A blogging friend who is also a composition instructor at a community college blogged the following about her latest class:
To get us going both with introductions and finding topics for the narrative, I asked them to post brainstorms of at least ten significant moments in their lives, moments that could potentially work as topics for their narratives at the same time they shared a bit of themselves with the class as a whole.
At the end of her blog post, which included ten of her own (hilarious and touching) significant moments, she asked her readers about their own micro-moments. Here is one of mine.
Well, there was the time when I hosted the post-party for everyone at my company after our annual Christmas party (~23 employees plus significant others; it was a holding company for other companies employing ~3,000 people; CEO was a prominent figure in Mpls business and society).
Which micro-moment to describe? The one where Smokey built a fire in the fireplace in preparation for everyone arriving… and forgot to open the flue? The house filled with smoke, we had to open all the windows (this was mid-December in Mpls), and so everyone had to enjoy our post-party in their coats in our tiny back den, the only room with a door to close it off from the rest of the smokey house.
Or should I mention that I had made mulled wine (although I hadn’t counted on there being that many people) in an early version of an Air Pot… and it erupted with hot red wine all over the controller of the company?
Or should I talk about how I had made snackies of crackers and cheese and prosciutto-wrapped melon slices and arranged them with loving care on the dining room table… and while we were all in the back den, the cat sampled them and proceeded to hurl his guts out on the table from the richness of the fare? (And I wondered (me in the back den) why no one was partaking of my delicious snackies.)*
My life is long enough that I have a nice backlog of micro-moments. Great blog fodder.
* I forgot to say that I remained an employee at that company for seven more years, which is just another example of what wonderful (and forgiving) people they were.