A month or so ago I asked my blogging friends to give me questions to answer about myself. Today, I'm going to begin to answer them.
Karen asked, "I know you have a passion for writing. Have you always loved writing? If not, how and when did it start?"
It's hard to say when my love of writing began. I didn't write anything outside of assignments for school, but a couple of teachers starting in middle school commented that I had a gift for writing, which sank fairly deep. I entered a "Just Say No" writing contest in the 8th grade and won for my school. I was thoroughly surprised. Writing had always come easily to me, but I didn't think anything of it. But, by high school I realized more of my desire to write when I joined the high school newspaper.
My newspaper teacher was very encouraging and inspiring. She saw a gift, which I was yet to see, and pushed me to write better and better. I later become the editor-n-chief (one of two I might add) my senior year, an accomplishment I'm proud of still today. I loved writing for the newspaper, but I didn't want to seek journalism as a career. My teacher was disappointed that I wasn't going to continue writing after high school. I did, however, discover my love of writing poetry that same year. I wrote to cope with my feelings of depression. Beyond poetry, I wasn't that interested in writing.
Through my early twenties I only wrote for school assignments in college besides poems ever so often when I had the inspiration. I married at 23 and wrote several love poems to my sweetheart husband. As our relationship continued we began to have problems and sought counseling. My counselors encouraged me to journal, not just poetry, and my love of writing deepened.
Then, I gave birth to our beautiful daughter, Scamp, almost 3 years ago. I started my blog with Scamp as my inspiration, and God revealed to me (again) the passion that had always been instilled in me. I hadn't realized my passion before or at least how deep it was. God had been preparing me all along and continues to today. I want to share my life struggles and how God has miraculously brought me through. I feel as though I am only beginning. I'm at the cusp. He opened the door for me (and another blogger) to start a book review blog entitled Teen Lit Review. I'm able to share my love of God through this ministry. But, He's still preparing in me a deeper message, and in what outlet it will be shared I'm not completely sure. I do believe, however, part of it will be in writing.
Showing posts with label Writings. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Writings. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Rescue of a Fuzzy Baby Kitty, Part 2
For part one of the rescue, click here.
Mid-day, Monday
Scamp and I return from a shopping trip after which she fell asleep in the car. I had had no more thought of the kitten until I hear him begging for his mama again in the original jungle bush. I lay Scamp inside in her bed and start my search of the bush from the side closest to the back of our neighbor's house gently calling, "Kitty, kitty," when I hear someone else from the opposite side saying the same thing. It's our neighbor who heard the kitten meowing as well. We didn't know we were searching on separate side's of the bush. I explain our attempts of rescue beginning last night, and he basically leaves the hunt up to us because his son is allergic to cats.
Matt finally comes back out and sends me to the spot my neighbor previously claimed on the front side of the plant while he guides me to the kitty's lair. He has his eye on the him and tells me I have to lay down and reach about a foot and a half into the oblivion of this vast tree to grasp the now silent kitten. After two attempts, I lay hold of one of his paws and manage to wrangle him around his fuzzy belly pulling him out, claws and all. If he'd been any bigger than his five-week old self, I wouldn't have been able to handle those sharp nails. I quickly settle him into my chest and gently pet him. He's calm at last, and we take him inside for a bowl of milk. Scamp's still asleep, and we know what will happen. She'll quickly become attached to this little creature and will not want to share him. But, we are determined not to keep him.
We make a soft bed for him in Scratchy's carrier, but the poor little thing isn't happy unless he's snuggled up in the crook of someone's neck. Needless to say, I let him out until our own baby wakes up. "Look what Mama and Daddy found, Baby," I say as she peers down at the infant kitten. She's so excited and uses her stubby little fingers to pick him up. "My baby kitty," says Scamp. "No, Baby, that's Janice's baby kitty." Janice is one of our kitty loving friends who we think would have the ideal home for this new bundle of fur.
