Who's Upstairs?

The floor creaked above Lucy's bed, then clomp, clomp, clomp...  Lucy opened one eye half way, dazed and somewhat confused she rolled over to the side of the bed and looked at the clock radio.  The bright red numbers showed 6:42.  Now she wondered, is this am or pm, and what day is it? 

 She closed her tired eye again and thought for a minute.  Yesterday had been a long and tiring day, after a hot bath that she laced with sea salt, she had crawled into bed with a book at 6:30pm.  The reading didn't last long, and she was out for the night.  Pulling the warm covers up to her chin, Lucy came back to reality.  It was Sunday morning, she knew that now.  The bedroom window was open just slightly and a fresh, cold breeze came in.  Lucy breathed in deeply, she loved the feeling of cold air on her face while she was cozy and warm in her down duvet.  Rain pattered outside, she could hear it hitting the bedroom window and the sidewalk outside.  The rain got louder, it was coming down harder and a few drops seeped in through the cracked open window.  She rolled to the other side of the bed, careful to stay under the covers, and reached out to close the window.  More creaking and clomping from above, Lucy rolled over, adjusted the covers, and sighed in comfort not paying much attention to the noises above.  "Hi guys," Lucy murmured as her two black and white Tuxedo kittens jumped up onto the bed and started purring.  "You must be hungry," she cooed as the two kittens looked at her and meowled.  Lucy wasn't quite ready to leave her cozy nest.  She had worked a regular week and then on Saturday worked her other job, she would do the same today.  Saturday had not been a sleep-in day like today, she was up at 6, at the gym by 7 and to work by 9:15.  She had taken on a weekend job temporarily to earn some extra money to pay off bills.  On Saturdays and most Sundays she cleaned offices.  It was an easy job for her although after a full day of cleaning she was tired, sore and hungry.  It was a little extra money that she was certain would help her get ahead.  Laying in bed still with the two kittens who had now climbed on top of her to knead their claws on her comforter, she pondered the last few days, her workouts, work, money, kids, and life in general.  Lucy heard the creaking and clomping again, she was used to hearing noises above her when she was at home because she lived in the bottom unit of a tri-plex.  It was an old character house in Kitsilano that had been renovated and turned into a tri-plex about 10 years ago.  She liked being in the bottom, ground floor unit as there was lots of front and back yard space for her and her two children to use.  The floors above her had always seemed thin and she could always hear her neighbor upstairs moving around.  Lucy liked this, it was comforting knowing that someone else was home.  Lucy thought about the creaking and clomping again and remembered that the girl who had been living upstairs had actually moved out last week.  The rumor was that the owner of the house, Cecilia, was moving in for awhile.  Lucy didn't know why, it seemed odd to her as last time she had spoken to Cecilia, Cecilia had been in a long-term relationship, living with her boyfriend.  You never know, thought Cecilia.  Who could be up there this morning?  The creaking and clomping had stopped but Lucy was curious.  Was Cecilia moving in?  Lucy sat up, "OK guys, breakfast!" The kittens ran ahead of her to the kitchen and sat down in front of their bowls with Lucy trailing behind.  She dumped a scoop of cat food into each of their glass dishes and headed back to the bedroom to throw some jeans on.  She would go upstairs to either say hi to Cecilia or to whoever was moving in.  Lucy glanced at the clock radio, 7:30 already.  She'd go upstairs for a quick hello and find out what was going on and back down for a little breakfast, shower and out door to be at work for 9:15.  Jeans and sweatshirt on, Lucy slid into her rubber boots and went out the door. 

As she started climbing up the steps to the front porch, she saw boxes piled on either side of the door, and the door stood ajar.  Lucy loved the front porch of this house, nice and big, wide with lots of room for chairs, and a great view of the North Shore Mountains.  In the summertime, she and the kids came up to the front porch to watch the fireworks display at English Bay.  Lucy knocked on the half opened door and called in, "hello."  She didn't see anyone, just boxes and a black leather couch in the corner.  Suddenly she heard rustling, and a toilet flush.  Then the bathroom door opened and a man came out.  He turned and smiled at Lucy, and said, "hello."  "Hi, I'm Lucy, I live downstairs, are you moving in?" she asked.  "I am, I'm Alejandro, nice to meet you," he smiled again and extended his hand to Lucy.  As she shook his hand, she felt his grip and soft, warm skin.  She looked at his face and his eyes and smiled as they let go of each other's hands.  There was something about Alejandro's hand, face and green eyes that Lucy found very gentle, soothing, comfortable and inviting.  "Ah, there's my truck, the movers are here," Alejandro exclaimed looking out the bay window to the street.  "Oh, good," Lucy said, "I better get going, I have to work today, so nice to meet you."  Alejandro turned to Lucy and looked at her with his stunning green eyes and said, "The pleasure is all mine, will you come back after work so that we can get to know each other a little now that we are neighbors?"  Lucy didn't have to think about her answer, "I'd love to, see you tonight."  Lucy climbed back down the stairs with a smile on her face.  This is going to be interesting, she thought...                 

