Thursday, January 02, 2014

Blogging again and 642 Things to Write About

Ah, the New Year when everyone busts out their resolutions. I’ve never been big on resolutions but I do have one for 2014. I want to get back to writing and my blog. I feel my command of the English language and the opportunity to paint verbal pictures has waned in the last several years. While at a conference in Monterey, CA this past summer when I had a few hours to slip away for some sightseeing we popped into a little coastal gift shop in Big Sur. I came across the book 642 Things to Write About. The book contains 642 prompts to do some creative writing – from the serious “Write a love letter to the one that got away” to the silly “Boxers or briefs. Discuss” to the thought provoking “Pick one decision you’ve made in your life…How would your life be different now if you’d made a different choice?”

So in my commitment to myself I’m going to pick at least one prompt a week and write. Feel free to comment, edit, and correct my grammar and punctuation. Or give me a new prompt! Enjoy.

How you’re just like your mother

Some women dread being compared to their mother. They want to be the furthest thing from her, look different, think different, know different. But I’m pretty much just like her and totally fine with that. Quirky, funny, loves a good glass of cheap wine, sometimes from a box. People pleasers. Sentimentalists. Hoarders of family memories in the depths of our basements and crawl spaces.

Watching a home video of when I was a child you could hear mom yelling at one of her brood... “Stop that!” Without looking – just listening…I sound just like her yelling at my own girls. Do this, do that, STOP!

Fiercely loyal to her friends I am too. Miles and months separate but once reunited we pick up right were we left off, laughing until we are in stitches or pee our pants, knowing that calories don’t count among best friends and during ‘girls-weekends’, full of inside jokes and things only that circle of friends know.

We also have the same thighs. On a mother-daughter trip to Las Vegas once we had a fellow pool goer take a photo of us – mom and me and my sisters. We sat on the lounge chairs looking like modern day pin-up gals with our legs bent at the knees and big sunglasses. We ALL have the same set of thighs. No amount of running, calf-raises, or barre exercises will change that. They are part of our genes.

We are different people cut from the same cloth. Each beating the same drum but maybe to a slightly different tune. Her’s is broadway mine is pop or country. But when you look closely and listen, I am my mother.