At The Edge of Death

The fifth writing prompt was to write about a near death experience.  Enjoy!


I go to thinking about being near death.  A lot of movies portray it as either a very intense experience or a peaceful one.  But they both have something in common: the act leading to the near death experience is a huge one.  Many people expect that in order to have a near death experience, it has to be a major accident.

But what if I said that you can have a near death experience in a small event?  Let me give you an example.  Say you are walking down the stairs and you misjudge where the last step is.  Your heart skips a beat, leaping up into your chest.  Your breath catches in your throat and a lightning flash of a vision of injury or death from a fall appears before your eyes.  When you realize that you are okay and unharmed, your heartbeat begins to return to normal and you vow to be more careful walking down the stairs.  Did you come close to crossing the veil between the living and the dead?  Your mind seems to think so.

Me, personally, have experienced both a major and many minor near death experiences.  My major one was being hit by a car while riding my bike across the street when I was 17.  All I remember is starting across the street and the next thing I knew, I was opening my eyes and looking at the sky above me.  I was calm but I had no recollections of any major insights with my brush with death.  I do remember having several insights during my minor near death experiences.

So I ask you, which insights are more important?  The ones brought one by a minor near death experience or a major one? Or are they both equally important?  That is up to you to decide.

(Photo from: http://www.daily-tarot-girl.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/10/death.jpg)

A Big Change

From early adulthood onwards, I have this love/hate relationship with my hair.  I will often go through phases where I want long, then short, then long hair again.  It was during one of these short to long cycles that I decided to grow it out long enough that it could be donated to a place that could use it to make wigs for cancer patients.  I was mainly due to the actions of one person, my sister Noel.

Noel was born almost 12 years after I was and it was definitely a surprise but a good one.  Then, when she was three, she got sick and we got terrible news: it was cancer.  She went through all the treatments and dealt with a lot of the usual side effects, including hair loss.  It hurt her a lot to deal with the side effects but she missed her hair the most.  As her big sister, it hurt.  There was nothing that I could do do make it better.

So, this past weekend I decided that it was time for me to cut off the long hair I had been growing for a few years.  I divided my hair into two ponytails and let the stylist snipe them both off.  For those that haven't done this before, it is so freeing to have that much hair cut off.  Once my hair was cut to the style I wanted, I went a step further.  I changed my normal brown hair to red.  The hair that was cut off my head measured 12 inches, which should help make a great wig for someone fighting cancer.

The reaction that I got to this big change from both my jobs was almost as fun as getting the haircut itself.  My students' reactions went from "Oh my god!" to "Why did you cut it?!" to "You look like a boy." (Kindergartners, gotta love them.)  My retail coworkers were a bit more subdued but not by much.  It is really hard for people to believe that I would go and do something so extreme.

Just remember, it is hair and it grows back :-)

 My hair before the cut

Artistic Expression

My writing prompt from Marie this week was to write about my first artistic expression.  Now, even though I am a naturally artistic person, I honestly do not remember my first artistic expression.  I am sure that it must have been very similar to everyone elses; a crayon scribble across a piece of paper, but I don't remember it.  Instead, I am going to tell you about how I learned how to crochet.

My mom has major domestic skills.  Sewing, knitting, crocheting, you name it, she can probably do it.  Part of it comes from the era that she grew up in but it also comes from her environment.  She was a farmer's daughter and a lot of these skills were very handy.  After years of doing these things, she is a pro.  I still will contact her whenever I am having trouble with a pattern or two.

My mom tried to teach me when I was younger how to crochet.  Being a rather stubborn child, I tried and immediately gave up because it was too hard.  Fast forward a few years and I'm about 18 years old.  I get it into my head that I want to finally learn and I tell my mom.  She gives me an H hook, a ball of yarn, and proceeded to show me how to do a slip knot & how to do a chain.  Once I figured that out, she had me chain and chain and chain.  The chain strand was about as long as the couch before she checked on my progress.  Mom then showed me the differences in the tension of the chain stitches I had made.  Some were rather loose, some were really tight, and some were in between.  Once I had a gotten a length of just right chain stitches, she knew that I had a feel for how to hold the yarn as I work, so she took me to the next step: making a granny square.

I was able to progress rather quickly with the granny square and eventually made a blanket for my brother out of them (which I hope he still has).  Before we moved apart from each other, her from California to Montana and I from California to Illinois, she taught me one of the hardest crochet skills: how to read a pattern.  Ever since that time, I have loved crochet.  It is really cool to take just a simple string and create a fabulous piece.

So, while it may not be a memory of my first artisitc expression, it is definately the most memorable.

Think I have enough hooks?

A Cat's Love Letter

To the humans that feed us
And take away our poop
You are lucky that we tolerate you
When you give our nose a boop

We like it when you scratch our head
And give our fur a rub
But don't pet our belly
Or you'll pull back a nub

You sit in a puddle of water
And shave off your fur
But we can tolerate all this
When you really make us give a happy purr

Why you do such odd things
We often wonder about you
But none of that really matters
Since we picked you too

There is something about the things you do
And the way that you smell
It is all your strange ways
That make us love you as well

Gabby & Oscar snoozing on the bed

In Search of a Hobby

(This is the first of five different posts from Marie's and mine writer's block challenge.  Enjoy.)


