Mislabeled

Jul. 30th, 2013 08:38 am
kajel: (Me)
This is an intersection. My story should be read first. For part two, click the link below the story. Thanks!


D-minor was a simple key. She was from a harmonic family. She had a few melodic cousins, but they didn't associate that much. An aunt had created a scandal when she ran off with a sharp. D-minor wasn't aware of which sharp as the family didn't really like talking about it. Not that it mattered much to her. She had her own life with her own problems at the moment. She had developed a label. It wasn't even a very flattering label, D-minor: saddest of all keys.

It was like she was walking under a stigma. She couldn't figure out why people thought she was so sad. She felt she was a pretty happy key overall. She had several friends. Her friend, 13, was pretty great. They had met at a young age. 13 had protected her when a few chords had begun teasing her. They didn't bother her again. After that incident she and 13 became best friends. As she grew up, 13 had developed a reputation also. It was like others were scared of her. Sure she had a bit of a temper, but it only came out when 13 came across bullying or some other type of injustice. D-minor didn't really get the attitude. 13 was a sweetheart. Always doing things for others. B-flat and G were good buddies. They hung out with her fairly often. D-minor wasn't always the life of the party, but she had a good sense of humor and enjoyed socializing.

The one downside of her life was her seeming inability to find a partner. Maybe that was why others always thought of her as sad. Although, if that was the case, then they were just projecting what they felt she needed onto her. All of her friends had found that special someone. Even 13 had found another prime that matched her quite well. D-minor didn't really feel left out our like a third wheel. Though, it would be nice to find that perfect someone. She had always dreamed that by this time in her life she would have settled down with her special someone. She and 13 had a discussion about it recently. 13 had given her some good advice. She had also given her a website to try.

D-minor stared at the website in question. It had taken her over a week to get up the courage to even look at the site. Now she sat staring at the page. The first line said it all.

'Looking to harmonize, maybe meet that perfect fraction! Then Matchtype.net is for U and you.'

It looked like just needed to fill out the long questionnaire and the site would do its magic. She would be given a list of possible matches on the site and it would be up to D-minor to contact them. Simple enough right? With a deep breath, she decided to just get it over with. She opened the questionnaire and began entering her answers. Then she fiddled with her profile a bit. D-minor wanted to make sure it was just so, before heading off to bed. She would see what the site had for her in the morning.

The next morning, D-minor leapt out of bed. Her coffee couldn't drip fast enough for her. She lost no time in getting the computer up and running and checking her email. She frowned at the first selection. What does love pump actually mean? This G sharp fellow is kind of creepy. She could just hear what her mother would say about dating a sharp.

The next email was a lot more interesting. It was from the number 1.

'People tell me all the time that I'm the loneliest number. I don't see it. Personally, I believe I am a hopeless romantic. I am looking for someone for a meaningful, honest relationship with whom I can also relate on a spiritual and intellectual level. Someone fun loving who would be up for something like a spontaneous stroll at night with my three dogs.'

D-minor thought 1 sounded like a pretty interesting character after reading his full profile.  Maybe this whole online dating thing wasn't as terrifying as she thought it was going to be. 

She spent the next hour typing, deleting, and retyping an introduction to 1.  Getting the wording just right was proving to be a little difficult.  She didn't want to come across as too eager, but she also didn't want to seem too diffident either.  Finding a balance was taking time and a lot of thought.  13 was right.  She needed to just get out there and meet someone.  Maybe that someone could be 1.  After all, if they got together, he wouldn't be the loneliest number anymore.


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This is my Home Game entry for LJ Idol: Exhibit B. This week's topic was one of four. It was also an intersection, and my partner is [livejournal.com profile] sweeny_todd! I chose D-minor:Saddest of all Keys for my topic. [livejournal.com profile] sweeny_todd used the topic All That Jazz and her conclusion to the story can be found here. I had so much fun with this!!!
kajel: (Me)
Laron was behind the counter of Master Wernin's shop. It would soon be dark and he was cleaning up as he prepared to close. Behind him the bell on the door jingled as a late customer arrived. Laron turned to greet the customer and was stunned into silence.

