I have this ball bouncing around in there, smacking the sides of my skull and rolling around my brain rendering me an idiot

I know I have a lot of male commentors so there's a good chance you missed my post at www.skirt.com, it's a woman's online magazine that has politely accepted my request to blog for them. So what did I do? I posted about boy stuff. I'm just a rebel and I'm never, ever, ever gonna be any good. Now go read this post so you can follow along with the rest of this one. So I guess I have a "Bracket" now?

Apparently "it" is starting again, tonight. The madness I mean. If I have one more guy explain the crazy world of Brackets to me again my brain will explode. You know how it is when you really don't give a flying crap about a particular subject? Or your brain is too busy to process useless information. Or no matter how hard you concentrate you're just never going to get, oh say the Flux Capacitor, Quantum Physics or March Madness NCAA College Basketball Brackets.
The information that is being forced into my brain, because I was foolish enough to listen to the guy at work and fill out a bracket, cause it's free, is giving me brain damage. This information is going in and I think because I can't process it, has formed into a ball of useless knowledge. Without the ability to understand the bracket concept or just not wanting to, I have this ball bouncing around in there, smacking the sides of my skull and rolling around my brain rendering me an idiot.
How much longer does the Madness last? I use my brain almost everyday and have become very fond of it, I'd really like to keep it intact as much as possible. I've got myself closed in my office at the moment. Eventually I'll have to use the facilities. Do I have to avoid my family all weekend?
The guy at work, the one that started this, I have him under control. He doesn't speak of it. Would you like to know why? Cause I'm kicking his ass, that's why. He's going down. He's probably out of it already. A girl is beating him, me.

When things go missing

"Why is the dog's tongue blueish/green?"
This snapped Boy #3 to attention and he crawled into the dogs little house. All you could see were his butt and his feet.

Can we just go off topic for a minute? Of course we can, it's my blog.
The fact that Boy #3 dove into the doghouse cannot be ignored. Both of his older brothers were in the vicinity and they could have easily gave him a swift kick in the butt and locked him in. Like they've done before. I really don't know how Boy #3 survived his childhood. Anyway my baby exhibited bravery far beyond the call of duty. I just needed to point that out.

He emerged from the doghouse with a chewed pen, only half of it.
"Ah, that explains the discoloration. See if you can find the other half. Please let it be in there."
Once again he emerged, "Dad, here's you spare keys. I found the rest of the pen."
"I guess it's time to get rid of that old comforter in there, she has it ripped to shreds, too many hiding places."
The dogs sanctuary, her little place to go unwind after a long hard day of neighborhood watching, is where our old comforters go to die a slow painful death. She's a comforter killer, sometimes she gets them before their time is up. She has a thing for the stuffing, she guts them.
When things go missing her house is the first place we look, it use to be Boy #2's room. His room is the second place we look for all things lost. He's a non-returner, a keeper of all, he loses things. The husband has him putting up a deposit on the tools he borrows and I didn't feel the least bit guilty sending him out in the cold late at night to buy me tape so I could finish my Christmas wrapping. He's got to have about 27 rolls of tape in his room somewhere.

I guess you can say we had a productive Sunday. The dog only ingested ink, not plastic, she has a new pillow in her house, the husband has his spare keys and Boy #3 didn't get locked in the doghouse. I don't ask for much.

Still Winter Zombies

Northeast Ohio has four seasons, Almost Winter, Winter, Still Winter and Construction. We are, at this moment, in the intolerable season of Still Winter. It's the season that tries man's soul, separates the men from the boys, the season of despair, children literally bounce off the walls in complete and utter boredom, women crying in the streets, it's the season we go bat crap crazy.
March 10, 2011 and we have yet another winter storm looming in the distance. It is poised to strike at 8:00 pm this evening. We seasoned Northeast Ohioans after being fed this information, go about our day in a zombie-like state. It is futile to complain. Bring it.
Back in the season of Winter we would run to the store after hearing news of the impending doom and stock up on provisions. Not now. Now we will eat our young if we have to, we are Still Winter Zombies after all.
"Snow?"
"Yes, snow."
"More snow?"
"Approximately 4 to 12 inches, depending on where you live."
"It's been raining for 3 days, more snow?"
"Yes, snow."
I've started talking to myself, out loud.
"The floods, what about the floods?"
"I imagine they will still be there when this new snow melts."
"In particular, the flood at the beginning of our development precious. The one that has plagued our commute to work and such."
"That will most likely become a sheet of ice, making our ride into work interesting, tricksy, you might say."

