Monthly Archives: March 2012

One of the Many Reasons that my Mom Rocks

Posted on March 20, 2012 | 6 comments

Remember how in the 70s women could solve all of their problems with a stupid bubble bath? Well, I don’t know about you guys but a warm soak in an oversized, Greek-inspired bathtub just isn’t cutting it for me anymore.

Enter my mom.

She’s been trying to ‘take me away’ from everything since the Great Tumor Scare of 2011. I guess it’s sort of a “Thanks for Not Dying’ mother/daughter trip. But lots of things … and life in general … just kept getting in the way. And all of the bigger plans we contemplated (NYC, Chicago and the like) kept getting swept under the rug until we could “find the time.”

So, tired of waiting on me and my sad excuses, she booked a room at a hotel on the Gulf Coast only about an hour and a half away from where we live and gave me two days notice for the kidnapping. Which was good. I had only two days to worry about whether I’d get everything done before I left. It’s so hard for the mom to step out of the family equation. Part of that is real and part of it we do to ourselves. I knew dirty laundry and frozen pizza wouldn’t hurt anyone while I was gone. So I left. On Sunday afternoon. With my mom. For only one day. One great, relaxing, unplanned, nobody-pulling-on-me kind of day.

Talking the whole way up, we arrived in no time and checked in to our hotel, Beau Rivage, which is also a casino. For anyone unfamiliar with these parts, the Mississippi Gulf Coast is a big casino destination. Some of them are a little dumpy, but others are actually very nice and attract the kind of entertainment that (sadly) is becoming more and more representative of my generation. (Case in point, I’ve seen Rick Springfield there several times with friends. Don’t judge, please.)

We went up to our room on the 25th floor to drop off our luggage and get settled in. I’m not a huge germaphobe so I kicked off my shoes immediately and walked across the carpet to put my stuff in the bathroom. I was about halfway there, curious as to why the floor felt so cold, when I realized my feet were almost completely underwater. The carpet was soaked which, you can imagine, was a pretty gross discovery to make considering I had no idea just what I was stewing in. After a few phone calls, a return trip to the front desk, and an elderly lady passing out cold in our path to the elevator, we were settled in our second room, now on the 11th floor. I glass-is-half-fulled it and decided that it was at least nice to know that they cleaned the carpets from time to time.

Because I was starving, we had dinner early at the Brazilian Steakhouse (a South American Churrascaria) nearby. My kids love that place so I felt a little guilty being there without them. But we only got the soup and salad bar so they didn’t miss much. The cream of poblano soup is a meal in itself. And I got my requisite Caipirinha cocktail. If you’ve never had one, click here for the recipe. And go get the rum out of your liquor cabinet.

Stuffed like ticks, we returned to our hotel and walked over to its neighboring property, the Hard Rock Hotel & Casino, to work off some of our dinner until we could breathe again. And until it was time for Desperate Housewives. (Again, don’t judge. DH is significant to me, and I’ll explain why in May when the show airs its final episode. Check back with me then.)

When the show was over, my mother said she wanted to go to the casino. She’s not a big gambler and I’m even less of one, largely attributed to the fact that I never win. But this night was about relaxing so, being the kick-ass mom that she is, she suggested that I hang back in the room to read, write and veg in front of the TV (I chose D, ALL of the above) while she went to lose her money on her own. (I’m kidding. Unlike me, she sometimes actually wins. But not this time. Except that she did score a couple of drinks, including the one she brought up to me in the room. That’s service.) We talked and watched TV a little before finally surrendering to sleep shortly after midnight.

The next morning, she slept in a little. I tried, but my stupid brain wouldn’t shut off so I got up and took a long bath and read more of my book, the last of the Hunger Games trilogy, until she woke up. We dressed pretty quickly and went downstairs for a late brunch, light gambling (I lost $20), even lighter shopping (I spent $10) and a brief stint in the arcade. (About which I knew my kids would be pissed, but I brought them my ticket credit for the next time they visit and they want to bring home another stuffed six-foot, green-spotted snake. So I think I’m good.)

