What is now known as the knee incident

If we'd all adhere to basic driving laws of the road then I wouldn't have a bathroom counter filled with various wound paraphernalia, damn it. If drivers in their SUV's would realize that their windows are tinted a tad and a person on a bike cannot necessarily see if they are being "waved through" then I wouldn't be screaming in the husbands ear as he pours peroxide on my knee, damn it.

It's totally half the SUV drivers fault that the rest of my summer is ruined. I will take partial blame for carrying a beach bag and a can of Mountain Dew while riding my bike on my way home from the pool. But if the indecisive driver would have just, you know, made a decision at the stop sign, I would not have had to stop abruptly and wipe out my knee. It's a mess and I'm not going to look good at the pool or in shorts the rest of the summer, damn it. It's unbecoming, a bandaged up knee, you know.

Cat fight at the pool but no Russians

Well I had other plans here at the pool today but when you have two girls arguing behind you, invading your every waking thought then they must be made fun of and made fun of they will.

If you are going to argue with each other and mom on the cell phone to audible levels as such that every one at the pool can hear, I believe your words are up for grabs.

I think a friendship may be crumbling right behind my back. One of them is trying to explain that "plans change" and the other one is trying to explain "her side of the story". Now one is on the phone trying to find a way home. It's a small community, walk off your frustration honey.

Thank you God for the bazillionth time for giving me boys.

Can I just go off topic here for a minutes? A family just walked in and was pool-ready as soon as they dropped their stuff. They must be reading my blog or they are as pool savvy as I am. Bravo pool savvy family. There is hope for all humanity, I've righted the world.

The girls have quieted a tad or they are getting drowned out by all the people that have been filtering in. Or someone is actually drowning them to shut them up. I have to admit the thought crossed my mind. Either that or just bang their heads together. Banging heads together works with boys. Does it work with girls?

With the girls incisive yapping quelled, I was able to get to the matter at hand, check on the Russians. I didn't hear anybody say vodka so it was safe to say the pool was Russian free today, at least while I was at my post.

Monitoring suspicious behavior at the pool continues

Someone has to do it and I've taken it upon myself to keep an eye on things while I lay here tanning and swimming.

I think one of the Russians are here and I have eyes on her don't you worry. She's a very large woman and she's been in the pool the entire time I've been here. Over two hours in the pool, she's going to wrinkle up pretty good. I think she's exercising.

Since I've had her under surveillance she started off circling the perimeter of the pool, no doubt on a scouting mission. Who does she think she's fooling? Now she's walking back and forth, from one side of the pool to the other, she got in the way of my laps. Actually some Americans got in the way of my laps too. I wanted to say to them all,

"Hey! I'm swimmin' here!"

Pardon my digression.

I made sure when in close proximity of the exercising Russian, I made eye contact. At least I think I did, we both had sunglasses on. She also had on a baseball cap. Suspicious? Damn straight. I'm going to have to come back here tomorrow now, just to keep an eye on things.

But now I must get going and give up my surveillance post, I have to get over to WalMart and check up on the morons. My work is never done.

Fun filled family freakin day at the pool

I'm not here to judge, I'm just here to pass along my infinite wisdom. And when I'm done with this post you will stop and say,

"Wow, she's so smart."

I'm an expert at going to the pool. I've been going to the pool since I was a kid. My grandmother use to take Erv and me, she'd sit and people watch with her bright red lipstick on so her lips wouldn't get sunburned and she wore a big floppy hat. And when we'd say,

"Grama! Watch this!." She would.

That's where I would like to start, then we'll talk sun screen. Here's the thing, when your kids are in the pool and they say,

"Hey mom/dad/grandma/grandpa! Watch this." Five times in a row, look up from your cell phone and watch whatever stupid thing they are doing so the rest of us don't have to listen to, 'Hey mom/dad/grandma/grandpa! Watch this.' Five times in a row. You know what? Just put your cell phone away and keep on eye on you children at all times. Those "lifeguards" are paid minimum wage.

Now the sun screen. This is going to make so much sense to you when I'm done. Put the sun screen on your children before you get to the pool. I can't stress this enough. When you come to the pool with more than one child and they still need sun screen slathered on them, do yourself a favor and just let them burn. I continue to be amazed at parents that file into the pool for a fun filled family day and they stop their children from jumping in with the rest of the kids. Why? Because before they can have any fun they have to be disappointed, start crying and be yelled at by their stressed out mom.

"You can't go in that pool until I put sun screen on you, WAIT!"

