The Dog Ate My Homework

I've joked about the dog eating my homework many times. Like when I forgot a needed paper for a meeting, or work. How many times have you heard or even used this excuse in school? And no one ever got away with it.

I can now attest that dogs will eat paper. In particular, money. The other day I was given six dollars in change at the grocery. Since I was in a hurry, I shoved the bills into my purse and not into my wallet. When I got home, I dropped my purse onto the floor to make it easier to carry the groceries to the kitchen. I forgot about the bills being loose in the handbag.

Later, I discovered some disgustingly slimy throwup in the basement. When I was cleaning it up, pieces of the paper money were discernible. Incredulous, I peered closer and saw many shreds of money.

Using a plastic bag as a glove, I gathered the entire mess and took it to the sink where I rinsed off bits and pieces of my six dollars!!
So the dog literally ate my money!

That's not all. After much washing, I layed the money out on a plate to dry. Again, I forgot about the money being there - probably intentionally.

A few days later I was walking the dog. Now, I do not normally watch the animal while he makes his doo doo, but for some reason, this time I did. Some long green and white thing emerged when he did his business.

A chunk of the same five dollar bill.

It's yours for the taking.

Old New York

Tom, the eldest, is safely ensconced in the apartment he'll be sharing for the summer during his trip to NY City. Well, perhaps that's a bit of an exaggeration. Last I heard he was munching burgers at Micky D's with his traveling companions. All dropped their suitcases at their respective domiciles, and immediately went out to eat. Unpacked? Nope. That's for later.

Now begins the first "real" day in NYC.

Being in a large city is like having adrenalin pumped through your veins. You can't help but be captured by the life, the continual motion and noises. Flashing lights. Honking horns. Yelling from the street corners. Then there's the "other" kind of yelling as well.

Broadway shows and glitz. Extreme wealth. Extreme poverty. Side by side on any given street.

Riding the subway, trying to act like you really do know where you're going when you don't.

Pretending to be a New Yorker when wearing a Davie County tee shirt.

North Carolina? Isn't that some third world country down south? (You have to imagine the accent.)

I guess some love the fast life - the city life. But not me. Not anymore.

Picking Your Battles

Two teenage sons. Need I say more? Clashes. Opinions. Assertiveness. Growing into adult young men isn't easy - for either the child or the parents. As the saying goes, 'Little do they understand until they have children of their own. ' But for now, we give them room to expand themselves. We pick our battles.

Yes, there are times even my absolutely perfect college boys get into trouble. There are many instances when I'd love to send them to the corner, or to their room. But the boys are 19 and (almost) 21 respectively. If they haven't learn the basics by now, my husband and I haven't done our parenting very well.

When we do get upset, it usually revolves around a major theme, such as responsibility and communications. It doesn't involve the length of hair or cleanliness of rooms. Don't get me wrong. I'll complain. Suggest. Complain. Repeatedly. But it's not a battle on which I really want to waste energy.

For example, I told my younger son that if he didn't clean his room, I was going to post a picture of it on my blog.

He lay in his bed and laughed as I took several shots. Did he even attempt to tidy? Nope.

I hope you can really experience the awe I have for the way he can manoeuvre through such ....clutter seems too benign a description. I mean, there is not one square inch of floor uncluttered. You need to launch yourself onto the bed else you'd never reach it.

Am I exaggerating?

See for yourself.

I sigh and shake my head, dismayed. After all, I am such a clean, tidy, and organized person. Where did he get these messy genes? LOL

Summer Time

Summer seems to have 'officially' burst upon us with temperatures in the high 80's, thunder storms, and humidity that coats your skin like oil. It's not the August summer - languid and breathless. This summer has a kick in it's step that allows you to enjoy sweating outside. It's a gentle country summer.

Not like what my son's going to find with a NY summer - stifling heat rebounding between tall buildings and the air full of the smells of car exhaust, exotic foods, and sweat. He's off to NY for a five-week mission trip to set up Christian groups on college campuses. I guess we'll learn all about it by reading his blog http://tomkuell.blogspot.com/.