Realizing it wouldn’t be long until my kids got home from school, we checked out, packed up the car and headed out … but not before seeing this sign we somehow missed on the way in to the hotel.

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We laughed at it … then she took off her “do-rag,” I unrolled my left pant leg and we got the hell out of there.

I wasn’t gone long, not even 24 hours, but it was nice taking a break to do nothing in a relaxing setting with my mother. And did I mention it was all on her? Next time, Mom, we’re going to the spa. Love you … and thanks.

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Hunger Games – A prequel to the prequel (Is there even a word for that?)

Posted on March 19, 2012 | 7 comments

About two weeks ago, I wrote a prequel for Hunger Games for a little writing contest. Like so many other tweenagers around the country, I have caught Hunger Games fever and anxiously anticipate the big movie release later this week. So, in honor of its premiere … and at the request of two of my writing pals … I have written a prequel to my prequel. I’m sure HG author Suzanne Collins will thank me for giving her a leg up on her next book. (You’re welcome, Ms. Collins. Happy to be of assistance.)

If you have read any or all of the books in the series, I’d love your opinion on both prequels. If not, what’s keeping you? I promise you that I barely pass for literate in this world … and the books have consumed me. Perhaps my sequels will help to suck you in so that you, too, will taste the rainbow! (Wait, crap. That’s the Skittles slogan. Let’s try that again.) … catch the fever!

Oh, and According to Mags and Ninja Mom, I dedicate this prequel to the prequel to you both. And I thank my local friends (Ashley, Vanessa, Melissa, Mignon & Jennifer) for getting me hooked on the series in the first place. I hope you guys all enjoy what I did here. If not, please just lie and say you did.

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Hunger Games – The Prequel to the Prequel

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I watched as my arrow sailed through the air, right past the tree intended as my target. “Don’t worry, Katniss,” said my father, patiently. “Practice makes perfect. And if we have to stay in these woods all day ’til you hit your mark, then we will.”

“But Mama will be expecting us,” I said, thinking mostly about the hunger growing in my stomach.

“Your mother will be fine. She’s got her hands full with your little sister. I’ll bet she won’t even notice if we’re late. Then, he took a quick look around, surveying the area, and turned back to me with a playful grin. I already knew what was coming. “You go get the arrows by the lake and I’ll collect the ones that ran off into the woods. Last man back has to clean ’em.” And he took off like a shot through the trees.

I stood there watching him, watching my father scamper away happily just like one of the other kids at my school. He was never as happy as when we were in these woods together. And I felt exactly the same way about him. We both loved Mama and little Prim more than words could say but the relationship we had with each other was unlike any I had with anyone else. I always knew what he was thinking before even he did. And he always knew what I was going to say before it came out of my mouth. We were “cut from the same old, tattered cloth,” Mama always said, pretending to mind when we came home filthy from these little dates together. But we knew she was just as happy to get her alone time with little Prim, the two of them being two peas in a pod.

I cherished the private moments with my father, so much so that sometimes I think I actually aimed poorly and missed my targets on purpose, in the hopes of extending our time together. He was determined to teach me to shoot straight. He said he wanted a hunting partner. And these woods could provide food for our family and a little extra to sell in town. But we had to be careful. We weren’t even supposed to be in the woods, much less hunting and selling our kill.

As I walked along the lake’s edge, I thought about my father and worried about what would happen if the Capitol ever caught him or anyone else from District 12 out here. It seemed like more and more people from the 12 districts were getting into trouble with our leaders these days. The country of Panem was always making new laws for its people and those who didn’t follow them paid dearly, usually with their lives. At seven, I comforted myself with the fact that I was a still a half a decade away from the possibility of competing in the Hunger Games, the Capitol’s way of punishing us every year for something that happened so long ago. I shuddered at the idea of my name being among the others in that glass bowl in just five short years. And then I realized why it was so important to my father that I develop my hunting and survival skills.

He was trying to prepare me in case my name was ever selected for this savage annual event run by the Capitol.