Galaxy of Zumbia - 10 minutes to write in a different genre

Joe Lumby and Morton Underwood had just arrived at The Watering Hole in the Third Quadrant in the Galaxy of Zumbia.  They carefully tied up their Quad-Craft at the docking station, and instructed the nubble-nosed Cowfrod attendant to wash and fuel up the Quad-Craft while they were inside relieving themselves and grabbing a bite to eat. 

The Cowfrod noddled and mumbled, "How."  "How" meant yes, in the Cowfrod language.  Guts busting after the 12 hour long-haul trip from the Second Quadrant with no bathroom breaks, Joe and Morton rushed off the docking station and quickly up the floating staircase to the large wooden doors of The Watering Hole.  Joe noticed that the doors were made of Moon Dog wood, funny since it was forbidden in the Third Quadrant to harvest the Moon Dog Tree and a crime to use its wood for anything.  The thought quickly left Joe's mind as he went through the doors and peered in to the left.  What a relief, the Flight Men's Room was not far.  He and Morton sifted through the crowd in the dimly lit establishment, making their way to the facilities.  A sweet smell in the air caught their noses.  "Can't wait to down a pint of Dark Quadrant Ale and take a drag of a Willow Leaf joint, it's been awhile," sighed Morton.  "I know where you're comin' from old buddy, a Jumbotron burger with Hogswoth sauce will top it off for me," Joe added.  As Morton pushed the Flight Men's Room door open, relieved that it would be only seconds and the pain in his belly would be gone, he reached to the side of his orange Quad-Craft suit and started opening the zipper that ran all the way from his left shoulder down to his crotch.  Parking himself in front of the automatic moon-ray urinal, he started to pee.  Next to him was Joe, who was enjoying the relief just as much as he was.  They both sighed with pleasure.  "AAaahhhh, nothin' like a good piss after a long-haul trip," exclaimed Joe.  "You gotter!" agreed Morton.  The Flight Men's Room at The Watering Hole was a familiar place for Joe and Morton.  They did the long-haul trip back and forth from the Second Quadrant to the Third Quadrant once every 7 moons, it was a pretty easy trip, just long without a bathroom break or food.  That is why they always ended up at The Watering Hole.    

    