I do believe I'm at the bat crap crazy stage now but I'm trying to keep it under wraps. I had a 15 minute conversation at work today about pencils, that can't be good. But who wouldn't want to hear about the best pencil ever made? The Dixon/Ticonderoga, I never knew it was the best, I listened with interest.

Remember to feed the dog, we'll be back Sunday

Since it's our money and not theirs until we are dead, the husband and I ran off for the weekend and chipped away at the kids inheritance. I very much miss the days when the boys were young but you can't beat packing one suitcase, carrying it to the door, looking back at whoever might be listening and say, "Remember to feed the dog, we'll be back Sunday." It's a high that you really can't explain unless you've traveled with children. Neither of us threw up and we never had to threaten anyone that we would "pull this car over right now."

Taking these weekend trips are for us and us only, so there are no souvenirs involved either. We don't want to spoil them. They have come to rely on mom's ingenuity, free stuff. On this trip I scored eye makeup remover, a couple tea bags, a hot chocolate pack, hand lotion, a still wrapped in cellophane cup and coffee cup, a coffee package specially made for hotel coffee makers, a pack of creamer and a small pack of salt. These will be dispersed among my children. I brought home some matches but at the ages of 24, 21 and 18, I still don't trust them with a pack of matches and probably never will.

Which button, which button?

"I just don't understand. There's a POWER button and an ON/OFF button and I turn it on by pushing the POWER button?"
"No. Mom how many times.....?" Boy #3 is exasperated.
Standing in front of the fairly new TV like I always do with the remote when I try to turn it on, I consult my offspring, the exasperated one.

"You push the ON/OFF button."

"Oh that's right, I always forget. I don't want to push the wrong one because then I really don't know which one of these five smaller ones to push to fix it, you know......" Boy #3 had retreated to his room during my confusion. That's alright, it's not like I don't know where he lives.

Most of the time I just leave the TV on now so I don't have to turn it on, especially if no one's home. That's why I have the memory lapse's.

Boy #1 came over Sunday, out of the corner of my eye I could see him point the remote towards the TV.

"Nooooooo." I dove in front of the TV just like a Secret Service Agent taking a bullet for the President. "Which button did you push?" I looked at the TV and the screen was blank. "Which button, which button?"

"Did you take your little green pill today?"

"I have to get your brother involved now, he's losing his patience with me."

"You don't know how to turn on your own TV?"

I smacked him on top of his head with the remote and called his brother.

"This is...there's got to be....what the hell? Why is this so difficult."

"I'm going to look up how to program it."

"Would you please, this is disconcerting."

"Don't use your big writing class words with me. What does that mean?"

______________________________

I had so much fun in my Writing Class that I'm taking another, starting March 16. I think I've learned a lot, I'll be knocking your socks off very soon.

These are the comments I have to deal with when Relax Max gets behind on his reading.

Relax Max, you are guest posting whether you want to or not.

Relax Max said...
Monday morning promised. Sue began her Creature on the Wall post confidently. Monday morning promised...What the hell did Monday morning promise, she thought, sucking idly on her McDonalds “Fake Frappe”, screwing up her face as she pondered the promise of Monday. Sue had something in her eye and looked squintily in the rear view mirror at herself, jerking the wheel back to the right at the blast of the passing truck’s airhorn, almost dropping the cup in the process. Monday, Monday, so good to me. Monday, Monday, it was all I hoped it would be. Oh Monday morning, Monday morning, couldn't guarantee, that Monday evening you would still be here with me. Paula reached over and turned the radio down. She squinted and threw Victor a glance. A squinty glance. But it missed and bounced off the windshield. Victor’s grin got wider and wider until finally it was big enough for her to grab. She shook Victor by the grin until his eyes crossed.Paula looked at the rabbit in the cage and thought of the pound. Do they take rabbits at the pound? She wondered. In her swaggering wondering 30-something way. She dozed off. Paula was wakened by the sound of screeching tires and gravel hitting the underside of the vehicle. Paula had forgotten she was the one driving. “Whew!” Paula thought to herself, no longer swaggering. “I almost got my first big break!” Victor was no longer grinning widely. Victor’s eyes were no longer crossed. Victor’s seat was wet. Pee, she thought. Victor looked at her blankly, still floating somewhere in the outer reaches of car crash purgatory. “Could you please pull over, Paula? I need to change my drawers.”Paula was fully awake now. Both white-knuckled hands gripped the steering wheel like a starving Sudanese child might grip an Egg McMuffin. “Please wait. Be back in two minute.” Victor got out and slammed the door behind him. The trunk popped open. As she waited, Paula’s good eye swaggered up to the billboard at the side of the road. “McGreggor’s Dairy Farm, 3 miles ahead” is said in big red letters. “And Chinese rabbit hutch” some vandal had scrawled below in small blue letters. “Sweet Baby Jesus.” Paula began to pray in earnest, deep in the twilight zone now, feeling less in control of her Monday now than Mo Gadahfi. Where the hoary frack was that idiot cameraman? Paula suddenly felt empty and alone. As alone as a diehard Cleveland Indians fan sitting in the bleachers at Progressive Field during the World Series. “Carrots? Carrots?” moaned the ghostly old beer vendor as he cast a Jacob Marley eye on the rabbit in Paula’s lap. Monday, Monday, can't trust that day. Monday, Monday, sometimes it just turns out that way. Oh Monday morning, you gave me no warning of what was to be. Oh Monday Monday, how yould could you leave and not take me?

