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Monday, May 29, 2006

Where'd You Go

Fort Minor puts my thoughts into song so effortlessly with their latest hit. Where'd You Go, almost always makes me cry. Planting season is over and Mr. Lane is gone a lot, and for longer stretches of time. Lane 1 really likes Fort Minor but when he played that song and caught me crying, his little world was rocked. A sympathy crier by nature, the tears welled up in his dark brown eyes even though he had no idea why "we" were sad. The lyrics slowly hit his brain. He ran back to his room and turned the song off. He came back to apologize.

"I know you miss Chip, Mom. I'm sorry I played that song."

Cracking a smile through my tears, I told him the song makes me think of his dad and how much I miss him. The little seed he planted, caused me to think of Chip the next time I heard the song, which didn't subside the tears any. I really hate being so sensitive. Crying over a cat. Crying over a husband who is out making a living for our family. Just plain stupid.

I needed to take some time to put my energies to use. There is no reason to waste them with superfluous tears. I followed the quoted rules by Stephen King, which were set by Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch. I murdered one of my darlings. If you have read On Writing, you know what I am talking about. If you haven't, you are likely concerned about Lane 1 and Lane 2. They are fine. Murdering one of your darlings is a metaphor for using the delete key on your manuscript.

I've been working on a rewrite of sorts, but hardly murdering my darling as recommended. Being attached to your own words serves no purpose. I deleted like the wind. I had my darling's ink on my hands and it felt fucking invigorating.

When I was done, I went back and gave her a heart and lung transplant. She breathes once again. I feel genuinely proud of her new life.

I've also been using a lot of energy lately to locate Chip, my runaway cat. I've passed my number out like a bimbo at a bar on a Saturday night. It paid off in the end. Instead of finding his way back home, Chip went back to his second home. Claire and Derek (the people he lived with the last time he ran away) called me and said they thought they saw him in their yard. I rushed over. He wouldn't go to either of them so they weren't sure it was him. When I got there, I called his name once and the little shit came running.

I'm so happy to have him back but wonder if this is even where he wants to be. After all, he didn't come back to our house. Maybe he is so used to being an inside cat that he really doesn't know what the outside of our house smells like. Whatever the case, I intend to keep him prisoner as long as possible. Stupid cat.

And for anyone wondering, yes, Mr. Lane finally fixed the screen where he made his great escape.

The weekend, so far, has been pretty excellent. Tomorrow I'll tell you all about the class of '06. Enjoy the holiday!