Okay this was involved! I don't think I'll try one of these exercises again, though I did get a chuckle or two from the "real life definition" version of the story.

Prompt: Look at this list of words and write down what you think they might mean. (If you're familiar with the word, congratulations, you vocabulary whiz! ) Write a piece using the words according to your made-up definition. Then look them up and see what they really mean. What does it do to your story?

enate: physical skill that is present from birth
thersitical: meticulous about following rules or internal values before expecting others to do likewise
polyvalent: brave under any circumstance
materteral: a cemetary section for women only
salutary: like a salute
excrescence: aura, light surrounding an object or person
novercal: new and exciting as it pertains to a location.
sententious: sensitivity that leads to irritation
embracery: compulsive hugging
urtext: hesitant writing

My Aunt Felicity is coming to visit and this is something that I have to prepare for. I suffer from a rather sententious personality, and would prefer a salutary greeting rather than her embracery. I should have been born with an enate that would have allowed me to project an excrescence that would keep her at arm's length.

If I want her to change though, I have to be thersitical and learn to be polyvalent. So I agreed to meet her here at the materteral to honor the women in our family that have come before. Yes this is novercal. Which would explain my urtext journal entry as I wait for dear Aunt Felicity to arrive with her hugs and kisses to hold my hand, whether I want her to or not. Oddly enough, I think I want her to.

Real definitions:
enate: Someone related on the mother's side.
thersitical: Foulmouthed; scurrilous.
polyvalent: Having many layers, meanings, values, etc.; multifaceted.
materteral: Characteristic of, or in the manner of, an aunt.
salutary: Beneficial; useful; remedial.
excrescence: 1. An abnormal outgrowth, e.g. wart. 2. A normal outgrowth, e.g. hair or nail. 3. An unwanted, unnecessary, or disfiguring extension or addition.
novercal: Of or relating to a stepmother; stepmotherly.
sententious: 1. Full of pithy expressions. 2. Full of pompous moralizing.
embracery: (noun, also imbracery) An attempt to influence a jury illegally as by bribery, threats, or promises. One guilty of embracery is known as an embraceor.
urtext: The original or earliest version of a text, such as a musical composition or literary work.

Paragraph rewritten with true definitions inserted:
My Aunt Felicity is coming to visit and this is something that I have to prepare for. I suffer from a personality full of pithy expressions or pompous moralizing , and would prefer a beneficial; useful; remedial greeting rather than her attempt to influence a jury illegally as by bribery, threats, or promises. I should have been born with someone related on the mother's side that would have allowed me to project an unwanted, unnecessary, or disfiguring extension or addition that would keep her at arm's length.

If I want her to change though, I have to be foulmouthed; scurrilous and learn to have many layers, meanings, values, etc.; be multifaceted . So I agreed to meet her here in the manner of an aunt to honor the women in our family that have come before. Yes this is stepmotherly. Which would explain my original, earliest version of my journal entry as I wait for dear Aunt Felicity to arrive with her hugs and kisses to hold my hand, whether I want her to or not. Oddly enough, I think I want her to.

Drop to Shop

I had the most beautiful afternoon with my oldest son.

He heard that there was a men's clothing store going out of business and he wanted a new suit. He called me an hour early and said he could get off work and wanted to know if I had the time to drive out to Barry's so he could check things out.

Well, it wasn't convenient. But it could have been less convenient. I really had no where to be tonight, and so I told him sure. Even though the kitchen floor was still wet and I was finally sitting down for a bit of R & R before tackling the laundry, emptying the dishwasher, and vacuuming carpets. Instead I hunted for shoes and a purse and figured people would just have to deal with me in my fish dress, and I went to pick him up.

The first sign he was in a good mood--I'm sitting quietly in the car, finally getting a chance to crack the cover on Women's Day and all of the sudden with one terrific thud, his lunchbox lands on the hood of the car just in front of my windshield. Then his face is plastered on the passenger side window, his huge grin pressed against the glass. Lordy, he makes me laugh.

It was 1:30 PM when we set off on our adventure. I brought stuff to do because I know my son. Decisions take him FOREVER. But I left it all in the car. I browsed the racks with him even though I hate shopping. He was looking for "something tan." Never found it. But he did find a light gray suit in a fabric that drapes so beautifully that I couldn't help letting it fall through my fingers again and again. While he looked for another. (They were less than half price, and he's quit putting on the inches.) He found dark brown double-breasted suit. Yay! We're finished. It's only 3:00. Wrong. But he makes me smile.

There were shirts and ties to coordinate. Now my ds has been an artist since he was little. His delight in mixing and matching colors is contagious. Up until this year I have taken him with me when I buy flowers because he can mix and match the most lovely combinations of colors and textures, flowers and foliage. At any rate, we were there for quite some time deciding on shirts to go with the suits and then there were ties to match the shirts. He got it all coordinated and then decided that perhaps he should make sure the shirts were the right size. One was--the pale yellow with white color and white French cuffs. It looked so snazzy just resting underneath the suitcoat on the table. We found the second cream colored shirt for the gray suit in the right size, but not the mauve one. So the third tie didn't work with anything, but it was a cool tie. Couldn't leave that behind! And can we stop at Best Buy while we're next door so I can get a camera for my trip. And since Men's Warehouse is on the way I can look for a mauve shirt in there.

