Episode Nulla: The Quest of the Digital Versatile Disc

Not long ago in a galaxy near by….

I know I’m a bit behind the times, but I haven’t seen the new Star Wars movie yet.  In fact, I haven’t seen all of the Star Wars movies.  I saw bits and pieces of some, but never quite got the whole story line in my head.

That was all fixed by my boss, who kindly lent me all 6 DVDs, so I could watch the franchise in story order before seeing Episode VII.  I was all excited to crochet and watch the movies so I could finally get in my head what all the fuss was about.  My husband agreed to watch them with me.  We decided on our next free weekend, we would go see the movie in 3D at the theatre.  Eager for my 1st night of Episode I, I ran into a bit a of problem.

I couldn’t find the “on” button for our DVD player.

I could plainly see where the “on” button was suppose to be, but alas, it was gone.  Did it pop off?  I looked around and found nothing.  Befuddled, I grabbed some toothpicks and the flashlight on my cellphone to investigate.  I found the “on” button – it appears it had been pushed all the way into the component.  I couldn’t fish it out.  I tried to secure it so I could at least push the button to turn on the DVD player.  No dice.

Why not use the remote?  The remote was listed as MIA awhile ago.

Stuck without a functioning DVD player, I was forced to watch Episode I off my computer.  I missed the big screen and surround sound with such an epic movie.  “This is not going to happen again,” I said to my husband.  “We need to buy a new DVD player.”  Seeing as how  the one we had came with the house and was manufactured in 2004, I felt we got our money’s worth.

We spent a day researching DVD players and settled on one with HD quality.  We’re not super  auto/visualphiles, so anything would have pleased me.  We located the one we wanted at Walmart (ugh) and the husband and I drove together to pick it up.  After some searching, we found it.  The plot thickened: there were 2 southern rednecks (for lack of a better term) parked in a motorized shopping cart directly in front of all the DVD players.  They were carrying on a conversation about how to best fit an oblong (and entirely too large) object in the basket of the cart.  We waited politely.  It went for awhile.  I actually had to leave the aisle because I started laughing at the absurdity of the situation.  First, I can’t find the freakin’ “on” button and now I can’t purchase a DVD player because crazy Walmart shoppers are blocking the way.  My husband eventually said, “Excuse me,” and grabbed it off the shelf as we high-tailed it to the checkout counter.

Being the technical director of the household, it was up to me to set up the DVD player.  I was pleased that it was with HDMI and not RCA plugs.  What a difference in sound and picture!  We then proceeded to watch Episode II.  Finally, success!  I say it’s a success because with the first battle scene of the movie, the explosion was so loud with the surround sound, our cat took off out of the room in a mad dash for safety.


Her name was Rose and I knew her as Grandma Rose. She died when I was about 3 and I remember her open casket funeral and the many bouquets of flowers that surrounded it. I don’t have any other memories of her.

As I got older, I realized I couldn’t account for her on the family tree. “She was my neighbor growing up,” my mom had said. Her and her late husband were so close to my grandparents that she was considered family. What an honor.

That’s everything I know about Grandma Rose.

Oh, and one other thing: she crocheted beautifully intricate blankets.

My maternal grandma was the proud recipient of several of these pieces, and since her death over a decade ago, they now grace the couch in my sitting room. The thick yellow one, complete with tassels, is one of my prized possessions. Every winter I curl up under its warmth. And with this cloudy season of the soul I find myself under, it has been a source of comfort as well.

Over the holidays I too was gifted with the fine art of crocheting, as my sister in law showed me the basics. Now on my third project, I am finally making something that doesn’t look like an intoxicated spider weaved it. I have years of practice ahead of me to be on par with Grandma Rose, but I’d like to think I’m on my way there.

Rose probably never thought that 30 some odd years after her death, one of her creations would bring such warmth to a woman who was a baby last she saw her. Her legacy lives on, woven together on a single thread of yarn.

I want that. My bloodline dies with me and there’s no options to alleviate that. And so, while DNA is not meant to be my medium, I believe yarn will be. It will stand through the test of time, but like all things of this world, it will wear out and cease to be. But long after I meet the Lord, I will leave something behind to comfort, warm, and decorate.

And if I’m truly lucky, a child will ask, “Who was Grandma Simonne?”

Writing Challenge Day 13: My morning commute

After many years on an off shift, for the past few I’ve had a normal job. Bankers hours, my former coworker once called it. Depending on the day, I leave my house at 0700 or 0800. I have a 9 hour shift.

I drive my orphan car, the same one I’ve had since I was 22. Luckily for me, the drive only takes 15 minutes tops, and I’m able to use the back roads to avoid the main drag.

The road I take is long and winding. It follows the river, mostly, and is boarded by long leaf pine trees.

I continue on through a light industrial depot, and sometimes I can see the big container ships come into port. It doesn’t matter how many times I see them, like a child, I always stop to watch them. Despite a decade of living here, this native Midwesterner still finds them completely facilitating.

Next I go through the only stoplight on my journey. I’m rather proud of that.

I drive a bit further down the line until I turn on the road that leads to my place of employment. This road also holds special meaning in my life: my husband’s old apartment is here. In that living room, we shared our first kiss and got engaged. We lived here together for 7 months until we married and bought a house on the other side of town. I can see the guest bedroom window and balcony from the driver’s seat.

And I finally arrive at my destination. A place that funds all my adventures and is my greatest source of incurable anxiety. While I have stellar coworkers – really top notch people – the nature of the job is wearing heavily on me. As soon as I find a suitable replacement gig with benefits, preferably out of my current vocation, my commute will change.