Peering into . . .

the inner workings of Alison Miller Woods

Sunday Scribbling: “Flashback” October 5, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — Alison @ 2:32 pm
Tags: ,

This weekly prompt comes from the Sunday Scribblings web site. The prompt word for this week was “flashback”.

~*~      ~*~     ~*~

Alison peddled her mother’s bike carefully. Her nine-year old legs weren’t long enough to reach the pedals if she sat on the seat, so she stood while she rode. There was also the danger that the flare on her pant legs would get caught in the spokes, bell-bottoms being what they were. So, she rode looking down a lot.  At least her hair didn’t get in her way. It was cut short, very short and layered in the back. But the sides “feathered’, which made it a ‘girl cut’.

She was just completing a circuit and turning around in the driveway of her mother’s best friend when she noticed the approaching neighbor. He was a couple years younger and was riding down the sidewalk on a Big Wheel. His name . . . was Bubba.

Oh no. Here he comes. Maybe I can get turned around fast enough and I won’t have to talk to him. Scary little kid. She tried to turn faster, but she lost her balance and had to stop the turn, putting her foot down on the driveway. She looked up and there he was at the end of the driveway, a six-year old cloud of menace and spite. What kind of name is ‘Bubba’ anyway? He looked up at her, cocked his head sideways, and asked a simple question.

“Are you a boy? Or a girl?”


I haven’t cut my hair that short since.


Sunday Scribblings : Cheese September 26, 2009

Filed under: Uncategorized — Alison @ 9:31 pm


If the moon is made of cheese, what would happen if we made a fondue?

Would it be flavored with a sprinkle of Milky Way?

Would it make the sounds of Saturn’s rings?

Would the taste of it make you dream of far-off, exotic places?

I want a moon fondue.


Sunday Scribbling: Competition December 7, 2007

Filed under: Uncategorized — Alison @ 6:33 pm


I would love to say that I am not competitive. And being not involved in sports, it might almost be believable . . . unless you sit down with me to play a friendly game. I find that I really like to win. I do alright if I lose (better than I used to), but why lose when you can win? I think that being competitive can be a good thing. I strive to do better than the last time. I will not settle for doing less than my best. However, being competitive takes a bad turn when the emphasis changes. Making sure someone else does worse rather than working on my own performance, or in finding competition where it doesn’t exist through attributing intentions to other’s successes. For example, “She has more money (or fill in the blank with your favorite difference) than I do, so she must think she is better than I am.” This competition sets up boundaries, eliminates relationships, and creates animosity. This is a competition within yourself that sets you against the world.

If I can avoid that kind of competition, then a little high-spirited board game should be just fine.


Sunday Scribblings- "Misspent Youth" November 24, 2007

Filed under: Uncategorized — Alison @ 2:18 pm

This week’s theme is “Misspent Youth”. I will admit that the first thing to pop in my mind was the image that comprises the second paragraph, but I decided I had better do a legitimate response as well.

When I think back on my youth I realize that I wouldn’t want to trade what I have and go back. Don’t get me wrong, I had a great childhood. And the parts that weren’t great, taught me great things. Perhaps the one way I feel I misspent my youth is in not having the courage to take more chances. It is a lesson I am still (in my almost mid-thirties) trying to learn. I was a nerd (still am) and I learned not to give up the things I wanted most for the things I wanted at the moment. School came first and I am grateful for that. I learned that rejection doesn’t kill you, even though it may feel like it. I learned that I could find really good friends when I looked past appearances and looked inside. I learned that overcoming the fear of an audition was well worth the excitement of opening night. I only wish that I would have had the confidence in myself to reach out more. To stop being so preoccupied with my own shortcomings and look around. To reach out for new heights for myself and be brave enough to help someone else reach those heights as well.


Thorfit stepped away from the seller’s stall. As he left the ornately carved steps, returning to the smooth glass ground, a familiar scent caught his attention. Muttering to himself he began to go through his pockets, pulling out various jars and bottles. He uncorked one and breathed in carefully the scent. “Milk, crumbs, daisies, and wigglewort . . . this is a two year old.” The next bottle uncorked was responded to with, “Wind-up toys, dirt, violets, and fresh bread. . . this is one of my six year olds. But where is my other six-year old?” He stopped in realization as the shop behind him quickly closed its doors and shutters. “I gave them my six-year old instead of my four-year old. And I didn’t get my change.” He sighed in resignation as he started to walk away. “Oh how I hate it when I misspend my youth.”


Last Sunday’s topic was “I carry . . .” and so here I go . . . November 18, 2007

Filed under: Uncategorized — Alison @ 10:21 pm

I carry chaos inside me.

I feel its tentacles plunged into my brain, stretch down to wrap a grip around my heart, and continue on to toy with my stomach. I feel it in the distractions that pull me from project to project, never completing and always disgusted with the incompletion. I feel it in the animalistic rage that boils in my head and heart, blinding me and changing me. I feel the lava flow from my eyes and the ugly spew from my lips. I feel it only calm itself with bedtime stories, tiny grins and kisses bestowed and tiny hands in mine. How is it the same impetus for explosion can be the means of my crawling back to my human sanity? How do I escape? How do I actually fold a load of laundry or get through a day without it blindsiding me?

I carry chaos inside me.


%d bloggers like this: