And the sign flashed out its warning...

The neon signs flashed their messages relentlessly through the pouring rain.  "Nails & Waxing" and "OPEN" beckoned her. There would be a phone there, she thought. Only, who would she call? Who would help her? In her moment of hesitation, the signs went dark. Her chance to do something different gone with the lights.

I guess that I need to carry a small notebook with me for these stupid little things that introduce themselves into my brain at odd moments.  Last night, Sarah and I sat in the van waiting for Rebecca to finish taekwondo.  The rain was dumping and Sarah mentioned that the signs were obnoxious. I looked up and watched them for a few moments.  They seemed to speak something else to me. I fished around my purse for paper and pen. The only paper to be found was a folded receipt. 

Does this moment qualify me for "writer"? No, I think I'm merely a dabbler.

Where the stories begin

Me: That house needs to be a story.

Rebecca: Why?

Me: Because it's run-down, only it's not really run-down. 

Rebecca: No, it's not really run-down. Why is it like that?

Me: I don't know. I think it's a family bit of land.

Rebecca: Where is this house's story?

Me: In southern Indiana, in the woodsy parts. Yeah, it's been in the family for generations and it's got so many happy memories that no one can bear to part with it. It's run-down because they don't have a lot of money to keep it up but they are doing the best they can. They sold off most of the land for the neighborhood that built up around it. I think. 

And this is how stories begin.

Flash Fiction

I love writing short, quirky stories that sort of drop you into the middle of something and then leave the rest unfinished.  I only recently learned that this is known as "flash fiction." My most recent bit was inspired by a random tweet that showed up in my twitter feed. So, for your enjoyment or time wasting or whatever you deem it to be when you finish, here it is. (There is a typo in it somewhere, but I can't remember where it was.)

(Inspired by a random tweet by @Marlebean)

I know so many people who met their soulmates at the dog park that it’s not even a realistic number anymore.  Well, that may be an exaggeration, but not by much.  Jodi met Darryl; Theo met Jessica. Honore’ met Justina and Chrissie met Justin. Friends, family, co-workers—yes, so many of them met at the dog park.

Then here I am. I have met exactly zero interesting people. I’ve had plenty that I thought could be interesting but none turned out to more than passing thoughts. Then I came up with the greatest of plans.

“Kellie, I’m going to start going to the dog parks,” I announced to my sister-turned-roommate one morning over coffee.

“What?” she responded dully. She wasn’t a morning person. She wasn’t exactly a person before, say, lunch.

“Everyone I know has met their soulmate at the dog park. I’m going to give it a shot.”

“You don’t have a dog.” She rubbed her face with both hands. Then she gave me the rolly-eyes.

“I don’t have to have a dog. I can get a leash and some doggy doo bags and go looking for my lost dog. Then when I meet someone that doesn’t fit the soulmate hole in my psyche, I just pretend my phone buzzed and it’s you telling me Zipper has returned.”

Kellie stood up, picked up her coffee mug, and shot me a withering glare. “We will discuss your stupidity at dinner, Kim.  I have to get ready for work.”

Truth be told, I had to get ready for work too. I didn’t pay too much attention to anything I was doing because I was planning my scheme. I got a ticket on the way to work because I neglected to yield right of way to a rather handsome officer. I stood at an out-of-order elevator for fifteen minutes while co-workers giggled at me. That cute security guard was on duty and he was nice enough to point it out to me. There is a distinct possibility that I neglected to respond promptly to emails as well. This became problematic when Dustin from accounts receivable came to my desk and hit me on the head with his rather well-chewed pencil. He’s kind of cute, too. He gets these dimples when he’s angry.

Anyway, five o’clock finally came and I really did attempt to be more cautious on my journey home. I will admit, though, that I rather hoped to run into that officer again. Well, not literally run in to, but more like wave to him at the next stoplight.

When Kellie and I sat down for dinner, I picked up my fork and eagerly began eating. She sat across the table and glared me.

“Do I have sauce on my chin?” I asked warily.

“You are an idiot, Kimmy. You are a certifiable idiot. Your plan is hatched from the brain of a moron.”

I stopped mid-chew and looked at her blankly for a moment. With a mouth half-full of spaghetti, I managed to garble out, “No, it’s genius really.”

“How so?” she demanded.

“Well, I’m going to dog parks looking for Zipper. He’s really good at running out an open door.”

“And what does Zipper look like?”

I hadn’t thought about that. I’d have to be more creative than just a name.

But she wasn’t finished with me yet.  “And how old is Zipper? And where did you get him? And how long have you had him? And who’s his vet?”

I was nonplussed. “Okay, Kel. It’s obvious I’ve never owned a dog before. In my life. That’s not my fault. I wanted a dog but you were allergic. So, I’ll have to put more thought into this before I act on it.”