This is Tom with his girlfriend, Lauren. It seems like just yesterday I was pushing his stroller in the department store, and he was blowing motorboat sounds with his lips. Then he was swinging at a wiffle ball we tied to a tree branch so he could practice batting. He grew into a pitcher, a bright student, and a wonderful young man. God has filled his heart and has blessed him.

I'm going to miss him this summer. It's the first time he's going to be gone for so long (except for college) but I'm sure I'll adjust. Thankfully, my younger son, Jim, is still home. He'll take most of the mushy-gush hugs and kisses with good humor. After all, he'll miss Tom also.

One of my friends is thinking about arranging a day trip with our horses for the day Tom leaves for NY. What a terrific distraction this will be. :^)

Friends are wonderful. Family is a blessing. I love every moment of my life!

Motivation

Or rather lack thereof. I've been having issues ever since we had to roll back the clocks an hour. I awake with my novel characters cavorting around my brain - banging into various nerve endings, sending my arms and legs shooting out from beneath the covers. Not really, but they're trying to get me out of bed in the middle of the night so I can tell their story. And I'm not about to leave the soft comfort of my pillow.

But then, when I finally arise after slapping the snooze button at least 10 times, I must rush to work. Then I rush to my home office and work some more. Then the guilt speaks in its creepy little voice, "You haven't exercised all week. You haven't walked the dog today. Are those cobwebs hanging on the light? Why haven't you worked on your novel? It's almost June and you promised yourself you'd have it ready to submit."

ARGH!

So here I sit, doing some work, taking a break and writing this blog, and now returning to my work.

I'm going to stare at my friends Laurie and Bonnie, both of whom have published works, and see if their faces will inspire me. :^)

Rain, rain, go away

Memorial Day weekend - incredible! We had one of those Time Paradox thingies going on at our house. It gobbled up the past couple of months and left us here, in the future, in the rain.

Remember when Memorial Day weekend was the official kick-off of summer? When you'd rent canoe, grab your tent and cooler full of beer and head to the water...any water?

I remember one time running the rapids on the Delaware River then pulling off to the side and setting up camp for the night. Unfortunately, it was near railroad tracks so the rumbling roar of the train rolled me out of my sleeping bag at 3am.

These days there's work. And responsibility. And chores. Why is this? When did the practical stuffy adult take over the fun-loving youth?

Sigh. Guess it happens to all of us. Running to our cars when it's raining and we don't have an umbrella. Or grumbling when the checkout line is long instead of striking up a conversation with a stranger.

My body may be aging, but I'm going to fight turning into an old fuddy-duddy.

I'm going to saunter outside, tilt my face toward the sky and let the rain fall into my mouth.

Happy Memorial Day. And thanks to all our fallen heroes who helped give us our freedoms to write silly blogs such as this.

The Economy

OK. Enough said. Now let's get on to brighter topics.

I can't believe it's been a month since I last posted. Time flew with all the year-end tasks that are finally beginning to lessen. FAFSA is filed for each of the boys. Tax papers are pulled together. Almost completed all my bank reconciliations for last year (like why don't I do it every month?) Next I need to consolidate all my business files and lug everything to the accountant.

Ed and I traveled to Fayettville last weekend to see old friends from PA who were down at a soccer tournament with their son. The last time I saw the son, he was a tiny pup. I feel so old!!! He's up to my chin and already 14 year old!

Yikes!

I know we've been in NC for 8.5 years, but it feels like only yesterday that we moved. I must be living in a time warp. That's it. I'm not aging, nor gaining weight. I'm in a life vortex that revolves around....ME!!

Except my boys are both grown and in college.

Except my pants have grown very tight around my stomach and thighs.

Except my forehead is looking a bit lined lately.

But we had a wonderful time with our friends. And when we arrived home, I skipped out to the stables to check on Jack and had a wonderful time with him. For the first time in ages, I had a Mellow Monday Morning that lasted all day!

But alas, taxes, bills, and television news shattered my peacefulness. Remind me to turn off the news channel next time it pops up.

Post Holiday Stress Disorder

PHSD - it isn't something to take frivolously. It's a serious depression following seasonal highlights - family visitations, spoilings, children home from college. It's a time where everyone is fawning over each other and nothing gets done. However, the host family becomes sweetly exhausted.

