Friday, May 29, 2009

Crazy Eights

I've been tagged. This time it's crazy eights. The rules are: Name who tagged you - Heather got me. Fill in the eights, and tag eight others.
Here are the eights.

Eight things I look forward to:
1. New books.
2. Vacations.
3. Naps.
4. Getting published.
5. Learning how to use my Wacom.
6. Going on a mission with my honey/hubby.
7. Learning another language.
8. Having grandkids (much later on)

Eight things I did yesterday:
1. Laundry...duh.
2. Ate oatmeal.
3. Unclogged bathtub.
4. Trimmed dingle-berries. (Don't ask)
5. Attended a funeral conducted by my hubby/Bishop.
6. Baptisms at SLC Temple with youth in our ward
7. Ate green spaghetti at a Peruvian restaurant.
8. Helped teenager with Spanish homework.

Eight things I wish I could do.
1. Fly.
2. Instantly go from one place to another.
3. Eat loads of cocoanut cream pie and not gain an ounce.
4. Read all day.
5. Write all day.
6. Paint all day.
7. Have a day that is longer than all day.
8. Have a marvelous cook, who also does the dishes.

Eight Shows I watch
1. Medium
2. Criminal Minds
3. CSI
5. Ghost Whisperer
6. Numbers
7. Designed to Sell
8. House Hunters

The eight people I will tag are - Tina, Lori, Doug, Valerie, Kellie, Melissa, Randy, and Holly. Good luck.

Wednesday, May 27, 2009

Why I Write - Epiphany Poem

Where has my little toddler gone?
I open the pantry door.
And there I see a chocolate face,
And pudding all over the floor.

A twinkle in his bright blue eyes,
The innonce of childhood.
He smiles at me through chocolate lips,
Looks up and says,"Mmmm, dood!"

I share the story with a friend,
She laughs and dries her eyes.
"They grow so fast, these little ones."
Then she gives me some good advice.

Be sure to write it down,
These are things you will want to share.
If you capture the image it won't get lost
And moments like these are rare.

Traveling through a mountain pass
I marvel at nature's scene.
A photo couldn't capture it all
But my notebook will tell where I've been.

My pencil is a paintbrush
With each word a vibrant hue.
To write is to paint a picture
Of all that is in my view.

On our way we stop for lunch,
I pause to write what I've seen.
A woman with silver bangles
And a caftan of neon lime green.

Her red hair is wrapped in a matching scarf,
Silver sandals wrap her feet.
She's a walking story that I must catch,
A character complete.

My husband watches my pencil fly
And he askes with eyebrows raised.
"You write about family and places we've been,
But why put that gal in a phrase?"

Suddenly the light comes on
And it couldn't be much brighter.
"I need to write this down," I say,
"Because I am a writer."

Wednesday, May 20, 2009

Why I Write

I once wrote an epiphany poem called “Why I Write”. It was about a sudden realization that if I couldn’t paint with brushes, I could paint with words. I described the joy I felt at having an outlet for my creativity while my brushes were on hold. I talked about painting the scenery around me, the people I saw and the things they did. It turned me into a watcher and a listener, constantly picking up on bits of dialogue and characters that caught my eye.
The more that I write, and the more that I read, the reasons for writing have turned more outward. Reading has been such a big part of my world for so long. I can’t imagine a world without books. I can’t imagine a child not wanting to hear a story. I want to be a part of lighting up a young person’s imagination. I want to inspire a child to want to learn more, to do more, to be more. Can books do that? They did for me.