I found myself consumed with these terrifying thoughts and gathering the last of the arrows when I saw him. My father and I weren’t the only ones in the woods today. There, only about 10 yards away from where I stood, was a boy. He couldn’t have been more than a few years older than me. He turned sharply to face me when my foot snapped a twig beneath it.

“Hello,” I said, feeling oddly at ease with this boy I had never met.

“Hi,” he answered, clearly relieved to discover the sound he heard was made by another child.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“I’m … I’m trying to catch a rabbit,” he answered, sounding a little more nervous now.

I knew I could put him at ease again if he knew we were in the woods for the very same reason. “My father and I are here hunting rabbits. Well, he’s hunting them and I’m just learning to shoot.”

Instantly relaxed, he smiled. “I’m better at trapping them. Want to see?”

“Sure,” I said, walking over. “My name’s Katniss …”

“Catnip?” he asked.

“No, Kat-NISS,” I explained. “My father named me for the flower. He said …”

He laughed. “I was only kidding, Katniss. My name is Gale.” And he turned to set the snare. “Okay, Kat-NISS. Want to catch a rabbit?”

I realized it was starting to get dark and knew my father would be searching for me. “Thanks, Gale. I really do. But I need to find my father and get back home to my mother and my sister, Prim.” Why was I telling him so much? We’d only just met. “Can we meet back here at the same time tomorrow?”

“Sure, Catnip. See you tomorrow,” he said with a smile, as he set the trap and walked off into the woods.

I turned and ran back to find my father. I knew he’d want to get in a little more target practice before heading home. And I was ready. Somehow, I knew I’d be hitting that old tree with my very next arrow.

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One more LOST entry for Trifecta

Posted on March 18, 2012 | 9 comments

Trifextra Weekend Challenge – Entry Number Three, written and posted from the road with my mother this weekend. (Thanks for the encouragement, Mom.)

Rules: All entries must total exactly 33 words and they must include the word ‘Lost’ in the title but not in the story itself.

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Trifextra Entry #3 – Lost

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“Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

The nurse silenced the machine. The room went quiet. He watched her chest rise and fall eleven times. One for each month since the accident. And she was gone.

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And the requisite smart ass entry for the weekend

Posted on March 17, 2012 | 11 comments

Trifextra Weekend Challenge – Entry Number Two … from the ODNT Smart Ass Collection.

Rules: All entries must total exactly 33 words and they must include the word ‘Lost’ in the title but not in the story itself.

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Trifextra Entry #2 – Lost

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“I need to write about it?”

“Yes.”

“But I can’t say it?”

“That’s right.”

“What the … ? Who am I , Lou Costello?”

“Sorry. I don’t get it. That reference is completely … wasted on me.”

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Thanks for the inspiration, Mr. Costello.

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Getting LOST in my writing

Posted on March 17, 2012 | 12 comments

It’s Trifextra Weekend Challenge time. And this one proved to be hard! All entries must total exactly 33 words and they must include the word ‘Lost’ in the title but not in the story itself.

As soon as I read that word, my mom-liness kicked in … and here’s what I did with it.

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Trifextra Entry – Lost

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When she turned, he was gone. “Duncan?” she shouted, scanning the room. Her pulse hastened. Her chest tightened. Now trembling, she called again and heard him, giggling from his hiding spot. “Hi, Mama!”

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Hang on to your babies. It only takes a second. God, what a terrible feeling …

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In the Large Crayola box that is ODNT, today’s color is … melancholy

Posted on March 15, 2012 | 14 comments

It occurred to me recently that ODNT has developed a bit of a split personality disorder.  On the one hand, we’re flexing our writing muscles with challenging exercises like the ones submitted to Trifecta … but, on the other, we’re still doing things like having fun with Alec Baldwin.  I like the broad spectrum of topics we cover.  It sort of makes me feel as though there’s a little something here for everyone … like Jerry Maguire … or a good sweet and salty party mix.

