So picture this...Mike takes the afternoon off (before a huge camp-out, meaning this is a really big deal), Lu takes the day off work and Sean shaves and trims his beard. We all get up, get dressed up and pile into two vehicles because Mike & Sean have to be back earlier than Lu & I. Then we fill up said vehicles with gas (which is pricey). Then we drive two hours to Springfield where CJ's school is located. I call my parents (who live in Springfield), give them directions to the school. Then we arrive, find great parking spaces and enter the education center. I go up to the receptionist desk and this conversation ensues~
Me: Hi! We're here for graduation but we're waiting on two more people.
Receptionist: *crickets chirping*
Me: We're CJ's parents...
Receptionist: *completely blank look* Graduation?
Me: *beginning to wonder about this lady* Its in the activity room?
Receptionist: Graduation is next week.
Me: Um. I don't think so. Jayne told me it was today.
Receptionist: Its next Friday.
At this point, I can see her calendar on her desk and "Graduation" is clearly printed on next Friday's square. I felt ridiculous. And guess what? I went back and checked the email and the teacher did give me the right date. I have absolutely no idea how I made this ginormous mistake. Mike, Sean & Lu are all giving me dirty looks. Lu has to work next Friday. Sean has a training for CRC next Friday. Mike is unsure of his schedule.
The receptionist asks if we want to go to the other campus and visit CJ anyway. I tell her no, that if we do he'll only get upset when I don't take him home with me. No sense in needlessly upsetting him. I'll be back next week. So we go outside and meet my folks, who've just arrived. We tell them what happened and everyone laughs hysterically at me. They take us out to lunch anyway, which is great. Then Mike & Sean jet back home. My folks take Lu & I crib shopping and then we have pie & coffee before we head home. So it was a good day. Just not the day I'd planned. I try telling them it was just a dress rehearsal but no one is buying that story.
A mistake of this magnitude is completely unlike me. I will admit to being caught up in work lately. And having too many upcoming events to keep track of and plan. But sheesh, what the heck was I thinking?? Did my brain take a vacation the rest of me didn't know about?? And what about all those people at Prom last week that I said "see you next week" to? Nobody asked me what I meant. CJ's teacher called me and apologized. I assured her it was in no way her fault. All my screw up. She said when she went back and read the email I sent yesterday morning, she could now tell I had the wrong date. That doesn't help much though.
But hopefully Lu, Sean & Mike can all get things situated so they can attend. My parents & I will be there for sure. And it was really really good pie.
Happy Weekend,
♥Spot
Showing posts with label why I should not be allowed in public. Show all posts
Showing posts with label why I should not be allowed in public. Show all posts
Saturday, May 21, 2011
Sunday, February 7, 2010
I hope it's not chicken. Or ham. Is there going to be alcohol?
So last night we had to attend one of those fabulously boring dinners that go along with hubby's job. I was dreading it all week. Then I was dreading it all day. Dreading it when I talked to my friend on the phone, who's advice was to stop at a gas station and buy those tiny bottles of vodka to spike my drink with. Dreading it as I showered. Dreading it as I gave myself a mani & pedi. Dreading it as I picked out my hubby's and my evening attire (no, he can't do it himself. Bad idea, trust me on this one.) Dreading it as I curled my hair and applied makeup. And the whole time I'm giving myself the "ways I need to behave in public" speech in my head. You know, like don't call anyone asshat to their face. Smile and be gracious even if you hate the person. (this one is easier if you pretend you're a secret agent. Or a ninja and you don't want to blow your cover). No matter how stupid what they're saying is, smile and nod. Don't give them "the face". (Hubby & Lu say I make this face that says "you're a complete moron and I don't know why they let you live". I have no idea what face this is as I don't consciously make it.) Finally we head out the door.
As we drive the hour and fifteen minutes it takes to get to the place where the dinner is held, I pepper Hubby with relevant questions~
Me: Is there going to be alcohol there?
Him: Well, I think they finished building the bar in the hotel, so there will be alcohol somewhere.
Me: Yes, but can I go get a drink and bring it in?
Him: I guess so honey. I don't think it's against any rules. You are over 21.
Me: I know that. I just don't think it will help you professionally if everyone decides I'm a lush.