Leon Not So Ordinary - 10 minutes to write - Sun. January 30, 2011

Leon was an ordinary man, living in an ordinary town in South Western Ontario.  Leon knew he was ordinary, had always known it, yet yearned for something else.  Something extraordinary.  Leon grew up with his Mom, Elizabeth, and Dad, Thomas, and younger brother Theo, and younger sister Daisy in the university town of London, Ontario.  Leon was an ordinary yet extraordinary boy growing up.  At the time, he didn't know about the extraordinary, he didn't allow himself to know or see it.  Ordinary in the sense that he lived on a regular street, York Street, in a regular house, two storey with basement and three bedrooms up typical of South Western Ontario.  His parents both worked, had good, steady jobs.  His Mom was a librarian and his Dad, a high school teacher.  The days growing up were predictable and calm.  Leon enjoyed playing sports, basketball, volleyball and soccer were his favorites.  Leon was born in October of 1972, he was what they called a good baby.  Cried little, ate his dinner, laughed and smiled a lot.  As he grew, and started to talk, everyone enjoyed their time with Leon.  He was personable and very good to everyone even as a small child.  When visitors would come to the house, Leon would sit attentively with them and ask questions, and then sit patiently to hear the answers.  When he was 5 years old, he had been sitting with his parents one Friday evening, eating dinner in front of the TV on a TV table - this was their once a week ritual.  They watched the news, a piece came on the air about Queen Elizabeth the 2nd and the Silver Jubilee.  Leon looked to his parents oblivious to the news, happily eating his Shake n' Bake chicken, mashed potatoes and broccoli - enjoying the Friday evening ritual with his parents.  The next night when Elizabeth and Thomas had a group of friends come over for a Fondue dinner, Leon was sitting with his Dad's friend Benjamin.  Leon always enjoyed Benjamin's company.  Benjamin liked to read books to Leon or tell him a made up story.  Benjamin was Thomas's longtime friend, they grew up together, lived on the same street, went to the same schools.  Benjamin was tall like Leon's Dad, they had played high school and university basketball together.  It was almost time for Leon to go to bed so he found Benjamin, climbed up on his lap and asked for a bedtime story.  Benjamin obliged right away.  He had a soft spot for Leon.  Dirty blond hair, hazel eyes resembling his father, Leon would grown up to be a tall  man.  In high school he shot up to 6ft which was an advantage for him in sport.  Benjamin asked Leon what kind of story he would like to hear tonight.  Looking straight in Benjamin's dark brown eyes, Leon said, "I'd like a story about Queen Elizabeth the 2nd.  Did you know that Queen Elizabeth the 2nd is celebrating her Silver Jubilee and that means that she is celebrating 25 years as the monarch.  More than one million people lined the street of London to watch the Royal Family on their way to St. Paul's,"  Leon recited.  Benjamin chucked, surprised and said, "really Leon, how did you know that?"  "Easy," said Leon, "I watch the news with Mommy and Daddy.  Benjamin, what is one million?" sighed Leon.  Benjamin was fascinated by Leon.  Every time he saw Leon, he was overjoyed to see the advances and new things learned in such a short amount of time.      

Sunday Cold Ride - 10 minutes to write - Sunday, January 30, 2011

Riding over the Burrard Street Bridge at 6:30 on a Sunday night, in the dark and cold I looked just in front of me to see my daughter pedaling away.  "Mumma my legs are sore, Mumma my legs are cold, I want to stop," she called to me.  "Keep going Oliva, we've got to get to the top, then it's smooth sailing down the other side," I stressed.  "You're doing great, you're strong, we're almost to the top," I encouraged.  She kept pedaling. 

What a trouper she was, we had been riding already for a few hours and now to end it, up and over the Burrard Street Bridge to get home.  We started out around 3:30 that afternoon, the sun was shining in Kitsilano, a beautiful and clear day.  It was the end of January, above zero although felt quite cold on the bike.  Olivia had been requesting unsuccessfully for days to go for a long bike ride, I had not been excited about riding in the winter rain.  When the sun came out that Sunday, I couldn't refuse another request to ride, I loved bike riding as well.  "What should I wear for bike riding Mumma," Olivia had asked me that morning.  "Oh, jeans or track pants would be great and comfortable," I replied.  "OK Mom," said Olivia with a glint in her eyes.  A few minutes later she tromped into my room wearing a purple dress and light brown, sort of latte colored tights.

  "How's this, do you like my dress, it still fits!" she exclaimed.  "What about the pants Olivia?  I think pants are best for bike riding," I mothered.  "I'm OK and I love my purple dress," followed Olivia.  "OK wear what you like but don't complain when we're on the ride," I warned.  Me and the three kids all got dressed up in our warm coats and stretchy mitts, excited about the ride.  Olivia, Samuel and Sasha filed out the front door, nudging and teasing each other the way kids do when you're trying to get out the door.  I packed my red Roots backpack with wallet, camera, Kleenex and four cans of Spritz-Up pop for a break when everyone started to get thirsty. 

Out the front door, the kids were ahead of me, throwing rocks into the pond and fighting with each other.  What's new!  As I walked through the yard I noticed that it really looked like winter in Vancouver.  Our fish pond looked dead, dark and lifeless.  The twenty odd gold fish had slowly disappeared in late fall and throughout the last months.  Most likely the neighborhood racoons had treated themselves to a snack. 

I missed the fish darting around under the water, the golden and orangy color that lit up the water.  The ground around the gardens in the yard was dark brown and wet, as were all the trees and vegetation.  I couldn't wait for spring and summer to come back.  The garden would be alive with color in just a few short months, lots of bright greens, purples, pinks and yellows. 