________________________________

This is an actual comment, just one comment. I copied and pasted it from just one comment. He's long winded but visiting his blogs is worth it.

Carity2011

Britishspeak

The Slap & Tickle

Thank you Relax Max for your guest post.

The Creature in the Wall

Monday morning promised to be an above average Monday. The office was going to literally be a ghost town. All the offices were going dark because of a big meeting out of state. I was up front holding down the fort, so to speak. In other words, peace and quiet. I was looking forward to today almost as much as an Egg McMuffin Friday.

With a big smile on my face I sat down to start my day. Sipping my piping hot cappuccino and going through my emails. It was quiet. Until I heard the noise.

"What the hell was that?"

It came from the wall that is within my reach. I leaned over in my chair and cocked my ear towards the suspicious sound. There it goes again. A co-worker happened upon me while I was staring at the wall.

Now everyone knows that when a wall is making a noise, it's only going to do it when you are alone with it. But I still said, "The wall is making a noise." His eyes lit up because right then he realized that his Monday just got better. He had someone to tease mercilessly for the rest of the day.

"What kind of a noise?" He cared not, I could tell by his grin.

"The kind of noise a creature would make if it was clawing it's way through a wall to attack me, that kind of noise, it's unsettling."

We both remained silent for a few seconds, nothing. He banged on the wall.

"I don't hear anything."

"Of course you don't hear anything, it's going to wait until you leave."

He started to walk away, but I kept talking.

"It's only a matter of time before it breaks through the wall."

My voice grew louder as he continued down the hall.

"I'll be here all alone."

"Uh huh."

"Just waiting for the creature to strike."

He turned the corner.

"Don't worry about me, I'm sure I'll be fine." By now I was shouting.

Alone again. 10 seconds later the creature started to claw it's way out, I whimpered.

A Valentine Re-Run

Since my Valentine's Day this year was the most uneventful to date, I decided to re-run a Valentine post from 2009. I got a present in 2009.
And since all I've been doing is writing, writing, writing for my class, I'm breaking one of my blogging rules and posting a re-run. Happy Valentine's Day.


It's Too Bad You're a Diabetic

I spent most of the morning deciding on a hiding place for my heart shaped box of chocolates. It seems that after all these years of dumping time and money into my children, I'm starting to see a profit. Boy #2 presented me with a Valentine's Day gift.
"For me?"
"Happy Valentine's Day mom. I got to go to work, love you."
"I have to hide this from your father and the other ones."
The husband shuffled out of bed while I was in the shower, before I found a hiding place though. "Where'd you get the chocolate?" he yells into the bathroom.
"My thoughtful son."
"Which one is that?"
"Number 2."
"Oh that's right, I told him to pick it up for me and give it to you."
"Uh huh, it's too bad you're a diabetic, cause I'd have shared them with you."
One lie deserves an other.
I've done 4 or 5 months of diabetic hard time, so I'm not unsympathetic. I had gestational diabetes with Boy #3 and that was near Easter. Chocolate bunnies would sneer at me, "Gestational diabetes, that's got to suck."
"I couldn't eat chocolate when I was pregnant with you and yet, I still love you." I tell Boy #3. "And that's why you're so skinny, you know that right?"
A couple of days a go the husband asked if he had to buy me a Valentine's Day present. My response, "Just being married to you is present enough babe." It's the little white lies we've told each other over the past 23 years that has kept our marriage so strong.