The mauve shirt in Men's Warehouse was too expensive for his taste. We found the camera he needed in Best Buy in record time. Then we headed for WalMart--would rather finish chewing up today then spend part of tomorrow shopping when he should be doing school, and can we go by the house because he needs to get his watch which needs a battery.

WalMart was a bust. No shirt and they couldn't get the back off the watch to provide a battery. Head to Heritage Park Mall where no one carries that color except Dilliards and they don't carry his size. The sales woman suggested we try the store at Crossroads (which happens to be right across from BEST BUY). I'm out of energy. That will have to come sometime when he's floating about with his buds.

Even Zales can't get the back off his watch to deal with the battery; there's some question that it belonged on that watch to start with. But they have a watch man who does their batteries, it will be in next Tuesday when his watch is back--can he be there at 10:00 AM in case the battery doesn't take care of the problem and they need to send it off with the repair man who shows up soon after opening on Tuesdays. He can't--he'll be at work. I will.

We got home at 7:30 PM. SEVEN HOURS! And he tried on the suits at home and I wondered why I let him buy them. I'm already swatting girls away that want to come see me. Uh-hem. Right! :) I just make sure he's not going to be here and then tell 'em come on over.

Oh but he and I had a glorious afternoon. Talking and laughing and his lovely smile and "thank you" with wide sparkling blue eyes when we got home. I am so excited for him about this trip--feeling that thread of a zing along my veins and I'm not even going. He gave notice at work yesterday and had half the store management collected, wanting to know what they had to do to have him come back. He's smart, he's quick, he's punctual and he knows how to work.

Long story short--I know, TOO LATE! It was worth it to leave the kitchen in the middle of mopping and let the laundry stack for another afternoon.

Spend time with your kids. I live for days like this, and I can't believe I was tempted to talk him out of it. Start early. Drop the dishes to rock them to sleep. Play in the sandbox when you should be vacuuming. And then you can have days like these when you're enjoying the personality of a person that has changed from an infant to a young adult before your very eyes but still wants you to take him shopping when he could go instead with his unending stream of buddies.

G'night from a doting mama. :)

Well, writing at workshop today--actually yesterday at this point in time--turned out to be a zero. I kept getting interrupted and would completely lose the conversation and didn't seem to have the speed to read back and fill in. We didn't write. :( But C was there! YAY! We finally snagged her back from her room full of children. Now all she has to put up with is the likes of us who keep attempting to lengthen her leg (pulling on it).

So I really should sit here and write something profound and meaningful. I want to. It's just not flowing at the moment.

BECAUSE YOU AREN'T WRITING REGULARLY!!

Well, my internal editor has me pegged for once. I can't argue.

These next couple weeks are going to be tossed like salad though. I'm having real difficulty coping with A's trip.

I'm scared. There. I've told people and then put on ...but... [fill in logic like 'he could be killed on the street outside the house tomorrow; you can't live in fear.'] which I guess only serves to minimize the emotion instead of dealing with it. I kept watching him tonight as he sat here in this chair with my laptop and worked on his composition class. At the same time he's downloading his CDs onto his iPod to take with him and listens to something at the same time. This means his all-time-favorite Sony headphones are firmly in place and he is literally in his own world while our world swirls on around him. I find it interesting that he doesn't work in his bedroom. As much as he seems to shut us out at times, he still wants his family around him.

I look at him in amazement, with his long, hairy legs and feet planted firmly on the floor. My feet don't reach the floor when I sit in this recliner! His facial features are so Patterson that I wonder if R sees it and just doesn't say anything or it's just my familiarity with my father's siblings that makes me see it. Because he reminds me most of my Uncle Steven and then sometimes I see Donna in him too. And Jill. It's the eyes and the smile.

And then I think about that terrifying possibility--what if I'm looking at him sitting in my recliner for the last time? What if something disastrous happened to him tomorrow? Or what if it happens while he's half the world away from me? What if he lands in France with people that don't care for Americans or his religion? What if he's miserable? No problem. Abe can handle miserable, but I'd sure hate for the time and expense of this trip to be drowned in a sea of misunderstandings or crossed personalities. But what if there is some remote faction somewhere that knows a group of Americans--and a top-notch segment with unlimited potential at that--are headed abroad and think that they would be a rather easy, unguarded target? It clutches my heart. Honestly it brought tears to my eyes tonight and left me wondering how parents stand it when they lose a child. Because every child is a wonderment to a parent who is deeply involved. Whether it's a quirky sense of humor or a love for the cello or a talent for scrubbing things till they sparkle--those gifts mean the world to a parent who has watched these miracles grow from helpless blobs of bone, flesh and muscle into long-legged, strong-minded, big-hearted, selfish, obstinate people in their own right. And then think--I had something to do with that. Wow! How do you lose all that and still live?

