Clay posted this in his LiveJournal account, so I had to check it out.

OneWord is a 60-second writing exercise. They post a new word each day, and you have 60 seconds to write about whatever that word inspires. It’s very cool.

Today’s word was “home”.
Here’s what I posted:

Home is the place, they say, where people have to take you in, but for me, home isn’t a physical location, it’s the sense of well-being, of total safety and contentment I get when everyone I know and love, those I consider my family, are close by, and safe, and in harmony with each other. It’s a day at the beach with husband and dogs.

This post is taken from Wil Wheaton’s weblog

support our troops — send them your GMail invites!

I keep reading about how soldiers in Iraq and Afghanistan are having their tours extended long beyond when they expected to come home, and their morale is suffering as a result. Thankfully, many of our soldiers are able to stay in touch with friends and family via the Internet, but their e-mail access is often very limited.

Post continues here

* * *

There’s a slight breeze licking around my heels as I pad across the yard, and around the edge of the pool to the ladder. My bare feet make a light slapping sound on the pavement, but otherwise the only noise is the faint gurgling of the filter, and the soft liquid murmur of the water lapping at the edges of its confinement.

At the water’s edge, I lean on the two handles of the ladder, lifting first one foot, then the other, dipping each into the foot bath that prevents little specks of sand and grit from hitching a ride into the pool on the soles of my feet. Then, I look down at the top run of the ladder, before beginning my descent.

There are only three steps from the top rung to the low end of the pool, but I enter the water almost languorously, revelling in the sensations of cool water against too-hot flesh.

My feet touch the bottom of the pool, and my toes flex into the liner. Sometimes I think I can feel things moving in the earth far below the bottom, but I usually realize it’s just wishful thinking.

A song lyric floats into my head, as I lunge toward the deep end of the pool, my legs scissoring, my arms holding a float. Later, I’ll do real strokes, but this moment is for long glides from end to end, with the small styrofoam float as a toy, not a support.

For a moment, I’m a child again, lost in memories of days spent lingering in the water long past the time my grandmother wanted me out. “Your lips are blue,” she’d call. I’d always wanted a mirror, to see if she meant it.

I spend a luxurious hour splashing and swimming, laughing at my dog when she barks at the sound of my kicking, and lobbing (or attempting to) fistfuls of water at her. She looks so silly, trying to catch the droplets raining down on her fluffy white head.

Later, showered, and dressed in soft cotton loungewear, I’ll smooth on some lilac-scented hand lotion, and let my thoughts loose in the past, remembering the lavender wallpaper in the middle bedroom in my grandmother’s house, and how much I always longed to have a room that color.

* * *

Keys that jingle in your pocket
Words that jangle in your head
Why did summer go so quickly
Was it something that you said?

I love alliteration, and I’ve been having fun with this meme, but this letter, J, is difficult for me.

I thought about Jello. It’s not just a brand, it’s a symbol. Kathleen Norris, in her book Dakota: A Spiritual Geography suggests that the popularity of the Jello mold in midwestern cuisine has to do with the fact that the rural midwest was the last part of the continental USA to have refrigeration. Summers there can be brutal, so anything that is cool and fruity is worth celebrating, I guess.

Personally, I associate Jello with college parties: Jello shots and jungle juice (fruit juice mixed with everclear), jalapeno poppers, tequila shots, and conversations (and hangovers) that jangled in your head for days after.

Jingle and jangle. Can’t you hear keys clicking against each other, or a klaxon alarm when you read those words? I’ve never thought of them as examples of onomatopoeia before, but they demonstrate the concept well.

Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me.
In the jingle jangle morning I’ll come following you.

Note: Song lyrics are from “The Windmills of Your Mind,” by Alan & Marilyn Bergman & Michel Legrand, and “Mr. Tambourine Man,” by Bob Dylan.

I say… And you think… ?