‘Naya.’ Laron thought excitedly. After eight long years, Naya had returned. Laron watched as she approached the counter. She was thin, almost gaunt. He could see that her journey had not been easy. Her sandy blond hair was pulled back with a simple leather tie. Her blue eyes no longer reminded him of a clear sky. There were shadows of pain in her gaze.

She looked so different from the girl who had disappeared when she was eighteen. This woman looked hardened by her experiences, travel weary. He had known that she was restless when he had taken his apprenticeship, but the day she had disappeared had been very painful even though he had been expecting it. There had been no word from her. She had gone out one day for a run and, as the day drew to a close, had kept on running.

"Naya..." he whispered.

Startled, Naya looked into the darkened corner behind the counter. She had not seen Laron standing there. The relief she felt when she saw him was nearly overwhelming. He looked astounded. She smiled. She did not realize how her smile transformed her face. Suddenly, Laron could see the girl he had known, in this hard looking woman who stood in front of him.

Naya laughed delightedly as Laron came around the counter and swept her right off her feet in a tight hug. He spun her round and round in his excitement.

"Put me down you big oaf. You are making me dizzy." Naya laughed helplessly as Laron slowly stopped spinning.

"I have been waiting so long for you to come back. When you didn’t show up after my apprenticeship I got a little worried about you, but I knew eventually you would come." He said as he set her back on her feet.

"I was not sure that I would still find you here, Laron. This was where I was going to begin my search for you. I thought when a wizard's apprenticeship was over he had to go out and find a place that needed him. He couldn't stay with his master."

"I refused to leave. I knew that you would find your way back to me eventually. Master Wernin threw me out on my ear like a proper Wizard should, but I still would not leave Ishli. I did not break my oaths. I have not used a single speck of magic for three years. Master Wernin finally allowed me to come run his shop. For three years he has been able to concentrate on research. The Wizards Council was appalled. They tried to strip me of my title of Master Wizard, but since I did not break my oaths, they failed." Laron related his tale stoically.

"How difficult it must be, Laron, to not be able to use your magic. I am so sorry. Why did you stay and subject yourself to that kind of torture." Naya was dismayed by Laron's story.

"This is where you had left me, Naya, and this is where I had to be when you came back. I know what you searched for. I see that you have not yet found your clan. I knew you were coming back after my apprenticeship. I was afraid that if I went wandering, you would not be able to find me."

Tears slowly welled up in Naya's eyes and fell down her cheeks. Laron was right. He was family to her. The only family she had. Three years ago when his apprenticeship was soon to be over, she had begun her return. War and upheaval in distant lands had kept her from her goal.

"I must say though, Naya," he said with sudden cheer as he wiped the tears from her face, "I did expect you much sooner than this."
Naya laughed suddenly at his good humor. It was good to be back.

"Did you come straight here, or did you find an inn first?" Laron asked.

"You still know me too well, Laron." Naya grinned. "I am staying at the Carriage House by the north gate."
Ishli was a small city, but it was a border town. A very tall thick wall surrounded Ishli. There were only two ways into the city, by North Gate or South Gate. The border had been a peaceful place now for well over a century. Ishli had begun to spread beyond its gates. Now there was the inner city, and the outer city.

"Excellent choice. The Carriage House is very respectable, and very pricey. How did you manage that?” Laron asked.

“I actually worked Laron. Paid wages. Me.” Naya said in a theatrical voice.

“You, working? I would have paid good money to see that.” He chuckled. “There are some things that I need to do if I am going to be able to leave Ishli tomorrow. I will meet you for breakfast in the morning and we can stop by the market on our way out of town."

"Where are we going?" Naya asked taken aback.

"Going? Why to search for your clan." Laron glanced at Naya in surprise. "You are not going to be happy until you discover your past, and I am not letting you out of my sight again."

Naya chuckled. "It's so good to see you again Laron. I have missed you."

