Cleaning

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Why do newsletters have to be so awesome all of the time? (a.k.a. Doughnut guilt.)

cgd

Hello Precious Readers,

For the past week, sweet hubby of mine, Pilot and I continue our clutter war and purge, purge, purged bags and boxes of items donated or properly disposed of if deemed unusable by another living creature on the face of the planet. Happy note: we are winning the clutter war. We’re 65% there and moving closer to 100% clutter-free each day. It’s been refreshing, liberating, and getting us closer to magazine-perfection clean of our apartment. I’m not talking about an hour here or there. No, not at all. I’m talking, the moment I reach home, I’m cleaning for 5 hours straight with a 20-minute break somewhere within that time to eat a small microwaved dinner from my freezer of leftovers.

This has replaced my scheduled home workout time, as I usually budget 1 hour of active, challenging exercise every other day. Hardcore cleaning includes the bending, lifting, throwing, moving, walking, running, etc. for hours straight.

However…

I haven’t been health-minded the last 48 hours. Yesterday afternoon I spent time at a local coffee and doughnut shop with my friend, Caring* to enjoy a lovely almond and sour cherry doughnut with a soy americano, and catch up time with a bestie. The doughnut was smooth, pillow-soft, delicate, sweet, and every bite was heaven. The conversation flowed inside the shop while a Seattle rainstorm wreaked havoc on the world outside. Perfect afternoon.

Today, someone brought in doughnuts to the office.

I resisted.

Passing the plate 3 times, I didn’t touch them and resisted.

For crying out loud, I’d had a doughnut yesterday. I don’t eat them on the regular. I get them about 3 times a year as a treat for Pilot and I, but we aren’t regular sweet pastry eaters as we’ve been trying to go healthier each year making small, incremental lifestyle improvements so they stick. And they have, until today.

In the office hallway, in the background, the sound of voices wafted from the staff kitchen. A coworker ask another if he would eat one of the two doughnuts left on the plate. The other responded in kind saying he had already eaten THREE. (I had not had a single one.)

I couldn’t just leave those poor doughnuts all alone, could I? I took ONE doughnut. a simple doughnut with light chocolate frosting on top.  I didn’t even eat it right away. I momentarily stared at it sitting on the little paper towel, then let it sit at my desk for a good forty-five minutes.

The place I work at has a weekly newsletter with information going on across the board in all departments and levels. Some are feature articles, some are business-focused. Some articles are meant for full entertainment.

I waited…

waited…

waited…

and after doing a quick scan through the newsletter, I zipped through most of the articles reading them briefly, the headlines flashing across my screen. Then midway through the newsletter, I paused and glanced at the sugary goodness to my left.

There, the doughnut sat.

Innocent. Quiet. Haunting. Mesmerizing.

Daring me to eat it.

I could resist no longer.

I had been so good nutritionally and exercise-wise. Forty-five minutes after it had been resting at my desk, I gave in. I FINALLY tried a bite of the doughnut.

Mid-bite, the flavor of the cloyingly sweet treat filling my senses, my eyes lifted towards the blue-light glowing monitor of my computer and BAM! I was hit with the headline of the next article:

“Eat Healthy to Live Longer.”

WHY, OH FREAKING WHY does the weekly newsletter have to be SO helpful, thorough, engaging, entertaining, and completely and utterly guilt-inducing?

<Shakes rage-filled fist into the air, in “Khaaaaan!”-like manner.>

That is all. Happy Friday.

– KB

gotta fill up those blanks!

Not much to post. I’m working on my outlines for my two-part series. Because trying to balance my need to write with a full time job definitely takes up most of the evenings! So here’s my DWC! (AKA, the prologue to Book 1!)

Daily Writing Challenge

Day 6: How was your characters childhood? Write a scene about them as a child. How was their home life? Their family? Their upbringing? Where did they grow up? What friends did they have? 

May 12th, 1996

Ahh, sweet bliss.  Liesle settled into her overstuffed chair pulling a book Abbreviated Potions: Shortened Spells for the Witch on the Go! up to her nose.  It was her scheduled day off from her shop The Bubbling Cauldron, and she welcomed the break.  The girls were helping Mrs. Stevens clean out her garage today.  Yes, a quiet morning to catch up on modernized spells.

Whirr! The sound of a blender pierced through the manor, shattering any temporary moment of peace, followed by the sound of giggles. 

“What are you two little imps up to? I thought you were at Mrs. Stevens’ house,” Aunt Liesle asked, crossing her arms across her chest and raising her infamous ‘don’t mess with me’ eyebrow.

A spatula that seemed to be swirling a mixture of gooey chocolate icing on its own fell back into the bowl with an anticlimactic splat. Eyes looking up and widening slightly, Margaret who stood behind the bowl, stopped twirling her finger, leaving it stuck in midair as if she was interrupting someone to make a statement.  Lorelei gasped, turning around to look at Liesle, losing concentration on the blender she had been staring at. The blender had a surge of energy before stopping altogether, its lid flying off causing the contents to shower the three of them.

“Of all the boiled rats!” exclaimed Lorelei, as she wiped the strawberry milkshake from her eyes.

“Language, Lorelei,” said Liesle as she looked down to examine the pink globs that now stained her sweater.  Rolling her eyes as if to gain power from an unknown source, she sighed and looked back down at the girls.  “Now what is so important you had to turn my kitchen into a bomb testing site for?”

Margaret glanced at her sister. Lorelei just shrugged, and Margaret made a face at her.  Then, turning back to Liesle, squaring her shoulders, she replied matter of factly, “We thought you’d gone to the store to do inventory today.”

“Claudia is doing the inventory, and that is not an answer.”

Lorelei glanced at Margaret again and whispered not very successfully, “Come on, tell her. Our cover’s blown anyway.”

Margaret’s shoulders sagged as she sighed in only that way a twelve year old could. Looking back and forth across the now ruined kitchen, she spread her arms wide, palms up and said flatly, “Happy Mother’s Day.”

Liesle blinked at them for a moment. All tension melted away and she felt the prickling of tears at the back of her eyes.

“Oh, come here you silly ninnies,” she leaned down and opened her arms.  Margaret let a small grin show and ran over to the welcomed hug. 

“Well that was close.”  Lorelei blew out a breath she’d been holding, wiped more strawberry milkshake from her forehead, and ran over too.

“But your kitchen…” Margaret’s lower lip started to quiver.

Liesle smiled warmly at her niece.  “Nothing we can’t fix. Or haven’t you noticed, it’s already clean?” Liesle nodded pointedly behind them.  Margaret turned to look at the kitchen, whose cleaning sponges lapped at the walls, and the mop started swirling soapy suds across the floor.

Lorelei put her hands on her hips. “Hey, no fair! How’d you do that?” An indignant look of frustration crossed her face.

“I’ll teach you that one when you’re a little older and your powers are stronger.  You girls still need to do your chores.”

“Hmph.” Lorelei now crossed her arms across her chest.  She mumbled, “I still don’t see why I have to wash the dishes by hand when we have magic.”

“Darlings, you know what I always say…”

Lorelei dropped her arms as she and Margaret both answered in bored, singsong voices, “Magic is a gift and must not be abused.”

“Right. You need to understand that we’re lucky to have magic, and you must always appreciate it.”

Margaret’s grin spread a little wider.  “Well, we appreciate you, so that’s why we wanted to surprise you with your favorite chocolate chip brownies and strawberry milkshake for Mother’s Day!”

“Thank you girls,” Liesle laughed. “You’ve certainly made it a memorable one!”