She placed a dab of cologne on each side of her neck at the pulse points and one on the inside of her right wrist like her mother did. Looking in the mirror at her reflection she rubbed her wrists together and sniffed them. Her small eight-year-old face was a miniature of her mother's, but with her father's eyes.
Watching her mother get ready for an evening out with dad was the highlight of her week. She loved her mom's clothes, shoes, make-up, and the Acqua di Parma perfume she always wore. Mother always let her put some on too.
Oh, she longed to be a grown-up already.
Photo courtesy of Willow @ http://magpietales.blogspot.com/
Time was running out. She glanced at the hourglass again and again, praying for the sands to slow down. It didn’t help. Her hands raced through the motions, not hesitating, not stopping, though she feared they would.
Wracking her brain she worked harder and harder, taking one more glance at the hourglass, thinking, moving, and then glancing again.
The sands sifted down. The upper chamber was empty. Time! Now she would find out if she was still the master at Boggle.
Photo credit: Willow @ magpietales.blogspot.com Magpie #32
When I saw this photo I couldn't help but think, "Like sands through the hourglass, so are the days of our lives . . ." Ha ha ha! :o) But really, this was a fun writing prompt!
My sisters and brothers and I played long hours of Boggle back in the day. I miss playing that game. I'll have to shop around for one and start the next generation Boggling. Enjoy!
Grabbing an apple from the basket on kitchen table she set aside her Vanity Fair magazine and wondered what to do with the rest of her afternoon. She walked through her house to the bedroom.
The house was clean, dinner was in the Crockpot, the kids were at friends’ houses, and her husband busy working. These quiet, alone moments with nothing to occupy her hands didn’t happen very often. She didn’t want to waste it on Vanity Fair, when she could be reading Austen or Chiaverini or Evanovich. She loved reading---all kinds of books. Which one, oh, which one to read?
She gazed at the stack of library books on her nightstand pondering which one to start with. Taking a bite of the apple, she savored the crisp fruit and made her selection.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ (This wasn't my favorite piece of writing I've done, but darn it, I'm going to write no matter what! I appreciate the challenge that Willow gives me with her pictures and I'm not giving up!) Photo credit: Willow @ http://magpietales.blogspot.com/
After another long summer driving their parents crazy,cheering can be heard throughout the U.S. when kids go back to school. Teachers are usually not cheering. We are in a panic.
We have had a blissful student-free summer. For the lucky ones---sleeping in and traveling. The first week back at school we are in a panic to get our rooms ready. A panic to organize lesson plans. (Especially if your school district area changes your mandatory lesson plan format every year.) A panic to have all of the paperwork ready. (You'd be amazed at the amount of paper work teachers do on a day-to-day basis.) A panic to attend all of the mandatory meetings----district, area, school-wide, department, grade-level, etc. It can be as stressful as well, stressful!
That being said, surviving the first day, not to mention the first week, is something to celebrate. (I usually sweat like a pig on the first day and was so nervous getting dressed the first day this year I forgot to put on deodorant---totally gross. Poor kids in my classes. I probably smelled worse than my 7th graders after P.E.)
Well, the first week is over! I'm tired, exhausted, and brain-dead. I called 3 parents to report classroom disruptions their boys were causing, but it was nothing major, and there was only one fight in the lunchroom of my middle school (I missed it--dang it!) and no major craziness occurred in my classroom. (You may recall the "flasher" student who was expelled last year. People at my school still joke that of all of the teachers that had to happen to, it was the nice Mormon teacher. Some joke.)
It was a pretty quiet week. That's got to be a first for me. So either the kids are really good this year (ha ha) or I'm becoming a better teacher. I hope it's a little of both.