Santa Baby...

I want to go to the mall and sit on Santa's lap. When I do this, I shall ask him for a lump of coal and possibly a bundle of sticks. I deserve the coal and think of all the things I could do with a stick!



Here's what I really want for Christmas:

A new flat iron. Jace's sister accidentally jacked mine thinking it was hers. Coincidentally, their mom just purchased a new one. She let me have it because mine was M.I.A. Sweet, huh? What's not so sweet is that the iron really isn't that great; it doesn't heat up enough to straighten my hair well enough without going over it a billion times and it doesn't allow me to curl my hair, even though that's what it's made to do. :/ Sad, I know.


The iron I want looks like this -



Cute, isn't it?

I also discovered yesterday at Ellie's dance recital that I need a larger memory card for my camera. My memory card, after 30 seconds of recording her first performance, kaputzed :/

So that's my Christmas wishlist.



Oh, I forgot to mention one little thing, a ring. And I don't mean on the phone... ;]

Welcome to my Life

You may be wondering 'What's wrong with your cereal Erica?' But what you should be asking is 'What is right?' I'll tell you:

Cream.

I wanted some Maple & Brown Sugar Life but our milk smelled funny :/ So I grabbed the remaining half-pint of cream I used for to make my scrumptious caramels & poured some of its high-fat contents all over my crunchy yummy cereal.

De-lish-us




Round 2 anyone? ;]

Norah

So, I'm not really sure of where I'm going with this story [the one from the two previous posts...] I have a lot of ideas floating around in my head but I only really like just a couple. I'm thinking that I might go into a trial of sorts for Norah [yes, that's her name now. Thanks Eki :] ] Norah really will suffer from amnesia. I'm tempted to have her be good and set her life straight, get acquitted and all but then have some other traumatic experience at the end of the story make her snap and turn into a cold-blooded killer. Or... crap... I forgot the other idea. :/ Dang.
Anyway, here is a snippet. Norah's husband, Kherington, brought her a drink and is wanting to visit with her and this is just a little piece of their conversation.

“Do I like this?”

“Well, you used to,” my husband offered.

I eyed the paper cup auspiciously, the steaming brown liquid smelled decent enough, “Hmm… ok,” I took a sip. Not bad, I must have acquired a taste for it though. We sat in silence, save for the occasional sip or the sound of the bottom of either of our cups touching the table.

“I’m sorry I don’t remember you,” I broke the silence. I stared at my husband, just waiting for memories of our life to come flooding back to me. Our first date, our first kiss, first fight, anything really. I hated not knowing anything. His focus bounced between his cup, the table, the floor, until they finally rested on me. He tousled his hair as people often do when they’re stuck in awkward situations. His eyes pierced my soul, deep into my soul. I could see his pain, feel it even. It was more real than anything was to me at that moment. I held his gaze though I felt awkward and embarrassed and wanted to avert my eyes. I couldn’t do that though, that would be cowardly. I didn’t know if the old Norah was a coward, but I didn’t want the new one to be so I made myself suck it up and look at Kherington, my husband. He said nothing.

“Do you still love me?”

Still nothing, so I backpedaled, “I mean, it’s ok if you do, I totally understand. I mean, I’m sure I can learn to love you again. That is, if you want me to.”

The hint of a smile played at the corners of his mouth – the first sign of a smile, or what could be a smile, I had seen on his face since we’d met… re-met.

“Well yeah, of course I want you to. I still love you Norah, nothing, not even memory loss will change that for me.”

He reached out and took my hand in his and squeezed it. His hands were big and warm yet surprisingly gentle. I traced my thumb over his fingers. I looked up from our hands at his face; he looked as though he hadn’t shaved in days, or slept for that matter. Sleep depravity aside he really was a handsome guy, kind and rugged. He didn’t need a killer personality for me to see why the old me fell for him. I could get used to this, I thought.

“But I don’t have to,” I mistakenly corrected my thought out loud.

The hurt washed back into his face. “What?” I could practically hear his heart break.

“Oh! No!” I struggled for words. “I didn’t mean it like that! What I meant was, you see, I was correcting my thoughts. I was thinking as I was looking at you, that I could get used to this, but then I thought ‘but I don’t have to’, only I said it out loud instead of keeping it in my head. And…” I sighed; I feared that I was digging myself deeper into a hole. I took a deep breath and stared over, calmly this time.