These are times that will never be given up - I relish them and snap pictures at every moment, often duplicating the pics from others. But everything's OK. All is forgiven during the holidays.

Then everyone goes home. Decorations are put away. Left-over meals are either eaten or tossed into the trash. And all baked goods are given to children living outside the house. Eating conservation commences and days look bleek. Colored lights are gone. Crazy antics are gone. And it's just Ed and I. With the dogs and cats.

I miss my boys. I imagine it'll be a week or so until I'm "back to normal" and have grown accustom to them being gone again. Being a parent isn't always easy. There are lots of sad times, lonely times, and times when you realize how much you miss your own youth.

Then again, our youth helped us form wonderful children - like my boys. I am ever so proud of them and all they've done and will do with their lives.

PHSD - it makes you realize how much a person can affect another. How much we need each other. We are so fortunate to be able to share our fortunes with others. And I'm really glad for my family and friends.

Sorry to sound so soapy. sappy, whatever, but it's true.

Southern Haiku

Every morning, Alan, a writer friend of mine, creates a haiku then tweets it on twitter. I've been thinking a lot about his writing habit and am going to try and follow his example, at least a couple of days a week.

This morning I contemplated the New Year as I dozed in bed, refusing to arise. In my murky quasi-dreams, I created my first southern haiku. Actually, that was yesterday. Today's haiku was actually pretty OK - no southern in it at all.

Let's step back a minute. What is haiku? According to Wikpedia, Haiku is a form of Japanese poetry, consisting of 17 Japanese on (a phonetic unit identical to the mora), in three metrical phrases of 5, 7, and 5 on respectively[1], and typically containing a kigo, or seasonal reference. In Japanese, haiku are traditionally printed in a single vertical line, while haiku in English usually appear in three lines, to equate to the Japanese haiku's three metrical phrases[2]. Previously called hokku, it was given its current name by the Japanese writer Masaoka Shiki at the end of the 19th century.

OK, back to southern haiku. The difference between haiku and southern haiku is the pronunciation of several typically single syllable words spoken in a southern dialect. This is a typical southern haiku:

Cold wind bends the trees,

we cuddle inside our home,

fire blazing hot.

Notice the use of the word FIRE. In southernese, is pronounced FA-YER, or FAR. I've selected the former pronunciation to use in this haiku, thus transforming it into a two syllable word and maintaining the five syllable form.

I have to admit it affords me much greater flexibility in my creation.

HA HA HA. Happy New Year!!

Holiday Visits

Family bustles through the front door the day after Christmas, bursting bags cradled in their arms. It's dark outside and lights glisten in the damp air. No time to eat. Grab a quick drink then drop onto the sofa. Time to exchange gifts.

Laughter bounces off the walls, hugs abound, and joy is everywhere.

What's it going to be like when I'm my parent's age? And what was it like for them at our age?
Questions, answers, and more laughter.

People have become NICE. Like a contagious infection, it has spread from person to person throughout the holiday season, until everyone smiles. And also like an infection, it will be "cured." Is the cure better than the disease?

I wish the NICE disease didn't have to disappear until next year. Is there anyway to make it last?

Christmas Surprise

The boys have been home from college since Monday (today's Wednesday.) The house has become strewn with stuff. Their stuff. It's hard to move with the clutter. The Christmas decorations remain in the attic. The boys wander around town. And the 25th is in a week.

I love my boys. But sometimes...OK, so this afternoon I blew up - just a little. I'm sure Jimmy was kidding when he said everyone around him reacted to my yelling at him over the phone. And Tom was screwing the Superman plate onto the front of the truck.

So I headed out to run some errands. Which I still haven't gotten done because of the phone call.

"Mom?"

"Yes, Tom."

"I put my foot through the ceiling."

"What?"

"I was up in the attic and slipped. My leg went through the ceiling at the top of the stairs."

"You OK?"

"Yup."

Silence.

I grinned, imagining his incredibly long leg sticking through the ceiling.