Him: No one thinks you're a lush. Everyone thinks your fun. And outgoing. And a little wild.
Me: A little wild? See, that means lush. Or stripper. I don't know, but I don't think it's flattering.
Then we get a text message from C. He's already there as he had to go early and set up some OA merchandise to sell. He took up four of the youth members with him.
C: You guys want to sit with the cool kids or do you have to sit somewhere else?
Me: We are the cool kids so wherever we sit is the cool table. But I don't think we have assigned seats.
C: Okay. How many chairs?
Me: Two.
Then I get a text from D, one of the youth members and a friend of our kids~
D: Pretend you're going to sit by M, and then say something smells and move.
Me: Why? That's really mean.
D: Because it will be funny!
Me: I'll think about it. (of course I won't do it. How rude!)
So finally we get there and I carefully traverse the parking lot clinging to Hubby's arm. Heels + ice = broken hiney. But I had to wear the heels because they're cute. And because the tattoo on my foot shows and it was my one concession to the real me, not the business dinner me. We get inside and start doing the meet & greet thing. Boring. Hubby points out the bar, but I don't want to be the first to carry in a drink so I decide to wait for K, my partner in crime at these things.
I go over to say "hi" to the youth members at their table of merchandise. I tell M that I was supposed to tell him he smells. He laughs and gives me a hug to prove he doesn't smell. I get the story of why Mutt is grounded. And I agree that I probably wouldn't have grounded my kids for the offense. He says it's because I'm cool. I don't disagree. Then D says that Mutt's mom is hott. Mutt blushes. D says that I, of course, am a 10, but Mutt's mom is definitely a 9. I roll my eyes. Then P says that he's been winking and shooting me kissy faces and I'm not responding. I tell him it's because nothing flirtatious registers for me unless it's coming from someone over 21. I try not to let him see how badly he's creeping me out. Seriously dude. Stop. I go find my hubby.
K is here!! We immediately head to the bar. We find some of the younger guys in there getting drinks but then they stand around a table. We order ours (god bless vodka) and before we can leave K's husband comes in. He's a couple of steps up the ladder from my husband, professionally. And he's a good guy, but more professionally concerned than my hubby. And without actually coming right out and saying it, he lets us know he'd prefer we stay here with our drinks. Okay, but you made me chug it. Not my fault. So I knock it back and then go back to the banquet room. I strike up a convo with one of the new girls they've just hired. She's twenty two, just graduated from college and landed this job. She's a little overwhelmed. And lonely because she had to move up there to work out of that office and she doesn't know anyone. She's actually from around here, in fact her sister went to school with my kids. And oddly enough, she dated Lu's DEBF during one of his and Lu's break-ups. Which I find hilarious. I already knew this because we actually met in the line for the midnight showing of the last Harry Potter movie. Small town, you know.
So then we sit down for dinner. And I am pleasantly surprised! It's not dry tasteless chicken. Or icky ham. It's pork loin in mushroom gravy, bacon cheddar mashed potatoes and seasoned corn. It's tasty for a change! Woo hoo. As we're eating, we're chatting. We are sitting at the table with C, who is the new OA advisor, having been a past chief himself, the four youth members who range from 20 to 17. And my husbands new supervisor S. Who I'm really beginning to like, as opposed to the Executive, who I avoid like the plague because I think he's an asshat. Dinner conversation is funny. They talk about Mutt's grounding and someone else who is always grounded. I say I grounded Lu once. It lasted five days. Grounding to me always seemed like I was punishing myself. I mean, sure your kid can't go anywhere or do anything, but neither can you. Because you're stuck being the warden to a cranky pissed off teenager.
Then I tell P to stop posting all his silly farmville stuff because it fills up my entire home feed on fb sometimes. I don't think you're super awesome because you got a virtual ribbon. Then we have to explain farmville to S, who offers to pay camp staff in "virtual dollars" since they like them so much.