YOU ARE HERE

At the workplace is it expected that the majority of the employees have a reasonable amount of intelligence. They went through the process of filling out an application, an interview and they managed to drive themselves to said place of employment. One would have to come to the conclusion, no matter how hard it is to say, that the office is not filled with a bunch of morons. It may not seem that way but there are sparks of intellect flying around most of the time. We were all taught at a young age the process of walking into a building, retaining that information, making a mental picture, so to speak, of the door we just walked through. Day after day we walk into the door and then, even after a long trying day, we are able to find our way out of the building by walking through that very same door we had, hours ago, walked into. If for some reason that information loses it's place in our head, we don't panic because above all the doors leading to the outside world there is a big sign above that reads, and we all can read, EXIT.
So I ask you, because I am a curious person, and I would really like to understand this:
Why, in the name of Zeus's butt hole, do we have to have maps of the interior of the building plastered on the walls telling us "YOU ARE HERE" and a red arrow leading us to the nearest exit?
I will await your response, thank you.

This might be a disaster.

Okay here is my latest assignment: Select an article in your local newspaper, read it thoroughly. Outline a fictional short story or a nonfiction article based on the account. I went for fiction because I never do fiction and wanted to see if I could do it. It's over 1,000 words.

____________________________________

“This is going to be a disaster. A farmer, do you have any idea how hard it is to interview a farmer?”

“But, do you have any idea how much fun it will be to watch you try to interview a farmer?”

Paula gave Victor a glance, squinted her eyes, opened her mouth then shut it again. Why give him the satisfaction, she turned her head and watched the big city disappear.

Paula Swagger had chosen the profession of a TV news reporter. In her mid 30’s, she was still waiting for her big break. On her way to a dairy farm, she knew today wasn’t the day. She held a picture in her hand, it was a picture of the farm she and her cameraman, Victor, had their GPS set for. Out to the middle of nowhere then hang a left.

She studied the picture, apparently this farmer’s farm was being over-run by rabbits. The picture showed twenty or so crates with bunnies in them. She rolled her eyes and let out an exasperated sigh.

“Why me?”

“Boss said it would be a great human interest story, what with the Chinese New Year and all.”

Paula looked at Victor, actually stared blankly at him.

“You didn’t do your homework did you? You weren’t even paying attention in this mornings meeting?” Victor’s eyes were full of mischief, this was going to be better than he thought. He could barely sit still, his foot pressed on the accelerator just a little bit more.

“The Chinese New Year? The year of the rabbit?”

“Uh huh.” His grin widened. “People thought it would be a good idea to buy a bunny, you know for good luck. Thing is they didn’t realized what a chore it would be to take care of them.”

“So they’re dropping them off at this farm. What a mess.”

“Not only his farm, other farms and pet stores too. We’ll be there in 10 minutes.” You couldn’t wipe the grin off his face no matter how hard you tried. Paula’s head started the pound. She closed her eyes and drifted off.

“We’re here!” Paula snapped to attention.

“Would you look at that? Look at all those crates. There has to be 100 of them.”

They both sat in the stations van staring out the window. There was a fruit stand in the small parking lot where they stopped to park and behind that, a weathered barn, off to the left a farmhouse after that nothing but fields as far as the eye could see.

Paula opened her door, “Oh! Holy Mother of …..do you smell that?”

“Farms smell like poop 24/7.”

“Hello! Hi!” A man was running towards them, waving his arm. “Hello, thank you all for comin’. Are you the TV people?”

“Yes sir, we surely are.” Victor was getting into character, Paula shot him a warning look. “Hello, I’m Paula Swagger and this is my cameraman Victor. And, I’m sorry, your name?”

“Peter McGregor ma’am. I sure am glad to see you.” He shook both their hands until their teeth rattled. He pointed to house farmhouse, “That there’s my wife Elsie.” He vigorously waved to her and yelled, “These are the TV people.” Victor and Paula waved to Elsie. Peter McGregor continued to yell, “They’re gonna put me on TV, go on in and watch.”

“Oh Mr. McGregor, we’re just going to get some footage and …….” It was too late, Elsie was back in the house.

Paula whipped her head around, directed her clenched teeth towards Victor, “Get the camera, film this and let’s get the hell out of here.” He grinned at her and ran to the back of the van.

“Now Mr. McGregor how about you and I stand over there by the barn with all your bunnies.”

“They’re not my bunnies! That’s what I’m trying to tell everyone! People are dropping them off in the middle of the night. Ma’am this here’s a Dairy Farm, I can’t have a hundred bunnies hoppin around here, I got cows to milk.”

Victor arrived with his camera and handed Paula her microphone, “Ready?”

Paula glanced at Mr. McGregor, who was visibly upset. This man was looking for help and he got her. “Let’s see if we can’t get this problem taken care of sir.” She nodded to Victor, who then hoisted the camera up on his shoulder and a little red light went on. Mr. McGregor’s eye grew big as saucers and the corners of his mouth went up.