Anyway, for today, it’s time for the Trifecta Weekly Challenge.  My entry is below but it can also be viewed along with all others submitted by clicking here.  All entries must be between 33 and 333 words and they must include a chosen word, used according to the third definition provided.  For more detailed information, click here.

This week’s word (and we’re using definition number three) is …

trail verb \ˈtrāl\

1     a:  to hang down so as to drag along or sweep the ground
b:  to extend over a surface in a loose or straggling manner <a vine that trails over the ground>
c:  to grow to such length as to droop over toward the ground

2     a:  to walk or proceed draggingly, heavily, or wearily : plod, trudge
b:  to lag behind : do poorly in relation to others

3:     to move, flow, or extend slowly in thin streams <smoke trailing from chimneys>

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This week’s Trifecta entry – Powering Through  

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She panicked when the cramping started again. And she wondered how long she had been asleep. She stared, bleary-eyed, at the alarm clock on her nightstand.  5:45am.  It had been nearly four hours since her last waves of pain.  She reasoned that was a good thing … but her futile attempts at optimism were crushed when she felt the ripping pain return in her abdomen.

“Damn it,” she cursed breathlessly, reaching for her phone.  She texted him again. “Things don’t look good.  Please come soon.”

But she knew before the message was delivered that he was still in the air on the plane that would bring him home … too late to help.  Too late to get her to the hospital.   Too late to really do anything for her.

“But what could he really do if he was here?” she reasoned, remembering the doctor’s patronizing words. “Don’t get your hopes up again this time, Sarah.  You know better than this. Your numbers just aren’t what they should be. And it would take a miracle for …”

She forced herself to stop thinking about the doctor’s “miracle” speech again. “Fuck you, Doctor Flannery,” she wailed, “this is my third ‘miracle’ and who are you to take it away from me?!!?”

She labored to pull herself upright.  Lightheaded but determined, she dropped to the floor and began crawling, phone in hand, down the seemingly endless hallway to the bathroom.  She stopped only once to catch her breath but, feeling the waves intensify through her gut, she summoned the strength she needed to drag herself the remaining ten feet.

She felt the phone buzz in her hand as she crossed the threshold into the bathroom. The message on the screen said, “Landed early. On way now. Hang on, babe.”

She stared at the screen until it turned black.  And she shook with sobs as she felt the all-too-familiar first drop of blood begin to trail down her leg.

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My New BFF is Alec Baldwin

Posted on March 13, 2012 | 19 comments

He answered, you guys!

A mere eight hours after my last post (A Letter to my Dear Friend, Alec Baldwin) … plus a week’s worth of tweets from myself and others (you people kick ass, by the way) … he finally answered.

Here’s the tweet that finally drew him in:

Me – Just sitting at my girl’s dance class. Two hours of my book, my laptop & my Twitter account. Whatcha doing?

And his pithy reply:

Alec – What else? Working.

Well, no. I never said he sent me an epistle but since I was willing to accept “OMG! F off!” I considered this tweet a victory.

Need proof?

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Anyway, all is right with the world again. Alec and I will probably be lunching at a popular hot spot in town this weekend if you’re looking for me. I’ll tell him you said hi.

Also, a special thanks to my Twitter friends @Guapowitz, @JuliesMusings, @SmokieMeats, @stnkyferit, @dp90amato and @wmccannon for helping out with the tweets as well as to the surprisingly large number of others who sent me ideas for their content.

After all … it takes a village to stalk a celebrity.

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A Letter to My Dear Friend, Alec Baldwin

Posted on March 13, 2012 | 24 comments

Dear Alec,

I cannot explain why I chose YOU to lovingly harass on the Twitter platform. Perhaps it’s because Twitter is where you communicate so bluntly with the public. Perhaps it’s because I fall asleep to you and your fellow cast members on 30 Rock almost every night. Or perhaps it’s because Dick Schweddy and his annual Christmas delicacies are a holiday institution in my world.

In any event, as you can see from the tweet list below, I’ve made quite an effort to connect with you in the last week, asking only for a few syllables in return. I may seem like a crazy person but I assure you that I am merely a persistent and stubborn pain in the ass. It’s a problem that you could remedy by merely answering one of our mundane little questions. I’ve got lots of people waiting to hear from you … and maybe even get a question of their own answered.