"I missed you also Naya. It has been difficult these past years without you to share with." Laron's voice was choked with emotion. "Now off with you. I have a lot to do if I am going to be ready in the morning. I need to go speak with Master Wernin."

Naya smiled warmly at Laron. "Alright, I will see you tomorrow morning." She gave him a quick kiss on his cheek then turned and went back out the door.

Back at the Carriage House, Naya picked at her supper. She had found a quiet corner of the common room where the bustle and noise did not interrupt her musings. Seeing Laron again after all these years had been wonderful. Naya only had a vague notion of the rules and oaths wizards must follow. She did not understand why Laron had been unable to use magic when he refused to leave Ishli. Naya did understand what not using magic meant to Laron. Magic had always flowed through him freely. It was his nature. Containing such magic for three years so that not even a speck would escape? She would not have thought him capable of such control.
Naya grimaced at herself. Maybe that was not a fair thought. She remembered the boy Laron used to be. Wild and unpredictable, his magic had manifested itself at the most inopportune times. He caused havoc and disarray wherever he traveled. The man before her today was much different.

Seeing the man of today, and not the boy of yesteryears, had shown Naya how much she also had changed. That was the real reason she was in such a contemplative mood. She pushed her food restlessly around the plate, eating very little of it. She faced some hard truths about herself tonight. She had always pushed away such thoughts. She had kept them hidden, buried very deep. Tonight she excavated deep into her buried pain. Leaving Laron eight years ago had been...difficult. But the need to find her past had been very strong. She had searched for her clan. Not finding them after so many years was painful. She felt like she had failed in an important task. Oh, in her mind, Naya knew that her feelings were unfounded. However, her heart often did not follow her mind.

Naya had not realized how lost she had become until tonight. Without her mother or Laron as an anchor, Naya had withdrawn into herself. She felt rejected by her clan, a clan who did not even know she existed. With each defeat, each trail that led to a dead end, Naya had slowly given up. Something she was not accustomed to doing.

'And maybe', Naya thought to herself, 'that was why I had not found them.' She had not believed she would. That night Naya looked deep into herself to see and understand what she truly wanted.

At daybreak the next morning Naya woke refreshed. She felt lighter than she had in a very long time. She gathered her few belongings and went down to the common room to await Laron. Naya had only been seated a few minutes when Laron swept into the inn. Naya studied him as he approached her. He was tall, a lot taller than she remembered. He was no longer a lanky boy. He had filled out quite nicely. His thick black hair was short, contrary to the more popular longer style at the moment. Energy was fairly bursting from him in waves. He looked good. Laron grinned when he spotted her.

'This is what has been missing,' she thought. This peaceful feeling she found in Laron's company. It did not matter what the future was going to bring. With Laron by her side, she could face anything.


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This is my entry for LJ Idol: Exhibit B. This week's topic was one of three. I chose Finding Serenity.
kajel: (Me)
I grew up as a child with a military parent. We moved around. I would say often, but for us it averaged about every four years. I am used to having family and friends on the other side of the country. Sometimes, it was even the other side of the world. My best friend lives in my hometown in Arizona, along with many of my relatives. My parents and sisters live in New York. I live in North Carolina with the family I am creating here. Distance has always been a part of my life.

Most celebrations are done by phone and mail. Sunday, May 12th was Mother's Day. Two of my sisters were on a cross-country road trip at the time, leaving my Dad and sister, Wendy, home to celebrate with Mom. I called home to talk with her and to see if she had received the gift I actually sent on time. After the normal pleasantries, Mom told me that my sister was making her go to Urgent Care that afternoon. My Mom had a wound of some type on her lower leg. She developed an infection and she had been trying to treat it herself. That weekend, they all became really concerned about it. That Mom was willing to go to Urgent Care let me know that this was pretty bad.

You have to understand, my Mom hadn't been to a doctor in at least ten years. Not since moving to New York in 2001. My weight right now is in the upper 200's. I am considered morbidly obese, as one doctor seemed to relish telling me. With this prevailing attitude in some doctors, I dread finding a new doctor. My Mom is quite a bit heavier than I am. After moving, the thought of finding a new doctor was too daunting for her. So, she never did it.