“Paula Swagger reporting from WTRX News. We are here at the farm of Peter and Elsie McGregor. Their farm has been inundated with bunnies. These bunnies are being dropped off in the middle of the night by thoughtless seekers of good fortune. You see it’s the Chinese New Year, the year of the rabbit.”

“The Chinese?”

“People have been buying bunnies in hopes of them bringing good luck to their families. Then realizing they are too much work, they drop them off at local farms and pet stores. Ladies and gentlemen these animals are not good luck charms and they can’t take care of themselves.”

She turned her attention to Mr. McGregor, “Sir, can someone who wants to adopt a bunny come by and pick one up?”

“Why sure they can. I gotta get rid of them, they’re cute and all but you know how fast they, huh, multiply and I got some gal named PETA calling me sayin I have too many bunnies, that there ain’t no way I can take care of them all. She’s right, Elsie’s been runnin back and forth to the store buyin carrots, we’re running outta room.”

“There you have it ladies and gentlemen, WTRX News will post information on our website regarding adopting a bunny from Mr. McGregor. I’m Paula Swagger at the McGregor Dairy Farm from WTRX News, thank you and good evening.”

And the little red light on the camera went off, Mr. McGregor relaxed. “What we’ll do sir, is take this tape back to the station, do a little editing and we should have it on the 6:oo news.”

“You all leavin already, we thought maybe you’d stay for supper.” Paula was moved. “I’m sorry, we have to go if you want to see yourself on TV, okay?” They exchanged smiles, real smiles and Victors stupid grin turned into a smile.

On the way back Paula, again drifted off to sleep. When she felt the van stop, she opened her eyes and looked at Victor, “We’re back sleepy head.” They both turned and looked in the back of the van at the crate with the bunny in it, “What are you going to name him?” Victor asked. It was Paula’s turn for the mischievous grin, “Peter Rabbit, of course.”

WILSON!!!!!!!!!

If you've been paying attention you know that the dog has an unhealthy obsession with her mini basketball. An unhealthy obsession that we've encouraged, we named it Wilson. She will now run to find it when we say, "Where's Wilson?" It's 7 degrees outside, we're bored. "Hey?" I asked, "Should we be worried if we find a bloody paw print on that thing and it looks like a face?"

Wilson disappeared, I'm going to say Thursday. The entire family would take turns looking under things. Checking her usual hiding places and discussing at dinner, where the hell is Wilson? The dog didn't look upset but we kept the conversation quiet and referred to Wilson as "it" as we tried to figure out our next move. Can we trick her and buy a new one? Let's face it, we were more upset than the dog. Our new source of amusement went missing. WILSON!!!!!
Boy #3 and I, the stubborn ones, started to look again, Saturday I think. "The last place I saw it was in my room, on the bed." Because not only do I share a bed with a Restless Leg Syndrome/Sleep Apnea husband, but also a dog with her squeak toy.
Boy #3 started hitting the bed thinking it was under the covers somewhere, the dog watched with interest. "We're looking for Wilson, baby, we'll find him." She cocked her head to the side and walked off down the hall.
"You upset her mom."
"Look under the bed, she's fine."
Then, swear to God and all that's holy, the dog jumps up on the bed with Wilson in her mouth and gently lays him between her paws.
Boy #3 was talking to me but I wasn't listening. I just stood there with my mouth open, I was trying to speak but couldn't.
Then syllables started to come out of my mouth, "Wha, di, ha, ti?" I was trying to get Boy #3's attention. He popped up from under the bed and looked at me.
"What?"
I pointed to Wilson.
Boy #3 was stunned, rocked to his core. "Where did that come from?"
"She just brought it in here, I swear."
"We looked everywhere for that."
"She came from the living room."
"Dad's in there."
We sprang to the doorway, momentarily getting stuck in the door jamb like a 3 Stooges movie and ran down the hall.
"The dog found Wilson, did you see where.................."
"Huh?"
We stopped in our tracks, the husband was thumbing through a Victoria Secret Valentine's Day Flyer, he saw nothing, I'm sure of it.
"There's only one explanation mom, you know it and I know it."
I rubbed my temples and eyes, pinched the bridge of my nose and squeezed my eyes shut really tight.
"She's found a doorway to the second dimension."
"Yeah, I know, she's a very smart dog."

What color are you?

I almost got the crying baby out, then I put on my big girl panties and trudge through my next assignment:

Choose a color to write about. Use the thesaurus function on your software or a printed thesaurus at least ten times during this exercise. Work to focus your writing and write tight. Make the assignment no more than 250 words.

