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Melting Pot

14 Mar

Mister is sleeping and I start sprinting my cleaning marathon. I put in the laundry. I put two pacifiers in to boil. I dust the furniture. I clean the mirrors and glass. I Swiffer the floor. I move the laundry to the dryer. I clean the bathroom. I Wet Jet the floor. Mister wakes up from his nap. I feed him and he dozes. I change his diaper and watch the gummy grin light up his face. We play. Then, I smell a strange smell. It smells almost like when I overloaded the washer and burned a belt, but less electrical. It smells like melting plastic. Then I remember. I put the pacifiers in to boil but I didn’t take them out. I race downstairs. The two pacifiers are now melted to the pot and each other. If I forget about boiling pacifiers, how can I expect to remember story ideas?

What do you do when you get a good idea (so it doesn’t get melted to the pot like the pacifiers)?

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5 Comments

Posted by on March 14, 2011 in Inspiration and Ideas

 

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5 responses to “Melting Pot

  1. Mary

    March 15, 2011 at 10:44 am

    I write it down. post its, backs of envelopes, backs of receipts, palms of hands, (MY hands, although walking up to someone else and jotting a note on their hands… tee hee.) I have a small journal in my purse that I use to write travel musings or strange things I’ve observed that I don’t want to forget. Remind me to tell you about the sign in CT that marked an amusement park and airport. The SAME sign. One hopes they are not the same thing — an airport cum amusement park. GASP.

    But I digress. In my journal, I also have notes from my computer class and notes from recent work meetings. And shopping lists, hangman games, recipes etc. I had this hope that some day, many years from now, I or someone else would use my journals to produce a work of fiction ala Laura Ingalls Wilder but starring a child of the 80s. But that’s kind of hopeless given the state of my journal — crammed with post its, envelopes and receipt detritus. It would be a short work of fiction: once upon a time, long, long ago, before the internet or hybrid cars, their lived a hopelessly disorganized mess of a human with a penchant for collecting random thoughts — and for buying beans, cat treats and ricotta cheese.

    Maybe you’ll have far better luck! Write it down. Or employ more modern technology: Dad used to have a minirecorder and I had a boss who would call my voice mail and leave ME messages of things SHE wanted to remember.

     
  2. isaac

    March 16, 2011 at 12:03 pm

    I don’t actively write, but things it occurs to me I need/want to remember, I text–or, now that I have a Superphone!(tm), email–to myself.

    I’ve tried the paper journal and paper datebook things–I tend to forget to carry them, or forget to look in them. I won’t say I never forget my phone, but electronics beep, and if I’m at a computer, e-mail’s always in my face–in certain ways, it’s the same reason I prefer animals to plants.

     
  3. Juliann

    March 16, 2011 at 3:16 pm

    I write it all down. I have a planner that is “supposed” to be for my thoughts, to do lists, and everything else. Sometimes, however, I worry that I will not be able to get my planner out in time before the idea or task I have to complete leaves my mind. Instead, I just jot it down on the page of Organic Chemistry notes I am currently staring at. This seems like a good idea to me at the time because, of course, I will see it tomorrow when I open this notebook again. The next day when I can’t remember what notebook the important to-do list is even in, however, I remind myself that I bought a planner for a reason.

     
  4. Ellen

    March 17, 2011 at 10:35 am

    I have been surprisingly successful with a simple spiral notebook. The front is work related notes and the back is personal…passwords, doodles, bus schedules, shopping lists. I also have a white board in my hallway and pens scattered throughout my entire apartment.

     
  5. Tom Pierce

    March 17, 2011 at 8:25 pm

    Beth have you read the children’s book/poem called Hiawatha?
    This is where all of those street names in Vermilion are from.

    Thought of you when I read this.

    God Bless You!

    Love Uncle Tom

    Song of Hiawatha
    HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW
    By the shores of Gitche Gumee, by the shining Big-Sea-Water,
    Stood the wigwam of Nokomis, daughter of the Moon, Nokomis.
    Dark behind it rose the forest, rose the black and gloomy pine-trees,
    Rose the firs with cones upon them; bright before it beat the water,
    Beat the clear and sunny water, beat the shining Big-Sea-Water.
    There the wrinkled old Nokomis nursed the little Hiawatha,
    Rocked him in his linden cradle, bedded soft in moss and rushes,
    Safely bound with reindeer sinews; stilled his fretful wail by saying,
    “Hush! the Naked Bear will hear thee!” Lulled him into slumber, singing,
    “Ewa-yea! my little owlet! Who is this, that lights the wigwam?
    With his great eyes lights the wigwam? Ewa-yea! my little owlet!”
    Many things Nokomis taught him of the stars that shine in heaven;
    Showed him Ishkoodah, the comet, Ishkoodah, with fiery tresses;
    Showed the Death-Dance of the spirits, warriors with their plumes and war-clubs,
    Flaring far away to northward in the frosty nights of winter;
    Showed the broad white road in heaven, pathway of the ghosts, the shadows,
    Running straight across the heavens, crowded with the ghosts, the shadows.
    At the door on summer evenings, sat the little Hiawatha;
    Heard the whispering of the Pine-trees, heard the lapping of the water,
    Sounds of music, words of wonder; “Minne-wawa!” said the pine-trees,
    “Mudway-aushka! said the water.
    Saw the fire-fly Wah-wah-taysee, flitting through the dusk of evening,
    With the twinkle of its candle lighting up the brakes and bushes,
    And he sang the song of children, sang the song Nokomis taught him:
    “Wah-wah-taysee, little fire-fly, little flitting, white-fire insect, little, dancing, white-fire creature,
    Light me with your little candle, ere upon my bed I lay me, ere in sleep I close my eyelids!”
    Saw the moon rise from the water, rippling, rounding from the water,
    Saw the flecks and shadows on it, whispered, “What is that, Nokomis?”
    And the good Nokomis answered: “Once a warrior, very angry, seized his grandmother, and
    Threw her up into the sky at midnight; right against the moon he threw her;
    ‘Tis her body that you see there.”
    Saw the rainbow in the heaven, in the eastern sky the rainbow,
    Whispered, “What is that, Nokomis?” And the good Nokomis answered:
    “ ‘Tis the heaven of flowers you see there; all the wild-flowers of the forest,
    All the lilies of the prairie, when on earth they fade and perish,
    Blossom in that heaven above us.”
    When he heard the owls at midnight, hooting, laughing in the forest,
    “What is that?” he cried in terror; “What is that,” he said, “Nokomis?”
    And the good Nokomis answered: “That is but the owl and owlet,
    Talking in their native language, talking, scolding at each other.”
    Then the little Hiawatha learned of every bird its language,
    Learned their names and all their secrets,
    How they built their nests in summer, where they hid themselves in winter,
    Talked with them whene’er he met them,
    Called them “Hiawatha’s Chickens.”
    Of all beasts he learned the language,
    Learned their names and all their secrets,
    How the beavers built their lodges,
    Where the squirrels hid their acorns,
    How the reindeer ran so swiftly,
    Why the rabbbit was so timid,
    Talked with them whene’er he met them,
    Called them “Hiawatha’s Brothers.”

     

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