The first step is the hardest, I hope.

I am a dabbler. You can see that I dabbled in blogging in 2007. I've also dabbled in guitar, dance, soccer, swimming, running, photography, knitting, crochet, yoga, gardening, bicycling, recycling, freecycling, motorcycling...and now I am back to blogging. It's cyclical, I guess you'd say.
I am back to blogging because I enjoy writing. I wrote an essay, which I posted to my facebook page, about a trip I took with my dad and grandmother. Pushing the "publish" button was a thrill. I can't explain why I was so excited about it. I knew the essay was poorly written and in need of some real editing. Nevertheless, I enjoyed it so much I wrote another essay that I entered into a contest. (A very, very small contest) I have since checked out three or four "How to write" books from the library, and done my internet research. It seems the first step to improving one's writing skills is to...write every day. I hope it works. I cook every day, and I'm no top chef.
I have now tasked myself to write daily. Will I publish daily? Probably not. Logistically, it would be impossible, I am not near a computer every single day... although there aren't many days when I am not. I certainly don't want this blog to turn into a list of my ailments, or a tribute to my daughter's achievements. I'm also pretty sure that I don't want this to turn into a blog about blogging.
Here then, is my short story contest entry.

Caller i.d.
by Kaycee


As a teenager, I was a master of the prank phone call. I had my own specialty call that I used to delight my friends at sleepovers and birthday parties. I had a special knack for staying in character and sounding grown-up and professional.
In most towns, kids use the phone book to pick random numbers to call. In Naselle, we used the phone book to choose exactly who we would call. Teachers were off-limits, as were the sweet old ladies who gave full size candy bars for Halloween. There were no strangers in Naselle. It was impossible to call someone that you didn't know without paying long-distance charges.
One evening, I got a little cocky. I'd called two or three folks who didn't hang up right away, or threaten to have the call traced. My friend T.J. dared me to call his grandmother, who was also my school bus driver. My mean, bossy, unhappy, intimidating bus driver, Mae. He dared me. I had no choice. I dialed the last four digits of her phone number- Naselle was so small that the first three digits were superfluous. My friends listened on the extension phone.
"Hello?"
"Yes, Hello, Ma'am. This is Donna at Land-O-Latex in Santa Anna, California. I am calling about an order we received for 12 Galactic Prophylactics." I spoke fast, and used a terrible accent.
"What's that?" She sounded mad, as if she was getting ready to tell someone to SIT DOWN.
"Ma'am, unfortunately, the agent who processed this order did not make note of the size that was ordered. What size Galactic Prophylactic would you like?"
"I don't know what this is about. I didn't order anything."
This is where people either hung up, or got hooked. I always kept the phone book handy so that I could read their address back to them.
"Ma'am, once again, I really apologize for any inconvenience, but the order has been paid for, and is ready to be shipped to P.O. box 48, in Naselle, Washington.... I just need to know what size Galactic Prophylactic you would like." I mispronounced "Naselle" for authenticity.
Mae laughed a little. "Is this for real?"
"Yes, of course, Ma'am. Small, Medium, or Large?"
"Large, I guess."
"Well, ma'am, you are certainly one lucky lady. We will get those 12 Galactic Prophylactics shipped out right away. Is there anything else I can help you with this evening? We have a full line of latex novelties."
"No, I think that's it."

I thanked her, hung up, and my friends and I had a good laugh at how gullible Mae had been. Congratulatory high fives were shared.

Monday morning, as I boarded the bus, I pretended to be looking for something in my bag so that I didn't have to acknowledge Mae. What if I cracked up? When I got to my seat, she caught my eye in the mirror and said, "Good Morning. Donna... is it?". I swear she winked.