"Come on kids, let's get the bikes out," I called.  Around the corner of the house we went along the path to the back yard and our storage room.  I examined the rocks along the side of the house, it was like a rock garden about a foot wide.  I always wondered where the landlord found such rocks.  The kids and I were rock collectors, always loved rocks, the colors, the feels, the shapes.  We were so happy to find so many beautiful rocks in our own backyard when we moved into the house about 4 years ago. 

As I got closer to the back of the house, I smelled smoke, cigarette smoke.  That's funny, I didn't see anyone around, nobody in the house smokes and the neighbors don't smoke either.  I lifted the latch on the back side gate looking intently around me, wanting to know where that smell was coming from.  No clues.  All of a sudden, Olivia exclaimed, "Mumma there's a cigarette burning here!"  On the sidewalk there was a cigarette butt still smoking. 

Angrily, I looked around.  Where did this come from, did someone throw it over from one of the balconys above.  What if it had landed on one of the kids, I was not happy.  I called up to the third floor balcony.  Nobody answered, so I climbed the steps to the top floor to see for myself.  The house was a big old 4 storey with decks and balconys off of every floor front and back.  I knocked on the glass garden style door, nobody home.  Still curious and pissed off, I headed back down the stairs. 

Opening the storage room door I was met by the sight of many spider webs.  The storage room tended to be quite neglected throughout the winter months as we didn't ride our bikes much in the cold rain.  I started wheeling out the bikes.  They were packed in smallest to biggest, Olivia's pink bike came out first.  She was ecstatic, the bike had been new at the end of last summer.  She picked it out herself at Ace Cycle and promptly learned how to ride it.  At the time, she was already 8 years old and not yet riding a two wheeler on her own.  I had purchased a Trail-a-Bike a few years before that Olivia was in love with, she screamed with joy riding behind me.  "Ride faster Mumma, ride faster," she would call from the seat behind me.  I remember the first time we used the Trail-a-Bike, we rode in the alleys of Kitsilano around our house.  We found out the if you ride in the alley behind West 2nd Avenue, west to Dunbar, you find a pretty good and bumpy downhill section.  She was infatuated with that hill, we rode down that hill many times that day!  It was when the Trail-a-Bike started squeeking and groaning that I realized she was too big for it.  I had actually enjoyed very much having her attached to me and glancing back to see her blond hair flying in the wind and the priceless smile on her face.  Today would be a big ride and that was what Olivia had been asking for.  We would start in Kitsilano, from our house to Kits Beach, along the water, onto the bike path to Granville Island, then on the Sea Wall past Science World, into Yaletown, and then to the West End to drop Sasha off at home with his Mom.  After that Olivia, Samuel and I would head to the Burrard Street Bridge, over and back home to Kitsilano.  I guess I forgot when we left the house that afternoon that although the sun was shining, it was still winter and darkness would fall around 6pm.  

       

Buttery Toffee...the 10 minutes writing, well a few more than 10!

A neon sign bright with the words, "Buttery Toffee Popcorn" was all I saw that wet, dark Friday evening at the end of January. 

I was in the West End that particular evening, a pit-stop of sorts, in an evening that could only be described as "Mom's Taxi Service". 

Half an hour to wait after dropping one child off at the Aquatic Centre for swim practice, the other at Granville Island for dance class and then to pick everyone up along with a friend for a sleepover! 

I headed straight for London Drugs thinking this is my 30 minutes to write.  My objective was to buy the large coiled notebook that I had failed to purchase the day before in part due to "Mom's Taxi Service" and "Mom's Dinner Service" which tend to take up quite a bit of time daily.  As I drove through the rain, I planned my 30 minutes.  5 minutes to London Drugs, 5 minutes in London Drugs, 5 minutes to get out and settled in the car, 10 minutes to write, 5 minutes to get back to the pool.  I added the timing in my head, perfect, 30 minutes. 

As the wipers quickly cleared the rain from the windshield, I looked up the street, London Drugs was on the right, oh good parking right at the front door.  I rolled into the space, hopped out of the car pulling my hood up over my head, the rain was still falling.  Quickly glanced at the parking meter, parking karma, 7 minutes left in the meter, I dashed through the entrance and made a sharp turn to the left towards the stationery isle.  I looked up, objective in mind, large coiled notebook.  And there it was, "Buttery Toffee Popcorn".  Neon and bright, as if a spotlight was shining directly on the box from the director's podium. 

