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Friday, November 27, 2009

I had a plan

Some people look before they leap, myself, I’m more of a glancer. At the beginning of the month I (rather impulsively) entered The Great Experiment, thinking that it would be no problem at all to come up with 500 words about something, any ol’ thing, and my first time with it.

Take for example, my first bike. A John Deere. No kidding. It was yellow and green with a banana seat and a basket on the front. Man that was a great bike, sturdy too. Or the first time I shot a gun (a weapon if you will). An M16, it was pouring down rain and I was scared to death, it turned out I was pretty good at it or pretty lucky. I didn’t have to use my “skills” for real, so I guess we’ll never know which it was. Oh, I also thought it would have been hilarious to tell about the first time I met my husband’s Aunt Rita, she looks exactly like Peg Bundy, you know, big red bouffant, tight leopard print clothing, the whole package. I totally thought I was being punked.

In the end, I just couldn’t pull enough coherent thoughts together to write an entire post about any of those things.

Unfortunately, I come to you today with a cautionary tale about biting off more than you can chew. DON’T DO IT!! No matter how much your subconscious tries to convince you that you aren’t too busy or that you do have something interesting to say. Honestly, my subconscious doesn’t appear to know me at all.

This is my first time entering any kind of writing contest where I am being judged. I have fallen victim to procrastination, writer’s block, and a migraine. Worst of all I have a horrible case of stage fright. The usual suspects who read the drivel on my blog come of their own free will, but this is the first time I’ve stepped out and asked to be read (and judged).

Let this be a lesson to you (and to me). When you bite off too much, sometimes you choke, though if you chew slowly, usually you can get it down.

This is my first time, but given my propensity for impulsivity; I doubt it’ll be my last.



*This post is an entry in The Great Experiment a writing contest at The Girl Who. Feel free to head over there, read all the entries, and vote.

Monday, November 23, 2009

Is it still a vacation if I'm being tortured?

In a couple of days we'll be off on our Thanksgiving holiday.  Everyone in my family is super excited...well...almost everyone. 

I've already mentioned how travel makes me kooky.  I've had a stomach ache for a week, and I've been "pre-packing" for at least a week and a half. You don't even want to know how many lists I've made.

Just now I checked the weather for our destination.  Currently the temperature is 27 degrees, but it feels like 20. Huh?  How does it feel colder than it actually is?! (Please DO NOT say things like wind chill to explain.) Not only that but the highest temperature forcasted during our time in the Beehive State---a balmy 51.  Are they serious?

This just isn't going to work for me. First of all, there's a reason I live in Arizona, I enjoy the ovenlike climate.  It's 58 here right now and I'm ready to get out my long johns.  Secondly, do you have any idea how this changes my packing plans? Third, I don't even OWN any mittens.  I'm going to need mittens if I am expected to go anywhere at night, when the forecast tells me the temperatures could dip into the 20s.  If I get frost bite heads are gonna roll.

I'm sure that all of you who live in places with actual weather instead of just varying degrees of hot are thinking that I'm a big ninny, but I don't care.  I don't like to be cold, and I'm not ashamed to be branded a weather snob.

Friday, November 20, 2009

This afternoon I had a nice chat with my son’s algebra teacher.

I didn’t call him, he called me, and I don't think I have to tell you it wasn’t a social call. They never are.

“M-M-Mrs. Lunt? This is Mr. I’m So Smart I Teach MATH.”

I hate these calls, I’m sure he’s a very nice man but no one likes a call from a teacher and unfortunately in my line of work I’ve gotten my share plus a few. They rarely call to tell you that you have the most wonderful child, so respectful and bright, always on time and never a missed assignment. In fact I’ve NEVER gotten one of those calls. NEVER.

No, teachers save phone calls for important things, like bad news.

He skipped the small talk and jumped right in. To be fair, he teaches Jr. High, time might have been an issue, mine probably wasn’t the only call he had to make today.

“I-I-I just can’t get Nate to show his work. No matter what I say he just won’t do it. He refuses. I’ve explained many times that if I don’t see his work I can’t give him full credit but he doesn’t seem to care, he just won’t do it. For all I know he’s copying someone else’s work, you understand? Have his other teachers talked to you about this? Were his past teachers able to get him to show his work?”

I’ve gotta tell you, I feel for Mr. Math Teacher, but he’s starting to sound a little desperate here. So, I assured him that we were not aware of the problem and that I appreciated his call and we would have a talk with Nate and hopefully by Monday he would be ready to cooperate and show his work because we are on the side of knowledge and naturally we want our son to do his best in all of his classes. (We are also on the side of grounding and taking away cell phone privileges, but I didn’t tell him that.)

I guess that broke the ice and opened the flood gates because then he said~

“T-T-There’s one more thing- he’s missing 4 homework assignments from this week and he told me it’s because he’s been working at his uncle’s business, sometimes until one o’clock in the morning, and he doesn’t have time to do his homework.”

It must have been the shock of hearing about my son’s hard life that made me hysterical, because I started to laugh when I heard this. I may have even snorted.

“Nate said that?”

“Y-Y-Yes, he’s told me that on several occasions and, well, I told him that his job is being a student.”

No wonder this guy is stuttering and nervous, he thinks we’re some kind of child slave labor goons who make our kid work until one in the morning AT HIS UNCLE’S BUSINESS!!!! He probably thinks we make him wear those goofy skinny jeans too.

Let me tell you what business my son is in.