Finally, the program part begins. This is the uber boring part, where I want to gouge out my eyes. Or be slightly tipsy. Or take a really long bathroom break. Like at the bar. They have bathrooms in there, right? They do a bunch of business stuff. Introduce people, yada yada yada. I sit there quietly, with a vacant smile on my face, writing this blog post in my head. P leans over and points to a guy in a suit a couple tables from us and whispers "do you think that's a toupee?". I try not to giggle and whisper back "yes, a really really bad one." Then it's time for them to introduce the guest speaker. He's an eagle scout from one of our camps, who served as chief of the OA lodge in the seventies and then went on to be the personal aide to president Bill Clinton. Holy crap, it's toupee guy. P & I share a raised eyebrow look. He's actually a really good speaker. Toots his own horn a bit, but hey small town boy made good so it's excusable. What I didn't find excusable was the slide show of pictures of him with various famous people. Like the Clintons, Bono, and the King of Spain. Dude, I get it. You hung out with famous peeps. Do we really need to see you cheesin while you shake their hands? Also, a lot of name dropping. Although I did enjoy the story about Ronald Reagan. He was an entertaining speaker, obviously he had lots of practice. But then it happens. I knew it would. I was waiting.
Invariably, when people speak at Boy Scout functions, they talk about how much they love helping the youth grow and change and become better individuals. And invariably, it comes out wrong. Like once the guest speaker was introducing someone else and he said "nobody loves little boys like him". Seriously, I almost had a heart attack trying not to laugh out loud. And the weird part? Almost no one else bats an eyelash. It's like me in a room full of stiffs. So I'm listening to his speech and he says "There's nothing so great as being able to touch young boys". My hand flew up to my mouth. I nearly spit water out my nose trying to stifle my giggle. I looked at C, who had his head down and his hand on his mouth. He looked at me from the corner of his eye and nearly lost it. I look around. No one else looks fazed. So I compose myself and fire off a text "Dude. He just said 'touch young boys'". I get back a couple of responses. But I wait to read them until after, for fear of giggling. Now, I do know that he meant touch their lives. Make a difference. But still, it just sounds wrong. After it's done, we get up to mingle again and E comes over to me~
E: so I saw you trying not to giggle. What was that about?
Me: You know what it was about! The thing that kills me is that no one else seems to notice.
E: they notice, they just don't think it's funny.
Me: I'm not sure they notice. Maybe everyone is zoned out. Or *shrug* maybe I'm just super immature. *and I walk away*
We congratulate the Silver Beaver award winners. This is the highest honor a volunteer can receive. It's for a lifetime of service to scouts. The honorees get a silver beaver medal which you wear around your neck. A framed certificate and a pin. The spouses get a rose. Seriously?? I mean these people (mostly men, but a few women) get to do all this volunteer work because their significant other picks up the slack elsewhere. Runs the household, ect. And all they get is a rose??
Me: I don't think it's fair that the wives only get a rose.
Hubby: Why?
Me: Um. Because the reason those guys have all that time to volunteer is because their wives supported their activities. They took up the household slack. They ran the show when he was off camping or whatever. I think they deserve more recognition than a rose. If you ever get the silver beaver...
Hubby: I can't get it. I'm a paid scouter. It's a volunteer award.
Me: Well, like when you retire. If you still do volunteer work and you get it, I want something more than a rose. I want a freakin diamond ring. I mean, I'm the woman behind the man. I make you awesome.
Hubby: *chuckles* yeah. Good luck with that.
But you notice he doesn't deny the whole "I make him awesome" comment. Because it's totally true. We mingled some more. I talked to wives I don't know. I talked to important people whose names I don't recall. I'm pretty much an expert mingler. I remind hubby how lucky he is to have me. Really, I'm such an asset. Finally we got to roll out of there. Whew. I think I'm good for a couple of months again.
♥Spot
PS- I'm going to Myrtle Beach for a week. Leaving Monday night. I will probably post tomorrow but I apologize in advance for next week. Don't know how much I'll post. =]
As we drive the hour and fifteen minutes it takes to get to the place where the dinner is held, I pepper Hubby with relevant questions~
Me: Is there going to be alcohol there?
Him: Well, I think they finished building the bar in the hotel, so there will be alcohol somewhere.
Me: Yes, but can I go get a drink and bring it in?
Him: I guess so honey. I don't think it's against any rules. You are over 21.
Me: I know that. I just don't think it will help you professionally if everyone decides I'm a lush.
Him: No one thinks you're a lush. Everyone thinks your fun. And outgoing. And a little wild.