I don't know why I have to be so morose. Perhaps it's hormones. Nasty things. :) I will see him off with a smile. And all my savings. LOL!

I have to have him graduated by the time he gets home. Ugh--that should keep me from dwelling on the negative too much. My head will be buried in books and papers and calendars and mailing-- It's already swimming. :)

My Editor is itching to get busy on the Widow's Peak re-write. Good feeling. And my Creator wants to finish Out of the Ordinary. Wonder if I'll have time to squeeze them out of July? I also want to do some special things with Asher and make the pool a regular stomping ground. I am bound and determined to get my money out of the outrageous price I paid for the season passes. And maybe work into better health in the process. Not to mention spending time with my little man. He's got the same love for the water that I've always had. If I ever had more money than I knew what to do with, we'd have a house on a beach somewhere.

Isn't it odd the way my mind floats? I think I'll float it on to bed. G'night all! Or good morning. :)

It's 3:21 in the morning and I'm not the least bit tired. But I will be at the other 3:21 when I'm trying to juggle a son who needs to mow a yard and one who wants to swim. "Here I am, stuck in the middle with you."

Not much longer. I can't say I'll miss driving A to and from work every day.

I should be marketing stuff. There's a price to pay for the upcoming end-of-the-chauffeur shift. When am I going to get serious about this? When I get organized. The twelfth of never.

Heh, heh--put me in front of a blank page with words to write and my eyes want to slam shut. I'll have to remember that. Perhaps I can market a bottle of sleep-aid for writers. It's empty but the label reads something like. "Sit in front of a blank computer screen and earnestly attempt to work on any overdue project. Sleep will come instantaneously."

I think I'll give in to the sleep. Look for more after workshop today....

I wish I could remember the year that Mr. Warden became principle of Glencoe High School. I think I was in my junior year, but I can't be sure. It could have been my freshman year. My memory is starting to develop worn spots and holes.

Nevertheless there we were--the four of us, a little clique all our own--trying to decide whether or not we wanted to take Psychology. "Is it hard?" seemed to be the predominant question. To which our new principle (and Psychology teacher as it turned out) said it didn't matter. Challenges were good. We should take it. So we started discussing it among ourselves along the lines of,

"So are you taking it?"

"I don't know. What else is offered?"

"Not much. [insert unremembered high school subject matter here] I guess maybe I will. Are you going to?"

"If you are."

It doesn't matter here which of the four of us were talking. It could have been any one of us. We had been a foursome for a few years now--always in the same classes before high shcool by fate rather than choice, but we liked it that way and saw no reason to change.

But not Mr. Warden. "Who are you, the Four Horsemen? What does it matter what one or the other takes. If you want to take Psychology, take it!"

And that was more or less how the Four Horsemen of Glencoe High School, good 'ole GHS, came into existance. The tag stuck until we graduated. All four of us did land in Mr. Warden's Psychology class, by the way. He deserved nothing less! :)

There's a picture in my Senior yearbook of the four of us in white T-shirts lettered, First Horseman, Second Horseman, etc. You get the picture. We must have worn them the last day of our Junior year. Which makes me wonder again if we weren't juniors when this went down. At any rate, I remember that we tried to keep the shirts covered up until we were all seated and Mr. Warden came in to see us lined up in the back. I can still see him throwing his head back and laughing, mouth wide and that tell-tale wad of white gum stuck on the top left side. He truly appreciated the effort, as we knew he would. Or we wouldn't have gone to the trouble.

I wish I could remember more. I wish I could remember better. But my gray matter might get a boost here in two weeks when the Four Horseman get together for a 25-year reunion. Our class isn't planning anything. It's just us. I have been out of touch with all of them pretty much since graduation. I remember that one of them was at my wedding but can't be sure of the others. Then I was off to Connecticut and back home again, but farther away with kids, and in-laws and all that other stuff that greases the years like Vaseline so that they slip away before you can grasp them fully. Connections fade, but the foundation is there.

How did I get here? How can I possibly have a 17-year-old son who is leaving in a little over two weeks for EUROPE!? I am just 17. Just graduating from high school and facing that snowstorm of decisions that can leave you reeling and unfortunately choosing blindly at times. But all in all I think the memories are good. And it will be fun to share them with my friends who saw me through Psych and the rest of my high school years.

Order!

Use the following words in today's write. Any form of the word is acceptable.

people, professional, family, memory, bagel sock, plug, tube, toy, local, tool, cord,

"My goodness people! Can't you be a little more professional? This is not a family reunion. Here is not where we talk about Timmy's lost sock, or Aunt Millie's failing memory, or Grandma Moses' award-winning recipe for bagels." It was the third time he'd tried to get their attention and this time he succeeded only because he used a microphone.

"Now who has the posters for the local toy fair plug that airs on the tube next month?"

Silence.

"We forgot to bring the posters? Or we don't have them at all?"

If anyone said there were no posters he was going to pull the cord from the monitor and simply hang himself with it. It was simply too much to be asked to put together an important presentation tool with a group who didn't seem to care one way or another if anything got done period, let alone done right. And they wanted to become advertising executives. Dream on. All they were about to becomes was unemployed.