So please … put down the political sandwich for just a moment … and say hello. It would mean a lot and, heck, I’ll even unfollow you afterwards if you want … as my work here will be done.

Anxiously awaiting your reply and your answer to the age-old question “What do you like on your pizza?”

ODNT

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A friendly pursuit of Alec Baldwin in tweets

(For the record, I’m the least frightening stalker I know.)

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@alecbaldwin I won’t feed my FEVER until you reply. Or is it my cold? Damn it. I can never remember.

Starting to think @alecbaldwin doesn’t like me. Here’s a picture of a heart-shaped steak. Maybe it’ll help.

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@alecbaldwin No one believes me. This is like the Davy Jones/Brady Bunch episode. You just HAVE to sing at my, I mean, reply here.

@alecbaldwin What about a freaky cat pic? Will that get me a reply?

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Y’all, I don’t think @alecbaldwin can hear me. Think he’s scared of me? Come on, man. I don’t boil rabbits!

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@alecbaldwin What if I say I’m a Mama for Obama? Anything?

@alecbaldwin Picture of a SPAM cake?

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@alecbaldwin The cat is destroyed over not hearing back from you.

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@alecbaldwin Sigh.

@alecbaldwin A picture of high-end Oreos on the 100th anniversary of this prestigious cookie? Do YOU like Oreos, Alec?

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@alecbaldwin How about a cat climbing a ladder? Isn’t that funny, Alec? It’s a cat. And he’s on a ladder!!!

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I think @alecbaldwin’s Twitter is broken. It’s the only explanation really. Right?

@alecbaldwin Let’s try some questions to make this replying thing a little easier, shall we? Ginger or Mary Ann?

@alecbaldwin Stuffing or potatoes?

Do you think I remind @alecbaldwin of someone from his past that he despises? Or is it me personally he finds so offensive?

If you want to see @alecbaldwin reply to me just once, please tweet him. Tell him ODNT sent you. And ask him … Coke or Pepsi?

@alecbaldwin You win. For today. But you’d make my night if you’d just answer one question … young Elvis or old?

@alecbaldwin Getting my hair done today. Should I go with highlights or lowlights? Ooh, or both?

@alecbaldwin Just tell me – Team Edward or Team Jacob?

Hey, you guys. What do you think @alecbaldwin is doing right now? I’ll bet he’s planning his pithy reply to me for later.

@alecbaldwin Who’s your favorite Golden Girl?

@alecbaldwin What do you think, Alec? Fish tacos or shrimp fajitas? Wanna go splitsies?

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@alecbaldwin Maybe the problem is that you feel you don’t know me well enough to reply. Let’s fix that, shall we? First, I’m a Gemini.

@alecbaldwin I was born and raised in New Orleans.

@alecbaldwin I didn’t learn to ride a bike ’til I was 8. See how I’m defiling myself for you!

@alecbaldwin Who’s your favorite Baldwin brother?

@alecbaldwin I just want to know what you like on your bagel.

@alecbaldwin And I forgot – more about me. To quell your fears so you might reply. I play the piano and the guitar.

@alecbaldwin If you could go back in time to play a character on the Brady Bunch, who would you be?

His lawyer, therapist & mom all say “Ignore her. She’ll get tired and move on.” @alecbaldwin I just want to know – Donny or Marie?

@alecbaldwin Please pass the salt.

@alecbaldwin And I’m fine with “Shut Up!” “Security!” or “Double your prescription!” I’ve got it coming and am nothing if not fair.

Hey @alecbaldwin. I’m approaching a stoplight & think it’s about to turn yellow. Do I brake or gun it?

@alecbaldwin See what I did there? I’m only kidding. I would not tweet and drive. That would be crazy. #sane

@alecbaldwin I’m not scary! Things I own – #Kids #GirlScoutCookies #EasyBakeOven Things I DON’T own – #Chucky #BoilingRabbit #HockeyMask

Good morning @alecbaldwin. May I ask how you take your coffee? #KillingYouWithKindness

@alecbaldwin What color do you think best suits you?