While Scamp's petting and strangling, oh wait, gently caressing the kitty around the neck, we call Janice and leave a message about the kitten. We hope she calls back soon because Scamp can't keep her hands off him, and we don't want her to become too attached. We intervene numerous times on the kitty's behalf while Scamp is holding him, but as soon as she sits him down, he's off following her. Finally, I leave for my 7:00 pm Bible Study, and Matt's left to supervise. When I arrive home two hours later with kitten chow in hand, Janice is there holding "Scamp's Baby Kitty." Scamp is already beside herself that she isn't in charge of the petting for the moment.
Bad news for Scamp. It's time for bed. She's had four hours plus of constant interaction with the kitten and wants him to sleep with her. But, Daddy tries to explain to her that the kitty is going to a good home at Janice's house. "Don't take my baby kitty, Janice," cries Scamp as tears of desperation streak down her face. Scamp begins screaming as Matt carries her upstairs to bed. What kind of parents are we? She finally settles down and goes to sleep. The next day wasn't as bad as we thought it might be. Scamp only mentioned the kitten once and without tears I might add. Later that day, I talked with Matt. He said he nearly broke down and let Scamp have the kitty as another indoor pet. It broke all our hearts to let the kitty go, but we have too many friends and family members who are allergic to cats. Scratchy will be out last indoor pet.
Kitty is doing well at Janice's. She has family staying over, and they all take turns sleeping with the kitty cuddled up on their necks. Janice has the pictures to prove it. We may even let Scamp visit baby kitty when he gets a little bigger and doesn't look so much like a tiny baby anymore.
Mid-day, Monday
Scamp and I return from a shopping trip after which she fell asleep in the car. I had had no more thought of the kitten until I hear him begging for his mama again in the original jungle bush. I lay Scamp inside in her bed and start my search of the bush from the side closest to the back of our neighbor's house gently calling, "Kitty, kitty," when I hear someone else from the opposite side saying the same thing. It's our neighbor who heard the kitten meowing as well. We didn't know we were searching on separate side's of the bush. I explain our attempts of rescue beginning last night, and he basically leaves the hunt up to us because his son is allergic to cats.
Matt finally comes back out and sends me to the spot my neighbor previously claimed on the front side of the plant while he guides me to the kitty's lair. He has his eye on the him and tells me I have to lay down and reach about a foot and a half into the oblivion of this vast tree to grasp the now silent kitten. After two attempts, I lay hold of one of his paws and manage to wrangle him around his fuzzy belly pulling him out, claws and all. If he'd been any bigger than his five-week old self, I wouldn't have been able to handle those sharp nails. I quickly settle him into my chest and gently pet him. He's calm at last, and we take him inside for a bowl of milk. Scamp's still asleep, and we know what will happen. She'll quickly become attached to this little creature and will not want to share him. But, we are determined not to keep him.
We make a soft bed for him in Scratchy's carrier, but the poor little thing isn't happy unless he's snuggled up in the crook of someone's neck. Needless to say, I let him out until our own baby wakes up. "Look what Mama and Daddy found, Baby," I say as she peers down at the infant kitten. She's so excited and uses her stubby little fingers to pick him up. "My baby kitty," says Scamp. "No, Baby, that's Janice's baby kitty." Janice is one of our kitty loving friends who we think would have the ideal home for this new bundle of fur.
While Scamp's petting and strangling, oh wait, gently caressing the kitty around the neck, we call Janice and leave a message about the kitten. We hope she calls back soon because Scamp can't keep her hands off him, and we don't want her to become too attached. We intervene numerous times on the kitty's behalf while Scamp is holding him, but as soon as she sits him down, he's off following her. Finally, I leave for my 7:00 pm Bible Study, and Matt's left to supervise. When I arrive home two hours later with kitten chow in hand, Janice is there holding "Scamp's Baby Kitty." Scamp is already beside herself that she isn't in charge of the petting for the moment.
Bad news for Scamp. It's time for bed. She's had four hours plus of constant interaction with the kitten and wants him to sleep with her. But, Daddy tries to explain to her that the kitty is going to a good home at Janice's house. "Don't take my baby kitty, Janice," cries Scamp as tears of desperation streak down her face. Scamp begins screaming as Matt carries her upstairs to bed. What kind of parents are we? She finally settles down and goes to sleep. The next day wasn't as bad as we thought it might be. Scamp only mentioned the kitten once and without tears I might add. Later that day, I talked with Matt. He said he nearly broke down and let Scamp have the kitty as another indoor pet. It broke all our hearts to let the kitty go, but we have too many friends and family members who are allergic to cats. Scratchy will be out last indoor pet.