I got a call after 11:00 p.m. that night from my sister. Mom was being admitted to the hospital. Her wound was pretty bad. The official diagnosis was Cellulitis. Cellulitis is basically a bacterial skin infection that, without treatment, will spread throughout your body and kill you. It is extremely painful. When admitted, Mom was also very anemic. It was difficult getting the information I needed and wanted while talking to my sister or Dad. They were exhausted anytime I got a hold of them and those first two days, they didn't have much information for me. It is frustrating finding everything out secondhand. I felt much better about what was going on after speaking with Mom on Wednesday.

While she was in the hospital, the doctors scheduled lots of different tests. One was a colonoscopy. A doctor found and removed a large polyp. He came to talk to Mom later and let her know, that within a year, the polyp would have been colon cancer. She told him there was no need to be humble, he was allowed to walk around with his chest puffed out and say 'I saved her life'. When I heard about it later that night, Mom said that maybe this leg problem was the best thing that happened to her.

After five days in the hospital, Mom begged and pleaded with the last doctor that was holding up her discharge. He was still concerned about the anemia. Her numbers had bounced back enough that they were very close to being where he wanted them. She finally convinced him she would eat spinach salad twice a day for a month if he would just let her go home. For the next few weeks, it seemed like every time I called, Mom was on her way to or from a doctor's appointment. The wound care was being done as well as all the catch up appointments for the last ten years.

In mid June, Mom graduated out of wound care. The infection was all cleared up and she was starting to get her energy back. My husband and I took our kids to the beach for four days. We got home on a Sunday. On Monday, we celebrated my birthday. Tuesday, Mom called and said 'now don't get mad'. These words, in our family, mean that something happened while I was on vacation. Mom had had a mammogram the Thursday or Friday before. They found some concerning spots and did three different biopsies on Friday. The results came in on Tuesday morning before she called me. My mother has breast cancer.

Her doctor told her that morning that this is really going to be rough, but the cancer isn't going to kill her. They found it at the earliest possible stage. The bad news is two spots on her left breast are on opposite sides and will require they remove the entire breast. The plan is a mastectomy of the left breast, reconstruction, and a reduction of the right. The last thing I said to my mother before hanging up was that her leg was definitely the best thing that ever happened to her.

According to Mom, at least there is one silver lining. She will have perky breasts again! Yes, we have a really warped sense of humor in my family. I think it is a good thing when you are delivering or receiving news like this and you can hang up the phone laughing. The laughter didn't last as it sank in, but it makes me smile every time I think of it.

She met a surgeon for the mastectomy last week. She called to say that she was really comfortable with him. He talked her through the process and answered all her questions and concerns. She is waiting to meet the plastic surgeon now. I was the only one not in the room meeting the surgeon. It is a twelve-hour drive to get home to see my family. If I fly, it only takes two hours. Have you ever flown with two small children? I would rather drive. Being a long-distance daughter is hard sometimes. I really need to give my mother a hug right now. Next week is her 60th birthday. Sometimes, distance sucks.

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This is my entry for LJ Idol: Exhibit B. This week's topic was one of four. I chose From Afar.
kajel: (Me)
I just knew that with our first child, my husband and I were having a boy. We had been trying for nearly a year. In June of 2008, our lives got shaken up as we had a house fire and I decided to quit my job and go back to school. At that point, the thought of a baby went on the back burner as we started to deal with all that we were facing. What we didn't know for several more weeks was I was already pregnant. When discussing children, my husband and I decided on only having two. I come from a bigger family and would not have minded having more. Ned, however, has only ever wanted two. I was good with that.

I was not surprised when the ultrasound tech said we were having a boy that first time. I had expected it. How did I know that our first was going to be a boy? That was the pattern. In my generation, I am the oldest grandchild on my Mom's side of the family. Of the ten grandchildren, there are eight girls and two boys. At the time that I became pregnant, there were seven great-grandchildren. All of them were boys.