He’s discovered girls, and frankly he thinks they’re pretty neat. Word on the street is that they think he’s neat too (heaven help me) and he fancies himself a bit of a ladies man these days. Now, I don’t have any proof, but if I had to guess (and I’ve been doing this mother of boys thing for a couple of years now so I’d call it an “educated guess”) Nate just might be copying his homework, compliments of one of those lovely ladies he’s texting so frequently, and if I had to guess what he’s doing until one o’clock in the morning, I’d have to say that he’s lying in his bed thinking of witty things to say between classes, because I can hardly get him to wash the dishes and put his laundry away so the very idea that he is WORKING until 1a.m. is quite humorous. As a matter of fact, I’d pay good money to see him working anywhere until one in the morning just once.

When he gets home my plan is to mock him without mercy, because really, how long did he think he was going to be able to get by with a story like that?

Then I’m going to ground him for the rest of the semester, without work release privileges, my brother can find some other kid to work for him until all hours of the night.

Thursday, November 19, 2009

Holy Heck Batman!

I have a blog!

Did you think I'd forgotten?  Nope. I've just been drowning in.... I don't know what....work, kids, anxiety over our upcoming Thanksgiving travel plans, the list goes on and on.

Why does travel make me so looney? I hate it, I don't care if I'm going by car, bus, or pack mule I start to get freaky a week or two before my departure. Nuts!  I'm just freaking nuts.

Why does my son write about how boring his life is EVERYDAY in his journal? Some day his grandchildren are going to read his musings and feel really bad that his 11 year old year was so rotten, when in fact his life is pretty okay, except the part where his evil mother forces him to journal everyday.

You want to know the best way to cure whatever ails your kids?  Make a Drs. appointment.  No kidding. The sickest child will be healed the instant the Doctor comes into the room. Apparently the best medicine is a humiliated parent.

Thursday, November 12, 2009

I don't really want to know

This evening I went into our backyard, looked up, and saw this~

It's a 16 year old boy with a long cardboard tube wrapped in orange duct tape.
When I asked what he was up to, he replied~
"It's a secret."

Sometimes that's good enough for me.
I hope he doesn't fall.

Sunday, November 8, 2009

I think I'm in love!

Yesterday I got this little book.

It’s meant to be used as a daily devotional, which technically means that I wouldn’t have started it until tomorrow, let’s just say patience isn’t my virtue (but I do have a virtue, I promise, I'll let you know what it is as soon as I pin it down).  I open it up and on the very first day she addresses one of my most frequent grammar questions: Making possessive names possessive. Which is near the top of my list of worst grammarical fears, right next to names that end in "S".

I run into this one often, see my maiden name is Thomas, which means all of my brothers are still named Thomas, which means every time I send their families anything in the mail I have to either sweat the whole-Thomas’ or Thomas’s issue or just address it to “The Thomas Family”. All of which probably sounds like a silly thing to worry about to you, but if you know anything at all about me by now you know that silly worries are my life.

A-n-d I can’t stand grammar errors. I know I make plenty, they make me all squirmy, I try so hard to avoid them, I have been known to spend some serious time fretting over an e-mail, I won’t even tell you how long it takes me to hand write a note. Oh, and when I’m on the receiving end, I know it’s so rude, I edit in my head as I read. Can you believe it? It’s awful I know, honestly, I can’t seem to stop myself. Sometimes when I’m on the phone with my, um, rhymes with nother, I'm so distracted by her grammar that I forget to pay attention (on the other hand, sometimes grammar has nothing to do with why I have tuned her out—I’m a bad daughter, okay? Happy now?!)

Anyway,the name thing.  Grammar Girl says that it’s a Style preference, in both cases.  You can add an 's (McDonald's's) or just an apostrope (McDonald's'), and the same for the names ending in "S" (Thomas's or Thomas') which means I can pretty much do whatever I like.

Thomas’ it is.

Thursday, November 5, 2009

Last night I took a break from reality TV

Have you seen this show? Pretty funny.


Wednesday, November 4, 2009

Just a couple quick items~

I think I have the plague, I hesitate to call it the “flu”, but basically I feel like I’m dying, ironically, not so much that it’s keeping me from blogging. However I have nearly lost my voice. My kids are loving it.

We’ve left Halloween safely behind us and entered the joyous season I like to call “Candy Wrappers in the Dryer” (and under the bed and between the sofa cushions, pretty much everywhere but the garbage). I used to loathe this time of year but now I embrace it. It’s like confetti with cavities.

Last night when Tracy was voted off The Biggest Loser I didn’t feel as wonderful as I thought I would. I don’t know what it is about that show. No matter who gets sent home I feel sorry for them. It must be the flu.

Finally, while we’re on the topic of me watching way too much reality TV, Dancing with the Stars---Aaron Carter annoys me like nobody’s business, anyone else? He is a pretty good dancer though.

Monday, November 2, 2009

Real dinner conversation

Child 1~ “Would you please stop biting your fork its making my ears want to bleed?”

Child 2 ~“I don’t have to.”

Child 3~ “Um, actually, that couldn’t happen.”

Child 1~ “Yes it could, it’s happening RIGHT now!”

Child 2~ continues to bite fork (which for the life of me I cannot imagine being worth the “agony” she’s putting her brother through, I mean, have you ever bitten your fork?)

Child 3~ “No it couldn’t”

Child 1~ “Yes it could, you can bleed from your ears!”

Child 3~ “Technically, yes they can bleed, but ears don’t have the ability to Want to bleed.”
8
It looked like this was going to go on for a while, so like any good mother I left the room. I figure part of being a functioning human being is learning how to deal with obnoxious situations just like this. Seeing as how no real blood ever made an appearance, I'm marking this one down as a parenting win.

Sunday, November 1, 2009

Trick or Treat


Halloween was a success. 
Door to door candy mooching then home to watch The Brothers Grimm.
Boo!

 
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