by Heather Plett | Feb 3, 2007 | Uncategorized
Scattered thought #1 – Nikki has been begging us for a two-piece bathing suit. After a party (involving a hot-tub) with her girlfriends a few weeks ago, she has repeatedly told us that “EVERYONE has one” (which, translated could very well mean one or two of them do). She used to have one – a nice modest suit – before she lost half of it. Last weekend, we got the bi-annual garbag bags full of hand-me-down clothes from my generous friend Suzanne, and wouldn’t you know it – there’s a two-piece bathing suit in her size. EXCEPT – this wasn’t the nice modest suit she’d had in the past. The bottom was fine, but the top – well, can we say “string bikini”? When she walked out of the bedroom, her daddy took one look at her and his jaw dropped in horror. Though she’s only ten, she has already developed curves, and our sweet little girl looked dangerously “hot” in this little number. Of course, the first thing out of her daddy’s mouth was “you will NEVER wear that in public!” To which he was met with a barrage of retorts. “BUT – it’s JUST a bathing suit. What’s the big deal?”
Well, what IS the big deal? I’d really like to know, from those of you who have raised pre-teen and teen girls, what your reactions would be. I don’t want to be an uptight mom with a long list of “thou shalt nots”, but I also don’t want my ten-year-old daughter being gawked at by hormonal teenage boys or dirty old men with nasty thoughts on their minds. But – how do you explain this to her in a way that she’ll understand but not get totally freaked out and self-conscious about the way boys look at her?
Scattered thought #2 – Somewhat related to the above scattered thought, yesterday, while the girls and I were splashing around at the Pan Am Pool with some friends (Nikki was in her MODEST bathing suit), there were also a group of young teenagers playing a game with a beach ball. One of the girls jumped on one of the boys and held him down. He said “what are you doing?” Her response was “I’m raping you.” Huh?? When did RAPE become funny?
Scattered thought #3 – Just like they say at the Oscars – “It’s just an honour to be nominated.” Along with a number of my excellent blogging friends, I have been nominated for “best writing” over at the Share the Love Blog Awards. Gee thanks! I’m tickled! If you feel so inclined, you can vote for me here. And give a nod to some of our other friends while you’re there.
Scattered thought #4 – My lovely sister and her equally lovely husband are taking the girls for a sleepover tonight. Of course the girls are thrilled, but ya wanna know the best part? We get to have DATE NIGHT! Yay! A night alone with my beloved – you can’t go wrong with THAT!
Scattered thought #5 – Hmmmm… I wonder if Scattered thought #1 or 2 will bring some undesirable google searches my way? If you’ve come here by googling nasty words – GO AWAY! You’re not welcome here and you WON’T find any pictures of prepubescent girls in bathing suits.
Scattered thought #6 – The girls and I just went shopping for hockey sticks this afternoon. This winter, they’ve suddenly become quite passionate about skating and are all rather interested in playing some fun scrimmage games of hockey the next time we hit the ice. And after my night of hockey with the “W.I.L.D. Women”, I’m looking forward to the next time, now that I have my own stick!
Scattered thought #7 – The other day, out of the blue, Maddie said “Mom, life is like a bowl full of spaghetti.” She didn’t have an explanation, but it left me wondering what deep meaning might lurk behind her random thought. Perhaps we’re all just a bunch of noodles covered in sauce? Perhaps we’ve got nothing but squashed tomatoes to look forward to in our future? Perhaps we stick together and get all clumpy if overcooked? Hmmm…
by Heather Plett | Feb 1, 2007 | Uncategorized
In the paper this morning, there was an article about this book on the blogosphere. Apparently the author thinks that we (bloggers) are “isolated and lonely, living in a virtual reality instead of forming real relationships or helping to change the world.” It gets even better. Blogging is “melancholic and illusionary” and the community of support we find is “not real”.
Gee thanks, Mr. Keren, for so glibly dismissing our chosen form of expression and community building.
C’mon though – if this WERE my fantasy world, don’tcha think I could come up with something a little better than this? Not that there’s anything wrong with my life, but I’d at least have created a maid. Or even just a laundry slave. And maybe a lovely little cottage in the woods. And a writing career with a nice big fat contract that meant I never had to do a nine-to-fiver ever again.
And another thing – who says community can’t be real just because we never see each others’ faces? I suppose you think the support we offer each other is inauthentic and “illusionary”.
Oh and I just have to ask – what have YOU done to change the world lately? Please tell me so I can toss aside this senseless blogging and follow your lead. I may be wrong, but I don’t think writing a book about how pathetic other people are counts for “changing the world”.
Maybe you should try blogging for awhile and see if perhaps there is some merit in sharing your thoughts and feelings, getting to know people from other places and other cultures, getting advice on life’s dilemnas, getting inspired by how other people are changing their little corners of the world, and practising the art of expressing yourself through the written word.
