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Sunday, February 19, 2012

Sweet.

Oliver is in his Johnny Jump-Up. "You Can Fly" is playing on the loop of Disney's Greatest Hits. I have my quotation composition book, books I've read lately (with folded page corners where I've found sentences I want to keep), and an open fairy bag of colored pens. The day is wet and gray, but water droplets string the bare willow branches like clear beads.

On Friday, Oliver and I went with Josh to get groceries. It was probably my first time grocery shopping in six months, and it was Oliver's first time. I don't like to be away from Josh, so we're going to try getting groceries as a family. I used the baby carrier for the first time. I loved having Oliver strapped to my chest, facing inward. He didn't feel heavy at all. He looked around quite a bit and then snuggled against me and fell asleep. I got to actually look around and see what I might like instead of trying to make a list without looking. Of course, we spent a little more than usual that way. I bought some pens--I'm happy that ballpoints with colored ink are easy to find now.

Later that night, Mom and Shane came to visit. Oliver graciously stayed up a little. I pumped before bed and in the night. I've found that if I relax and don't pump on the weekends, my body doesn't start responding to it well again until Wednesday, so the beginning of the week is especially stressful as a struggle to express enough milk. In the morning, we all spent some lazy time in the living room. My mom put butter on a cinnamon Pop-Tart...I'll have to use that for a story character.

I began writing short stories in earnest in 2008. I'd been writing poems for quite a while, and several had appeared in small publications. For a while, I wrote a story each week. I sent them out constantly. One editor sent encouraging personal rejections four times. My only fiction acceptance was a tiny micro fiction piece on an online publication. Piles of rejections are normal, but I had success with poems every once in a while. Since this didn't happen with my stories, I thought that perhaps I should stick to poems.

Starting my career and expanding my family put submissions on hold for me. But a couple of weekends ago, I decided to spend an hour or two and send out two story submissions, one of them to the encouraging editor. He accepted the story two days later, telling me that he'd read it as soon as he saw it. I was beaming for a couple of days over that--finally, a story acceptance. Yesterday morning, I checked my E-mail and found that I had a second story acceptance--the other submission I sent two weeks ago. This seems to indicate that I ought to get back into the groove of submitting work.

Since Mom, Shane, and Josh were all playing with Oliver in the living room, I took my time getting ready. I took an unusually long shower, impressed with our hot water supply since I was the last to use it. I have a pair of gray Loft pants with tiny blue pinstripes. The material wrinkles easily, so I felt self-conscious wearing them to work. They had languished in my wardrobe for quite a while. So I decided to move them to the closet and use them as casual pants. I wore them with one of my favorite shirts--a green, short-sleeved V-neck and rosette-topped pink flats. I sparkled my eyes and pulled my hair back with clear rhinestone barrettes. I'm still using the green velvet purse I usually reserve for the Christmas season (I've probably had the purse for eight years). Josh was my coffee house poet dream in black boots, black pants, and a gray turtleneck.

We went to Barnes and Noble, where I saw so many books that looked fascinating. Of course, I have tons of books right now, and I'm reading slowly, so I took pictures of the covers with my phone. Mom seemed quite content pushing Oliver in his green and brown stroller. I caught Josh's eye through a book display and flirted with him.

We had lunch as Carraba's. Oliver feel asleep, clutching his colorful plastic rings in his carrier atop the booth's table. I relished the warm bread and the Caesar salad. I never get tired of Caesar. I had a chicken Parmesan pomodoro sandwich with house-made chips.

We went to the mall, and I stopped to feed Oliver in the car. I found low gunmetal gray heels I'd like for work and canvas flats with champagne sparkle I'd like for fun, but the lines were insane, and the shoe department didn't have enough staff. Mom told me she had spotted any incredible necklace. She took me over to a Betsy Johnson (!) display and showed me a stunning necklace: three gold snowflakes with opal-like stones, violet and lavender rhinestones, and tiny pearls with two black metal bows. It was gorgeous. It was totally me. It was quite expensive. I bought it anyway, with eyebrow raising and nods from Mom and Josh. I put it on right then, and it looked magical with my green shirt. I've already been thinking about the work outfits I can plan around that necklace.

We took Oliver to look at the carousel and then went to the Disney store. He reached for a tiny plush Roo. Mom said, "Have you seen this adorable Lady and the Tramp journal?"
"Yes," I replied. "It's in my room." We have to get Lady and the Tramp--it's out of the terrible vault!

Now, the world is silent. Oliver is wearing a terrycloth, green-striped frog outfit. We've watched the rain slipping down the tall, foggy window. I've sat on the floor at the foot of our bed (a space that Oliver's play yard/bassinet occupied until last night, his first night in his own room) and nursed Oliver. I ate chocolate peanut butter cookies after breakfast. I wrote a poem. Josh and I watched Breaking Dawn (why not?) while Oliver napped in his swing. I just said, "[Dr.] Pepper, Whoppers, Up All Night" to Josh. Oliver is giggling as my hair brushes his face. Life is sweet.

1 comment:

  1. This was lovely, Bear, your power to describe is something I've always admired and, as a writer, envied. You have a lovely way with painting pictures.

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