hidden talents

hidden talents:  i know how to

make one finger on one hand spin clockwise while one finger on the other hand spins counterclockwise!  takes a lot of practice and concentration.. and it's a lot harder than patting your head and rubbing your belly at the same time.  most people i show this little trick to.. cannot do it!

pick up basically any instrument and learn to play it in a month or less.. proficiently
all i need is a beginner book and a little free time

make my eyes wiggle back and forth super fast!

make homemade playdoh.. c. flour, c. boiling water, couple tblsp. cream of tartar, 1/2 tsp. salt, tblsp. oil and food coloring.. and voila!!

make a rainstick with a cardboard tube, a bunch of screws, beans, and yep.. duct tape

make it appear as if i pulled a string through my fingers and a few other magic tricks

read palms (and knuckles) .. great way to get a pretty girl to hold your hand :P

knit hats, mittens, scarves, dog sweaters, slippers.. mostly easy stuff.  i can felt slippers and hats too.

i can whip up a gourmet meal in 30 mins or less.  i make carbonara that melts in your mouth.. filet mignon wrapped in bacon with goat cheese that makes me drool.. and my hot wings are the talk of the neighborhood.  and i can cater a party up to 100ppl for less than $300.

Hidden Talents.

I know how to...

I know how to take a tick off a person's butt after hiking.   I know that they love to hide in crevices and skin folds and I will find them, no matter where. 

I know how to fill water balloons without getting myself wet.  The secret is to turn the water on gently, and hold on the balloon so it doesn't pop off or squirt back to you.

I know how to make sewing patterns.  I can both draft them from a sloper or drape them on a dummy.  I am very good with making adjustments for large bosoms, small backs, stooped shoulders and butts with odd shapes and big or flat tummies.   I don't do men's suit jackets, they are a mystery to me,  and require separate training. 

I can sew anything you can draw or give me a photo to.  I worked at a costume shop for a rep theater and we did all our stuff from scratch drawings.  I loved it.  I can make cartridge pleated gowns by the dozen, as I did for one show, or fairy costumes for Midsummer Night Dreams.   I do okay with prop making, but falter at shoes and boots.  I can make bras, corsets, panties and what nots.  I worked as a sample maker for Playtex international and can sew exactly within a 1/32 inch tolerance.   Or i could. when i had good eyesight.

I know how to make jam and jellies.   Peach, strawberry, watermelon rinds, cherries, grape and apple butter.

I can can but I dont' like it.  It is a hot and tiresome chore.   Freezing things taste better and goes quicker.  But I do know how to get jars to properly seal.

I know how to train dogs for obedience trials.  I took lessons with our Akita for a year with a professional trainer, and we went up to advanced.  We could not train a trustworthy recall to him off leash.    Akitas don't come when called unless they want to, and they never do.  You have to get very determined and it's often impossible. They also don't retrieve well.   Other than that, he was rock solid.  

I can change a poopy diaper without getting my hands dirty in it.  I got very fast at diaper changing. 

I can soothe a scared child, even a stranger to me.  I volunteered at the hospital and learned a few tricks.  Hold the baby facing out from you, they calm down quicker if you are a stranger than if you hold them towards your chest.  


I know how to fold a paper airplane that will fly.  I know a lot of paper cutting  and paper folding tricks.  Give me scissors.

I know how to make cloth dolls that look like the child I am going to give them to.   And I can make tiny little things to go with them.  


I know how to entertain and keep orderly an entire cub scout troup for 20 minutes while the other leaders have a meeting.  I would not do it again for any amount of accolades or money.  The meeting went 30 minutes and I don't care to talk about the last 10.

Blog Manifesto

This blog is dedicated, as the title would suggest, to the qualities of being young.  We are young writers.  We are playful and sensitive, fluid and changing.  We are unashamed with our art.

We wonder at the world,  puzzle over the meanings of things and twirl in delight at images and ideas that float by, grabbing at them as they pass.  We are curious and constantly inquiring and prying concepts open and taking assumptions apart.

We are on the ground, close to the earth.  We have bare feet and wiggle our toes into nature.  We carry our blankies still and wrap up cozy and comfy with each other and tell ghost stories and shiver at creepy things.

We laugh and we cry and we take a lot of naps, drained from our outings and exertions.

We write as gifts to each other, tying them up in ribbon and leaving them around for each other to find,  hiding and waiting for the person to wake up and read.    Surprise!

We weave our stories together to create a bond.    One writes, then the other. then another again.  We have a shared reality that we have crafted, bit by piece by patch, by string.  

We write simple, honest authentic things, with our unique voices.  You can tell each one of us from the other, without knowing who wrote what.   Our voices are clear and gentle and original.  We whisper and our personalities roar!

Like children, our feeling are strong, our passion for what we write shakes us.  We are moved and sometimes left breathless, by our own words or the words of each other.