“What I meant was, I don’t have to get used to this because it feels as though it’s hardwired in my brain to love you. I don’t need to get used to anything, I just need to remember: I already love you.”

He eyed me as if he saw some grand mystery unfolding right before his very eyes. I didn’t know what else to say, which turned out to be fine because apparently, he did. His mouth curled into a full-blown smile as he spoke.

“You’re still there.”

And I Stiiiiiill. Haven't Found. What I'm lookin' Foooooor... o.0

I still don't have a new name, but that's ok because it's not spoken in this chunk. This starts up where the last post leaves off.


My sadness was instantaneously wiped away by this woman’s, my so-called mother-in-law’s last remark. I may not know who she is or who I am for that fact, but I know enough about myself to know that I am not a killer. The heart monitor beeped faster.

“Am I on Candid Camera?” I demanded, “If so, this is by no means funny.” I tugged out the cannula and flung it away from my face. “Where’s Ashton? Out in the hallway waiting to jump me from behind a gurney?”

I ripped the IVs from my elbow and hand and threw back the blanket from my lap. The man who helped prop me up was reaching for me, to stop me no doubt. I kicked him away. The other man still held his mother securely but eyed me incredulously.

“None of you touch me!” I had no idea if I was prone to hysterics, either way I gave into them.

I threw my legs over the side of the hospital bed and forced my body to follow. But my legs were weak and gave way at being made to support my weight. The man who had stayed at the woman’s side ran around the bed to catch me as the first brother jumped over the bed to aide in my capture.

“Nurse!” he yelled, seizing me around my waist. “Nurse!”

“No!” I shrieked and heaved my weight back against the brother behind me, hoping to knock him off balance, sending him to the ground. As I did so I kicked at Old Yeller and nailed him square in the jaw. Just then a short Latina nurse in purple scrubs burst into the room. She hesitated for a fraction of a second; I’m sure she wasn’t expecting to see her drugged-out felon of a patient wrestling about the floor with two 6’3”+ men.

“Dwayne!” she yelled out into the hallway. “We’ve got a Code Gray!” And then she jumped in the pile wielding a syringe.

“No,” I continued to scream, “Get off me! Get away from me!”

The nurse barked something to the one behind me, amidst my ruckus I couldn’t make out what any of them were saying. He put me in a full-Nelson, rendering my arms unable to smack away the nurse and her needle. I laced my fingers around the man’s hair and pulled. He roared in my ears and I continued to kick at #2 and the nurse, though futilely. #2 sat on my legs and the nurse plunged the needle into my thigh.

“No! No! Don’t drug me!”

All too quickly I could feel the leaded sensation in my limbs return. Try as I might I could not fight these three off of me. My grip on the first brother’s hair loosened and my vision started going scratchy again. It was then I realized that my screams had digressed to whimpers, to frightened pleas.

“Don’t do this to me. Please. I didn’t kill my mom. Don’t hurt me. Please. Please…”

A navy blue-clad officer ran into the room, hand on his pistol.

“I just want my mom… Please. I didn’t kill her…”

And then everything went black.

I Need A Name o.0

I know I've already used the name Amanda, but it was the first thing that came to my mind so just deal with it until I can find a name suitable for this character. Mkay? :P

My eyelids felt heavy. And scratchy, very scratchy, like when you oversleep and your eyes get a little stuck together with crusties. My nose felt weird too, crusted snot? Sick. I raised my hand to wipe it away and was shocked at how I had to labor to lift my arm. I thought for a second that maybe I was Wolverine and had Adamantium coursing through my veins. It wasn’t snot on my nose, though, but one of those cannulas doctors place in your nose to help you breathe. I suddenly became viciously aware of the heart monitor to my left and a bustling of people about my bed. What is going on? I had to know. I opened my eyes. At first it was all a blur, fuzzy and out of focus. But as I blinked a handful of times the strangers around my bed became crisp and viewable. A shorter, round woman pushed two rather tall men, brothers I’m sure, out of her way and buzzed right up to my face, groping for my hand, tears welling up and shining in her eyes.

“Oh Amanda, sweetie,” she sobbed, lifting my taped and bruised hand in both of hers and kissing it.

A little taken aback by this stranger’s actions I pulled my hand back and hugged it close to my chest.

“Do I know you?” My voice cracked, dry from thirst and lack of use. The tears that welled up in her eyes spilled over now. The redness in the whites of her eyes only intensified their blue.