"Keep walking," I told myself, "you are here for the large coiled notebook" I continued aloud, firm to myself and startled a few people in the aisle around me.  A tall, plump, 20 something looking guy with a Vancouver 2010 toque on turned to me and said nervously, "I'm here for cat food."  "Oh, of course," I replied, "I was talking to myself...have you seen the large coiled notebooks?"  "Yeah, actually I have," he smiled and pointed down the aisle a few feet.  "Thanks so much," I called back.  There they were, the big ones, the one I wanted, red, green, blue, black.  My first choice was black, I picked out a black, not black enough, it had little white dots that made me think the book had been splattered with paint, I didn't like that.  So, red it was, a red notebook always looks good and inspires. 

I turned to head to the checkout, glanced at my watch, I was happy, still making good time.  Down the aisle I walked with my new red notebook under my arm, eager to write, excited about all the ideas that had been flowing through my mind that day.  Looking forward to my ten minutes of writing.  Music piped into the store, John Denver sang, "West Virginia, mountain momma, take me home, country roads..." 

I hummed along and turned the corner of the aisle to get into line at the checkout.  Boom, there it was again, that bright neon that I had said goodbye to on my way in, "Buttery Toffee Popcorn". 

I love toffee, I love buttery toffee popcorn, oooo delicious, I could taste it melting in my mouth, a little crunchy popcorn along with that sweet and soft buttery toffee.  It seemed like an eternity waiting in line, was I still on time, a few minutes off, oh shoot.  And there was the Buttery Toffee Popcorn staring at me, calling me, the neon was flashing bright pinks, orange, yellows, the spotlight, brighter and brighter.  In that moment I hated the Buttery Toffee Popcorn.  Focus on the new red large coiled notebook, think about Ruth, the ten minutes writing, the blog, Eduardo and the group.  Prompt the muse, come on!  Finally it was my turn, the cashier rang up my new red notebook, looked at me and said, with a hint of suggestion in her voice, "anything else?"  I was now arm's length from the Buttery Toffee Popcorn, the box smiled at me, I smiled back, it was like a lover that I could never say no to, no matter what he did.  I reached for the box...     

       

Why I Like To Write...in 10 minutes

I like to write because many times the words and the expressing myself come easier through writing. 

When I can sit on my own, I feel a sense of calm, nobody staring at me, no pressure, no questions I don't know how to answer, nobody to get upset with me - just me and whatever is on my mind, whatever I want to say, whatever words I choose to use.  It's wonderful and calming, I can be so eloquent, say the things that don't always come out easily from my mouth.  Description is easier.  I like words, I like using different words, how can I say this or that in another way, what other words could I use.  My handy dictionary and thesaurus sit beside my desk and are well used. 

So much can change with the use of a different word that means the same thing, although does it really?  The conotation of different words intrigues me. What would be the best word here, the best word there.  How will people, how will someone read it?  Will it excite them?  Will they understand exactly what I'm saying?  Will it put them right inside of me, inside my mind, seeing, experiencing exactly the same as me? 

I have always enjoyed writing and words, Boggle is one of my favorite games, why do I enjoy word games so?  Stories as well come to my mind, quickly and then they leave!  Writing keeps them alive before they escape!

Shoes on the table

"Shoes on the table?" I asked.  "Why is that?  Didn't your mother ever tell you never to put shoes on the table?" I said with a laugh.  I teased him every time.  This is the way he liked it, shoes, sharp pencils, ink well, Mont Blanc, letters for review and of course, the shoes - on the table. 

Fritz was always very particular about how he liked things done.  So I laid out the items he had asked me for at dinner.  On the mahogany side table under his favorite painting just outside our walk-in bedroom closet.  The shoes, his burgundy, tassel, penny loafers that we had searched the internet for - from Todd's of New York or Todd's of somewhere important. 

They were Fritz's lucky business shoes, lately he had taken to wearing them for all new client meetings.  He told me that the shoes had an elegant yet I mean business look to them that people respected and revered.  He polished the loafers on his own before these meetings, 2 days in advance of his departure and then set them out to breath and make sure that they were perfect.  The night before his departure I always laid out the specific items that he asked me for and then we did the packing together.

This piece took me 10 minutes to create from a picture at my very first Prompting the Muse class with Ruth.  And now to elaborate...!!