But what do I know? I’m just a lonely and isolated blogger living in my melancholy virtual reality.
by Heather Plett | Jan 31, 2007 | Uncategorized
The next time I get one of those letters in the mail that says “thanks for your submission, but we can’t use it in our publication at this time”;
OR
the next time I tell myself there are so many better things I could do with my time than writing(like doing laundry, for example);
OR
the next time I assume every other writer is better than me and I’m simply wasting my time;
I will remember that Vicki said this of me:
“Her writing has this ability to cut to the core of my person. She can put into words things that only constrict me into a mental breakdown!”
or this:
“She can take the passing thoughts that flutter through our minds and put them down into words that make you say out-loud, ‘Yes, how did you know?'”
and I will smile.
Wow! I hardly feel worthy of such high praise, but I will accept it graciously and try to remember that any gifts I have been given are meant to be shared. You are more than welcome to partake – provided you share yours in return!
Thank you Vicki for lifting my spirits in such a beautiful, heartfelt way. Now the rest of you should run on over and visit Vicki, because she’s one of those people you will feel almost instantly could become your best friend. I think, if we spent an afternoon together, we’d barely stop laughing long enough to take a bite of that delicious apple cake she makes! (Which reminds me – I have some apples that need to be used soon… hmmm…)
by Heather Plett | Jan 30, 2007 | Uncategorized
Because all the cool kids are doin’ it, I wanted to join the fun and post some pictures of me as a young child. Unfortunately, it turns out that I have only a very limited number of pictures of bygone days in my house. I think it’s time to root around in those old cardboard boxes my mom has been moving from old farmhouse to apartment to apartment in the last few years. I need a better selection.
Here’s one of my favourite photos. I’m the blonde in the dark stripes and my sister is the cutie-patootie in the light stripes. Apparently we’re in the process of mauling my dad. As a hardworking farmer, my dad didn’t nearly always have enough time for his kids, but when he gave us his attention, he made sure that at least for those brief moments, it was quality time.
The picture below is of me with my oldest brother (who occasionally shows up in the comments as bbb). Doesn’t he look smashing in the bowtie? (And for those who know him, doesn’t he look alot like Caleb?) I was apparently fairly attached to that soother and dolly. I suspect it was a ploy to get me to sit still long enough for the Christmas photo. Even though we were fairly poor, Mom loved to dress us well – especially for Christmas. Almost every year, we got a new Christmas outfit. Usually it was something Mom had sewn.
Notice the drywall tape on the wall behind us? For the first seven years of their married life, Mom and Dad lived in an unfinished house. It must have driven my Mom a little crazy. Things didn’t get much better either. From there we moved to a tiny farmhouse with only one cold water tap in the kitchen, a strangely named “cash and carry” toilet in the winter and outhouse in the summer, and so little space that when mom and dad went to bed at night on the hide-a-bed in the living room, their feet were in the kitchen. It was another seven years before we moved into a new house on the same farm property. My mom had to put up with A LOT back then! But… we were happy.
by Heather Plett | Jan 28, 2007 | Uncategorized
Six ways to avoid laundry.
1. Play Bingo with your kids.
2. Let your kids convince you that you need to play ONE more round before tackling the laundry mountain.
3. Write a lame blog post about avoiding laundry.
4. Tell yourself it’s character building if the kids occasionally need to wear mis-matched socks or scrounge through random piles to find that last pair of threadbare underwear.
5. Phone a friend and commiserate about the never-ending laundry duties.
6. Pretend there’s been a restricted quarantine placed on your laundry room and ONLY MOTHERS are not allowed to enter.
Sigh. Okay, so I’m getting tired of wearing the bottom o’ the barrel underwear – the kind that slides into places it’s not meant to slide – just because I’ve avoided laundry too long. Self – get thee to the laundry room!
by Heather Plett | Jan 25, 2007 | Uncategorized
At the rock-hewn churches of Lalibella, where history is so thick it seeps from the walls, I stood outside the holy of holies. By virtue of my gender, I was barred entrance to that most sacred of places.
The men at the door said “no women allowed.” I heard “you are unclean. Unworthy.”
With some measure of discomfort, the men in our party stepped inside. “We’ll report back,” they said. “We’ll take pictures and show you.” Their words hinted at the guilt they carried for being the chosen ones. They didn’t want to leave us behind.
Waiting on the outside, we three women made light of the situation. “What if we storm the entrance?” we laughed. “Perhaps if we trip on the doorway and fall into the room…” Kebede, our Ethiopian companion, didn’t take it so lightly. “They will stone you,” he said, his face reflecting the seriousness of the offense. “Or beat you with their sticks.” All of the priests in this place carried long staffs with silver or gold crosses on top. I imagined those crosses smashing down on our backs.
In this foreign country, it was not my place to challenge history. I stayed outside.
Twinges of memory poked at my consciousness – my own history ringing in my ears. “You cannot read the Bible in church. You are a woman.” “You cannot be class president. You are a woman.” Each time I heard the words flung like stones – “You are unclean. Unworthy.”
I looked down at my bare feet on the stones worn smooth from centuries of worshippers. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that these feet could walk on holy ground. I knew that these feet were no less worthy than the feet of those inside the holiest of rooms. After years of stones, I had learned to hold my head up high and believe the truth of “neither Jew nor Greek, male nor female.”
I am woman. I am worthy. I can only put my faith in a God who tore the veil of the holy of holies and welcomed me to step over the threshold. “You are worthy,” he/she whispered in my waiting ear. “Come and be clean.”
