Davina, over at Shades of Crimson recently posted a creative writing challenge in which she suggested taking a list of 9 words to incorporate into a story/poem/whatever.  I’m a little late to the game and I went well over the one hundred word suggestion.  So, I can’t really consider this for submission.  Nevertheless, I had fun.

Below is a little ditty I threw together, with an alternate ending.  The words in bold were on the list.

Divergence

“We have to adjust,” he said from behind his morning newspaper.  “We have to move on.”

“How about pumpkin curry lentil soup tonight?” she said, ignoring him.

“It was a mistake.”

She glanced at him and opened the spice cabinet.

“Now where is that turmeric?”

“How long is this going to go on?” He lowered his paper and watched her.

A spider crawled along the floorboard near her foot.

Her ears were ringing. God she wanted a smoke.

“It’s like a life sentence here, babe.”

“Oh, here it is.” She swiped the spice bottle off the shelf.

“You couldn’t possibly think I meant to do it.” His voice was getting more intense, frantic.
She stared at the spider.

“Great, now we’ve got an audience,” she thought.

She crushed the spider with her bare foot and turned toward the far counter. The turmeric bottle slipped from her hand, breaking on the tile floor.  Tears welled up in her eyes as she grabbed the dish towel and bent to scoop up the mess.

“Hon, let me help you.” He was crouching near her, hand on her back.

She recoiled, pushing back against the cabinets. Weeping, she sat, pulling her knees to her chest, staring at the floor.  The beige floor.  Beige tiles.  Beige wallpaper.  Beige ceiling. Who the hell put all this beige in here?  It’s so damned…beige.

He finished wiping up the mess and tossed the dishrag into the washroom.  Turning to the breakfast table, he lit the candle.  She used to love candles.

She watched him blow out the match.  A tear ran down his cheek.

But, she didn’t care anymore.

He had killed her baby.

Alternate Ending:

He finished wiping up the mess and tossed the dishrag into the washroom.

Suddenly she farted loudly. I mean, amazingly so.  He lit a match and they both had a big laugh and made dinner together.

So, I had this blog going once.

Then stuff happened. Life stuff.

And I stopped writing.

Other stuff happened.

I lost my nuggets.  Well, in a manner of speaking.

Months went by.  All the other writers kept writing.  I watched.  From behind.

Even more stuff happened.

An identity crisis was really in full swing.

But, my ideas about what to write have not changed! Ugh.

And I must write.

All the “experts” say to find a narrow focus and write to that. The problem is there is so much I want to say…and I can’t decide what to focus on!

Stuff keeps happening.  It’s the way it is.

So, I will write. About all kinds of stuff.

Over time a picture will emerge from the fragments, from the sometimes painful transparency, from whatever else occurs here.

Hopefully it is a picture that speaks to someone.

photo credit: Harry Willis

Beer, oh beer
To what are you compared?

A glorious sunset at the end of the day?
An intoxicating maiden ready to play?

The smoke of a rare cigar?
Or maybe a really cool car?

To some you are evil,
To some you are kind.

But, whatever you are
You will always be

My beverage of choice
Occasionally.

photo credit: Amarand Agasi

The gentle, strong one
Abides in want
Of a singular connection.

In raw moments
A stare, a thought,
A pain, a word.

Disillusionment is granted
To a psyche
Struggling against it;

A drought of kindred souls
Settles hard,
Clattering, reverberating,

In disconnection
Heart from heart
Blunting all desire.

A torn abyss
An aged child-heart
Wanting a Just escape.

Sam was a rat who lived in a hat.
In that hat did that rat
Sit all smug, dull and fat.

Joe was a boy who loved to play
With Sam every day,
To his mother’s dismay.

One day that fat rat
Chewed that ugly old hat
And in its shredding he sat.

“Give him a box”, his brother said.
“We don’t know what’s in his head;
He may just need a bed.”

Joe did what was suggested
And with Sam Joe still jested
Until he saw the box congested.

Good old Sam had had a need
For the old hat that he freed:
In it were eight babies, indeed!