Kitty is doing well at Janice's. She has family staying over, and they all take turns sleeping with the kitty cuddled up on their necks. Janice has the pictures to prove it. We may even let Scamp visit baby kitty when he gets a little bigger and doesn't look so much like a tiny baby anymore.
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Rescue of a Fuzzy Baby Kitty
9:30 pm Sunday.
We arrive home from Meme and Papa's to a hoarse meowing coming from our neighbor's enormous bush. When I say enormous I mean one-story house tall and 10-15 feet in diameter big. This is no flimsy bush but could easily hide a grown man if he could maneuver his way through the maze of tightly tucked limbs.
Scamp and I walk over to investigate. My heart is hoping the muffled meowing is from a kitty but could very well be the chirping of a tree frog. Even with the light from our front porch we can't see into the dense bush, so I retrieve a flashlight. Scamp is so excited to find what is lurking inside, but I can't see anything except branches. The meowing grows more distinct as I make my way toward the back of the jungle of limbs. "It's a kitty!" I exclaim to Scamp, almost sure that the tiny creature has nearly lost his voice from meowing continuously.
Matt arrives with his hefty high-powered flashlight and squeezes his upper body into the center of the bush. "I see it," he says. "It's just a baby," who has apparently lost his mama. Scamp's anticipation of seeing the kitten grows, and she ecstatically climbs into my arms to wait. But, the kitten has become frightened and moves farther away from Matt still half wedged in the tree. We move over to the other side of the bush on the front of our neighbor's house. I'm surprised they haven't come out with a baseball bat to catch us "cat-burglars" sneaking around on their property.
After about 15 minutes we give up since it's so late and too hard to see anything outside much less inside the bush. We put Scamp to bed, but Matt and his determination decide to hunt more for the kitten. We didn't realize our cat, Scratchy Paw Paw, was outside and has chased the poor baby kitty out of his hiding spot. But, Matt hears the baby across the street and proceeds in prowling yet again in another neighbor's bushes. With no luck however. He returns inside in defeat except for the fact he wasn't arrested! We accept our failed rescue and hope the kitty is able to find his mama. We put it all behind us...we think.
Read the rest of the rescue later...
We arrive home from Meme and Papa's to a hoarse meowing coming from our neighbor's enormous bush. When I say enormous I mean one-story house tall and 10-15 feet in diameter big. This is no flimsy bush but could easily hide a grown man if he could maneuver his way through the maze of tightly tucked limbs.
Scamp and I walk over to investigate. My heart is hoping the muffled meowing is from a kitty but could very well be the chirping of a tree frog. Even with the light from our front porch we can't see into the dense bush, so I retrieve a flashlight. Scamp is so excited to find what is lurking inside, but I can't see anything except branches. The meowing grows more distinct as I make my way toward the back of the jungle of limbs. "It's a kitty!" I exclaim to Scamp, almost sure that the tiny creature has nearly lost his voice from meowing continuously.
Matt arrives with his hefty high-powered flashlight and squeezes his upper body into the center of the bush. "I see it," he says. "It's just a baby," who has apparently lost his mama. Scamp's anticipation of seeing the kitten grows, and she ecstatically climbs into my arms to wait. But, the kitten has become frightened and moves farther away from Matt still half wedged in the tree. We move over to the other side of the bush on the front of our neighbor's house. I'm surprised they haven't come out with a baseball bat to catch us "cat-burglars" sneaking around on their property.
After about 15 minutes we give up since it's so late and too hard to see anything outside much less inside the bush. We put Scamp to bed, but Matt and his determination decide to hunt more for the kitten. We didn't realize our cat, Scratchy Paw Paw, was outside and has chased the poor baby kitty out of his hiding spot. But, Matt hears the baby across the street and proceeds in prowling yet again in another neighbor's bushes. With no luck however. He returns inside in defeat except for the fact he wasn't arrested! We accept our failed rescue and hope the kitty is able to find his mama. We put it all behind us...we think.
