WRITING - the namesake

WRITING – the namesake

Now the blog will take a turn towards...what it was intended.

Between Wednesdays

Come on, guys! I write a title that I am sure no one gets, and yet no one asks me about it!?!?!

The name of the blog has to do with the Columbia Writers writers group I attend the first and third Wednesday of every month. Ergo, “Between Wednesdays” refers to the time when I'm not at a writers group. Although equally important is the Martha Dailey Lookout Club I attend, too. --If I didn't say that, I know Karen would excoriate me at our upcoming meeting.

As the namesake is writers-group related, I'll give you some funny tidbits about Columbia Writers.

  Salt and Muse

For the first time ever, we decided to try a write-in. A write-in is simply getting together to write. Adam was really against the idea. Out of all of the discussion I've participated in with these people over the past year, no one was ever so against any idea as Adam was against this one. He looked like he was going to vomit. So when the time of the meeting came around, he said that he wouldn't go because the food there was too salty and he couldn't stomach writing in a restaurant full of people gorging themselves on all of that salty food.

  Strange encounters

At a different meeting, Katy said with complete sincerity that it was perfectly reasonable to believe that her brother, diagnosed with autism, was in fact an alien and that was why he behaves differently.

  Strange encounters part II

Brenda agreed.

  Back to school

Jessica is a first-year teacher in a middle school, and one of her students wrote on her test (that she then handed to the teacher): “I hope [you] die and burn in hell.” She got suspended.

Argh! That's kind of a teacher comment. I was promising myself I wouldn't do that.

  Kelly

And then there's Kelly. She's a good writer and is not visibly steeped in craziness. That seems nice. She probably eats babies.

  Strange encounters, revisited

Dude, she really said that. Seriously.

  Weird guy

Me. With school, Montgomery College on Saturdays, my wife's parents, and Espen, most of my day-to-day conversations are with people who have not mastered English. So I'm kind of surprised that I should still be the one teaching English. Or writing a novel in English. But I guess I can't write it in crazy gibberish. hmm...

Anyway, thanks for reading. With my college class wrapping up soon and Natasha getting her job more under her belt and taking 4 credits next semester as opposed to 6, I'll have more time to write! I can't wait! More blogging, more real writing, too!

I weihight, theihtieunderhkjmalon gmmkfkjiop grammarpodlo thenoohitinonlplace tehime! (see paragraph above - let me know if you think this has potential)

FAMILY - Espen speaks

FAMILY – Espen speaks

I'd like to start off by saying that the following statements about Espen are true.

I remember the golden days. Just babble. “Babblebabblebabblebabblebabble. Babblebabble. Babblebabblebabblebabbleba, babblebabblebabblebabble. Babblebabblebabblebabblebabblerabblebabblelabblebabble?... Babble!”

But now he only babbles 50% of the time. That might sound like a lot, but the remaining 50% is more interesting.

One of his first words was “Yes.” I think he was inspired by my consistently being so accommodating with my wife. Of course, the typical word is no, but he's much more open than that. Somehow, even before he was a year old, he could identify the sound of a question and respond – always in the affirmative.

He appeared willing. “Do you want some fruit?” “Yes.” “Are you sure?” “Yes.” “Okay, open your mouth.” “Yes.” “Espen, you didn't open your mouth.” “Yes.” “Are you crazy?” “Yes.” “What do you want to eat?” “Yes.” “Do you want to eat your bib?” “Yes.” “Can you say no?” “Yes.”

okaaaayyyyy...

“Yes.”

But at least if you knew how to phrase your questions, he would agree to anything.

And he's great at ice-breakers. Most kids get nervous around crowds. If he is feeling a little gun shy, he just points to his feet and says: “Shoes.” That note will kick off any party.

We try to keep the phone away from him. For one thing, I'm concerned about radiation, etc. Also, we don't want him calling random people, which he has done. The rare times we used to let him answer the phone, he would just laugh and breathe heavily like a stalker. And we also have a variety of phones that he is allowed to use – cheap toy phone, better toy phone, real phone that no longer has a plan, TV remote that he treats like a phone, and finally the real, working phone that he somehow gets his hands on because we are bad parents.

The last time he got the real phone: “Hello? Hi, Kory! Babblebabblebabblebabblebabble. Hahahaha! Babblebabblebabblebabblebabble? Hahaha. Bye, Kory.” And he hung up.

I hadn't spoken to Kory in two weeks.

Last night he was being difficult, and I asked him: “Are you crazy, or are you young?” His response: “Young.”

That's better than yes.