Joe then learned Sam was a she
And now could ably see
Why that other rat had been so snuggly.

photo credit: Rattie Rescue

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Man, do you love yourself? Is your day filled with glorious man moments? If not, here are a few suggestions.

1. Buy yourself a Lazy-Boy recliner. Better yet, pick one up at the dump. As long as it is operational and doesn’t smell too bad you’re good. Any stains on it simply add to its comfort.
2. Give up losing the television remote. Instead pick up an extra one and stash it somewhere only you know about. It would be advisable to get a little holster for it so that immediately after use (for the short few moments you find a show you’ll actually watch for more than 30 seconds – aka, Nascar, football, fishing, hunting) you can stow it on your belt.

   This will help reduce the theft-while-reaching-for-your-beer incidents and insure you will never have to leave your lazy boy to look for the original remote (which is never in a place that even slightly resembles a location you would find a remote, like on the first-aid shelf).

3. Pamper Your Spouse. Make sure she has plenty of lotions, bath beads, etc., with which she can pamper herself. While she is soaking in the tub, sipping on her favorite glass of wine (all of which you will provide), you have free range with the remote.
4. Hide your favorite t-shirt. You know, the one you’ve had since
   the 9th grade; the one you’ve had to duct tape the shoulders of so it won’t fall off; that all important most-comfortable-shirt-in-the-world your wife can’t stand? The one you know you still look awesome in?
5. Schedule time with your shirt. Once a month give your lovely spouse a trip to the manicurist, massage therapist or her favorite activity of choice. This will give you some live-in-the-moment times with your beer, favorite t-shirt and remote.

   If you can’t afford this, make a deal with your best buddy to get your wives together for a significant period of time at least once a month. Then you’ll have someone to not talk with while you enjoy T.V. and beer together. The downside is you may have to share control of the remote. I recommend buying a timer so each of you knows when your turn is up.

   If you wanna drink foreign beer, like Budweiser, that’s cool. Just know what your doing when you buy, ok?

6. Put the toilet lid down. Every time. You may just get lucky if you do this often enough, if you catch my drift.
7. Find a place of solitude every once in a while. This will usually involve some implement like a fishing pole, shotgun, jet ski, scuba gear, dirt bike or some such thing.

   Heck, even duct-taping a beer cooler to the back of your riding mower would work.

   I am fortunate to live in the country and thus have a lot of grass I can mow. When my wife asks how long it’ll take to mow I usually answer in beer: “I think I’ll do about four beers worth today, hon’.”

8. Do some man shopping. As often as possible, make an excuse to visit Home Depot, Bass Pro Shops or similar stores. Give yourself at least several hours for each store. It’s all about dreaming and living in the moment. I would advise thanking your spouse for the time away with a massage and another bath.

Now, it is important to remember that just like the Buddhist’s Eight-Fold Path, this list is not to be followed in any particular order (though it would be advisable to start with #1). It is meant to be followed in a circular fashion – no beginning, no end. Each item presents opportunity for growth at anytime and each feeds into and relies upon the others.

Seriously speaking, men: do enjoy yourselves. But, love your wife and kids first. Spend time with them and never forget the small things.

Your job is to serve and love your spouse and invest the best you have in raising the children that have been loaned to you from The Big Guy. We never know when our time is up, so make each day count with those you love.

Now, go pour on some love!

photo credits: Velo Steve, Eric Hamilton, dailydose

Cast of Characters

Simon (sitting on couch) while Wiggles is playing with curtain.

Simon: Wiggles, no. Stop that.

Wiggles looks at Simon while laying on her back, nails from all four paws deeply ensconced in the curtain fabric.

Simon (walks over and picks Wiggles up): Wiggles, no. You don’t do that (he places her on his lap on the sofa).

Wiggles jumps off Simon’s lap and resumes playing with curtain.

Simon is helping carry groceries in from the van. Limey wants attention and indicates so by meowing and rubbing up against and between Simon’s legs as he walks. His arms are loaded with groceries.

Simon: Limey, don’t get between my legs when I am walking.

Limey: meows and purrs.

