I said that to my sister the other day. I don't think she was too happy with me.
I have been busy, busy, busy.
Actually, I have.
I've been working on my novel. Which is going quite well, by the way. I think I'll have it finished this summer. It will be a short novel, but a novel, nonetheless. Here is the beginning......
Copyright by Book blogger 2011
“Would you keep that down up there?” my Mom yelled.
I sighed and laid my violin back in its case. No one in my family appreciated the mystery and the beauty of the violin. When I began to play, it seemed to have a story to tell.
Not like anyone in my family cared. My Mom was forever telling me to “keep it down.” My sister, Kitty, once actually ripped up my favourite sheet of music in exasperation with all my practicing, and my Dad was never home.
“Mo-om!” I called down the stairs. “I have to practice.”
“Not that much, you don’t,” my Mom snapped back. “Now come on down here and set the table for supper.”
I stormed down the stairs and jerked open the cupboard door, pulled out the plates, and setting them on the table with a crash.
“Something wrong, Miquette?” Mom looked up from the cookbook she was reading.
I glared at her. “I was practicing,” I said through gritted teeth. “Why couldn’t Kitty set the table? I’m the one who was actually doing something useful. All she’s doing is giggling on the phone about which boy said what to who.”
“To whom,” Mom correctly calmly.
“You know what I mean,” I spat back, ready to throw the salt container I was carrying at her.
Mom made a clicking sound with her tongue. “You’ll get no where with attitude like that, young lady.”
I was all ready with a sarcastic comment, but I decided against it. It would only make Mom angrier.
“Kitty! Come down to the table!” Mom called in a sing-song voice, ignoring my glare.
I could hear Kitty get off her bed and open her door. “Just a minute, Mom!”
The door closed.
I knew we would not be seeing Kitty anytime soon. She was probably on the phone with Sally, which meant they were talking about Sally’s engagement party, which meant that they would be on the phone all night.
“Can I please start, Mom?"'
Our argument was at a standstill, this happened often. I didn't like to fight with her, but she didn't realize how much playing the violin mean to me. I know, I know, that's no excuse.
I gulped down my dinner as fast as I could, before Kitty would come down and join me—although I knew it was unlikely she would get off the phone that soon. I was not in the mood to eat with Kitty, her insistent chatter and giggling got on my nerves. If you think I was overreacting with Mom, you should see me around Kitty.
Actually, check that. You probably don’t want to.
When I finished dinner, I went back up into my room and resumed my practicing.
“Can’t you give your violin a rest!” my mom yelled. It might sound like a question to you, but I know my Mom. It was most likely a command.
I set down my violin and took up my homework.
Well, what do you think?