_________________________________________

Inside the crayon box, the big one with 72 colors, the one that makes all the kids in your first grade class jealous, yep that one with the sharpener on the back, you will find me in the purple section. They call me lavender. I’m a free spirit that goes with the flow, wherever the wind takes me and boy do I smell good. People will stop me and say,

“Hey, I know you, don’t I? Where have I seen you before?”
“The lavender field off of Route 82.”

”Right! That’s it!”
It happens all the time. I don’t want to sound pretentious or anything but I have a calm, mitigating effect on people. I’m easy on the eyes and bring a smile to a face. Sometimes a face that’s had a particularly rough day at work, a face that’s belabored after a trying day with a family member or a face that’s sitting in front of a computer endeavoring to finish what they may think is a difficult task and they are stuck to their chair until they are done.
I roll with the punches and go on forever. You can see me wave ever so gently in the wind and then I can disappear, leaving you wondering what you just saw. Leaving you with a sense of contentment.
“What the heck? Was that a ghost or just a shadow?”
No it was I, and they call me lavender.

Please wait. Be back in 2 minute.

Would it be writing genius of me to combine a McDonald's post and a Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dude post together or just all together crazy? Can it be done? Sure it can. Will it be good? I don't know.
So when last we spoke I told you the story, in 300 words or less, of my Egg McMuffin Friday. Being limited to 300 words or less because it was my assignment some things were left out of that morning. Some things that were probably best left unsaid, especially with it being my my first assignment and all. I used the word pee twice, had to change damn to darn and hell was in there too, I didn't need to bring up my bra strap like I'm going to now. Don't worry Erv, it won't be that bad, the entire post is not about your sisters bra.
On my way to McDonald's, remember scarf wrapped around my neck 27 times, big leather coat and gloves, I felt my bra strap slide down my shoulder. This was shortly after I left the house and I knew it would have to stay there, uncomfortably on my shoulder until I got to work. It was unsettling because there was no way to get to it. I began to wonder,
"Which bra did I put on this morning?" I keep the uncomfortable ones in the back of the drawer.
"Maybe one of my 'good' bra's has crossed over to 'uncomfortable' I hate when that happens."
I continued on my way to my glorious breakfast with my bra strap askew, glancing at my passengers side where the husband shirts lay in a heap waiting to be taken to the Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dudes. That is my after work errand, there's a better chance of seeing him in the evening and what better way to start off the weekend than with an encounter with Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dudes grin like a prison guard in a Chuck Norris movie? My Friday dragged on like most Friday's do and at 4:30 I made my escape. Checking to make sure the bra was is place before donning my winter wear.
"I have to check that bra when I get home." I made a mental note.
I arrive at my most favorite place in the world as a blogger, grabbed the husbands shirts and marched in. Huh, where is everyone? And when I say everyone, it's where are the two of them?
Oh, look there's a note being held down with a stapler right next to the cash register. "Please wait. Be back in 2 minute."
The angel on my right shoulder said, "You should stay and watch that cash register for dweedle dee and dweedle dum, it's only 2 minute." I waited. I waited longer than 2 minute when the devil on my left shoulder said, "Isn't it about time to go home and start your weekend? Seriously, I'm sure they have the cash register locked and who is going to mess with the Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dude, would you?"
The little devil with the pitch fork had a point. Although he's probably the one that slid my bra strap down my shoulder this morning.

I’ll scrape those windows until my fingers bleed

Here is my first writing assignment. I had five beginning phrases to pick from, tell a short story with 300 words or less in five minutes. I submitted it and am awaiting the evaluation. I'm putting my thick skin on now. Mommy.

__________________________________________

They called it a near miss, but I called it poor planning on my part. It was Egg McMuffin Friday, my reward for dragging my butt out of bed five days in a row and getting to work on time. Several things factor into accomplishing this goal, a quick shower, the dog taking a quick pee, a great cup of coffee, minimal conversation with the rest of the household, the contacts going in without incident, a good hair day, the moon in the seventh house and Jupiter aligning with Mars. When this happens, drive-thru here I come.
I had my one sided conversation with the quick peeing dog, “You be a good girl today, mommy has to go to work.” She cocked her head to the side, wagged her tail and conveyed to me that all would be well. Satisfied that she had the house under control, I wrapped my scarf around my neck several times, put on my coat and gloves, grabbed my purse and opened the door. “Son of ………….” I knew it was too good to be true, I was moving a break-neck Egg McMuffin speed, I had to have forgotten something. Snow. Four inches of freshly fallen snow. I looked back at the dog, “I forgot to start the car, now I have to scrape if I’m going to make it to my Egg McMuffin. It’s what? Fifteen degrees out there?” I thought of that delicious Egg McMuffin and the large piping hot mocha cappuccino with caramel, “I’ll scrape those windows until my fingers bleed, this is my reward darn it and I shall have it come hell or high water, or a frozen windshield.”