I knew I had struck a chord. The two tall men she pushed through to get to me now rushed to comfort her. Sadness now joined my confusion. I should know these people, this woman at the very least, but I hadn’t the foggiest idea of who they were, though I knew in the back of my mind who they must be. A sinking feeling erupted in the pit of my stomach.

“You’re my mother, aren’t you?” I asked. I released my hand back down to my side - It ached, as did the rest of my body. I struggled to prop myself up. One of the brothers helped me out.

It took a minute before the woman gained composure enough to speak again. Neither of the men made any effort to address me. I wondered why this was.

“No dear,” she choked, “Your mother-in-law.” She placed a hand crumpling a soaked tissue up to her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut. “Your mother is dead.”

Then all three of them locked eyes on me.

“You killed her.”

Go Green P.G. o.0

I love Eki’s kids: Hazel, Milo & George. I also like babysitting them – we have fun :] Whenever I go to play with them I drive up to the Guernsey’s in P.G. Gamma Dinah, Eki’s mom & owner of said establishment, is quite the health-conscious person. Loves organic, non-hydrogenated, HFCS-free everything. One thing about Gamma Dinah that surprised me is that she doesn’t recycle, as ‘green’ as she is. I asked her about this last time I watched the kids. Her reasoning behind not recycling is because Pleasant Grove doesn’t offer recycling services. That makes me kind of sad. When I lived in California I remember we had green recycling bins next to our garbage can. You’d think that Utah would jump on the green bandwagon and start recycling. If not Utah, just Pleasant Grove at least; PG is so pretty, you’d think the city would want to do everything in it’s power to keep it that way. o.0

For my Jace :]

Here is a little sumthin' sumthin' I conjoured up today inbetwixt Bilogy & death [math :/]

It's for Jace :]


Garret leaned in across the table toward Amber. “Before things get too serious between us Amber, there’s something about me I think you should know.”

Amber leaned back in her chair, “What? You’re a highly trained government assassin and you’ve been sent here to kill me?” She laughed.

Garret didn’t share in her laughter but instead returned a half-hearted smile. “Yes.”

This caused Amber to laugh even harder. Garret sat still in his place, face unreadable save for the wicked glint in his eye. After Amber quieted down she realized Garret wasn’t laughing, he was nowhere near amusement in fact.

“Oh my junk,” Amber sat up in her chair, “you’re serious aren’t you?” Garret said nothing but gave a slight nod in acquiescence.

“I… uh…” Amber’s eyes shiftily assessed Garret. She grabbed her soda can and hurled it at Garret’s head as she jolted up from her seat. She turned and booked it down the street, dodging people and trying to figure out where exactly she was running. Half way down the street she wished she hadn’t worn flip flops that day - She wanted Garret to chase her, she just didn’t think he’d take things quite so literally.

Within seconds of having been conked in the head by a Pepsi product Garret had his gun drawn and was quickly closing in on his target. Swift and agile he was making his way through the crowded New York streets, zipping in and out of people without even touching them. He could see Amber, however, colliding with every other patron on the street. She forced her way between an elderly couple with the grace of a linebacker, looked back at her assailant and nearly ran through a waiter. The waiter stumbled and, as he was trying to regain control of his serving tray, dumped its contents all over Garret.

A traffic light changed and a herd of New Yorkers began rumbling along the crosswalk. Amber took this opportunity to see if she could get lost amongst their numbers. Once across the street she looked back to see Garret just where she wanted him, confused and having lost the scent of her trail. The old lady whacking him with her purse was just an added bonus.

Amber stuck close to heels of those in the crowd, pushing her way through and trying to keep an eye on Garret. Instead of continuing on along the street where Garret might spot her again, Amber slipped past the herd and down the stairs to the subway.

Across the street Garret was busy not only searching for his lost target but was also dripping wet from the pitcher of ice water the waiter had spilled on him and being mercilessly bludgeoned by the purse of an elderly lady who was giving him an earful about good manners and how he severely lacked them. The traffic light just down the street turned and a large mass of New Yorkers began making their way across the bustling city street. Garret had a feeling Amber was among them somewhere. Garret, fighting back the urge to turn his gun on the old lady, spotted Amber close to the entrance of the subway. He smacked away the old lady’s hand as she grabbed at his ear and leapt into the oncoming traffic. He narrowly dodged the first car, the driver leaning out the window hollering profanities at him, just in time to slide across the hood of a fast approaching taxi in the next lane. Amber had already disappeared into the depths of the subway.