Twins were also definitely something that ran in both sides of our families. With that first pregnancy, lots of friends and family wished twins upon me. That first time around I might have been all right with that. I didn't have children yet and if we had twins, I would be done.

Everyone I spoke to told me boys are so much easier than girls. I heard this from nearly everyone I spoke to about my pregnancy. Apparently, I knew a lot of people who had boys, besides all my cousins. This bit of wisdom was one of many ideas that were passed along to me. You know how it is, you're pregnant, having surgery, having a root canal, etc. and you hear all the stories from everyone else. You hear the good, the bad, and the ugly.

Nine months after the fire, we had Nicholas. The builders gave us the keys to our rebuilt home five days before he was born. We had a new house and a new baby.

In 2010, I became pregnant with our second child. I secretly decided if it was a boy, I was talking Ned into a third. I wanted a girl. If it was a girl, well then, he was off the hook. I say secretly, but when friends asked, I would joke that if it was a boy, we were having number three in a couple more years. Ned is one of those few people who can arch a single eyebrow. I got that look plenty of times when I made that joke.

During that second pregnancy, it seemed like the twin curse became more prevalent. I started making a list. If you mentioned twins to me, your name went down on my hit list. I had a son who wouldn't be quite two when the next baby was born. I didn't really need three at that point. I still have that list.

At the time my second child was on the way, there were nine great-grandsons. I waited very impatiently for the ultrasound that would let us know whether it was a boy or girl. If we were only having two, I wanted desperately for us to have a boy and girl. Besides, I wanted to have the first great-granddaughter.

I was so worked up over the ultrasound I couldn't sleep the night before. I lay there with my husband waiting for the little wiggle worm to hold still long enough to get a good look at the gender. The baby was not cooperating with us at all. The ultrasound tech had nearly given up, but luckily for us she took one last look before we were done. It was a girl. I felt like I was literally bouncing off the walls with excitement. I think I called everyone I knew while we drove home. We were moving away from blue and into pink.

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This is my entry for LJ Idol: Exhibit B. This week's topic was one of four. I chose Out of the Blue.


The tally so far is ten great-grandsons and three great-granddaughters. Our little Katey Rose was the first by a few weeks. I didn't need to talk Ned into another. ;)
kajel: (Me)
"I want the lawn to extend to the tree line in the distance."

"Camilla, darling, a lawn that big will be difficult to manage. What if we just had a lawn half the distance. It would still be a very fine lawn."

"Oh Marcus, the size of ones lawn lets others know your importance. I want a lawn to the trees." Camilla batted her long dark eyelashes at her husband.

"Camilla, really. A lawn to the tree line is a bit excessive. Lawns require quite a bit of maintenance. We would need to increase the staff just to care for it."

"A beautiful green lawn, Marcus. To the trees. I have dreamed of it since I was a little girl." She clapped her gloved covered hands as she looked adoringly at her husband.

"I was thinking I would do something a bit different with some of the property." Marcus replied.

Camilla's lip quivered. "You would not deprive me of my dreams, would you? The lawn is important Marcus. It would be terrible to have built this beautiful home and not have the proper lawn to show off its granduer." Camilla was now looking at her husband with a small hint of the hurt crushing her dreams would cause.

Marcus gave a heavy sigh. Looking to the landscape expert, "It appears we shall have a lawn to the trees." He really did love his Camilla, and he tended to indulge all her whims.

"Sir, a lawn of such expanse will require a great amount of upkeep. I would suggest a small herd of sheep to graze it. That would help to keep it tamed properly."

"Sheep!" Camilla gasped in horror. "We cannot have sheep in the gardens. Why, what would people think? I could not sit out and have my tea only to have a sheep wander up to the flower beds to destroy all of my hard work in designing such a magnificent garden and lawns."

"Calm yourself Camilla." Marcus said soothingly. "There will be no sheep in the garden. I have promised you the lawn to the trees. I can see a delivery for the house arriving. Why don't you see to that for me?"