While you struggle with one child the others are inching their way towards the waters edge. You are not going to be able to catch them because your hands are full of sunscreen and the partially gooped kid thinks he's done when you go to catch the ungooped ones. The gooped one is slippery now you'll never get him back. See the chaotic situation you and you alone created? Tell me slathering them up at home doesn't make sense.

There is so much more I can teach you but I don't want to come off as preachy. Just remember one other thing, teach them how to play Marco Polo and I will hunt you down like a rabid dog.

Rocket Ships, Aliens, Mother Ship and Benedryl

You can't just say a rocket ship drove by my house and not have proof to back it up. So guess what? A rocket ship drove by my house today.

This is further proof that my neighborhood has run amok. That rocket ship is filled with unsuspecting, poor saps that think they are on a summertime joy ride. We will probably never see them again. I'm sure they will be beamed up to the Mother Ship if they haven't already.

There is something suspicious going on at the pool too. Friday, after work, I ran, literally ran to the pool for some time in the sun because I believed the internet weather channel. I believed them when they said it would be partly cloudy all weekend. Today, Saturday was beautiful. But back to Friday, I got to the pool and no one was in my "spot". Being a creature of habit or slightly OCDish I freak out if I have to set up my stuff in a different spot, so life was good to me that Friday afternoon or so I thought.

I stay up too late on the week nights, because of writing, so by Friday I'm tired. I fell asleep in my spot and was wakened by a itchy painful bite of a flying alien bug. I swatted it off my leg and went for a swim. Came back to commence the tanning process, the other side. This is when I started to wonder why I could see my cheek. My left cheek under my left eye was starting to protrude. I moved my face muscles and it hurt, the area around my left eye did. I gathered my stuff and went home while I could still see. On the bike ride home my left leg started to hurt and I could see several welts. Damn it they got me.

Upon further inspection when I got home I discovered the left side of my face was swollen and it hurt to walk. In the morning the swelling had gone down but everything hurt. The sun was also shining brightly. Somebody had to go to that pool and show that bug who was boss so I was there when it opened. And now I have a swollen ankle. The aliens have successfully injected me with their GPS nanobots and I'm afraid will abduct me at any time. It was nice knowing all of you, maybe they'll let me keep posting up there on the Mother Ship.

If it wasn't for being hopped up on Benedryl all weekend I don't know how I'd make it.

Hey mom! When's the last time I had a tetanus shot?

"Mom?"

"I heard you." I heard him, Boy #3. I was just stalling.

"When?"

"Didn't I stop being responsible for you when you turned 18? What are you now 19 ish?"

"Well back when you were responsible for me, did you keep some kind of records on my health and well-being?" he says as he takes off his blood soaked sock.

"Whoa, wait." Both of my hands did the big time out there kid, "Whoa, where are you putting that sock? Put it in the garbage."

"But..."

"Garbage! You better clean that out good and you're going to need a tetanus shot."

"But when is the last time...............?"

"If you can't remember, then it's time for one." I have no idea where his immunization records are, not a clue.

"You can't remember?"

"Honey, I can't remember your name most of the time. Why do you think I gave you a number?"

I sent him off for a tetanus shot and while he was gone decided to look for records saying that he exists. While I didn't find his immunization records I did find mine, huh. It appears I'm in need of a tetanus shot.

I can't see, I just can't see

I waited long enough, Blogger is not going to retrieve my lost post, I must recreate it. That sucks.
I think it all started at the eye doctors, yes, I remember. When she puts that eye glasses making contraption in front of your face and says, "Does it look better now or now, now or now?" That is the only time I can actually see. Once she gives me the contacts that are suppose to make me see the world in a whole new light, it goes downhill from there.
And just so we are clear, not seeing clear, but clear on the fact that Erv got bifocals before me, one week before me, so I'm aging better than him obviously.

"Here's what I'm going to do," says my eye doctor. "Your left eye's astigmatism is worse, I'm going to adjust that and the astigmatism in you right eye is hardly there anymore."

"Wha.."

"I'm going to give you a regular lens for the right eye with a bifocal. With the left eye you will still have the lens for reading and the right eye will be for seeing far but you'll have that extra help to see close up."

"Okay." She kept saying I was going to see, so I agreed with her.

"Go put these samples in and make a follow up exam, any problems call me before Monday, I'm going on vacation."