We cannonball into each others spaces.  We fall backward into each others writing, like into a pile of leaves or a soft bed.  We gobble and grin and ask for more. (footnote kudos to Jc) 

Then we go to bed, wake up to a new day and do it all over again!

To Save a Life

My son wasn't getting up this morning to go to school.  The transportation driver came.  She was outside.  He doesn't like school, he doesn't like Mondays.  He had a tough weekend, he had fought a large beefy girl and had a skinned knee and sores and bruises here, here and there.  He had lost/had stolen/sold his bike last night and we were not amused with him.

He wouldn't get up.  I thought about some parenting book I had read decades ago about handling difficult situations with children.   It said.  If they will obey you sometimes, and not others, what's the difference in how you handle it?   An example was made, showing that when you think it's important enough,  you find a way to do it.

So there was my dead weight son, not going to school.   Full of excuses.  "My knee is swollen, I can't walk"

This is a life saving moment.  He has to go to drug rehab and school.  He just has to.  I repeated this to him and nothing else.  You have to go to school.  I was a broken record. 

I took a deep breath and grabbed some of that adrenaline moms reserve for lifting cars off their children and I pulled hard.  I dumped him off his mattress and removed the mattress from the house.  Out it went into the front porch.   He's still clinging to his box spring.  I took another deep breath.  Box springs goes up too. and now he is on the floor.


You have to go to school.  He has his blankie wrapped around him.  I poke him with a broom a few times and decide not to go the smacking route just yet.   I grab his blankie and start pulling him out of his room with it.

I can pull 140 lbs of resisting teen, it turns out.   Because of my determination and the fact that I had the phone in my hand to call the police, because we were about to have a domestic disturbance,  he got up and found that indeed he could walk.

delicious

he digs his fork in and quickly twirls
the occasional 'a', 'an', or 'the' flying wildly to the side..
in his haste to get in the very first bite

no expectation.. just delight
he devours adjective, adverb, verb, and noun..
gulping down each sentence and phrase

and then
he slows..
his voracious appetite in check,
now savoring every last ingredient
every texture and layer
every sentiment and thought
flavor and scent mingling.. teasing the palate

words flow and the story unfolds
rolling easily now over his tongue
his plate clean..
temporarily sated

this glutton grins
and asks for.. more!

 

The Woman

Janu took off her glasses and lay down, eyes open, facing her three birthday cards. She had been sixteen for a whole minute now. She had stopped being a virgin for ten. She could hear the breathing of the Woman behind her. Rough, low, interspersed with a hint of a snore. Janu could tell she was awake though. She shivered and drew her blanket closer. Still the same star speckled blanket. Wrapped around a new Janu. And a Woman. Janu peeked over her shoulder. She was lying in utter ease. She had put her white slip back on. Her lipstick was smudged. Red. Her black curls spilled over the pillow. One tickled her back. She turned away again. Her back was tingling where the Woman’s hair touched it. Slowly that sensation spread across. The nape of her neck grew hot. The tingling invaded her, brushing aside the numbness that had been in its place just moments ago. Her heart was racing again. She willed it to calm down. She willed her mind to stop acting befuddled. She willed the situation to start making sense. But then again, there is just so much will power can do.

Janu turned and faced her. She reached out and pulled at the wandering lock. The Woman smiled. Beautiful. Like a mystery wrapped around an enigma. Unveiling itself slowly, vulnerably. Janu had only known her for the past half hour. But she was already in love. This was someone she knew she would spend the rest of her life with. She winded her fingers around the Woman’s hair and closed in till the tips of their noses were touching. A pair of piercingly bright eyes stared back. She backed up a bit. Masses of black hair offsetting a dusky complexion. Skin blemished with marks. High cheekbones. A roman nose. Slight dark circles under the eyes. Small, serious lips, cracked from lack of moisture. A mole slightly above them. The Woman was gorgeous. Janu bent down to kiss her. Enveloped in her beautiful fragrance, she felt at peace.

Hands roamed about her body. One clenched at her breast. Round, perky, perfect. Fingernails dug into her back. Skin against skin. The bite of the sharp January wind. Heat. She ran her hand up the side of her body. Down her back. Touching. Feeling. Knowing. Down her stomach. Between her legs. Moisture. Pleasure.

Love.

The phone rang. “Hello?”

“Hey girl! Happy birthday!”

“Haha thanks!”

“I just remembered. Omg you’re sixteen now!!”

“Yeaaah!”

“Woah. We need a party.”

“Mhmm totally. I’ll call the guys tomorrow.”

“Awesome! Oh wait. What time is it? Crap. I didn’t realise it was this late. You weren’t sleeping were you? Did I wake you up?”

“Haha don’t worry. I was awake.”

“Oh cool. What were you doing?”

“Nothing much…just looking at myself. In the mirror.”