It just popped open on it's own

"You have to take my truck to work tomorrow, I'm taking your car in to get the trunk fixed."

My trunk? Why that hasn't worked since summer, June I believe. I've adjusted my life in such a way that I don't need a trunk anymore. What will I do with a fully functional trunk?

It popped open while we were out of town, just popped open on it's own and it took the husband several tries to get it to stay closed. "Don't open that until I get it looked at." Yes that was June. I remember now. Are our lives that busy that we can't sit at a dealership wait for our car to be fixed? Apparently.

We went out of town again in September, suitcase in the back seat. While driving home the husband pulled over, "What?"

"The trunk just popped open."

"Get the hell outta here."

We got out of the car, "Hey, look there's your new shoes we've been looking for all this time." I was excited. "I never thought to look for them in the trunk, funny isn't it?"

"Hold the shoes, I'll close the trunk."

When he was satisfied the trunk was secure we continued on our way. "Don't open that until I get it looked at." Yes that was September.

Now my trunk is fixed because the husband sat at the dealership for an hour and a half. He took a vacation day.

I'll need to adjust my way of life for the better, I'm sure. I can put my groceries in the trunk now and I have a place to transport the dead bodies again. It's a win/win.

_________________________________________

I have enrolled in a creative writing class which starts tomorrow, I'm very excited about it. I'm telling all that read my blog so I push myself to achieve greatness. I won't settle for anything else. But on the off chance I have a bad day I will post this picture of a baby crying on FaceBook and you can offer words of encouragement if you would like. I also have no idea how much time it will take out of my day so I'm not sure when I will be able to post. Be patient, I'm sure the posts will get much better.

One of these things is not like the other, one of these things just isn't the same.

Generally I like to sit by myself when I go to lunch, find a secluded table, eat and write. Problem was, I walked into McDonald's with a blank slate in my brain. 'I have to sit by someone weird.' I told myself. Eureka! A table full. A table full of a really out of place, over dressed, family, 3 generations of the entitled. And when I sat near them, they kicked it up a notch.

'Awesome, please try to impress me.' Inside voice. In fact my inside voice was going a mile a minute.

I quickly arranged my lunch tray. For some reason McDonald's has stopped asking me "for here or to go" and they automatically put my food in a bag. Then I say, "I was planning on staying is that okay?"

"Of course." And they put my bag of food on a tray. I look like a swindler trying to get out of the "for here" tax as I go find a table.

There was grandma and grandpa, mom and dad and two daughters. The daughters had a few years between them, the oldest never stopped texting and the chubby younger one loved every food that came up in conversation. Grandma and mom were bejeweled, made up, half a can of hair spray on each head and in designer clothes, their purses were probably expensive but I'm not schooled in the designer purse world, and every once in a while I could get a whiff of grandma smell. Dad and grandpa discussed at length a deli menu, "The sandwiches are this big. And the Matzah balls.............."

"I love Matzah balls." Chubby girl chimed in.

When the deli menu conversation was exhausted the dad started to try and impress the grandpa with his job. Grandpa didn't seem too interested which made dad try harder. The mom discussed dinner for the weekend, "I thought I'd make a pot pie tomorrow."

"I love pot pie." Of course you do.

One has to wonder why these people ended up in McDonald's when the could have gone to the deli that had sandwiches 'this big' and Matzah balls. It's going to bother me for a little bit. I hope I don't waste too many brain cells mulling this over.

Someone! Please take the pork chops out of the freezer in the garage!

Forcast: Buckets of snow

Cause: Lake effect

Why: Cuz it's winter

Attitude: Pissy

I ran out of the house this morning knowing it would take me longer to get to work. So I hastily wrote a note and left it on the kitchen counter, "Some one! Please take the pork chops out of the freezer in the garage!" I grabbed my coffee and ran out the door. I didn't even sign it, "Love, mom." I was that stressed. So as I sit eating my lunch I'm really not sure if we are having pork chops or grilled cheese tonight. Bread! I need bread! I must stop for snow storm provisions.......again. Do we need milk? At this point who the hell cares. I'm so over these snow storms.

Anyway, Buckeye is enjoying it. She buries her nose in the snow and eats it.