Read the rest of the rescue later...
Saturday, July 05, 2008
How to Properly Care for Our Fickle Yet Beloved House Cat, Mr. Paw
Kailiani at An Island Life has started a Group Writing Project. This weeks theme is "How to..." A random winner will be drawn on July 17 and will recieve a $30 Amazon giftcard. See the link above for the guidelines to participate. Here is my entry:
Dear Janice, (our adored nanny for hire),
With all due respect, I am exceptionally grateful to you for your commitment to care and nurture our beloved cat whilst we are away. I have left you a few simple and may I say quite concise instructions of his proper care. Please read as follows:
Monday
7:02 am Scratch P. Paw or Mr. Paw as I will be referring to him for the remainder of our correspondence requests his first bowl of kit chowder to be served in a glass (please do not bother with plastic or the like as Mr. Paw is highly inconvenienced by the squeaky clamor the outer waxy layer of such bowls produce as he is feasting on his delicacies) dish, his favorite in red, slightly warmed over an open flame of due proportion and mixed delicately with a cream of goat’s milk.
7:05 am Mr. Paw may not finish his platter immediately but may savor the like as you in return may offer him a chilled concoction of bottled well water and savory lemon peel to cleanse his palate.
8:54 am Upon your return if in fact you have left the premises to parade the city streets in a mild mannerly fashion, of course, for an errand or two Mr. Paw requests to be walked. Although but slightly finicky Mr. Paw does enjoy the fresh breeze of the morning air as he is pranced about upon yonder leash through the cropped grass of our beloved neighborhood. He prefers not to allow his delicate paws to touch the rough, and decidedly uneven, surface of the commoners’ road of pavement. His pace of choice is a brisk yet expectantly gentle scamper as to not ruffle his coat of velvety fur.
9:09 am Mr. Paw will expect to be efficiently littered at this time. I do regard this is a delicate procedure, but I assure you, you will succeed in your efforts if you stay within these succinct guidelines. Place Mr. Paw within eyeing distance of his favored littering box but do not exit in haste. If he is ready upon immediate arrival you willst need offer some further assistance and perhaps a bit of coaxing with light fanning and gentle humming to summon forth his efforts. If Mr. Paw becomes agitated by your choice of tune to the point of spitting or hissing you must abort, I say ABORT child or you may receive a good lashing. Proper anesthetic is hidden under the back cupboard among various other elixirs and the like.
10:22 am Mr. Paw requires massage at this point. With scantily light fingers begin at his lower back and work your way up to the tips of his ears. Too rough and he will reciprocate in an ungentlemanly behavior. Too light, and he will speak unpleasantly until the job is done to his liking.
11:17 am Mr. Paw will take his mid-morning nap. I dare say he refuses to fluff his own pillows. You will be expected to accommodate his fickleness and fluff both the left and the right feathered pillow of his napping quarters. The center bundle is to be left untouched as too much fluffing causes an uneasy lumpiness that sets Mr. Paw into a frenzy of spats.
12:06 pm Din-din is expected on the dot. His midday meal should be proportionately halved between a moist succulent potted duck and a dry basted fish tender. The local grocery conveniently carries both delicacies. You will promptly be reimbursed for any costs you incur minus the 20 percent the grocer will demand for immediate service.
1:16 pm Mr. Paw delights in his afternoon nap. Again, you must fluff the pillows and lightly massage in the exact fashion of the aforementioned instructions. Any change of routine will cause serious consequences on your part.
3:34 pm Mr. Paw requests to be promptly woken from his nap with gentle birdsong. If your imitation of the sweet voiced swallow is lacking, you may attempt the mating song of the yellow canary. Be fore-warned that if Mr. Paw isn’t delicately woken, he will respond distastefully.
5:54 pm Supper is to be served. Mr. Paw’s evening tastes vary drastically therefore he will make his cravings known at this time. It is best if you inscribe his exact instructions on parchment and dictate them back to him before proceeding in the preparation.
7:29 pm Mr. Paw relishes his evening moonlit scamper. Leash-liberated and fancy free, Mr. Paw expects to romp and play free from the burdens of his tedious day. You are not to interfere in his play of choice.
