Monthly Archives: January 2013

A lil culture here and there


Being a military brat and also a military veteran, I have had the chance to see the majority of the United States and part of the world. My parents made many trips to historical places and museums when I was growing up. I love history. I enjoy reading the stories of where people came from.

Traveling, as well as moving around the country, gave me an insight to other cultures. For example, when I was six, my step dad was stationed in Key West, Florida. We lived across the street from a married couple; she was Japanese and he was Puerto Rican. Now and then we would be invited over for dinner, each time we went it was always something different; he would cook something from his home country or she would cook something from her home country. On occasion she would babysit my sisters and me and she would show us pictures of Japan and make Japanese popcorn for us; their kernels are black.

A few years ago I got the chance to live with a Cheyenne/ Arapaho family in Oklahoma for a summer. I was also given the honor of attending a Sun Dance. Not many “outsiders” are asked to come and join them, so I was more than elated when I was asked. To me it was more than just an honor; it was an experience to learn about another Native American culture than my own Native American heritage as I am Cherokee and Choctaw. It was the first time I had eaten buffalo, as well as fry bread.

Sun Dance is more than just watching warriors dance, there are rules to be followed, mostly for us women. Of course I always have to ask why; it’s more of a curiosity as to why these rules are set. For instances, if a woman is menstruating she cannot get closer than fifty yards from the Sun Dancers, it makes them sick. There is a certain dancer that has a lizard painted on him that is of great importance to the Sun Dance; he is named the lizard man. I was told not to stare at the lizard man; I could glance his way, but only for a quick second. The lizard man holds strong power for the one offering himself in the Sun Dance and staring at him will cause him harm.

In UAE (United Arab Emirates) Dubai, a group of my shipmates and I rode camels through the desert, stopping at an oasis. They had cooked a large meal for us that included sheep, chicken, vegetables, and camel meat; camel is like our cow here in America. They wouldn’t allow us to pass up any food that was offered, so camel meat was put on my plate whether I wanted it or not. However, I did taste it and to me, it was the nastiest meat I’ve ever eaten. There was also a belly dancer, henna hand painting, and a hookah. A hookah is a machine that you can smoke flavored tobacco from. If you have ever seen the cartoon movie Alice in Wonderland, the caterpillar smokes a hookah. I didn’t give the hookah a try because I was afraid it wouldn’t be tobacco in there, but instead there would be something illegal and I would get in trouble.

Journal Entry #3


Last Thursday in creative writing class, we were given a journal entry to fill a page with images that appeals to the senses that work to reveal an abstraction. Abstractions are things like love, joy, grief, sadness, disgrace, horror, tenderness, beauty. In the last sentence we are to reveal our abstraction.

Here is what I wrote.

Journal Entry #3

I talk to you, but I receive no verbal answer. I’m used to it now. I miss hearing your voice. I do know you hear me; the small clues you leave for us to find, to let us know you’re here.

I walk into your office here at home, searching for a plain white envelope, but cannot find any. I only find the envelopes with your old work address on them. I smile then laugh out loud at how you’ve always kept everything; old match books, postcards, even your log books from every place you’ve stopped at dating back from the first time you started driving a truck.

I start pulling your desk drawers open, still searching for a plain white envelope. Finally, I pause, then smile and ask out loud, “Can you please tell me where I may find a plain envelope? I need one without your old address printed on them.” I received an answer, tough it was with silence. I got a vision of two boxes of envelopes, sitting on a shelf above the computer. I turn around and there they were, exactly what I was looking for. “Thank you Grandpa,” I say out loud.

Grandma and I visited you today, but I still cannot talk to you like that. I look at the cold, pink stone that bares your name and I’m shaken by the thought. My mind still doesn’t want to absorb this. Tears began welling up in my eyes as I took a few steps back. I don’t know why I can talk to you at home, but cannot talk to you there. Maybe it’s just too much of a reality for me.

I watched grandma talk to you. I tried not to listen. Instead, I dried my eyes and walked around visiting with other relatives. I get lost in the quietness of that place, where everyone is resting peacefully. People tell me that time heals the pain of losing someone. It’s been two years and four months and I still grieve for you.

Update on my children’s book


I usually check my email every other day or whenever I think about it…which means, I don’t check it as often as I should. Yesterday I checked it out of curiosity. It had been a month since I had heard from one of the illustrators working on my children’s book and he did say to give them a month before I would hear from them again. He gave me a list of questions to answer, questions was about my characters; he basically needed to know how to draw them. During this month he will be working on sketching the pages for my book.

I open my email and there was an email from another illustrator that was working with the other guy I had previously talked to. In the email he had told me that they had been busy working on sketches for my book and wanted to show me one of the sketches. I opened the attachment and saw a page in bright colors with the two characters from my story. I loved it! I emailed him back saying I loved it and since he was asking if I wanted to change anything, I told him no need for any changes. It made my day to see my story in their work. I also went on to tell them what a wonderful job they have done. He emailed me back to say that they will continue with these characters and I will hear back from him in a few weeks.

