Saturday, August 11, 2012

Right Place. Right Time.

Prompt: Share about being in just the right place at just the right time.

I'm willing to bet most people would think of a specific event that happened in a split second, attributing it to some semblance of luck or fate.

I can think of a lot of those times. But there's a different kind of time/place event that is more important to me.

In the fall of 2010 I was just starting to put the pieces of myself back together. I was damaged from a relationship that had ended the previous October, and I was just regaining myself. I was led to Cedar City, and felt like I needed to stay there. I couldn't use my degree, so I decided to go back for a second bachelor's degree that I could use. I only needed one more creative writing class, and I was able to get into the only section.

About the end of October I started having the strongest desire to get to know the man I referred to as "the bearded fellow" in my class. I started noticing him outside of class. My friends told me to approach him. I was nervous. What if things didn't go well? What if I didn't like him? So I set a personal deadline. If he didn't ask me out by the end of the semester I'd ask him.

Two weeks later he asked me on a date. I had this sense that if we actually went on the date we'd get married. Of course I didn't tell him that!

I must say, I wasn't wrong.

I've been married to my best friend for 455 days. We moved to Korea. We adopted a dog. We moved back to the USA. We've laughed, we've cried, we've read a lot, and we've loved. We've loved through it all.

Had it been left up to me in the fall of 2010 I would not have picked Cedar. And I couldn't have been more wrong. He was made for me, and I couldn't be happier.

Friday, August 10, 2012


It's time to clean out the cobwebs.

The corners that are not often visited, the issues that don't require immediate attention, those things that are allowed to gather dust.

What's funny to me is that it can take less than a week for dust to settle on some things. Especially when I consider all the changes since my last post.

Adopted a dog.
Moved back to the USA.
Started working in Rehab again.
A dear friend's spouse passed away.
Met my youngest niece for the first time.
Surprised Mama for her 50th birthday.
Chopped off my hair.
Did a live reading.

And a bunch of other little things in between.

Why didn't I write? Because I didn't know where to start. Then I became overwhelmed because I build up in my head what a post "should" be, and that I have to write about all the little things.

But then I remembered, writers write. Every day. So all I needed to do was start to write.

My husband has been doing BEDIA (Blog Every Day In August). Today we picked up some cards from a local bookstore called a Chat Pack. This one is specifically geared toward stories. There are 156 prompts. My new goal? Write something about each of them.

And there is no better day to start than today. So with that, here goes!

Prompt: Share about forgetting something VERY important.

Oh this is so hard...because I am a forgetter! I forget things all the time! Just ask my husband. This week alone I forgot to turn the stove off and nearly caused us carbon monoxide poisoning, and left a loaf of bread baking in the oven for almost an hour. Obviously those aren't VERY important (well, the stove thing is), but you may be getting my drift. I am a forgetter.

If something isn't written down, or has an alarm set, it doesn't exist. I will have not even the vaguest of inklings that I've even forgotten something, even after someone has brought it up (not always, but it has happened more than once).

Anyway, to get down to telling a story I'll write the one that cropped up first in my overflowing box of "forgotten" memories.

I forgot a razor.

Sounds simple enough, right? Razors aren't that hard to come by. It shouldn't have been that big of a deal.

This razor was a very big deal.

It wasn't forged of titanium, or enchanted to never dull or rust. Just a standard, run-of-the-mill woman's razor (Sidebar: women's razors are a travesty. Much like women's socks. Compared to the "men's" version, they don't hold a candle, and are laughably inferior in quality and durability.).

Why, then, was this particular razor of such great importance?

It was my sister's razor. One she had left in our hometown. The one she asked me to bring to her new home. The one she was going to use the day before her wedding.

But again, it's just a razor.

Well, in Nephi, Utah at 10:30pm on a Thursday night nothing is open. Nor is anything open at 7:30am when you are departing for a neighboring small town. Not only that, but it was the night before the wedding. You know, the night that anything that can go wrong will go wrong. The night when people fight and everyone wonders if this whole event is even worth the stress when it could be as simple as a justice of a peace and a bride and groom.

Well, the straw that broke our stress-camel's back was a razor.

I used to think "if only I had brought the razor..." but time and experience has taught me that if it hadn't been the razor it would have been something else. We were a powder keg waiting to blow, and it just so happened to be a double bladed Venus that ignited a spark.