I cringed, thinking of the mess that needs to get cleaned up.

I groaned at the amount of work to repair the hole, then repaint the entire ceiling!

After rushing home to grab my camera, Tom displayed his work of art. Then out came the vacuum and the cleaning commenced.

Tom tried to surprise me by getting the decorations down by himself. All I can say is, I'm surprised!

I gave him a huge hug.

Vacation Post-Mortum

As you might know, my family went to Topsail Island for holiday on Thanksgiving week. It was a very interesting challenge for the first several days. While all of us enjoyed each others company, the 1,000 piece puzzle that Mark succeeded in finishing (yeah Mark!), and touch football on the beach, it was not without it's down side.

For example, the realty company was completely non-responsive to our issues, and we needed to continually go to their office and complain. I HATE chronic complainers - and both my husband and I became one.

Why?

Here's a short list.

1- We were locked out of the house for an hour when we first arrived. Agents didn't give us instructions for the combination lock on the door. Took 30 minutes just to get an agent on the telephone.

Time to get resolved: 1 hour sitting in the drizzling cold

2 - Hot tub dirty, water slimy, hot tub cover ripped with pieces hanging in the water.

Time to get resolved: 3 days (and it still wouldn't heat higher than 91)

3- Bathrooms dirty, soap scum, hair balls in the drains, urine in the toilets.

Time to get resolved: 3 days (and three visits to the rental office)

4- Internet not working and rental agency "tech guy" didn't understand that the problem was at the service provider side and not the house side - even though we told him again and again.

Time to get resolved: Thanks to the involvement of my husband, 3 days (if he hadn't, it would not have been fixed.)

5- Rental company NEVER returned any phone calls.

OK, enough griping. Yes, the list can go on for, yikes, 14 more items. At least that's what we have listed in the letter we're sending them tomorrow.

But through it all, we had fun being together. It just goes to show that family and friends are so much more valuable than "things," although those "things" can sure make life more comfortable. So when people ask me how our Thanksgiving was, I respond with smile and say, "Wonderful."

All a Twitter

There's been much talk lately about Twitter. It's being compared to the status line of facebook, but one where you can update your status via cell phones and computers. Why Twitter? I'm not sure but I've signed up and invited all my writing friends to join me. This way we might be able to help keep each other on track with our works. Or maybe not.

I've also read an article where Twitter was being used for business advertising and promotions. Hum. Guess you'd really need to focus on not interjecting anything really personal on your status. HA! I began Facebook with the intent of making it a business venture but alas, it turned into fun, games, and keeping up with my friends. I wonder if Twitter will work for me?

Have any of you Twittered lately? I'd love to hear from you.

Viva Vacations

Europe has a custom of taking three weeks vacation at a time. Their thoughts (at least with the Europeans I know) are that the first week you chill out; the second week you're totally free; the third week you begin gearing back up for work.

I like this philosophy. Why can't we implement it here? LAUGH. With most of us either working for ourselves and unable to take so much consecutive time off, or with jobs that make you wait for five years just to get two weeks, dreams like this are impossible.

Personally, I would work way harder if I was treated with more humanity. My boss is really kool...don't get me wrong. But he's bound by the rules. Just ask yourself...what would you do with not one, but two sets of three week vacations in one year!!! HOORAY! I say.

Every good thing has a payback. Usually a pretty brutal payback (from my experience). The week or two before holiday is a living hell, as is the week or two after holiday. And in today's economic stress, can you imagine being away from your job for two or three weeks? You might get layed off and not even know it. (I was once layed off when I was out sick and my boss didn't have the stomach to tell me to my face - made HR do it over the phone!)

But I digress. As usual, I suppose.

I was thinking about joining the nano writing session this year - you need to write 50,000 words in the month of November. I'm up to around 2,500. Does that count?

Next week we're off on holiday. I figure I'll need to work a bit while I'm at the beach, but also plan to play a great deal. The boys are heading down from college and joining us. Should be super!

Viva Vacations!

Blinded

Yesterday afternoon, towards evening, yellow light poured through our closed blinds in the bedroom. It was a gray and rainy day, yet this odd yellow-ness brightened the window. I peeked out. The leaves, intensely yellow, seemed to glow in the twilight. It was eerie yet it was way cool how they luminesced.

