Christmas

My favorite time of the year is Christmas. For one month, one-twelfth of a whole year, the tree stands in the living room, twinkling with white, red, and green lights. Snowmen, Santa Clause figurines, nutcrackers, and more collected over the years fill the shelves and cover the walls, reminding the family what is coming December 25th. In my family, it really starts on Thanksgiving, not December 1st. On that day spent with family, cooking an assortment of food eaten in fifteen minutes, we prepare for Christmas by putting up the tree and other decorations.

This year, my three-year-old niece joined the fun. She “helped” my dad put up the Christmas tree, an artificial one that has been in the family for at least eight years. Impatiently, she ignored our efforts to engage her in the Thanksgiving Day Parade shown on TV (“Look, Madison, Dora’s on TV! She’s so big!” “That’s why she’s a balloon, Grammy.”). Later on, she decided that, like her Mommy, she does not like turkey. Amused, my sister and I realized that none of us likes turkey, even though we somehow end up with two or three every year. She says we should make lasagna instead, but for some reason I cannot picture lasagna and crescent rolls as a good combination; and, of course, you cannot have Thanksgiving without crescent rolls.

After we finish our turkey, stuffing, vegetables, and tin can shaped cranberry sauce, we migrate to the living room to put up the Christmas decorations. The twinkling lights already twist around the tree’s green branches, but that still leaves room for our boxes of ornaments. Madison loves this part, eagerly hanging all the little figurines we hand her, usually on the same branch. She manages a cluster of five Disney characters on the right side of the tree. At the end of the day, our house looks more like Christmas than Thanksgiving. We had a busy, fun day together as a family. In a month we will have another day, Christmas, to spend as a family. Until then, we can all enjoy the festive Christmas decorations inside and outside.

The Men Who Stare at Goats

The Men Who Stare at Goats follows reporter Bob Wilton (Ewan McGregor) while he accompanies former U.S. Army man Lyn Cassady (George Clooney) on a secret mission in Iraq. Wilton finds out that Cassady belonged to a psychic unit called the First Earth Battalion. Wilton reveals Cassady’s past through a series of flashbacks and present-day conversations, explaining why the members of the First Earth Battalion stare at goats.

Wilton narrates the film through the article that he wrote about Cassady and the First Earth Battalion. Reporters, or students in media writing classes, know that in a typical newspaper article all the important information goes at the beginning and all the extra “stuff” goes at the end. The first half of the article draws a reader in, giving them the basics, and the second half satisfies their need for more. In The Men Who Stare at Goats, the basic plot is interesting, and the beginning draws me in; but somewhere along the way, between the various laugh-worthy lines, I began to wonder where the story was going because I felt bored. The cast is great, the plot is interesting, but in my opinion, the story still needs some work.


Check out this film and others at the Red River Theatres in Concord, NH.

Stephen King "On Writing"

In Stephen King’s On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft, King describes stories as “found things” and “fossils”, much like seashells and dinosaur bones. According to him, stories have three parts: narration, description, and dialogue. Notice that there is no fourth part called “plot”. That threw me for a loop. I remember when I was younger I would laboriously write up plotlines for stories; then, just as laboriously, I would start writing those stories, making sure I stuck to that plotline. I was shocked that, by King’s standards, that makes me a “dullard”. Wow.

In the following paragraphs, King explains how plot constricts a story, how it breaks a fossil into so many pieces; it is better to let the story flow and watch what the characters are going to do next, instead of forcing them to do the author’s will. By the time King insisted plot be under house arrest, I agreed with him. I also found out that, perhaps, I’m not a dullard.

As much as I remember laboriously working on plotlines, I also remember those were the stories I absolutely hated. There were a number of stories where I knew where I wanted to go, and instead of writing plotlines I actually wrote the story, letting the characters take over. Those must be the stories Stephen King is talking about, the ones that don’t sound stiff and forced. It’s been awhile since I’ve sat down and written a story, though, so I think it’s time to dig out that toolbox King keeps talking about. It must be dusty.