Me: A little wild? See, that means lush. Or stripper. I don't know, but I don't think it's flattering.
Then we get a text message from C. He's already there as he had to go early and set up some OA merchandise to sell. He took up four of the youth members with him.
C: You guys want to sit with the cool kids or do you have to sit somewhere else?
Me: We are the cool kids so wherever we sit is the cool table. But I don't think we have assigned seats.
C: Okay. How many chairs?
Me: Two.
Then I get a text from D, one of the youth members and a friend of our kids~
D: Pretend you're going to sit by M, and then say something smells and move.
Me: Why? That's really mean.
D: Because it will be funny!
Me: I'll think about it. (of course I won't do it. How rude!)
So finally we get there and I carefully traverse the parking lot clinging to Hubby's arm. Heels + ice = broken hiney. But I had to wear the heels because they're cute. And because the tattoo on my foot shows and it was my one concession to the real me, not the business dinner me. We get inside and start doing the meet & greet thing. Boring. Hubby points out the bar, but I don't want to be the first to carry in a drink so I decide to wait for K, my partner in crime at these things.
I go over to say "hi" to the youth members at their table of merchandise. I tell M that I was supposed to tell him he smells. He laughs and gives me a hug to prove he doesn't smell. I get the story of why Mutt is grounded. And I agree that I probably wouldn't have grounded my kids for the offense. He says it's because I'm cool. I don't disagree. Then D says that Mutt's mom is hott. Mutt blushes. D says that I, of course, am a 10, but Mutt's mom is definitely a 9. I roll my eyes. Then P says that he's been winking and shooting me kissy faces and I'm not responding. I tell him it's because nothing flirtatious registers for me unless it's coming from someone over 21. I try not to let him see how badly he's creeping me out. Seriously dude. Stop. I go find my hubby.
K is here!! We immediately head to the bar. We find some of the younger guys in there getting drinks but then they stand around a table. We order ours (god bless vodka) and before we can leave K's husband comes in. He's a couple of steps up the ladder from my husband, professionally. And he's a good guy, but more professionally concerned than my hubby. And without actually coming right out and saying it, he lets us know he'd prefer we stay here with our drinks. Okay, but you made me chug it. Not my fault. So I knock it back and then go back to the banquet room. I strike up a convo with one of the new girls they've just hired. She's twenty two, just graduated from college and landed this job. She's a little overwhelmed. And lonely because she had to move up there to work out of that office and she doesn't know anyone. She's actually from around here, in fact her sister went to school with my kids. And oddly enough, she dated Lu's DEBF during one of his and Lu's break-ups. Which I find hilarious. I already knew this because we actually met in the line for the midnight showing of the last Harry Potter movie. Small town, you know.
So then we sit down for dinner. And I am pleasantly surprised! It's not dry tasteless chicken. Or icky ham. It's pork loin in mushroom gravy, bacon cheddar mashed potatoes and seasoned corn. It's tasty for a change! Woo hoo. As we're eating, we're chatting. We are sitting at the table with C, who is the new OA advisor, having been a past chief himself, the four youth members who range from 20 to 17. And my husbands new supervisor S. Who I'm really beginning to like, as opposed to the Executive, who I avoid like the plague because I think he's an asshat. Dinner conversation is funny. They talk about Mutt's grounding and someone else who is always grounded. I say I grounded Lu once. It lasted five days. Grounding to me always seemed like I was punishing myself. I mean, sure your kid can't go anywhere or do anything, but neither can you. Because you're stuck being the warden to a cranky pissed off teenager.
Then I tell P to stop posting all his silly farmville stuff because it fills up my entire home feed on fb sometimes. I don't think you're super awesome because you got a virtual ribbon. Then we have to explain farmville to S, who offers to pay camp staff in "virtual dollars" since they like them so much.