She looked ready to scream. “And.” She threw a napkin at me.  “When you meet this soulmate you dream of and invite him home and there’s no sign of a dog anywhere?”

“I’ll just tell him Zipper got hit by a car.”

Odds and Ends

So, when I first started Trim Healthy Mama, I hoped to reach 20 pounds by Christmas.  The beautiful thing is that I actually should be down a full 30 pounds by then. The loss has slowed, but that's okay. I've been a bit sloppy in following the routine. If I can be sloppy and still be losing, this is a miracle.  

I've discovered that I am allergic to stevia which is a sadness. I haven't figured out how I'm going to replace it exactly. Erythritol is expensive. I could use xylitol, but it is also expensive and it requires a lot to reach desired sweetness.  I can occasionally substitute some coconut sugar, but that's higher carb, so I have to be careful.

I am fitting comfortably in size 12s. I think I've cleaned out my last size 16s. My rings fit again and I zipped a pair of regular calf boots over my jeans. Me. I did that. 

I frequently read A Tale of Two Cities. Why have I  never owned my own copy before last night? The excitement I felt knowing a copy was finally going to be mine was nearly overwhelming. I was vaguely disappointed to find there were no hardback copies but I decided to ask. He led me to one in the bargain section. To complete my joy, I purchased a Doctor Who bookmark. 

Becca got an official job offer from Master Marius. He's going to give her four hours a week through December to see how it's going to work out. She's over the moon. So am I. I think it's rare to have jobs land in your lap and in my house, it's happened twice. Unfortunately, Hannah has to go searching. 

I'm certain there are a lot of other little things that no one cares about, but tomorrow is Thanksgiving and food must be prepared. 

Measuring life in bags of potatoes

I have officially lost 20 pounds.  That's 2-10 pound bags of potatoes. Looking at it that way, that's a lot of weight. The strange thing is that I don't feel like it's gone. I guess I don't even miss it.  The thought that I even had that much to lose is almost ludicrous to me. But I did. And I have at least 2 more bags of potatoes to go. Maybe 3.

I had a reward for my first 2 bags--I bought a tall non-fat chai latte from Starbucks. It was satisfying; but it seemed to bring my cravings back. I fought it off with fat. Bacon, eggs, butter, cream--and I didn't cave to the crave. I was going to get a manicure, but I think I'll wait until I either hit the next size down or until I've lost the next bag, whichever event comes first. The Trim Healthy Mama way of life can be difficult to measure in pounds.

I seem to have a slight stevia intolerance which showed up when fall allergy season hit. This is putting a damper on my sweetener. I'll work it through and figure out if it's only seasonal or if I can get away with a few days with it and a few days without it.

Leading the victims in grace

Blaming the victim for the crime is a very real issue. I have been guilty of casting doubt upon victims myself and that has been a shameful thing on my part.  That indicates that the victimizer had no control over his/her actions.  This attitude pretty much absolves the victimizer and pummels the victim into terrified silence.

I don't do that anymore. The victim is just that: a victim who deserves compassion and warmth. The victimizer is a sinner who deserves to be brought to justice.  (This part is not within my power because I am not law. The former part is absolutely within my power because I myself am a recipient of grace.)

I have seen for myself how often the victimizer receives the grace and continues to perform his nefarious deeds. I have seen victims fall into obscure oblivion or become angry and destructive themselves. 

I ran across an excellent treatise on the matter of not further driving these wounded into darker holes and of not allowing the wounders to continue digging the holes in the first place. 

You can download the PDF here. It's about 42 pages but it's easy to read. I know my blog doesn't get huge traffic and traffic has never really been my goal. But, if you've just wandered by, go ahead and read it. 

Once we become aware of the victimizer's methods, we can better look out for our weak and our wounded. 

The Worst Sort of People

 There are people who are merely annoying. They are mostly harmless. They just don't know when to stop. Then, there are people who are dangerous. 

The dangerous ones are the manipulators who almost effortlessly go through so many contortions in a situation that you are amazed that they got to where they are. But they have to do this. They have to twist and turn in order to make the situation be all about YOU. They don't mind ignoring plain truths. This situation must not be about them. 

Sometimes we get trapped by these manipulators. I mean, they can seem to be the nicest of people.  But sometimes we catch on; or we catch them at it one too many times and we put an end to it. They can't stand that. They have to maintain control and when you have them figured out, they've lost control. So, you walk away and they don't. They continue to beat it about. They malign you; they mock you. 

Yet, you are are relieved. The strangest sort of relief comes when you call the wickedness by name. The wickedness loses power. 

Others may seem to go along with the manipulator; but don't worry. Pray for the followers, actually. You see, the followers will be eaten up as well. Once the manipulator has gone through everyone else, his little circle of followers is all he has left.  

As you suffer this maligning, just remember that Creator of all sees this too. He knows where the wicked dwells and He knows who is righteous.