 "Man, all you do ever do is work, work, work.  Don't you do anything for fun?  Don't you just relax?" complained Jax as he flopped down on the sofa next to his roommate Derrick.  Derrick just grunted, moved a random dreadlock away from his face and kept typing away on this keyboard.  Jax took a look around the darkened living room.  The curtains were doing their best at preventing the afternoon sunlight from entering the room, although some of the light was peeking through around the edges.  What little light that was creeping in barely illuminated the discarded corn dog sticks, empty chips bags, and mostly crushed cans of Citrus Kickstart laying on the mid level brown carpet of their apartment floor.  The blue sofa was starting to sag a bit where Derrick had set up his temporary office.  "This place is a fucking mess dude!  I ain't picking up after you," Jax said, aiming a kick at a near by can.  Derrick grunted at his roommate's outburst but made no other indication that his roommate was talking with him.  Throwing his hands up in the air with a growl of frustration, Jax stomped out of the living room, into his room and slammed the door.  And the only sound that came from the living room was the sound of another can hitting the carpet.

The next morning, Derrick awoke to a stiff neck.  He had passed out after another long night of coding.  His boss had been really riding him and his whole team to try to get this new clothing site up and ready for launch two weeks before the customer was expecting it to be ready.  They kept having issues with the shopping cart charging weird shipping costs and duplicating items to very high amounts.  He rubbed a hand over his face, feeling the roughness of his stubble on his chin.  Thankfully the hair on his face grew rather slow, unlike some of his coworkers.  Steve probably had a beard right now that could rival Grizzly Adams.  Derrick stood up from the couch, wincing slightly as the joints of his lanky frame tried to resist his sudden movement.  He had been sitting on that couch for way too long.  Maybe Jax was right.  Maybe he was working too much.  He looked around and noticed that the trash from his last session was missing from the carpet.  In fact, the whole living room had been picked up while he had been passed out on the couch.  He felt his heartbeat begin to rise.  His pride, his joy, the lifeline to his job and the world, his Leveno ThinkPad, IT WAS MISSING!!  Derrick's heart went from just beating fast, to about to explode.  "Jax!" he screamed.  "Where the fuck is my laptop?!"  Jax emerged from his room, clearly having been awoken by Derrick's yelling.  "Dude, what is your problem?"

"My laptop, you moron!  It's missing and I need it for work!"

"D, my man, all you do is work.  Ii am freeing you from the electronic beast."

"What?!  I need that for work!  I have to work!"

Jax gave him a look that was very similar to the look that a mom gives a child who is throwing a temper tantrum.  "I get that you need it for work, but work is all you do.  You never go out anymore.  Heck, you don't even participate in game night, which you started.  All this work is not healthy for you.  So," Jax crossed his arms across his chest, "this is what we are going to do.  You are going to leave this apartment and do something else other than work today.  You are totally brain fried and you need a break.  How do you expect to solve your major issues with your site if you don't break away once in a while and let your brain relax?"

Derrick stared at his friend without saying a word.  The silence in the apartment was getting thicker and thicker by the second.  He didn't want to admit it but his friend was right.  Grudgingly, he shoved his hands into his jean pockets and stared at the floor in defeat.  "Fine," he muttered.  "I'll go for a walk."  He turned on his heel and walked out the apartment door and into the morning light.

Several blocks down the road, Derrick was muttering to himself about how unfair the world was and he wasn't looking where he was going when he ran into a little old lady as he turned around a corner.  "Oh my goodness.  Ma'am, are you okay?  I am so sorry.  I wasn't looking where is was going."  The tiny gray haired woman just reached down to pick up her dropped bag with a chuckle.  "It's alright young man.  You look like you are having a rough day. "

"You have no idea ma'am."

She wrapped her arm around his and said, "Why don't you walk me to my class and tell me all about it.  I'm Mimi, by the way.  You are about as tall as my grandson except he doesn't have such nice long hair like yours."

Derrick couldn't help but smile at Mimi's chatter.  He introduced himself and told her what had happened.  She nodded and made sympathetic noises as he talked. When he was finished, she said, "Well, I'm sorry to agree with your roommate but all work and no play just makes you old before your time.  You should come with me.  I'm meeting up with a few of my girlfriends and we can teach you a fun little hobby that will help you get your mind off your work from time to time.  Plus, it will help keep your fingers nimble, which will help you in your work too."

Mimi walked Derrick up to a little craft shop and she about pulled Derrick through the door.  "Now, lets get you some supplies.  Being a rather computer smart guy, lets start you off with an easy one."  She was pretty speedy for her size and age and he stumbled a bit as she turned down one aisle.  It was full of little kits of cloth, thread and needles.  "Ah, this you should be right up your alley," she said with a grin as she held up a little packet as close to his face as she could reach.  It had a little picture of R2D2 on it.  "I am going to teach you how to cross stich."  The grin on her face was contagious.  He was not going to say no to such a sweet lady.  "Alright Mimi, teach me."

For the next hour, he sat surrounded by Mimi and several of her friends like a very large bird in a group of little sparrows, working on his R2D2.  The ladies were more than happy to give him advice and help him when he messed up.  The stress left him as the picture grew bit by bit.  At the end, R2D2 looked back at him from the little circle of cloth.  The ladies hugged him several times before he left and they made him promise that he would be back the following week.  He would be back.  He knew that he would have to do many of the other characters, but that first one was the best and closest to his heart.

(Photo from: https://vignette2.wikia.nocookie.net/starwars/images/e/eb/ArtooTFA2-Fathead.png/revision/latest?cb=20161108040914)