"Oh, a delivery!" Camilla exclaimed. "Thank you Marcus, I shall handle it." She turned with a swish of her skirts and headed to the mansion that was in the final stages of being built.

Camilla could just imagine the exclamations of admiration once the mansion was finished. As a little girl she had always admired the soft green lawn that belonged to the stately homes along Main Street. She had found a small ally on the street where no one noticed her. She could gaze at the lush lawns without anyone running her off. Her mother had always fussed at her for sneaking off to admire the beautiful carpets of grass that were a sign of wealth. Young Camilla just knew that one day, her own home would have a lawn also. Why, it would be even better than the lawns found on Main Street.

Her dream of her own lovely lawn had finally come to pass. Marcus didn't really seem to realize the importance of ones lawn. It was up to Camilla to make sure that the new home they were building would be up to the standards of society. The image one presented to the world was very important. Marcus was lucky to have her.

Marcus watched his lovely wife saunter off. He would have to follow her soon to keep her from too much trouble. He shook his head and gave his attention back to the landscape expert.

"How do we keep the sheep from the gardens around the home and still keep the integrity of the lawn my wife desires?" He asked.

The man frowned in thought as he looked over the large expanse of property.

"Well, sir, we could always install a ha-ha."


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This is my entry for LJ Idol: Exhibit B. This weeks topic was one of four. I chose ha-ha [not to be confused with laughter]. This is a ha-ha
kajel: (Me)
Have you ever thought about a glorious time from your past and the image you recall seems a little hazy? It has been twenty two years since we left England. What I remember, was an idyllic four years spent in another country. I was just moving out of my early childhood and into my teens when we left for our four year adventure. I was going into seventh grade, Junior High. Of course, I thought I was all grown up. The reality was, though, my sisters and I were just kids. Kids exploring a new world that was completely different from the one we left. We moved from the dry, blandness of the Mojave desert in southern California, to the vibrant, lushness of the English countryside.

England was where I began to grow up. It's where I met my best friend, where I started to indulge my passion for horses, got in my first fight, experienced my first love and it is the source of my fondest memories. My favorite memory of England is Rendlesham Forest. Our house on the base was a new two story duplex, with a back yard facing the forest. We were able to walk out the back door, go across the yard, and step over the sagging wire fence. Once over the fence, we were no longer on the base. We just crossed the road and into the forest we went.

My sisters and I would dash across to our natural playground. We spent countless hours exploring that forest. I remember the elephant tree marked the spot where we always left the trail. There is a fogginess to most of the memories I have. I don't know that I actually remember what the tree looked like, just that it had one branch that was much larger and thicker than the others. It stuck out straight for several feet, before curling back up. If we were industrious, we could climb up and it made a great seat.

There was also the Hippo pool. Well, that is what we called it. To this day, I have no idea what it was. There was a good fence around it. The pool of water was rectangular in shape, maybe about five feet wide and seven long. The water was terribly murky. I remember green water full of algae and slime with a small concrete slab or box at the end of the pool. Why did we call it the Hippo pool? Who knows, the origin of the name is lost to the mists of time.

My best friend and I knew of a tree in the middle of the forest. She called it the witches tree. We didn't see it too often since it tended to creep her out. There was a story at the time about the tree. It may have been local legend, it may have come from her imagination. The story went, that a witch had been hung from the tree. Before she died, she laid a terrible curse. I don't know what the curse was, just that it had happened. I am leaning towards the idea this was from the imagination of my friend. Rendlesham Forest was known for it's UFO's not witches.

My fondest memory of the forest are the ferns. Beautiful tall, green ferns that were at least waist high on us. I recall happily playing with my sisters and friends in those ferns. They grew tall on a single stalk. If we sat in the dark soil underneath, the fronds of the fern would spread out in a lovely arc over our heads. There were times we just sat off the side of the trail listening to all those who walked by. Other times, we would pull a few ferns from the ground in a small circle. We would gather those still in the ground and tie the tops together making fern houses. I can remember laying on the ground, watching the light turn green and filter softly through the fronds.

