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She sits outside at the gazebo with a hot, domestic coffee on one hand and a Capri menthol on the other. She listens to her iPod, intently dissecting the crooning words of Dana Owens a.k.a. Queen Latifah . . . California Dreamin’. A very befitting song in this cold, grey Seattle morning.

How did she come to this point in her life? A typical, suburbian mother, shuffling her kids to their destinations, doing laundry, cooking and cleaning. A mere shadow of her previous accomplishments. She is simply just “Mommy.”

She has made up her mind to write down what she was feeling just to let someone else in on her thoughts. She decides that it will be written in the third person omniscient.

Yes, omniscient has a nice ring to it . . . knowing…

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  • Female
  • Born on July 30
  • Joined October 14, 2007

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About

She sits outside at the gazebo with a hot, domestic coffee on one hand and a Capri menthol on the other. She listens to her iPod, intently dissecting the crooning words of Dana Owens a.k.a. Queen Latifah . . . California Dreamin’. A very befitting song in this cold, grey Seattle morning.

How did she come to this point in her life? A typical, suburbian mother, shuffling her kids to their destinations, doing laundry, cooking and cleaning. A mere shadow of her previous accomplishments. She is simply just “Mommy.”

She has made up her mind to write down what she was feeling just to let someone else in on her thoughts. She decides that it will be written in the third person omniscient.

Yes, omniscient has a nice ring to it . . . knowing all.

Her thoughts are shifted back to reality when her daughter opens the sliding door to announce the time . . . almost time to leave for school. She tells the kids to usher themselves to the car.

“Which car, Mommy?,” asked the girl.

“The van.”

But, she quickly changes her mind and shouts back, “No, we’ll take the truck today.”

“YES!” they both chorused.

The two kids have developed an affinity for the other car; the truck.

Yes, the truck will be the mode of transportation today. A sign of disregard for the high gas prices. The truck is the Ford Excursion SUV.

She wanted to take the truck today.

She puts on her Ray Bans, despite the dreary Seattle weather. She doesn’t care that it makes the landscape even more grey. In the Excursion, she sits higher than the other plebeians.

The girl puts in a CD of the Black Eyed Peas. Soon, Apl.de.ap can be heard yelling “Pilipino!” with full indignation. The two kids unintentionally bop their heads in unison. Who would have known that a whole generation of Filipino American youth would be so inspired about their ethnicity with a mere song?

This morning, she doesn’t care what they listen to. Mozart can wait later during homework time. She listens to Michael Franks on her green iPod. She yearns for Manila.

Once home, she looks at her surroundings. The cold milk sits on the table, along with the scattered remains of what was last night’s dinner.

What to do first?

She decides to put the milk away. The rest can wait for later.

Procrastination looms over her like a dark, ominous cloud. She can clean up later, right before she picks up the kids at school.

She heads over to the laptop, and she opens up a blank page on Word. Third person omniscient. Her fingers quickly type up the words . . . “She sits outside at the gazebo with a hot, domestic coffee on one hand and a Capri menthol on the other . . ."

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A flip at ♥
Leo-Snake ~ "Odi et Amo"
blog at http://www.bughaw.com
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