This has to be the most beautiful fall in many, many years. Vibrant colors rippling through each tree...through each leaf. I can't seem to take in all the colors - to burn them into my memory so I can recall them on bleak winter days. There are just so many of them bursting like fireworks.

My husband told me to check out the front lawn on Sunday. He managed to remove every single leaf. Until Monday. Now we can't even see the sidewalk!

This is a strange topic to write about, but it's a calming one. The colors are talking to me, reminding me of all that's right in the world. God's pallet, some say. Just drink in the vibrancy and let it fill you like water in a pitcher. Become blinded by the colors of life. Relax.

Simple Things in Life (Warning: May be considered gross)

Have you ever been laid up with a tooth problem? 

I had a sinus-lift tooth implant last Monday. What that means is the dentist cut into my sinus cavity, lifted the thin sinus membrane then topped the metal spike implanted in my jaw with a bone graft. Then he covered the mess with a mysterious "membrane" to keep it all in place. More or less.

The dentist ordered me not to sneeze, or blow my nose, or chew on one side of my mouth. Let me tell you, it's danged difficult to follow. My body automatically rejected these restrictions as a visceral reaction to being told "don't." 

Suddenly, my nose ran like a son-of-a-gun, pleading for tissues and a good hard blow. My jaw became exhausted from chewing on one side. Soon the muscles tightened up so much I could barely slide a teaspoon between my teeth.

And "don't sneeze?" Right. Can you not sneeze on command? Just last night, I sneezed 6 times in a row - shot gun sneezes, hard, fast, almost one on top of the other. I NEVER sneeze more than 3 times. 

It sounds gross. And it is. But when the mysterious membrane shot into then out of my mouth after my sneezing fit last night, I was astounded. How did something that size slip into my sinuses and work it's way out of my body? I mean, this thing was an inch long oval piece of pliant material! How did it get into my sinuses in the first place? 

I went to the dentist today and had him check everything out. My sinuses are fine. He smiled and said "You're a case study I shall never forget." Then he continued with "Guess we won't have to cut you open to remove the membrane in two weeks. You did the job for us. But how?" I guess I'm an article waiting to happen. Maybe he'll title the piece: The Chick With the Osmotic Sinuses, or perhaps: Patient Sneezes Her Way Out of Surgery.

I think I should receive part of his royalties for his article. After all, if it weren't for my super healthy and super thin sinuses, he wouldn't have the material, right? If he's amazed at how the membrane crossed over an intact sinus membrane to be expelled by my body, would other dentists also be intrigued? Perhaps I should ask for a movie deal.

Good news is I can eat, and sneeze, and blow my nose again. You really miss the simple things in life. :^))

Horse Burps

Did you know that horses don't burp or vomit? Gee, isn't this information you're just dying to know? Well, it turns out their cardiac sphincter (the valve between the stomach and esophagus) only allows one-way flow.

Hummm. So why did my horse, who always manages to pass obnoxious gas when I'm cleaning his rear feet and haunches, repeatedly burp yesterday?

And how can I incorporate such a tiny detail into one of my stories? My current novel deals with a dragon - I supposed I could make the baby dragon burp tiny balls of flame. Or, pass such noxious gas as to incapacitate the enemy (an ancient version of a stink bomb).

Yes. I must do this. Steggy (my dragon) will have to develop burping or farting as a defence mechanism.

See how easy it is to incorporate an everyday gross occurrence into your story?

Old farts

The college trips are done. Yippee!!

The boys fit in well with their school and friends, keeping busy, studying hard, and playing just as hard. It's nice seeing them relaxed at school but it makes me worry a bit about what's going to happen once they're done. Tom's already thinking about possibly heading off sometime this summer to Etheopia to help build facilities. Jim will want a job that will allow him the most time to play - so probably life guarding if he can get it again.

Last weekend we visited Tom at Carolina. Here's a picture of Tom, Ed & I at the Well at Chapel Hill. There were dozens of parents and students hanging in front of this place, snapping pictures and helping each other get family shots.

