but no one could make her stay, not even Peter. At some point, he had enough and decided if he couldn’t have his wife then no one could.

When Hazel vanished the town questioned her disappearance. Though some thought she’d run off again, others were certain it was Peter. Rumors were spread across the county but no one could prove, that Peter dug up the garden and laid down his spouse. As time went on the garden grew, and only one pumpkin came to harvest. For years and years, only one pumpkin would grow, and until Peter himself passed away, he would go out to his garden to tend to the pumpkin with care until it was ready. Every year when the pumpkin was ready, he would pull it up and cook it into a pie, every year he would sit there on his porch and eat the entire thing.

Peter grew to be very old before he died, and soon a cat began to sit on his porch. In no time the neighborhood was calling the cat “Peter” and the townspeople avoided the cat and the house. Ten years later, Samantha stood in front of her new school and was bent over laughing.

“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard.”

“It’s true, someone took one of Peter’s pumpkins about five years ago, they still haven’t woken up from their coma.”

“Well I’m going to prove that it’s not true, you people are funny.”

“Peter, Peter, pumpkin eater, had a wife.” Laughter erupted as she slopped some of the pumpkin goop into a large bowl. “Had a wife and couldn’t keep her.”

The week of Halloween came and the pumpkin sat there bold and bright, when she was done with school Samantha walked past the cat named Peter and snatched up the pumpkin. The cat’s hair rose and he howled as she laughed and ran home. The night before Halloween she sang as she cut into the pumpkin and began making a pie.

When the pie was cooked and cooled she wrapped it up and put a “Do Not Eat” note on the top. She planned to take it to the Halloween party, show them all that their rumors were dumb. The next evening when she walked into the kitchen dressed in her Halloween costume, she stumbled upon her Dad on the kitchen floor. A fork in his hand with a little pumpkin pie remaining, his eyes were open wide but there was nothing. He wouldn’t move and didn’t blink, Samantha was horrified and jumped up off the floor only to see Peter the cat sitting on the kitchen's window ledge.

To this day, Samantha's father still lays in a hospital bed, no one knows why but no one has touched Peter’s pumpkins since.

I hope enjoyed. Enjoy your pies, now, won't ya?

On A New Path

So, you can come with me if you'd like. I'd love some company, it seems to make things easier, in some circumstances to have partners in your endeavors. I want a new life, okay, I love my life but I want a better, happier, healthier one! So here goes the steps, er, plan!
  1. Drink more water. I already drink a bit of water, if I ever say "tea" or "drink" it's merely flavored water...but more doesn't hurt.
  2. Start excercising. Pulled the Total Gym out and into the living room, must start using it.
  3. When it gets a little cooler, go for walks with the boys. Isaac's pretty good at staying with me, just needs to get better about keeping pace...but he's, yeah, it'll be alright.
  4. Start writing...more!
  5. Play around more, have more fun. I think fun is the key to...everything.
  6. Lose weight. Sure this might go with number 2, but it involves more then number 2, and they both seperately affect life.
  7. Make a schedule. Need to start at-home learning on a scheduled basis, get everyone into a routine that works for us!
  8. Finish the timetable for upcoming holidays. Started planning in August, but need a better foundation.
I had more before the boys and I went on our trip...but now I can't remember them! Oh well, in time I'm sure I'll add more things...until then, this works and is quite enough!

Yellow Cake, From Scratch

Yellow Cake

•2 cups all-purpose flour, stirred before measuring

•1 tablespoon baking powder
•1 teaspoon salt
•1/2 cup butter, softened
•1 1/4 cups sugar
•2 eggs
•3/4 cup milk
•1/2 tablespoon vanilla
Mix flour, baking powder, and salt; set aside. Cream sugar and butter in a large mixing bowl, beating until light and fluffy. Beat in eggs, one at a time, beating well after each addition. Add half of the flour mixture then half of the milk. Add vanilla. Mix until blended; add remaining flour and milk and beat until smooth. The batter will be thick. Spread batter in two greased and floured 8-inch layer cake pans or a 13x9x2-inch baking pan. Bake at 350° for 25 to 35 minutes, or until cake springs back when lightly touched near center.

Frost as desired.

In conlcusion, it's delicious, but do not think cream cheese frosting is appropriate for it.

Monday, October 4, 2010

I Love....

I love the good beginning to what looks to be a long week and month.

I love the way my children look at each other, and though they are young it’s apparent how much they love one another.
I love the way Kyle holds his blankets or my hands close to his chest in a grip that says he never wants to let go.
I love the way Isaac loves all people. Though it’s sad for him when they go, he enjoys every minute they are here.
I love knowing that I’m appreciated and cared for more then I had realized.
I love that I can actually cook without destroying food, and people love it. Even when a meal has ingredients they truly dislike.
I love the way the boys laugh and giggle.
I love that I must not be the worst Mom…there are much worse and my boys are quite happy.
I love that even when Isaac has gotten into a bit of trouble he knows he can always come to me if he’s hurt.
I love how my baby can sleep, without a worry in the world.
I love that when people leave my home they are happy, and not because they’re happy to get the hell out of here.
I love that my husband loves me, even when I give him hell.
I love that I can sit here with endless things to write that I truly love.
I love that I can sing to my baby, and he doesn’t mind my awful singing abilities *as I sing to baby*

So, what do you love? I mean truly love, not like "I love icecream."

Friday, October 1, 2010

Inspiration. Writing #3

This blog, as indicated in the title is about inspiration. Inspiration can come in many forms, and often many places for writers…if I were asked where mine comes from I’d probably have to shrug my shoulders! My stories are just somewhere with in me, how could I explain that I knew about Scaeras’ and their abilities, where they come from and why. If you are wondering about them as well…I’ll give you some clues at a later time. As a good friend of mine asked:
“Are you laying in bed when your character comes to life or are you inspired by seeing a cloud in the shape of a dick?”
I work on fantasy, urban fantasy for the most part. Have done other genres as well, however urban fantasy is in my heart and knocking around my marbles. I can’t ignore this compulsion. The only way I can explain:
When I started to write Dead Moons, it started off with a male main character, I thought he was it, the main deal. Until, someone stomped on a marble and demanded to be introduced, and there she was. The main character of all main characters, the one that holds all the cards, and she’s a bitch! No, maybe bitch is too harsh.
I can’t say that I’m inspired by things I see, though I admit that music helps in writing, though it’s more for setting the mood for a scene more then anything. If I’m going to write about the death of my main character, which happened by the way, I can’t be listening to “Don’t worry, be happy” or some random pop or new dance music. No I went to (I would like to note, that if you change your audio device (the Equalizer) to “Powerful” it’s more effective)

So for me, music has an impact on my writing process, but not inspiration. In the end, the inspiration ultimately comes from somewhere within me. No I’m not psychotic, but the people in my head want their stories to be told, and I’m happy to oblige. Though it’s not always easy, and I have often wished I could sit and write an outline, and know ahead of time, therefore it can finish in better timing. But to be honest, I think it would be crap in the end. My muse, Ilaria Sophia…has been quite helpful in the past but she’s only a motivator and helps me find the “right words” when I’m fighting the fog.
I would like to add, that I do sometimes, though rarely get inspiration from things around me, or find out about stories at the oddest moments…like while I had been changing my first son’s diaper last year. Bam, there was another…I know, odd.
Where does your inspiration come from? What are your thoughts on inspiration and what do you wish could be different about yours?