@alecbaldwin Who was your first grade teacher?

@alecbaldwin Oh, and my dad says hi.

@alecbaldwin You’re killing me, man. Check out this 5-in-1 delicacy I found today. Do YOU like cheese?

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@alecbaldwin Do you think it’s a mistake that I always put the low-grade gas in my car?

@alecbaldwin Damn it, man, really? How do you like your steak prepared?

@alecbaldwin Just had someone named Dan Weiss follow me. It’s not Don Geiss, but it’s close. Maybe it’s a sign. (Hi, Dan!)

@alecbaldwin Getting sleepy. Trying to decide between white pajamas with grey dots or blue ones with moose on them. Ideas?

@alecbaldwin Don’t forget to reset your clocks this weekend! There. You’re welcome. See how nice I can be.

Headed to St. Pat’s parade to catch cabbage, potatoes, Irish Spring & all things useful to an Irishman. @alecbaldwin Need anything?

@alecbaldwin Had fun at St. Pat’s parade. Caught you a cabbage. Kids toted it home. You like cabbage, right?

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@alecbaldwin I won a little writing contest today. It involved Jack Nicholson. Wanna read? It’s only 33 words. http://wp.me/p1LoLK-1bU

@alecbaldwin I thought about using your ‘Malice’ speech but the exclamation wasn’t as pronounced. Still great stuff. http://youtu.be/svhRi_6dUfs

@alecbaldwin And speaking of the ‘Malice’ speech, perhaps we can use that for today’s question. Do you have a God complex?

@alecbaldwin I may get blown away any second by a tornado in my area so it’s a good time to reply. What would YOU do in a tornado?

Morning @alecbladwin. I’m making eggs. How do you like yours?

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And this is where we left off. For now. I hope eventually to be able to post at least one little comment from our good friend, Alec. In the meantime, maybe you can help. I have two ideas:

(1) If you have a Twitter account, please feel free to tweet @alecbaldwin yourself and say hi. Feel free to ask him anything you want. He LOVES that. And tell him ODNT sent you. Ooh, we should create our own hashtag for this project. How about #ODNTSentMe?

(2) If you don’t have a Twitter account or if (like me) you’re lazy and would rather not take on the tweeting, please share some ideas below in the comments of what else we need to know about Alec. There must be just so many things!

Thanks, friends.

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Dying for more? Wondering if there’s a Part Two to this story?

Well, yes. There is. Click HERE for the continuing saga of my non-relationship with Mr. Alec Baldwin.

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I wonder who’ll be hosting the after parties tonight …

Posted on March 12, 2012 | 5 comments

We won the Trifextra Weekend Writing Challenge! (Click here for the full write-up.) Of course, submitting THREE entries (all posted on Friday, 3/9) probably helped our odds a little.  In the end, our third and final submission (remember The Audition, the one about Jack Nicholson?) was selected as this weekend’s winner.  We should all be very flattered as there were a great number of very talented people involved in this round.

I’m very excited … for all of us … and I think we should all start shopping immediately for our evening gowns.

Thanks, Trifecta. You rock!

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My Trifecta for Trifecta – it’s the last one this weekend, I promise!

Posted on March 9, 2012 | 23 comments

I had one more idea that I really couldn’t resist putting to paper (or screen … as it were) for this weekend’s Trifextra Challenge. This organization is all about threes anyway, so why not write a third (and final?) entry?  Let’s review the rules: The submission needs to be 33 words exactly and it should best demonstrate (of all entries) the proper use for an exclamation point

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Trifextra Entry #3 – The Audition

Jack: You can’t handle the truth?

Director: Good.  That’s very good, Mr. Nicholson.  But do you think you could try it again?  Only this time … you’re furious.

Jack: YOU CAN’T HANDLE THE TRUTH!

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And now, just for fun, let’s take a look at that memorable scene. That’s good stuff …

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