We picked Jimmy up from NC State on Friday night then headed to Carolina to pick up Tom. We all celebrated Tom's almost 20th birthday with dinner at a restaurant of his choice. He chose Chillies, I think mostly bcause of the molten chocolate cake. Everyone fought over it - as usual. Whenever these guys together it's pure chaotic fun.

When we visited Jim at NC State the weekend before, we took him and his roomate, Jonathan, out for dinner. We only had one chair in the back of the van, so Jim demonstrated how to use a seatbelt while sitting in a folding lawn chair. It actually did OK, but thankfully we didn't encounter any need to test it.

Why do dorms always smell like old socks?

I can't imagine using the bathrooms in these places. Even though they do get cleaned each week, it's still pretty gross.

Ed and I opted out of attending the football games. Sitting in a stadium with 15,000 (probably more) to watch a game is OK. But it's the getting out at the end of the game that always causes me to pale. And talk about wasting gas...not moving because a drunk hit a cop car...or the incredible lines of non-moving cars and vans. Not exactly our cup of tea!

We like sitting in front of the TV, feet up, chips and drinks by our sides, DVR(aka Tvo) so we can make our potty stops and refill our glasses.

I admit it. We're old farts.

Rest in Peace

After browsing through cd after cd after cd, I finally located the exact picture I sought. Excited, I loaded the picture onto my computer, spun my chair around and

WHAM....

ran into my cd/dvd drive which was still open.

It's hosed.

It won't spin.

It won't close.

It won't open.

It's dead.

Funeral services will be held later today followed by a pyre.

Please send all condolences to:

Drive Farewell

c/o Clutz R Us

2 Broke to Replace Drive

Greatly Missing, IT

24067

A View of NC State

Parents Weekend at NC State was this past weekend. The most desolate part of the world is a university campus on an early Sunday morning. Well, if you call 10:15 am early. My husband and I were due to meet our son at exactly 10:50. Not a moment before as he allots his sleep like a miser counts his coins.

Since we had time to spare, my husband and I hiked through campus seeking one of the many, many "great" coffee shops they always brag about. But guess what? They're not open on Sundays.

We finally discovered a tiny shop in the student center that served stale coffee from large urns. The two of us, plus an employee pouring coffee for himself, comprised the huge morning rush for the cashier. I provided a few minutes of entertainment when I requested decaffeinated coffee.

Yeah, right. On a college campus...where caffeine empowers students to keep their glazed eyes partially open during those large, 600 student classes.

I was shown a foil cylinder of Tasters Choice Decaffeinated Instant Coffee. Yuck. I selected juice.

We settled in front of a TV sipping our drinks and munching muffins, and learned of Paul Newman's passing, of SNL's lampooning of Palin, and saw a replay of Letterman's response to McCain's cancellation.

Still no movement on campus except a smattering of parents and those who worked.

Sports news danced across the TV screen, wrapping my husband with its vibrant airwaves. I yawned, dug through my new SCBWI satchel and thought about reading or filing my nails. Instead I tapped into the university's wifi system and checked email.

My iPod Touch is fun. However, my mail is via RoadRunner.com. Roadrunner is so protective of their services (I'm being generous) that I can receive email on my Touch, but I'm not allowed to send any. Great, isn't it?

Anyway, I digress.

My son finally awoke and met us outside his dorm. He drove us to a the church he attends - a huge rock 'n roll service with a large stage for the band and the preacher. I have to admit it was pretty cool. I wanted to film a piece of it but I forgot my camera was in my satchel, in the car. But I'll tell you more about this church some other time.

After service, we ate hardy, then returned Jim to his dorm. We woke his roomie still huddled under his blankets. It was 1:30.

It's been many years since I attended my liberal arts college in central Pennsylvania. Juniata College was a sprawling campus in the mountains, the approximate size of my 1200 student high school. I remember sleeping late, staying up late, having fun, trying to avoid studying. But never can I remember having a schedule that permitted me to play until 3 or 4 am, sleep until noon, then head off to classes.

Guess it's a good thing I'm a parent now and not a student.