8:59 pm Time to bed Mr. Paw. Again begin with the pillows but end with your best rendition of Over the Rainbow. If your voice is incapable of rendering the beautiful melody, Mr. Paw may fall into a fitful sleep upon which you must rock him until his restless slumber embarks on a beautiful journey of tender dreaming.
Congratulations. You’ve survived day one. Now, that you’ve perfected Mr. Paw’s proper care I expect day two will be just as fulfilling. Thanks be to you for your cordial service.
Sincerely,
Mr. Paw’s Mother-of-Sorts
Side-Note: I left these instructions as a joke for my friend Janice who so graciously cared for Scratchy while we were on vacation. I'm so glad I had a reason to post this.
Dear Janice, (our adored nanny for hire),
With all due respect, I am exceptionally grateful to you for your commitment to care and nurture our beloved cat whilst we are away. I have left you a few simple and may I say quite concise instructions of his proper care. Please read as follows:
Monday
7:02 am Scratch P. Paw or Mr. Paw as I will be referring to him for the remainder of our correspondence requests his first bowl of kit chowder to be served in a glass (please do not bother with plastic or the like as Mr. Paw is highly inconvenienced by the squeaky clamor the outer waxy layer of such bowls produce as he is feasting on his delicacies) dish, his favorite in red, slightly warmed over an open flame of due proportion and mixed delicately with a cream of goat’s milk.
7:05 am Mr. Paw may not finish his platter immediately but may savor the like as you in return may offer him a chilled concoction of bottled well water and savory lemon peel to cleanse his palate.
8:54 am Upon your return if in fact you have left the premises to parade the city streets in a mild mannerly fashion, of course, for an errand or two Mr. Paw requests to be walked. Although but slightly finicky Mr. Paw does enjoy the fresh breeze of the morning air as he is pranced about upon yonder leash through the cropped grass of our beloved neighborhood. He prefers not to allow his delicate paws to touch the rough, and decidedly uneven, surface of the commoners’ road of pavement. His pace of choice is a brisk yet expectantly gentle scamper as to not ruffle his coat of velvety fur.
9:09 am Mr. Paw will expect to be efficiently littered at this time. I do regard this is a delicate procedure, but I assure you, you will succeed in your efforts if you stay within these succinct guidelines. Place Mr. Paw within eyeing distance of his favored littering box but do not exit in haste. If he is ready upon immediate arrival you willst need offer some further assistance and perhaps a bit of coaxing with light fanning and gentle humming to summon forth his efforts. If Mr. Paw becomes agitated by your choice of tune to the point of spitting or hissing you must abort, I say ABORT child or you may receive a good lashing. Proper anesthetic is hidden under the back cupboard among various other elixirs and the like.
10:22 am Mr. Paw requires massage at this point. With scantily light fingers begin at his lower back and work your way up to the tips of his ears. Too rough and he will reciprocate in an ungentlemanly behavior. Too light, and he will speak unpleasantly until the job is done to his liking.
11:17 am Mr. Paw will take his mid-morning nap. I dare say he refuses to fluff his own pillows. You will be expected to accommodate his fickleness and fluff both the left and the right feathered pillow of his napping quarters. The center bundle is to be left untouched as too much fluffing causes an uneasy lumpiness that sets Mr. Paw into a frenzy of spats.
12:06 pm Din-din is expected on the dot. His midday meal should be proportionately halved between a moist succulent potted duck and a dry basted fish tender. The local grocery conveniently carries both delicacies. You will promptly be reimbursed for any costs you incur minus the 20 percent the grocer will demand for immediate service.
1:16 pm Mr. Paw delights in his afternoon nap. Again, you must fluff the pillows and lightly massage in the exact fashion of the aforementioned instructions. Any change of routine will cause serious consequences on your part.
3:34 pm Mr. Paw requests to be promptly woken from his nap with gentle birdsong. If your imitation of the sweet voiced swallow is lacking, you may attempt the mating song of the yellow canary. Be fore-warned that if Mr. Paw isn’t delicately woken, he will respond distastefully.
5:54 pm Supper is to be served. Mr. Paw’s evening tastes vary drastically therefore he will make his cravings known at this time. It is best if you inscribe his exact instructions on parchment and dictate them back to him before proceeding in the preparation.