1. Colorblind:: casting
2. Shallow:: water
3. Erotica:: fiction
4. Figment:: imagination
5. Eviction:: notice
6. Composed:: entry
7. Chill:: out
8. Girl:: power
9. California:: burger
10. Bond:: stock

Like this meme?
Play along here.

* * *

Kitchens: People always say that the kitchen is the heart of the home. I hate mine. It’s too small, and there’s not enough counterspace, and there should be light switches at both ends of the room. Also, I hate my stove, but that’s a story in and of itself.

My dream kitchen is large, bright, tiled, and has double wall ovens and a gas range. It also has enough room for several cooks to work at once. It does NOT have a television.

Kites: It’s a warm but windy evening, so windy that the picnic awning in the yard on the other side of our back fence is threatening to take flight, like a giant blue kite. I’m remembering trips to the beach with paper kites when I was a kid, and feeling a little wistful.

Keds: I know there was a line of Keds canvas sneakers that was re-introduced a couple years ago – Keds for adults – and I’m wishing for a pair now. My favorite shoes EVER were my red Keds. Comfortable, durable, and colorful. My favorite sneakers now are a pair of red Keds-like canfas sneakers by Cloudwalkers, but it’s just not the same. The toes are just a little too pointy, and the arch isn’t right.

In my wind-borne fantasy I’m wearing Keds while flying a Kite, and afterward, I’ll nibble Key Lime Pie while sitting in a glorious Kitchen.

How kitschy. :)

Stole this from John who always finds good stuff to steal and/or share.

It’s the 2004 Summer Burn which is sort of like a chain letter, except you’re sending summer music.

It’s been a DAY, which, I suppose, is not unusual for a Monday, but today I’m in a funk, partly due to having my plans for yesterday killed by reformatting, and partly because things are tense here.

While multitasking (waiting for copies to print, waiting for a scan to finish) I checked a webmail account that I use for FanFiction.net, and found some lovely lovely feedback on the stuff I’d posted.

Feedback really is better than chocolate.

* * *

Indigo was still the color of the sky when Fuzzy and I tumbled into bed in the wee hours of Sunday morning, after a day of puttering and shopping for books, but only just barely, for it was 4:00 in the morning, and within minutes, it seemed, the sky was almost day-bright.

Illusions of houses un-visited, people not yet met, and gardens only wished for filled my dreams, as I slept, surrounded by the comforting sounds of Fuzzy’s breathing, and the dogs’ equally comforting weight, as they inched closer to my body heat with every unconscious movement I made.

Idiotic was how I felt when I realized I, who should know better, who is anal about updating her antivirus software, managed to trigger Erkez.b sent from her mother, who traced it back to a cousin (or some such) of the President of Mexico. Gotta love the way connections flow in our family.

Irritated, was my mood a bit later, when my headache made me snappish with Fuzzy, who was only trying to help, and when I realized I couldn’t do any of the supposedly easy fixes to get rid of the virus without reformatting. But, the end result was a cleaner, spiffier hard drive, even if I did forget to print the page that has ALL my affordablehost passwords.

Insanely happy, was how I felt when the day had gone full circle, improved in the late evening by comfort food from Taco Bell, and an episode of Smallville on the DVD. Tucked into bed, surrounded by Fuzzy’s arms, my dogs guarding against any night terrors, I fell back into sleep, cradled, in my imagination, by a soft indigo sky.

Adagio at OpenDiary had this in her diary a few days ago, and I’d meant to steal it then, but forgot. Then tonight WarriorPoet(2), another OD-er, had it in his diary. Thus reminded, I stole it from him.

* * * * *

If you could have anything delivered to your doorstep each morning, what would it be?

Poached eggs, wheat toast with butter, fresh fruit juice, home-fries, and coffee with cream, no sugar. And the NY Times crossword puzzle. (I’m terrible about eating breakfast, hence the menu.)

What is the one vacation destination that many people think is just fabulous but which you personally have no desire to visit (or revisit?)

Mt. Rushmore. I mean, it’s a mountain with faces in it, and it’s so commercial. Everything is totally kitschy.