Cocoa Cow Ice Cream

The Cocoa Cow Ice Cream parlor offers delicious, homemade ice cream in a variety of flavors. Our cozy parlor invites parties of all sizes to sit down, relax, and enjoy their treats. If it is a nice day out and you do not feel like sitting inside there is a park next door with plenty of picnic tables. Our signature ice cream flavor is Cocoa Chocolate; some of our other flavors are Vanilla Bean and Cocoa Mint. We serve all of our ice cream in homemade waffle cones. Due to popular demand, we are selling small cartons of our ice cream at the parlor. We hope that everyone enjoys their time with family and friends while at Cocoa Cow Ice Cream.

Walking Up A Small Hill

Inspiration from Lisa Rae Winant's painting: Walking Up A Small Hill

“You didn’t wish for anything?” the boy asked, eyeing the mildew-colored ribbon in the girl’s hand.

“I did,” the girl replied, looking around at the quiet chaos overtaking the once peaceful village.

“Yours gives you two wishes?” the boy accused, remembering how his own wheat colored ribbon turned to dust after making his wish. “She never gave anyone else two wishes,” the boy added with anger and jealousy.

“No,” the girl answered. “I have one wish, but she couldn’t grant it.”

“That’s a lie,” the boy insisted, eyes narrowing. “The woman can turn the ribbons into anything your heart desires. Tell me what you wished for.”

“I wished,” the girl answered after what seemed an eternity of silence to the boy. “I wished that the woman never walked up our small hill.”

Blood and Fire

You may be wondering about the title of this post and thinking it’s something questionable. “Blood and Fire.” It doesn’t represent anything violent… it’s actually the Salvation Army motto. “Blood” refers to the blood Jesus shed on the cross to save all people, while “Fire” refers to the fire of the Holy Spirit that purifies believers. Since I moved to New Hampshire when I was eight the Salvation Army has been a constant in my life. My Nana has been a member of the S.A. for over forty years and worked there for thirty years, so when my family moved to the area we joined the Nashua Corp with her. For those of you who might be wondering, yes, the Salvation Army is in fact a real church. We do more than ring bells and provide food for those in need. I feel like I need to say this, especially after hearing a mother of a girl in our after-school program comment, “Oh yeah, it is like a real church,” when she peeked into the chapel one afternoon.

We have regular Sunday services, Bible studies, and youth groups. When my sister and I were younger we were in Sunbeams—basically the S.A. version of Girl Scouts. We learned life skills and knowledge while building a relationship with God and the members of our church. Over the last few years our congregation has become a lot smaller and there weren’t that many kids so programs like that stopped. When we started the after-school program and the summer camp that changed. Now a lot of the kids who started in the after-school program have joined our church and become Junior Soldiers. They are bringing their parents to church. It’s been really amazing watching them grow over the last six years and become active in the church.

Community service is the backbone of the Salvation Army. For the holiday seasons we not only collect money with the red kettles, but we have the Toy Shop/Angel Tree. The programs help bring presents to children whose parents cannot afford them. Last year I helped with sorting out the gifts for each child and family. How it worked last year was each child had a Christmas wish list and we tried our best to find something they would like out of the donated items—ideally what they had on the list, but it did not always work out perfectly (several children asked for bikes, but we only had about five). There were too many families signed up for the parents to go to the church and pick out the presents on their own, which is how it worked the year before. Another part of the program is the Angel Tree, where you pick an angel tag with the name of a child and their wish list. Buying presents for one child is more personal than simply donating presents (but donating presents is important just the same!). Along with toys and games we also gave each child a new pair of clothes and a new pair of shoes or winter gear (a jacket, gloves, and hat). It’s amazing seeing how much people will donate! I can’t wait for the Toy Shop to start again this year.

Check out the Salvation Army website!

First Blog

Hey this is my first Media Writing blog :)