Write a short story, poem or scene containing the following:
Character: Dentist
Place: Haywagon
Object: Shoelace
Theme: Patience

I don't know why it is that Doc Spalding had to come on this hay ride with us. I mean of all the parents and all the people who could have come on this trip.

Doc Spalding and I have a love hate relationship. I love to hate him. Of course when the first time you meet a person they inflict pain on you of an unbelievable sort, it kinda dooms the relationship. But it was that "Buck up, boy. You'll hurt a lot worse than this before you kick the can" comment of his that sort of sealed his fate. No seven-year-old boy gives a stitch about his seventy-seventh year (or whichever one thereafter or before would be the can kicking moment) when his present world has been reduced to needles that were longer than any finger on his hand headed for the taste bud area, floppy lips and gagging on water. I can testify to this fact.

I've grown up. Some. That's what my dad would add. It's been five years since my first encounter with Doctor Spalding and the others were smoother because I was prepared for the worst every time and it didn't happen. But the guy still has this way of making me feel like he's examining me for some fault. I've kept my lips pasted together so that he can't see that I had bacon for breakfast, but even that hasn't made me feel better. Every time I look his direction he seems to be giving me the once over.

I think this is because I wore these stupid, stupid new running shoes of mine because I need to break them in before the big meet in a few weeks. You'd think they'd put laces on running shoes that you had to fight to get untied. Or maybe they do on every pair except these that I just bought with my very own allowance. The first time Doc looked me over, I looked down and there it was--not one, but both of my shoes were untied. In fact in my flustered aftershock I couldn't even remember if I'd tied them in the first place. I was running late and didn't want to miss this hayride. Then anyway.

So I tied them up, slowly and carefully, and I could feel his eyes boring into my back. I didn't look at him but at my laces every time and don't you know, when I finally stopped worrying about them, that's when the right one worked it's way loose.

He didn't tell me though. Didn't say a word to me. I think he was hoping for a tooth rescue mission right there on Akin Ranch. Wouldn't that be a story to tell. "That Blevins kid. You know the one--all arms and legs, freckles like pepper and big ears. You have to hear what that fool kid did on the hayride at Akin Ranch on Saturday."

This time I double knotted the lace and did the same for the left side while I was at it. By this time we had arrived for our hike. Mr. Timmons started dividing up our groups and yes, you guessed it, I landed in Doc's.

I contemplated complaining that I had a stomach ache or something, but realistically the thought of hanging around a cart full of hay all by myself for the next three to four hours wasn't quite my idea of a good escape plan. I tried to figure out some other way, but you know, my best friend Jeremy was already in the same group so I couldn't use that as an excuse.

So I tried to ignore him. Not in a mean way. I just kept my distance and didn't meet his eyes, and tried to keep a steady stream of words going between Jer and I. Then we decided to make a camp of sorts to cook our lunch. That's when I lost my patience.

"Is something wrong?" I asked the fifth time I found him staring at me.

"I just can't get over the way you've grown. I remember when you were seven. It seems like yesterday. Boy do I remember you."

Funny thing was he understood when I begged him to stop. With my eyes only. He did.

"Your folks must be proud you're such a fine young man."

And you know, we relaxed after that and started to talk. Too bad I didn't ask him that the first time I caught him staring. I think the day might have gone even more fantastic than it did from there on out.

[lame end but I'm out of time!!!!]

Prompt: "Inside myself is a place where I live all alone and that's where you renew your springs that never dry up." ~ Pearl S. Buck ~

I become unhappy when I don't write. I believe that writing is how I tap into that "all alone" spot and renew those springs.

Things have been hectic since I've been home. My son's trip to Europe is all of the sudden right around the corner. July will be here before you know it. His group is having a picnic in Chicago in June that he desperately wants to attend, but for a single day the cost is almost prohibitive. Unless he takes the train, but that would entail an additional two days off work. For just one day. The neat thing about this is that eventually he'll come around to this conclusion. He is so particular about his money and his time--doesn't spend it unwisely even if it would be "really cool" or "really fun."

Nevertheless, I offered to look for prices for him, and every time I think I have something put together another possibility leaps into my head and viola--all afternoon yesterday was spent on the computer comparing flight rates and train tickets. Wears me out. And it's not even my trip!!! Arg! What I wouldn't give to go with him.

So I was cranky yesterday. From the morning on because I didn't really get a chance to sit down and write on Monday. I did try. But my thoughts were impossible to pin down or organize. There was just too much there and little energy to deal with all of it. I should have planned on a "down" day, but in my dh's mind, I just had two down days and where's dinner? :)

Got a rejection yesterday from Brain, Child, but it was a very nice rejection. She made it very clear that she read the piece and liked it, but had to report that "we've decided to pass on this one." It's one of the nicest rejection letters I've had and I think I'll e-mail her back and tell her. I should get the piece out again today and look for a market. And put them on the list to try again in a month or so with something else. They have many different departments and I might just have to give myself an "assignment" for one of those.

I still don't have May's goals off to MWMotivators. I can't decide on a May contest. Really should look at ByLine's, shouldn't I. Would be nice to revisit an old friend. That's something that was supposed to be in last month.

Have to call about staying in Denton this weekend. Dh asked last night if I were going. Thought he'd rather I didn't but he didn't sound that way. Told me to call his sis if we didn't find rooms. It's a bit short notice for as busy as they are, plus I would definitely dread that ride for two days back and forth between their place and Denton. Forty-five minutes one way through Dallas weekend traffic. I don't think so. After that is another special week of activity for ASL and also my brother is visiting from Florida. These things never space themselves out, do they? I haven't seen him in three years, and I may get at least a hug out of him before he goes home. I have next Sunday wide open and my Mom needs help with her computer so I will be traveling the third weekend in May also, but only 1 1/2 hours instead of 3 1/2. By the fourth weekend I'm going to be so dead I'll have to sleep for the weekend. Maybe May wasn't such a good month to try and meet an hour goal rather than a word goal.

We'll know at the end of the month, won't we? :)



Today is workshop as well, so I really shouldn't be doing this prompt now should I? Arg! I should have saved it for this afternoon. Now I've got to work on something else. Maybe. I may feel differently about the prompt this afternoon, right?

If writing is how we 'right' our world, then I need to write for a solid day.

The weekend was thrilling and informative and exciting. I don't know why it always suprises me how people of such outstanding talent will come and rub elbows with the likes of myself. But there I am in a class with William Bernhardt and he's talking to us like we're family and it dawns on me, for the umpteenth time, they are like me, and at one time they were in my shoes. Wanting to and working to make it happen. They know what it's like, and they want to be the ones to give the next guy a hand. That's one of the neat things about most writers--a generous spirit.

I have so much zinging around in my head right now. Picture a speeding pinball at this point. I have writing things I want to plan and organize. I have trip arrangments to make for an ASL convention in Dallas this weekend. I have Abe's travel arrangements to Chicago to make. Twice? R keeps coming home as soon as I get a chance to sit down and then he thinks all I do is sit in the chair all day. He doesn't really think that, does he? I hope not.

I want to get May mapped out like I did April, but it's not happening. At least not today. I think it's because my oldest is home instead of at work today. It's looking like my routine starts with his at 5:10 in the morning. What am I going to do when that job is history?

I'm off to read Annie's blog. I know I'm missing some really good stuff over there because I just had time to skim it last night.....