Here's the thing I couldn't see and the other thing, kind of funny when you think of it, I had to renew my driver's license in less than a week.
"I can't see." I explained to the eye doctors office worker.
"We can get you in Wednesday at 10:00 am."
"Nope, I work."
"How about Saturday at 8:30 am?"
"Nope, I sleep."
"Ma'am, she's going on vacation."
"Okay, I guess I just won't see until my follow up exam, precious."
The next day I called again and explained that I couldn't see and the doctor said if I had any trouble to call, I'm having trouble and lots of it. She put me on hold, came back and said the doctor will have a new set of trial lenses waiting for me to pick up. I couldn't see with the newer ones either. WTF! I put my old contacts in and took my chances at the DMV. I was asked if my address was the same, height, weight of course my weight is the same as when I was 16, duh.
"Will you move over to the eye exam please? Right eye first, okay read line 4 on the right side."
"L P H E"
"Good, remember to let me know when you see the flashing lights."
"Oh, I saw them, sorry I forgot."
"Read line 3 on the right."
"H T S I" and I waved my Spirit Fingers when I saw the light.
"Good, let's go to the left eye, read line 4 on the left."

I waved my Spirit Fingers and squinted, "Okay here's the thing."

"Mono vision?"

"Yeah, how did you know?"

"We get you kind of people all the time."

A message to my children

And when I say children I don't just mean the numbered Boys, this is for the daughter-in-law, the girlfriends and the one that calls me mom, I'll call him Nick. Mother's Day is Sunday and since you all did so well with my presents for Christmas, I wanted to make sure you didn't blow it for Mother's Day and my Birthday for that matter, which is the following Saturday. I really made out pretty good at Christmas didn't I?
All of you have jobs, some of you have more than one job, money should be no object. I know that gas prices are on the rise but if you just drive less this month you should be able to make this a Mother's Day to remember.
Did I mention that if I averaged out the time I was in labor with Boy #1, Boy #2 and Boy #3, it would be about 12 hours each?
See me or call for my list. Remember mommy loves you.

"Take Away Your Driver's License Conglomerate"

If I couldn't be a writer, if for some reason I had to stop pursuing my dream, I would then create a job for myself and I'm sure I could get people to sign up with me. We would be the "Take Away Your Driver's License Conglomerate."

From Post Office to bank to McDonald's (don't judge me) I was almost hit by a car twice. A time period of less than 10 minutes, cause I drive fast. These two people didn't even look my way and I wasn't even using my invisibility cloak. They just didn't see my medium size CAR.

What would happen in a situation such as this if I were the leader of the "Take Away Your Driver's License Conglomerate" is I would immediately slam my portable siren on the roof of my car, just like Starsky and Hutch, and take off after them, in a high speed chase if necessary. I imagine we would need some stinking badges. We, meaning those I have recruited. Isn't it wonderful, you are a part of a plan that I'm making up as I go along, you're watching it unfold before your very eyes? It's always good to have a back up plan and my brain cells are firing on all cylinders today.

Along with our portable sirens and stinking badges we will carry compact, heavy duty shredders, for the drivers license's we will be confiscating. We will shred them on the spot, drop their car keys down the nearest sewer and tell the ex-driver to call a cab. That'll teach 'em, that'll teach 'em good. Who's with me?

___________________________________________

Yes, I get very cranky when I almost get in a car accident because the driver isn't paying attention.

Pop

Let me explain my absence. "Advanced" Creative Writing Class has been wonderful but also time consuming. I'm learning a lot, writing a lot and writing some more. Personal essays seem to be my thing and for some reason when I sit down to write an assignment it comes out serious, go figure. I thought I was a goof-ball writer but found I have a serious side of writing that is screaming to get out. I can't stop the words, they just keep coming. But I told my sister-in-law I'd make her laugh today. The last time I posted something on http://www.skirt.com/, I made her cry, so I owe her a laugh.

______________________________________

Boy #1 moved to Florida this past weekend. Actually that's how I made Debbie cry, writing about this. But that's the direction we're going, south. Along with all the unwanted advice we gave Boy #1 and Daughter-in-law #1 before the big move, I also added,

"Now Boy #1, don't you come home to visit and call Pepsi a soda. You are a born and bred Northeast Ohioan, we say pop."

"I would never say soda."

"Damn right."

"I promise."

"No other part of the country calls it pop but us, nobody in the world does but us and we're damn proud of it, ya here?"

"Yes ma'am. Pop. Pop, pop, pop."

"That's mommy's boy. Now this is what I want you to do. You get yourself settled in Florida and then you convert the entire state into saying pop."

"I can do that. I'll keep a list."

"Yes, very good, a list. That's the way to think."

"They'll never know what hit them."

"And if it works......"

"It will work."

"We can send the other two off to different states."

"Diabolical."

"Downright diabolical."

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.

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“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.”