Early on, before I had trouble coming up with anything to write each morning, I wrote a few bits about pixies. The idea was to be that my children had been kidnapped. Taken to Faerie. And needed rescueing—or something.
That story never resolved enough for me to determine if the girls had been taken or run away or just plain lost. The possibility existed that I was kidnapped and they needed to save me. Or that may be confusion with another story I’ve had going stale in the intermitantly stocked pantry that is my brain.
Since the time I wrote that I’ve been invaded by rubberized plastic and DVD versions of nearly what I wanted to create at the time. These real invaders are quite a bit more Disney in both style and copyright than mine were to be. This pixie writing of mine came to mind because of last week’s plunking around with four women on a fantasy quest one frozen morning. The pixies would be more funner.
So many author’s have been motivated by telling stories to their children. I should tap into that motivation. Maybe instead of reading stories before bedtime I should be making them up and sharing them with my daughters.
~’We know you have balloons.’~ Lavendar said.
My brain skipped over the implausibility of the conversation I was having with a pixie that had just crawled out of a heating vent near my recliner and latched onto the practical nature of a flying pixie needing a balloon. Why does God need a starship? “Why do you want a balloon? Can’t you fly?”
Lemon pounded a small grape Nerd on the hearth trying to crack pixie-bites free of the main Nerd. She had a pretty good pile going so far.
~’Dumbass. Why do you want a truck? Can’t you walk?’~ He stopped on the hill of my guts.
“OK. What’s it for? What are you trying to accomplish.” People asking for help often focus on what they think they need rather than what they are trying to do.
~’We need to get home.’~
“Maybe I could just drive you?”
Lemon made a sound like my watch when I set the time but throatier. I think Nerds came out of her nose. Mint was doubled over on my keyboard laughing like a mouse. Lemon recovered with a pipping cough, ~’Warn a girl next time.’~
“What? Wouldn’t it be easier to drive you home than to hop on a balloon and hope the wind takes you there?”
The three looked at me like I’d just said the sky was red and the grass was blue.
~’We,’~ Lavendar flitted a circle that included Lemon and Mint, ~’can get home just fine on our own.’~ Then he made a gesture which included me and said, ~’We. Need a balloon.’~
I’ve got a couple things to transcribe or post from over the weekend. But I’d rather move forward than to prove I’d written in the past.
As for my sudden zero count visitor days well it’s something up with the stats package or the new theme. I’m plugged into a couple ping services and there’s no way all the bot traffic I’ve gotten in the past just fell off the map. In case you were worried about my traffic.
In this effort I’ll be continuing something I began with Lemon, Lavender, and Mint back near Halloween.
Lemon struggled with the box of Willy Wonka inspired candy like a First Grader with a dictionary. The revving of her wings each time she lost altitude was working up quite a sweat. The sweat stain running down the crack of her yellow fatigues was really quite weird.
“I could just carry it for you? Or I could just carry you?” I reached out a hand for her to land on. A pale yellow arc of static electricity sparked between her and my palm like it was Winter in arid Colorado. “Crap!”
~’She’s fine. Let’s get back to that balloon,’~ Lavender demanded.
Eesh. I can’t get this going anywhere tonight. Maybe I’ll tack on to it in the morning.
Word count: 211
Somewhere here in the next couple years it’s going to be time for me to write a children’s book. Or rather, a series of children’s books destined to become wildly popular for both their authenticity and their unabashed look at femininityism.
We have four daughters. People ask if we were trying for a boy. My response is usually, “No, we were trying for puppies.” This masks my annoyance that somehow I could (maybe should) be disappointed by my children’s gender. It’s also just polite because, really, those folks are just making small talk and when you have four of anything in a row it does spark a certain trend in the conversation.
“You’re really going to have your hands full in a few years.” WTF? Like I don’t already? Seriously, it’s the head count that chafes not all the X chromosomes.
Anyhow, back to me writing that book. I should write a few. Maybe go Wattersonesque on you guys with four sharp as a whip, wise beyond their years, snarky, but distinct girls that each tote around a rag doll that turns into an Amazon Warrior, Queen, Muse, or Scientist as the situations warrant. Or something more Lewisian with a lion and a closet. Or I could find some LCD and try a Carolinian trip of some kind. No worries I couldn’t and wouldn’t and shouldn’t and wontn’t go Geisel.
No really, back to the book thing.
I’ve poked around at some fairy thing a few months back. Maybe I could expand that into a more substantial vehicle. Right now they are all at such disparate developmental stages that will blur quickly with age. Has anyone ever written something interesting with four kids under five? Talk about difficult voices to develop.
In case you were wondering “femininityism” is a cross between what my ignorant brain knows of femininity and feminism. Think CEO with a ponytail or “Who the hell asked you if I look fat in this, but do I?”
Word count: 325
Trying my hand with Windows Live Writer. I am not much of a offline blogging tool kinda guy. I would be if I weren’t as likely to be writing on one computer as the next. Google Docs isn’t too great an an online offline option either. I wonder if it had continued as Writely if we’d have seen my/better blog integration. No matter.
~’We need you to untie the balloon from the back of the chair,’~ Lavender continued. Mint squeaked something to Lavender. ~’And take it outside. And,’~ Lavender hushed Lemon’s pending request with a impatient gesture, ~’…and my yellow friend here wants some candy. The lumpy purple ones in a box.’~
I remained still though I didn’t want to. Moving my eyes around was the only muscular control they’d left me. Mint rolled her own eyes–her absurdly large Manga eyes–in disgust at my reticence. Lavender and she got into a discussion that crescendoed to an argument. Mint put her foot down and fired off a continuous string of 6’s across my open document on [something plot related here]. Lemon had clearly seen this type of thing before so just sat patiently on my knuckle. Lavender responded by flitting in a tight circle. The effort made alot of noise and sounded more like a bumble bee than the pleasant zips I’d witnessed earlier. Obviously this was the most convincing thing a pixie could say in an argument because Mint acquiesced. Though not happily.
She tromped a typo with her steps: 7 – Y – G – B – space – right click. She harumphed mounting my married-man spare tire and climbed up my chest. I expected her footfalls to be painful, like a series of toothpicks jabbed into my stomach, but the feeling reminded my more of a water strider in a still summer creek. She placed her hand on my still lips. Nothing happened, but I could once again smell her and that was nice. Then there was a zing in my lips and lower part of my face like I’d licked a battery.
My first word surprised me, “Nerds?”
Word count: 370
Three pixies scrambled out of the air-conditioning vent and slipped to the far side of the pumpkin. One by one they emerged from the vegetable’s safety. They huddled heads touching and hands on shoulders and whispered a plan that to my ear was no more than a squeaky distraction. When they broke the mint one leaned against the pumpkin while the lavender one helped the lemon one onto Mint’s shoulders. Lavender scampered up the other two. Lavender posed proudly before kneeling down to pull up lemon. Alone at the bottom, Mint’s only choice was to flit to the top on her delicate wings. The three collapsed in laughter at the absurdity of their plan. Lemon tumbled back to the floor.
On an unheard signal they all three zipped to the arm of my chair. I held still not wanting to frighten them off. Lemon tip-toed to my still hand and sat on a knuckle. Lavender did the same, but he sat on a different knuckle. Mint flitted to the keyboard of my laptop, lighting on the F7 key. I felt the draft of her passing along my arm before I smelled the minty bouquet. Lemon and Lavender on the left and Mint in the middle, they each regarded me with poorly hidden snickers. I held still for fear they would realize I was not inanimate–then I discovered I was.
Lavender wafted to my ear and pipped, ~~Freeze tag; you’re it
bitch. Now listen here you.~~
Word count: 240