If you were five years younger but knew everything at that age that you?ve actually learned over the last five years, what is the one thing you would definitely do differently?

I’d have held onto the condo another year, refinanced into a really low ARM, had the kitchen and bath redone, sold it for more, and moved out of California.

If you could wake up to one smell every morning (besides coffee) what would it be?
Rosemary and mint. Or baking bread.

Suppose that right now you could be at your favorite vacation spot, reading your favorite book, listening to your favorite CD, and eating your favorite food. What would be your choices for those four categories, and who, if anyone, would be with you?

I’m sitting in an Adirondack chair, on the porch of a rented beach house. I’m not sure where the house is, but it’s someplace cold and foggy, and the water is very blue, not green from kelp beds. I’m wearing a cotton sweater, and soft cotton pants, and my shoes are on the floor beside me. It’s a chilly day, so I’ve got a blanket spread over my lap, and I’m half-watching the water, as I read. The book is either The Eight or Jane Eyre, or possibly it’s a new V.I. Warshawski mystery by Sara Paretsky. There’s a side table near me, holding a plate, a mug, and a small cd player. I keep changing cd’s, playing mostly folk music – old stuff, like Peter Paul & Mary’s stuff – and cello music – and Vienna Teng’s stuff, because I like her lyrics a lot. The mug holds hot tea, with just a touch of sugar and milk. The plate has tuna salad with hard boiled egg mixed in, still warm, and spread on dill bread, lightly toasted, and the sandwich has been cut into squares, kid-style, to make it easier to read while eating. Upstairs, I can hear the sound effects from Fuzzy’s latest video game. Every once in a while, he’ll come down to check on me, and refill my tea, or I’ll wander upstairs to pester him.

Which animated figure is your all time favorite?
Never been a fan of animation. Do line and dot count?

If you had to write a brief message on a dollar bill that many people would eventually see as the currency circulates, what message would you write?
I’d steal it from The West Wing: “Decisions are made by those who show up.”

If you could own a home on the shore of any body of water in the world, which waterfront would you choose?
The Atlantic Ocean. I grew up on the Jersey Shore, and part of my heart is still there.

Suppose you had the opportunity to choose 3 people with whom to eat dinner: a famous sports figure, a movie star and a popular singer. Who would you choose?

Scott Hamilton, Emma Thompson, and Peter Yarrow.

What serves as the greatest motivation for you in your daily life?
Love. And hope.

What activity that you have to do every once in a while do you dread the most?

Dental work.

If you were a multimillionaire, what do you believe you would be doing at this very moment?

As it’s nearly midnight, I’d probably still be tucked into bed with my laptop, writing an entry like this one, and thinking about the manicure and pedicure scheduled for the next morning.

If you could have a cookie jar full of anything you wanted, except money or cookies, what would it be filled with?

Safety pins. You can never find one when you need one.

When people hear what you do for a living, what is the most typical question or comment they give you regarding your job?

So, how are interest rates today?

If you could have any round object in the world, what spherical item would you want?

The item I want is round, but not spherical: A tire swing. Or a papa-san chair. I miss the first, and have always wanted the second.

If you were left alone for one hour with nothing more than a pen and a notepad, what would you be inclined to draw or write during those 60 minutes?

Write, but probably doodle in the margins while thinking.

If you could witness anything at all in super-slow motion, what would you want to see?

Tap dancing.

If someone were looking for you in a bookstore, in what section would they be most likely to find you?

The new release shelf of either General Fiction, Mystery, or Science Fiction. Or the coffee bar.

What do you forget to do more often than anything else?

Mail letters, once they’re written.

If you could teach everyone in the world one skill, what would it be?

Effective use of voice mail.

You’ve been offered the chance to paint a billboard along a highway with any message you choose, as long as it’s only 10 words long. What is your message?

Other than the same thing I wrote on the dollar? I’m not sure. Probably something about the use of seatbelts.