What can I say?

I stumbled upon a great blog called Six Sentences. What's so great about it you ask? Well, pull up a chair and I will tell you. The banner at the top of the page proudly shouts the name of the site along with the tagline: What can you say in six sentences? This intrigued me. What can I say in six sentences? Sounded easy enough.

I took the time to read down through some of the offerings on the first page. Amazingly written glimpses into the imagination - these had to be professional writers. And indeed some of them were. I spent the best part of the day reading through these tiny snips of life, love, death, joy, sorrow, and each one left me wanting to know more.

After a couple of days of exploring the site, I found a small section with instructions on submitting your six. It was separated into two sections, Writer's Guidelines and Formatting. Each of these sets of instructions was six sentences long, which delighted me.

So I thought, what the heck, I'll give it a whirl. I wrote a quick "six" entitled Indifference and sent it off to the email listed on the site. Six days later I had an email from editor and site creator Robert McEvily thanking me for the six, it was great and I should post it at the Six Sentences networking site because the people there would love it. Basically it was a very nicely worded thanks, but no thanks.

I took my Indifference and went to the Networking site. I was a little intimidated to be honest, so many writers, so much talent. They all seemed to know each other and I was the new girl. I lurked for a little while before posting my story, but finally took the plunge. Within a couple of hours I had several positive comments on my piece and a few friend requests as well.

Since then, everything has become inspiration for a six; a walk in the park, the garbage man, the rock in my shoe. Turning out a six starts easily enough, but when you near the end and realize you still have so much to say, it gets a little tricky. Every word counts. Brevity with meaning is difficult to do. I love a challenge.

I am hooked. Thankfully, I have a lot to say.

Update: I sent a new six entitled "Winter Dusk" to the Six Sentences main site. If at first, and all that. I have found that the networking site is a wonderfully positive place to hone my skills. I have learned much and made several interesting friends.

Update 2: Winter Dusk will be appearing on the main site on February 7th!

You wait patiently
A sudden leap; you are quick
But not quick enough

The Wonder of Winterland

It may have taken its time this year, but winter is finally upon us. When I say upon us I mean ten freshly fallen centimetres of fluffy white stuff upon our driveway. The roar of snow-blowers can be heard throughout the land.

It is easy to forget the simple joys that winter can bring when you are up to your knees in slush, bent low against the wind, slipping and sliding on your way to the school bus with a tightly bundled kid clinging to your leg. Back aching from the shovel’s weight, hands stiff from scraping solid ice from the car windows, winter becomes the arch nemesis of anyone unlucky enough to live in a northern clime.

This is when it’s important to take a good look at all the wonderful things the winter months can bring. After every snowfall my kids run to the windows, faces pressed to the glass, looking with excitement at the pristine blanket of white and the possibilities it holds. I remember doing the same thing once, and I wonder when it stopped. Probably somewhere around the time I moved out on my own, and realized that the fluffy white snow is deceptively heavy when filling a shovel.

As kids we would spend hours outdoors without even feeling the cold. Trudging over the back lane, snow squeaking under our feet, pulling our toboggans behind us, we would ascend the peak known as Midnight Hill. We started the day with energy to burn, sledding down the hill, avoiding the ramp the older, more daring kids built, then running back up again as fast as our snowpanted legs could carry us. After a few trips the running would slow to a walk, then a trudge. Eventually each round trip was punctuated with breaks to chat and chew on the clumps of snow that clung to our woollen mittens. We would go home only when our mothers came looking for us, or it was too dark to see the hill. At this point someone would invariably get run down by a toboggan and there would be much scolding that the sled pilot should have been more careful and the victim shouldn’t have been in the middle of the hill anyway because his big feet were putting holes in the run.

One of my favourite winter memories is of an evening on Woody Pond. It was so quiet, not a breath of wind, and the fat flakes of snow seemed to muffle every sound. I stood on the trail, just at the crest of the hill, listening. Listening to the quiet. Above I could hear the other kids calling to each other, laughing. The older boys, most of them my cousins, were playing hockey. The others were banished to the lower end of the tiny pond where the ice was bumpy. We didn’t care much. We spent most of our time hopping on and off the ice, laughing at the boys and their antics as they pretended they were Gretzky, or Lemieux, or Gilmour.

Remembering how much joy the winter months once brought prevents my hibernation from December to April. In between my complaints about the cold temperatures I want to make sure my kids have some wonderful snow filled memories of their own. Snowshoeing with the family, skiing, sledding at the park, snowmobiling at the cabin with a stop for a winter picnic - all these make the icy temperatures much more bearable. Of course, no day spent in the frosty outdoors is complete until you are snuggled up with a cup of hot chocolate.

There are days when Jack Frost has nipped my nose once too often and I swear that if I ever find him I’ll wring his icy little neck. On those days I grab the kids, pile on the snowsuits, and build a snow fort complete with snowball arsenal. If Jack Frost wants our noses, he’ll have to come and take them.

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Hot Chocolate Recipe

- 4 cups whole milk
- 2 tablespoons sugar
- 2 1/2 tablespoons unsweetened cocoa powder
- 4 tablespoons shaved semisweet chocolate (or chocolate chips)

Combine all ingredients in a medium saucepan. Simmer over medium heat, stirring until chocolate has melted. Do not bring to a boil. Pour into mugs, and serve. Don't forget the marshmallows.

For a twist, add a little vanilla extract, mint extract, or cinnamon.

Reams of Questions

I am constantly amazed at the number of things I don't know. Obviously there are hundreds of millions of things about which I know nothing, but I'm talking everyday, household things that escape my radar. The world is full of ordinary curiosities.

My dear friend brought one of these oddities to my attention on a recent shopping trip. We were sorting through chipped dishes, slightly damaged jewelry boxes, and other assorted bric-a-brac when she spotted this...thing. It was in a plain package and it was quite heavy. The handle suggested that it was some sort of kitchen utensil, but the bumpy oval top suggested something else. OK, this is where I admit that my mind took a nose dive and I thought, very briefly, that this thing could possibly have other uses of a more, ahem, personal nature.

It was then we noticed, at the very bottom of the package, in very fine print, the words Citrus Reamer. My first reaction was relief, shortly followed by befuddlement. What the heck was a citrus reamer? The back of the package gave a rather odd description, using such words as "stripping", "sensual" and "ball tip patterning." Yeah, it didn't really answer many questions, and actually had me wondering if my original assessment of the thing wasn't accurate after all.

So, I took it upon myself to find out just what exactly a citrus reamer was. Basically, it's a stick with one end designed to extract juice and pulp from citrus fruits. Huh. Who would have guessed. I'd never heard the term citrus reamer before. I'd seen them on occasion, and always assumed they were called something like depulper or juice extractor. I bet Martha knew they were called reamers, but I won't get started there.

There are still so many unanswered questions. How, exactly, does one ream a citrus fruit with one of these things without the juice running down your arm? Perhaps the method somehow involves resting your elbow into a container of some sort, a bowl that for these purposes is called a juice receptacle. Back in the olden days, citrus juicers were built with a handy moat to catch the juice and pulp. Apparently this has fallen out of fashion and sticky, citrusy forearms are in. Also, does "ball tip patterning" really make a better reamer? I wouldn't think so. The longer, rougher, grooves of yore seem like they would be much more efficient for scraping out the inside of a lemon or lime. And finally, just how often does one have the opportunity to use something like this? I can't see using such a tool any more than maybe once or twice a year. Do I really want to spend $20.00 on something I'll use once? Where is the market for these things? Key lime pie lovers? Lemonade stand tycoons? Lonely housewives?

I think I'll let Tropicana do my reaming for me.