Finally, the program part begins. This is the uber boring part, where I want to gouge out my eyes. Or be slightly tipsy. Or take a really long bathroom break. Like at the bar. They have bathrooms in there, right? They do a bunch of business stuff. Introduce people, yada yada yada. I sit there quietly, with a vacant smile on my face, writing this blog post in my head. P leans over and points to a guy in a suit a couple tables from us and whispers "do you think that's a toupee?". I try not to giggle and whisper back "yes, a really really bad one." Then it's time for them to introduce the guest speaker. He's an eagle scout from one of our camps, who served as chief of the OA lodge in the seventies and then went on to be the personal aide to president Bill Clinton. Holy crap, it's toupee guy. P & I share a raised eyebrow look. He's actually a really good speaker. Toots his own horn a bit, but hey small town boy made good so it's excusable. What I didn't find excusable was the slide show of pictures of him with various famous people. Like the Clintons, Bono, and the King of Spain. Dude, I get it. You hung out with famous peeps. Do we really need to see you cheesin while you shake their hands? Also, a lot of name dropping. Although I did enjoy the story about Ronald Reagan. He was an entertaining speaker, obviously he had lots of practice. But then it happens. I knew it would. I was waiting.
Invariably, when people speak at Boy Scout functions, they talk about how much they love helping the youth grow and change and become better individuals. And invariably, it comes out wrong. Like once the guest speaker was introducing someone else and he said "nobody loves little boys like him". Seriously, I almost had a heart attack trying not to laugh out loud. And the weird part? Almost no one else bats an eyelash. It's like me in a room full of stiffs. So I'm listening to his speech and he says "There's nothing so great as being able to touch young boys". My hand flew up to my mouth. I nearly spit water out my nose trying to stifle my giggle. I looked at C, who had his head down and his hand on his mouth. He looked at me from the corner of his eye and nearly lost it. I look around. No one else looks fazed. So I compose myself and fire off a text "Dude. He just said 'touch young boys'". I get back a couple of responses. But I wait to read them until after, for fear of giggling. Now, I do know that he meant touch their lives. Make a difference. But still, it just sounds wrong. After it's done, we get up to mingle again and E comes over to me~
E: so I saw you trying not to giggle. What was that about?
Me: You know what it was about! The thing that kills me is that no one else seems to notice.
E: they notice, they just don't think it's funny.
Me: I'm not sure they notice. Maybe everyone is zoned out. Or *shrug* maybe I'm just super immature. *and I walk away*
We congratulate the Silver Beaver award winners. This is the highest honor a volunteer can receive. It's for a lifetime of service to scouts. The honorees get a silver beaver medal which you wear around your neck. A framed certificate and a pin. The spouses get a rose. Seriously?? I mean these people (mostly men, but a few women) get to do all this volunteer work because their significant other picks up the slack elsewhere. Runs the household, ect. And all they get is a rose??
Me: I don't think it's fair that the wives only get a rose.
Hubby: Why?
Me: Um. Because the reason those guys have all that time to volunteer is because their wives supported their activities. They took up the household slack. They ran the show when he was off camping or whatever. I think they deserve more recognition than a rose. If you ever get the silver beaver...
Hubby: I can't get it. I'm a paid scouter. It's a volunteer award.
Me: Well, like when you retire. If you still do volunteer work and you get it, I want something more than a rose. I want a freakin diamond ring. I mean, I'm the woman behind the man. I make you awesome.
Hubby: *chuckles* yeah. Good luck with that.
But you notice he doesn't deny the whole "I make him awesome" comment. Because it's totally true. We mingled some more. I talked to wives I don't know. I talked to important people whose names I don't recall. I'm pretty much an expert mingler. I remind hubby how lucky he is to have me. Really, I'm such an asset. Finally we got to roll out of there. Whew. I think I'm good for a couple of months again.
♥Spot
PS- I'm going to Myrtle Beach for a week. Leaving Monday night. I will probably post tomorrow but I apologize in advance for next week. Don't know how much I'll post. =]
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Why did they have to make 7 am so flippin early?
So here I am up at the ungodly hour of 7 A.M. Why? Why you ask. Why would you drag your oh so tired butt out of bed at that hour of the morning? The answer my friends is simple. I do it for you. I have a wedding to attend this afternoon and you know what that means? Oh yeah, a wedding reception tonight. And we all know how that goes around here. And if you're new to my blog and missed the last wedding I attended, you can read about it here. I don't know if this wedding will top that one, but I'm sure it's going to try. And I wanted to get my posting done before my day really started.
