Who doesn’t love a guy in a Viking hat?
I recently signed up for a writing class – yay me! – and I’m LOVING it!! It is basically a class to help fledgling writers like me get over our fears and just get writing. One of the exercises we were given is what the instructor calls a “Wild Write”. It’s similar to what some people call a “quick write”. The basic premise is you have 10 minutes to write and it doesn’t matter if you stick to the prompt or not, as long as you write. So if the prompt is “One day at the zoo I…” and you wind up writing about helping your grandmother make gumbo, or your first trip on an airplane then so be it. Even if all you write for ten minutes is “I don’t know what to write this is ridiculous” that’s okay because you were writing. The instructor wanted us to do this at least 5 days this past week, if not 7. I kind of didn’t so much do my homework. OOPS! But, in fairness, I journaled like crazy about some things I needed to explore (like an hour or more nearly every day) and I did write and post a blog on Saturday night. So I figured I’d better put something on paper tonight, just in case I was supposed to share something tomorrow with the class. Did I mention that’s also part of the class – reading our work out loud?
Anyway, the instructor sent us home with three writing prompts: 1 – “The writing I have enjoyed doing in the past…”; 2 – “The last time I lost track of time…”; or 3 – “I don’t remember…” For a variety of reasons, I couldn’t decide which one to go with, so I asked my husband. I was definitely not sorry I did. When I stopped laughing I set my timer for ten minutes and started writing. What follows is exactly what I wrote. I’m only cleaning up the spelling and one grammar point for clarity, otherwise I’m not changing anything. If it seems kind of short for ten minutes worth of writing, it’s because I wrote it by hand instead of typing it so that I wouldn’t be tempted to self-edit as I went. When the timer went off I had written two more words to start a new paragraph so I just crossed them off. Besides… I kind of like the way it ends. For those of you who are not teachers or aren’t teachers in this area, in our district and state (I don’t know where else, maybe everywhere?) a teacher who holds a teaching certificate is “certificated”. In my house, we walk an extremely fine line between certified or certificated anything and just certifiable. I think we, like (hopefully) a lot of other couples, crack each other up all the time over stuff that likely nobody else would find funny. I think that’s part of what makes us great together. To quote a character from my favorite TV show (Phil Dunphy, Modern Family), “I love us!”
Here is the result of a ten minute “Wild Write” after my husband helped me pick the topic. Enjoy:
Wild Write, 7/6/11
I couldn’t decide which topic to write about. He suggested “I really enjoyed writing about how I don’t remember the last time I lost track of time.” I think he’s freaking hilarious. This could become a blog post. He’s always telling me he knows he’s funny, says he even has a certificate to say so. Makes fun of VPS (Vancouver Public Schools) and says he’s “certificated”. Ha! But I have yet to see any such certificate. Here’s another thing he said that I thought was hysterically funny. We saw an ad for the show “Haunted Collector”. The idea is basically “Ghost Hunters”, but this guy and his crew go in and figure out which object the spirit is still attached to. If the homeowner doesn’t mind the haunting, the homeowner keeps the object. But if the homeowner is too freaked out then the collector removes it and stores it, along with tons of other haunted crap, er, “items”, at his house. My husband said he wants in on this gig. Could you imagine? He said he’d be telling people, “Hmmm… It appears your 52″ LCD flat screen is haunted. I’ll take that off your hands for you.” That cracked me up to the bottom of my soul. I laughed so hard I couldn’t breathe. We do that to each other sometimes.
Happy 40th, Birthday King!
Halloween, 2009… I went as a priest. I know, I know. One-way ticket, hell, hand baskets, blah blah blah…
Matching snuggies for “the boys”.