It is now 9:00 pm, still snowing and we had pork chops.

Help, I've fallen and I can get up but would like some assistance

Anyone? No? Ouch.

See when a child falls, they bounce. When an adult falls, it's kind of like a thud. A child will completely forget they fell almost immediately especially if they are on their way somewhere. Now when an adult goes down with a thud they lay there for a while accessing the damage. And waiting for the rest of the household to come running to their aid. Except in my household.

The husband wasn't feeling well, I made him some hot tea and took a look at the blanket he had wrapped himself in. This is the "living room" blanket, the one we keep handy if we need it. It's also right there for the dog to destroy at her leisure. She has a thing for blankets, especially comforters. I'm certain she thinks we have any endless supply, but we are starting to get low on the ones the kids use to have on there beds. It was time for a new "living room" blanket so I went to the closet. And since I'm a FaceBook addict there is crap all over the place and on my way out of the spare room I tripped over the collage frame I've been meaning to fill with pictures. I almost regained my balance but stepped on the colorful, sports themed comforter and down I went, with a thud of course.

I lay there waiting for something to start to hurt, the shoulder was first, see that went into the wall and then I slid down from there. I'm happy to say I didn't hit my head, so no brain damage, thank God. I began to swear, moan, say ouch, the only movement in the house was the dog trying to find a way over me to get down the hallway. I was sure she was going to get help. The husband was right at the end of the hall in his recliner watching football oblivious to my plight. I could be dying here, unconscious and in a puddle of blood and he'd be wondering if I was going to make him a sandwich.

I got up on my own and managed to walk down the rest of the hall carrying the damn blanket. "Here."

"Wha...?"

"I got you a new blanket and fell in the hallway."

"I didn't ....."

"I know you didn't."

Things are starting to hurt today, but I think I'll survive. I'll probably start wearing a helmet in the house since I know now I'm on my own and have to protect my brain but also embarrass my family.

When the damn diabetic makes pudding in the wrong bowls

"I see we're throwing caution to the wind again, ay?" A little Canadian lingo there. The husband looked at me with his 'one eyebrow up' look. "I thought you were going to bed."

"You are making a mess. I can't go to sleep knowing there will be pudding splattered everywhere when I wake up. Is that chocolate pudding dripping down between the dishwasher and counter? This is going to be worse than I thought. You're making vanilla too?"

Most people are going to bed at 11:00pm ish and not clanging around in the kitchen but that's when the damn diabetic makes pudding in the wrong bowls.

"So you're making parfaits then? How can you not stir neatly? Why does half of it have to be on the counter? Look at my counter, look at it."

A 10 second stare down began. And we started to speak to each other in hush tones, with our eyes squinted and our teeth clenched, "I'll clean it up, go to bed."

"I can't go to sleep knowing you may go into a diabetic coma. That's something that's needs to be addressed quickly and every one's in bed."

"I'm only having one in this small glass."

"Then you will save one for me for lunch tomorrow?"

"Yes."

"I'm going to bed."

"Good night."

I might need a dog therapist

I took the dog for a walk yesterday, she needed to get out of the house. She doesn't seem to be doing stir crazy well. We exchange Christmas cookies with our next door neighbors and Buckeye and their dog, her boyfriend, exchange gifts. Now, we have banned squeak toys from our house, we just don't see the point. After raising three boys with annoying, noisy toys we put our foot down with the squeaks.

Her boyfriend presented her with a squeak basketball. We let it go because when she opened it the fun ensued. Maybe being stuck in the house during the blessed holiday season has messed with her head slightly because she grabbed the ball, it squeaked and she freaked. She heard the squeak and stopped in her tracks with a WTF look on her face. This went on for days, a continued amusement for the entire family. Then her attitude toward the ball started to change. She started to carry it around with her everywhere, ever so carefully so's not to squeak it. It was never out of her sight, becoming an object of her affection. It was now hers and her boyfriends baby. When Erv, and you never trust Erv, came over on New Years Day, she carried her ball/baby and cried the whole evening. Trying to find a place to hide it so Erv wouldn't get it. She brought it to bed with us that night and we, of course rolled over it several time during the night to awake with a start to a squeak. It's too late to ban this ball, she has an unhealthy obsession with it. Stir crazy I tell you. The boys are having their fun with her, they squeeze it when she's not looking and she comes running. "Where's your baby? Get your ball!" But they don't have time to take her for a walk. Huh.

"Mom, she thinks it's her baby."

"Did you get a picture?"

"We have to take a video, put it on YouTube."
This is when I stepped in to introduce reason and logic into the situation.

"We have to name it Wilson."