7:29 pm Mr. Paw relishes his evening moonlit scamper. Leash-liberated and fancy free, Mr. Paw expects to romp and play free from the burdens of his tedious day. You are not to interfere in his play of choice.
8:59 pm Time to bed Mr. Paw. Again begin with the pillows but end with your best rendition of Over the Rainbow. If your voice is incapable of rendering the beautiful melody, Mr. Paw may fall into a fitful sleep upon which you must rock him until his restless slumber embarks on a beautiful journey of tender dreaming.
Congratulations. You’ve survived day one. Now, that you’ve perfected Mr. Paw’s proper care I expect day two will be just as fulfilling. Thanks be to you for your cordial service.
Sincerely,
Mr. Paw’s Mother-of-Sorts
Side-Note: I left these instructions as a joke for my friend Janice who so graciously cared for Scratchy while we were on vacation. I'm so glad I had a reason to post this.
Monday, December 10, 2007
Out Christmas Shopping
Dear Readers (the few of you who are left anyway since I'm so way behind on blog reading),
How are you? I've been out Christmas shopping. The lines and crowds have been killer on the weekends, so this week all my plans and free time will be devoted to shopping and wrapping. I started out with Scamp at my side, but a toddler smack dab in the middle of the terrible two's makes one sticky mess out of shopping, literally. Although her temper wasn't as bad today as the puke I had to clean off her and the stroller that she expelled in the middle of Belk. Luckily, I did have all the shopping done in that store that I needed. Thanks to all those sweet other patrons that looked at us with pity and concern. Sometimes, a mom needs that.
I managed to get her sparkling clean minus the stroller which will need some major attention with a soapy sponge and her outfit that is still in a garbage bag in the car. She even got to see Santa and have a sucker that replaced all the eggs and Kix she ate for breakfast this morning. The whole ordeal wore her out because she conked out in the car on the way home. But, not even a minute later, I heard the tiny clanking of metal amidst the Chipmunks Christmas Don't Be Late rendition on the CD player. Strange how I really thought it was part of the song until a nice lady honking and motioning for me to roll my window down while we're sitting at the red light explained "something" fell out from underneath my car. That "something" is still yet to be identified even though hubby's probably underneath the car himself as I write.
Well, Scamp's safely in her bed, snuggled underneath her blanket with a sticky face and hair that will have to wait to be attended to until after she wakes up. Sometimes, you gotta give in to the no suckers in the car rule. I'll be heading back to the store, not to Belk mind you. Hopefully, a few days away will help the other nice employees and one very determined custodian forget my face.
How are you? I've been out Christmas shopping. The lines and crowds have been killer on the weekends, so this week all my plans and free time will be devoted to shopping and wrapping. I started out with Scamp at my side, but a toddler smack dab in the middle of the terrible two's makes one sticky mess out of shopping, literally. Although her temper wasn't as bad today as the puke I had to clean off her and the stroller that she expelled in the middle of Belk. Luckily, I did have all the shopping done in that store that I needed. Thanks to all those sweet other patrons that looked at us with pity and concern. Sometimes, a mom needs that.
I managed to get her sparkling clean minus the stroller which will need some major attention with a soapy sponge and her outfit that is still in a garbage bag in the car. She even got to see Santa and have a sucker that replaced all the eggs and Kix she ate for breakfast this morning. The whole ordeal wore her out because she conked out in the car on the way home. But, not even a minute later, I heard the tiny clanking of metal amidst the Chipmunks Christmas Don't Be Late rendition on the CD player. Strange how I really thought it was part of the song until a nice lady honking and motioning for me to roll my window down while we're sitting at the red light explained "something" fell out from underneath my car. That "something" is still yet to be identified even though hubby's probably underneath the car himself as I write.
Well, Scamp's safely in her bed, snuggled underneath her blanket with a sticky face and hair that will have to wait to be attended to until after she wakes up. Sometimes, you gotta give in to the no suckers in the car rule. I'll be heading back to the store, not to Belk mind you. Hopefully, a few days away will help the other nice employees and one very determined custodian forget my face.
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