Time’s a-chugging as onions get chopped and squished. Through blistering eyes, she plans her menu. No tomatoes, how can anyone not have tomatoes? She curses inwardly but triumphantly produces a can of crushed tomatoes. All I need is garbanzo or kidney beans. Drat, no Goya? Never mind, luckily Furmano’s comes to the rescue.

Brows furrowed, she manages to stir and scrape the edges as few pieces leave a black trail of death. As she empties contents, powders and thoughts into the pot, morning sounds come to a simmering halt.

 ”People, mom has graduated from a Developer to an Integrator.”

Men!

There was a time when I could write. It was a time when there was nothing else to do but to read and well, write. Or read and laze around, the only hardest responsibility was how to ace the darned Chem test, or better yet, how to effectively dodge it.

Now things have changed. Distractions and delusions crowd in my little head and things are as clear as mud. So in an ernest attempt to bring back a few of those moments, I am starting on a simple project. Maybe one day I will reach a point back in time when it was just fun scribbling and being happy with what comes forth. As in write well enough for the words to come freely. A time when my English teacher forecast a writing career for shy me. “it will be so perfect for you, you express in words, what you cannot bring yourself to say” – here’s to you Mrs. Mathews.

Came across Shoefiend‘s post on writing 100 words everyday. An exercise just to get you practice your cells. To stretch, to precis, and to refine your thoughts to produce short creative little passages.

My one hundred for today:

“It’s raining outside” I shouted to my daughter who wanted to decide what to wear this morning. Looking outside at the rain, I touched my nose to the pane expecting to shiver. Quite strange. It was December in DC and my nose felt quite warm. “Should I wear full sleeves?” another shout from above and I reply “Yes, of course, it’s December!” smiling to myself and hearing an exasperated loud grunt.
My little girl was growing up quickly, changing, just like the weather was. A little consolation, that I could at least predict her, if not the weather.

Thank God!