Many of the memories of these years now fade into the foggy recesses of my mind. It has been so long. Except, the ferns. Playing in the ferns with my sisters and friends will always remain clear. England is a cherished experience, one that I would never trade.


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This is my entry for LJ Idol: Exhibit B. This weeks topic was one of four. I chose Shadow Children.
kajel: (Me)
We live in a cul-de-sac in our neighborhood. After a house fire in 2008, we started getting to know our neighbors better. By the end of 2011, my husband and I had become really good friends with the couple directly across the street from us. Last summer, they didn't have air conditioning and they spent four to five evenings a week in our home.

It was wonderful. She was a stay at home mother also. We would have coffee together most mornings. We planned shopping trips together, swapped babysitting, traded recipes and cooking duties for dinners. Her children were a lot older than ours, but loved coming over to play with them. Our husbands started going on bike rides together for exercise. They watched our home and dogs while we were on vacation last summer. Her mother came to visit from Pennsylvania and let me know how much my friendship meant to her daughter. I was touched.

In late summer, they began having financial difficulties. Checks went missing and were cashed. She accused another couple we had introduced to them. They let us know there was an investigation, she had seen the other couple on video cashing her checks. In the next few months, we discovered we were being lied to by the wife. The discoveries started small, but they began to snowball. We were getting ready to address our concerns with the husband, when our checks went missing. In the end, the neighbor's wife had defrauded her own accounts, accused our friends of the crime, stolen our money and tried to convince authorities I had given her the checks to buy groceries for me and just forgot.

I don't understand the motivation to do something like this to good friends. It has temporarily shaken my trust in people. An acquaintance offered to watch my children for fifteen minutes while I ran to the store to grab medication for my son. I couldn't take her up on it. I couldn't get past the fear of what might happen. I am more distant with new people I meet. I will be getting a new next door neighbor soon. I have no desire to meet them. One positive, we did not destroy our friendship with the other couple. We stepped back, but we waited for proof that we could see before cutting our ties. I am thankful that, although I believed the neighbor's lies, we waited for the hard evidence.

Everyday, I hear a car door, look up, and see her going about her business. Everyday I wish we had confronted her, but this wish is a double edged sword. We don't wish to feed her need for drama, her need to twist words to show herself as a victim. I haven't been able to step out of my home without obsessing over her and what happened. I wonder what my other neighbors think of us. We don't know them well, but she and her children do. I have been trapped in this nightmare of negative thinking. Breaking of trust hurts. It creates rage, pain and stress. The nightmare isn't a good or healthy place to live.

I have said to myself, 'I will not allow her to run me out of my own front yard!'. Only to realize, I have allowed it. The neighbor is outside in the cul-de-sac, and I decide to get the mail later. I herd the kids into the backyard so that I can avoid any awkwardness. With time, the pain and rage begin to die down. They get replaced by awkwardness and avoidance. The nightmare continued, only now, with different emotions.

How do you get past the pain and stress of betrayal when you see the individual everyday? This weekend, I took the kids out in the front yard. It was a beautiful evening and we played for a couple of hours. The neighbors came out and it no longer mattered. The nightmare is over for me. It is a new day and, today, I can look at her out my window and feel pity. She is going to have a felony record over a minor amount of money. Money she didn't even use for necessities for her or her family. I can finally let this go. This nightmare may haunt her the rest of her life, but I am out of it.

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This is my entry for LJ Idol: Exhibit B. This week was an intersection, and my partner is [livejournal.com profile] alycewilson. Her entry can be found here.

The topics were I Wake Up Strange and Oh, Lord, We're Not Talking ______Again, Are We?.
kajel: (Me)
What's so special about 1337? It's not like it is 1632 and a bunch of West Virginians are transplanted through time and space. It isn't even 1492, when Columbus sailed the ocean blue. In 1337, you're a year too early for the start of the 100 Years War. Sorry, also ten years too early to have any claims on the Black Death.