The children’s book publishing is a long process. It takes 180 days, which includes, editing the story, illustrating, finding the correct title, putting it all together, and then printing the book. I had two major holidays, Thanksgiving and Christmas, in the middle of this that added another month onto the 180 days. I had school keeping me busy to help pass the time, so it wouldn’t feel like I’m waiting an eternity for my published work to come out. I am sure Novels take much longer. 

I’m getting even more excited the closer they get to finishing the book!

Snowflake of a different kind


Since everyone has been sharing snow stories, I thought I would share a picture of a snowflake that my daughter made in daycare.

Image

They’ve been doing a lot of artwork with their hands and feet and all of the pictures are so cute.

Warm wishes to all!

Rough Morning


I think I hit the snooze twice this morning; Tuesday’s and Thursday’s I have early classes, which means getting up at 5:45AM. Even though my first class doesn’t start until 8AM, I have to battle morning traffic starting from my street all the way to the school; not to mention dropping my daughter off at daycare. After 8AM it’s normally a ten minute drive to school. But I was actually more awake this morning than I normally am, especially for having to get up so early. And I was in my usual good mood.

It doesn’t take me long to get ready; ten to fifteen minutes, that’s including the shower. I’ll open Dublin’s bedroom door, as most of the time this will wake her up, make my bed, and then go start breakfast. If Dublin hasn’t come into the kitchen by the time I’m done making breakfast, I know it’s going to be a rough morning. This morning was the top of the list of roughest mornings yet. It’s a fairly short list because the list has just been created, but it is starting to grow.

Dublin hasn’t given me any problems when she was two, so I never fully understood the term ‘terrible twos’. It seems that a few weeks ago, when I dropped my daughter off at daycare and came back to pick her up, I picked up the wrong child. She looks like my daughter, but acts like someone completely different; different attitude, different behavior.  

I was actually late to class this morning because of her throwing a tantrum. It wasn’t just for a few minutes either. I couldn’t get her dressed this morning, then I couldn’t get her to eat, nor get her shoes on, her hair brushed. I carried her out the door kicking and screaming only because Grandma was carrying her truck since I couldn’t; my hands were already full with diapers, a screaming child, my drink, and my backpack. I tried to give her the truck only for her to throw it across the seat. I tell her to calm down, it’s okay…but that didn’t help her.

She cried all the way to the daycare. She wouldn’t get out of the car without her truck. I gave her truck to her and proceed to carry her in and she tosses it across the parking lot and starts to scream and cry again. By now I feel like crying. I drop her off in her classroom and say she’s been like this since she got up this morning, I’m so sorry to just leave her like this. Dublin’s wailing gets louder and I say even louder, I’m going to be late for class. I was stressed and frankly I was really upset and just wanted to leave; I still had the interstate traffic to deal with.

She goes to bed around the same time every night, I haven’t changed her diet, she doesn’t drink soda; I’m starting to narrow things down. Then other mom’s with older children start to point it out to me that it’s the beginning of the ‘terrible three’s’. I’m just thinking to myself, “Oh no! I just want my sweet, loveable little girl back! The one that laughs and giggles all the time, the one that goes to bed when I ask her to. This isn’t the child I’m used to having.”

The classes that I am taking this semester make up for my stressful mornings. On Tuesday’s and Thursday’s we talk about the news in my first class, the next class we talk about literature, and then I have creative writing to finish the day. On Monday’s and Wednesday’s class we talk about other cultures. All of them are really great classes. 

Lil Miss Behave


I had taken my daughter Dublin to get her three year old checkup. Everything checked out fine, except that they see that she is three feet tall, which to them is under the high requirements for her age, and that she is under weight. Two things, one, I think she is perfect short or tall. Two, my child is not underweight; she actually had a belly on her when she went in for her checkup. I think if the doctor is checking the chart for her required height and weight for her age and saying my daughter is short for her age, then I think the weight requirements are going to be way off.

Another thing is that Dublin is behind on her vocabulary and has to start taking speech therapy. I happily agreed to this. I can understand my daughter for the most part and so can those who are around her a lot, but for others, who don’t know her, have a hard time understanding her. She still babbles and doesn’t use sentences.

While we were there they asked me if I wanted them to give her the flu shot. I said, “Yes, might as well since it’s going around.” A few days later Dublin began acting a little out of sorts, screaming and crying nonstop for hours. It started at daycare and they were just about to call me had I not walked in the door just then. They told me that it is like her to act like that. I agree it isn’t. That very night she started throwing up, nonstop and it continued all the next day. I took her back to the doctor and was told she had a stomach virus.

She had gotten better, but her behavior did not. The daycare continues to tell me how she’s doing, as usually, and told me that this isn’t her normal behavior. Again, I agree. Today, at lunch she started screaming and crying and threw her plate. The same thing goes on at home, if she doesn’t like something, I’ll try to make whatever it is she wants just to get her to eat something. In the meantime she’s screaming and crying the whole time. Is this a reaction from the flu shot? Or is this a three year old thing? Of course I had called the doctor’s office and talked to the nurse, she told me that this is a three year old thing, that the flu shot wouldn’t do that.