Simon puts grocery bags down, pets Limey for a few minutes, picks grocery bags up and continues walking toward front door.

Simon: I have ice cream in these bags. I have to get them into the house.

Limey returns to meowing, purring and getting between Simon’s legs. Simon stumbles his way into the front door, worried about hurting Limey.

Dad and Simon are watching a movie. There is a dog in the movie.

Simon: I think I am more of a dog person.

Dad: Why is that?

Simon: Because dogs do what they are told and come when you call them.

Dad: Yes, cats do have a mind of their own.

Simon: And cats only want attention when they want it, not all the time like dogs.

Dad: I am a cat and dog person.

Simon: Well, I just don’t understand you, Dad.

End with dad laughing and giving Simon a side hug.

photo credits: Wesley Oostvogel ,iklash

The first time I saw her, she was five years old, and I was seven. I had fallen asleep on the bus after school one day, and when I woke up, the bus driver’s granddaughter was poking me with her finger.

She was impossibly cute, and I told the bus driver that she had a lovely granddaughter.

The next time I saw her, she was 15, and I was 17. I was driving to one of my favorite hang-out spots, and I passed by this gorgeous blonde who was jogging along the side of the road. I whipped the car around at the next intersection, and went back to try to talk to her, but when she saw the car coming, she ran into her house. Fine, be that way. I got places to go anyway.

The next time I saw her, I was 18, and she was married to my best friend. Over dinner at their house one night, we put the pieces together, and that’s when I realized that the cute kindergartner and the hot teenager were one and the same. She was still beautiful, but she was also married, and that’s one line that I just won’t cross. We became friends though, and we enjoyed each other’s company.

They got divorced a year later, and I felt bad for both of them.

The next time I saw her, I was 21, and she was 19. One particular Saturday, I decided to stop by her place, and say hi. She was cleaning her apartment, and getting ready to hitchhike to New Orleans. I didn’t think that was a good idea, so I asked her if she wanted to spend a couple of days with me first, just to hang out and talk. If, after that, she still wanted to go to New Orleans, well, then I’d drive her.

We shared laughter, and we shared secrets. We had a lot of fun together. A year later, our daughter was born. Shortly after that, we got married on a deserted beach at sunset.

We had our share of good times, but more than our share of bad times. The bad times got worse over time. Towards the end, we fought and fought and fought, and never could reach any sort of compromise.

Five years after we were married, we got divorced. We hated each other at that point. We couldn’t even say “good morning” to each other without it turning into a huge argument. For our daughter, and for our own sanity, we had to do the one thing we always swore we would never do. We went our separate ways.

The next five years apart involved a lot of compromise, and a lot of sacrifice. We had to find ways to work together, because we were both committed to being involved parents. Eventually, we learned to accept and trust each other again. We learned to like each other as people, something we never got around to doing before.

I wish I had the specific road map that we used, or the blueprints, or whatever analogy you want to use to show how we got from there to here, because I think it might be helpful for other people. But the truth is, I don’t really know how we did it. We had to do a lot of “agreeing to disagree”, a lot of compromising, and a lot of swallowing our pride. And, we both had to practice forgiveness and tolerance, again, and again, and again.

And so here we are, nearly 30 years after we first met. We’re on good terms. We talk on the phone. We share hopes, and dreams. We celebrate the good times and we comfort each other during the bad times. We laugh about the old times, and plan for our daughter’s future. We have a good working relationship, co-parenting a teenager. We love each other. Not in the way that we used to, but perhaps in the way that we should. We love as friends, as co-parents, as a team.

In short, we have become friends. And even though we know that we can never function as a “couple” again, we still feel like we are family.

Getting divorced sucks, there’s no way around it. And the first few years after a divorce are heart-wrenching and head-spinning ordeals. But sometimes (or maybe every time, if you choose to believe that things always work out for the best) you find that it really was the best thing for everyone. On the other side of the pain and fighting and mistakes and insanity can be something really beautiful, if you let it.

Because “happily ever after” doesn’t always look like the way it sounds.

photo credits: ro gianesi, san_drino, claytron