the perk. #30: offspring.

(Post edited when I realized this is a ‘perk’ and I should have posted it as such since I haven’t had one for over a month. Clearly my life sucks… except for these two little monsters.)

the perk.

Perhaps you’ve heard that I have children. I know… it’s a surprise because I hardly ever mention them… (ha.)

Their first report cards of the year came home recently. The boy started middle school this year… grade 6. The girl is in grade 3. And they are awesome.

First the girl… (please excuse my crappy scan and copy/paste job… why can’t the elementary school send a nice electronic copy like the middle school?!?)

report card

And the boy…

report card

I think this means I have to get them rewards…

p_heart-div

Posted in family, parenting, the perk, weekly perk, writing | Tagged , , , , , | 28 Comments

fiction friday 48: a walk in the city. (take 2)

fiction friday.

This is a repost from September 2015.

A modified scene from a longer [unfinished] story I wrote when I was in high school.

“You’re blushing.”

“I am not.”

“Yes… you are…” He stopped suddenly, almost causing a pile-up of pedestrians behind them on the sidewalk. With his hands on her shoulders, he turned her to face the shop window beside them. “See… blushing.”

She stared into the window but not at her own reflection. She looked at his mirrored face in the glass. And he looked at hers.

“You are blushing.”

She took a deep breath and spun around. The way he smiled at her – the smile she could see in his eyes – melted her insides. He gently pushed the hair from her eyes and tucked it behind her ear. Slowly, he leaned closer to her and took her face in his hands. Her heart pounded furiously. She desperately wanted to stop being afraid, but logic screamed inside her head.

It will never work. We are simply not possible. God, he is so close to me. He smells like coffee and heaven. Why can’t I just let go?

Already hating herself for it, she let her head win. “I don’t think I’m really blushing… It must be the sun or…”

“Hey?”

“Yeah?”

With his mouth barely a breath from hers, he spoke in a whisper. “No more talking.”

He knew she was scared, but he couldn’t hold back for one more second. His barely-parted lips touched hers gently, as if asking permission for more. When she lifted her hands to his chest and grasped the collar of his jacket, he had his answer. He pulled her head closer, and when her lips parted for a breath, he snuck his tongue between them.

She heard his little moan escape from his mouth into hers. And she needed to hear it again. She took control, teasing his lips with her tongue and her teeth. When he moaned again, deeper than before, she lost a tiny sound of her own. Their tongues tasted and tangled, every touch mixed with tiny gasps for air. Her fear magically disappeared. Everything disappeared. The entire city around them – car engines and horns, people rushing up and down the sidewalk, the rumble of subway trains below – all of it – gone.

Hearts racing madly, their mouths finally parted. He still held her face in his hands as he gently leaned his forehead against hers. Their panting breaths mingled in the tiny space between them.

“Oh god,” she whispered, unable to say anything more.

His thumbs ran slowly over her warm cheeks. “You are definitely blushing.” He pulled her mouth back to his for sweet little kisses.

“I might believe you now,” she conceded. “Should I look in the window?”

“No.” He smiled and ran a finger along her lips. “Was that okay?”

“Yes… definitely okay.”

“My god, I didn’t think you were ever going to let me kiss you.”

“But I’ve wanted it the whole time.”

“Does that mean I can do it again?”

“Yes…”

blue hearts.
© 2015-2016 what sandra thinks
Posted in fiction, fiction friday, love, romance, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , | 23 Comments

the night.

hand

And when the night comes
And the moon fights the sun
And the stars battle clouds
And the demons kill sleep
And the chaos destroys peace

I will dream of
The night without pain
The night tranquil and still
The night safe from harm
The night I slept in your arms

p_squiggle-div

©2016 what sandra thinks
Posted in poetry, writing | Tagged , , | 27 Comments

believe.

hajin bae

Stop torturing me.
I’m not supposed to believe
I deserve this pain.

loopyswirl-div

©2016 what sandra thinks
artwork by Hajin Bae

 

Posted in poetry, writing | Tagged , , , | 17 Comments

song of the day. #12

song of the day.

You know how people say you should listen to uplifting music when you’re down… when you’re having a terrible day? That doesn’t work for me. It’s kind of like perky people. I want to kick the uplifting music in the face. Or in the nuts.

A normal person would not be this way, would she? Something’s not right with me.

I’ve had a few too many bad days lately. The extended holiday weekend was helpful… if only for the constant presence of my children preventing me from overthinking much of anything. But then Monday came. Yes, even for the unemployed, Mondays suck.

I tried to fix it… but…

How do you fix something when you know what you need to fix it but you can’t get it because you need to fix it to get to the thing you need to fix it?

I give up… and I seek my friend. No, not Morrissey. This time… Robert Smith.

I’d love to touch the sky tonight
I’d love to touch the sky
So take me in your arms
And lift me like a child
And hold me up so high
And never let me go
Take me
Take me in your arms tonight
Hold me
Hold me up so high
And never let me down
Hold me
Hold me up so high
To touch the sky
Just one more time

d-play_sm

d-pause_sm
Obviously I am not the owner of any rights to this song, this video, or these lyrics… just everything else… which isn’t much… © 2016 what sandra thinks
Posted in music, writing | Tagged , , , , | 17 Comments

french toast.

I heard that today is #NationalFrenchToastDay.

You don’t have to tell me twice.

french toast.

Yum. I have no recipe… yet it turns out delicious every time. Definitely brown sugar, not white. And don’t forget the cinnamon.

I’ve got to hide the evidence because the kids will be sooo disappointed they didn’t get any.

Don’t tell on me.

divider dots.

Photo is my own (as if you couldn’t tell by the terrible quality)
©2016 what sandra thinks
Posted in food, writing | Tagged , , , | 57 Comments