Maybe the answer is in the numbers themselves. Let's start with the number 1. This number is a heavy hitter. The number 1 is a primal force, the symbol of God to some. People believe when you are number 1, you are the best. Multiply or divide by the number 1 and you will always have the number you start with.

The number 3 shows up twice. It is a sacred number in many religions. In fairy tales, it is the number of tests passed, riddles solved. The number 3 is the result of a union. You want to be synchronized? You count to three.

In numerology, the number 7 is the seeker of Truth. In many cultures it represents wholeness and completion. The number 7 expresses totality. The phases of the moon last seven days. There are seven acknowledged colors in a rainbow.

Taken all together, what do these mean. What purpose do they serve? Maybe, 1337 is the pinnacle. Start with 1, a primal force. Continue with 3 and 3, sacred and synchronicity. You end with 7, which may say, 'you complete me'. 1337 is achievement, realization, and the culmination of aspirations. You might even say, the number 1337 is elite.
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1632 is a fantasy novel written by Eric Flint.
This is my entry for LJ Idol: Exhibit B. For week 2, I chose the topic 1337.
kajel: (Me)
"Mary, sweetie, you did the fundraiser at all the games after school. You have single-handedly raised thousands of dollars. You've walked in all the walks this year. Come on, you're sixteen years old. You ran in a marathon last month. You've dedicated your entire year to this cause. Do you really think it's necessary to give them your hair?"

Mary's mother dragged her fingers gently through her daughter's long, black tresses.

"Mom!"

Mary rolled her eyes in exasperation. Her mother had been nagging at her for days. Ever since she decided to donate her hair to Locks of Love earlier in the week, she had been hearing this speech in one form or another.

"It's just hair. There are kids out there that don't have any. It'll grow back you know."

Her mother sighed, then smiled ruefully at her daughter.

"It's my own fault really. I raised you to have strong convictions. To believe in something and follow through with what you start. I just never thought teaching you to be a young independent woman would have such a detrimental affect on your beautiful hair."

"Really, Mom. Who's the teenager here? You're being overly dramatic."

Mary's mother drew her fingers through her daughter's long, silky hair one last time.

"Alright. I'm ready." She took a deep breath. "Let's do this," she said as she nodded to the hairstylist while stepping away from her daughter.

The stylist put a hair tie in Mary's hair, creating a pony tail just above her shoulders. Mary's mother winced as the stylist made the first cut. A few seconds later and Mary was holding twelve inches of hair in her hands

"Well," her mother said, "at least the hair is being used for a good cause."

….

Later that evening, the stylist arrived home.

"Paul." She called out for her boyfriend. He was working in a theater production and she never knew when he was going to be home.

"In the kitchen."

"Some girl came in to donate her hair today." The stylist wandered into the kitchen. She reached into her purse and pulled out the pony tail of Mary's hair. "Is this what you were looking for?" she asked.

Paul grabbed the hair. "This is perfect," he exclaimed! "Man, when I get to the theater with this tomorrow, the prop gig is mine! This will make a great mustache."


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This is my entry for LJ Idol: Exhibit B. This week was an intersection, and my partner is [livejournal.com profile] sweeny_todd! Her entry can be found here. The link will work as soon as LJ cooperates and allows her to set to all.
The topics were You Gave Everything You Possibly Could and Chillin' Like a Villain
kajel: (Me)
Did you know that Amber, aka [livejournal.com profile] adpaz, is [livejournal.com profile] roina_arwen's long lost sister? I know, right! In the 92 hours that I have known her, I would never have guessed this.

The one thing I have discovered this weekend, Amber is easy to talk to. How nice to find someone that you know right from the start can be a good friend. There seem to be several parallels in our lives. One is that we are nearly the same age. Also, we are both married with two kids. She has two beautiful, happy looking boys. She started first, so has been at it a little longer than I have. You can tell she is passionate about her family by the way she writes about them.

There are many things that Amber is passionate about. If I tell you all about them now, what will she have to tell? This will be a fun journey over the next weeks as I learn more about my new friend and others through our writing. Let's take the journey together!
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