Today is sons choir concert and he has been bitching and bellyaching about having to go to it. He hates having to wear anything other than ratty jeans and t-shirts and the choir director requires them to wear dress slacks and shirts with a tie and dress shoes, so its like torture for him. He strips it off the minute he steps off stage and he looks offended when I even dare to ask for pictures of him actually looking decent. He is at that age where he doesn't know what he wants to do from one moment to the next other than play his guitar and talk to his girlfriend or eat. My God! the boy can eat! I got up this morning and went into the kitchen that I had left spotless the night before with everything clean and put away, and I found evidence of a quesadilla apocalypse! It looks like he had 4 or 5 of them and half a jar of salsa. I had cooked dinner, I swear I fed him, but he cooked even more food last night and ate again. Its just a little scary.
He has been playing his guitar constantly and he was getting the slower songs down with no problem, so I threw down a challenge to him. I challenged him to learn a Spencer Bell song called,'Beautiful,More So". Its faster and there are no youtube lessons on how to play it, just some random videos of it, so he will have to pick it up by ear. He has been working at it for days now and hes beginning to get it but the language coming out of his room has turned the air around our apartment all kinds of colors and probably made the neighbors think he has Tourretts. I he takes breaks from it every now and then and goes back to his slower, emo, whiney stuff and I just smile at him until he says,"Shut up mom ! Im gonna get it!" and stomps off back to his room to begin trying and cussing again. Hard to believe he is going to be 15 tomorrow, it still seems like yesterday it was just me and my little curly haired ginger boy against the world, and now he is a giant, dark, curly haired man that wanders around the house in his boxers devouring all the food and tormenting his baby sister.
Sis gets her award at school today. I am supposed to be there at 815 to watch her get it, so I have to put her on the bus and then hotfoot it down there. I hope like hell its not raining, otherwise I am going to get soaked, but it will be worth it to see her, because she was soo excited. She sounds soo funny since she pulled that front tooth.She has a bit of a lisp now and some of the bigger works she uses dont come out right, but that makes it even funnier, after all, what 6 year old says "indubitably?" Yeah, I know, besides me, but I was a freak too.
Mom has been calling lately. I had called and left a message on sis's phone letting her know that BW had died, and I guess she is trying to play mediator again because the next thing I know, mom was calling me wanting to talk out of the blue just about anything. I chatted a bit because I wanted to know how Ali was doing, and when I got the news about the full ride scholarship to any state school in Texas, that made it all worth it. I was so damn happy to hear that. Not only would she not be going to Arizona where its so damn dangerous, she would not be building any student loan debt. That was the best news ever.
I ended up having to call mom back the next night because as I was reading the hometown paper I saw that a boy I had grown up with, in fact a boy I had rode motorcycles with, played baseball with his sister and just known all my life, had died suddenly. He was 40 years old, a full year younger than me. Mom already knew which surprised me. They have lived back home for over the last 5 years and had been their typical anti-social selves, not reading the local paper or even associating with folks, but I guess dad had seen it somewhere. I was shocked, because after all, I was the one who had to call them and tell them Sammy had died, and that was the most devastating death to me since losing grandma and you. I wish I could have gone home to see him before he passed, he was always home to me and now that hes gone I really do feel like there is just nothing back there other than sis to make me want to.
My writing is doing okay. A story I had intended to make only one chapter has gotten quite a bit of attention and commentary and folks have asked me to carry it on for a bit, so I have. Its kinda fun to write because I have made it a challenge to myself to keep the characters just on the edge of recognizable, but generic enough that people can fill in their own fantasies. Sometimes I find that folks get waay to caught up in describing their people and it takes away the imagination of the reader, so I have challenged myself to not do that. its hard, and I have had a couple of critics bitch about it, but I wrote them back,(nicely) and explained that I was doing it intentionally, so they will either get it or not. I have found that I am having just a bit of difficulty writing sex scenes. I dont know if its my Traditional, Conservative, Texas, Southern Christian upbringing or the fact that I haven't been laid in so long that I probably wouldn't know what to do with a pecker in real life if one came knocking, but when I was trying to write the scene, I just found myself blushing and vapor-locked. I dont get it. I am not a prude by any shape of the imagination. Oh NO. But writing it? snicker....I even looked at visual aids of the guy that was the inspiration for the story, and that usually gets the motor running pretty good, but I just ...yeah... .Maybe I am a bit of a prude? I mean if my daughter was one of those girls chunking undies or flashing her tatas at him at a concert,I would ground her til she was 30 and hide my face in shame for raising such a hussy, so maybe its just the ingrained moral code that I was raised with that I have a hard time using those words...and writing about the act? That or I have just forgotten what the hell its all about.
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