Which is why I am up at 7 am. This is the time my hubby gets up on weekends. So I shut off the alarm, grumble something about coffee and head for the bathroom. Finished there, I shuffle to the kitchen where coffee is brewing, but not done. And my hubby has just finished feeding the cats. The following conversation (if you can call it that) ensues...
Hubby: So someone missed a feeding and we're back to opening a can of cat food at night.
Me: hmphy;ljysdjf?
Hubby: I just want to remind you that Special Kitty cans don't go in the recycling. They get thrown away.
Me: the only can I put in recycling lately was a Friskies.
Hubby: You mean 9 Lives?
Me: No. Friskies.
Hubby: well it's Special Kitty that's in the cabinet now.
Me: *huffily opening the cabinet and pulling out a Friskies can* Friskies!!
Hubby: Well the one I pulled out today was Special Kitty.
Me: Yes, because I bought those in the 4-pack but they don't like the same food all the time so I intermixed some Friskies cans and are we done here?! *imagine my voice rising to a whine at the end*
Hubby: Just don't put the wrong cans in the recycling. (So apparently 9 Lives and Special Kitty cans are not made of aluminium but some kind of radioactive teflon coated kryptonite or something because this is the only reason I can come up with for him yelling at me about something so ridiculous this early in the morning)*
Me: I'm going to go write now before the voices force me to hurt you. *shuffles off to cave*
*In my hubby's defense, he probably wasn't yelling, but did I mention it was 7 freakin A.M. and that I am not a morning person? And he tried to make it up to me by bringing me coffee when it was done??
The Stephen King book is phenomenal. I stayed up way too late last night reading. I don't know how he creates so many well fleshed out characters. This must be where the index cards and post-its come in handy because half the time I have to page back through the novel I'm writing to remember what I named a character. Next time I write a novel, I think I might have to make a better system first. I'm up to over 14,000 words. Not where I need to be but I'll catch up. Lulu read it when she came home the other day and when she got done she was all "OMG. That's just creepy! Do you know what's going to happen? Because there seems to be a lot of foreshadowing." Of course I know what's going to happen. Kind of. I have a general idea when I sit down and then it just comes out. Like my brain thinks about it on autopilot all the time and I don't even realize it. And you have to foreshadow. It's my favorite writer tool thing. Anyway, I just wanted her to make sure it flows and apparently it does. Yay!
But back to Stephen King...I'm on page 185 and the death toll is rising. Muahahaha. It's a pretty interesting concept he's using. And I just wonder how he came up with it. I wonder if he ever wonders how other people come up with things? Like when 30 Days of Night came out. Was he all Vampires. In Alaska. Where it stays dark for 30 whole days. Genius!!! Because that's how I was.
Went to dinner with a group of friends and family last night. Then we went to see 2012. It was nonstop edge of your seat the entire time! And the special effects were ah-mazing! I really liked the movie. My friend Brandi said she hated it because she was so nervous through the whole thing. My friend Roxy had an even worse reaction. She really doesn't handle disaster movies well apparently. But my family loved it!
Okay, gotta go...but in the interest of foreshadowing...the wedding tonight? Let's just say that one of the women who will be there tried to get her hands on my man a couple of years ago. If she so much as looks in his direction...there may be trouble. And you'll get to hear all about it tomorrow. Who's got bail money?? Just kidding...I like my revenge way more subtle...
♥Spot
Which is why I am up at 7 am. This is the time my hubby gets up on weekends. So I shut off the alarm, grumble something about coffee and head for the bathroom. Finished there, I shuffle to the kitchen where coffee is brewing, but not done. And my hubby has just finished feeding the cats. The following conversation (if you can call it that) ensues...
Hubby: So someone missed a feeding and we're back to opening a can of cat food at night.
Me: hmphy;ljysdjf?
Hubby: I just want to remind you that Special Kitty cans don't go in the recycling. They get thrown away.
Me: the only can I put in recycling lately was a Friskies.
Hubby: You mean 9 Lives?
Me: No. Friskies.
Hubby: well it's Special Kitty that's in the cabinet now.
Me: *huffily opening the cabinet and pulling out a Friskies can* Friskies!!
Hubby: Well the one I pulled out today was Special Kitty.
Me: Yes, because I bought those in the 4-pack but they don't like the same food all the time so I intermixed some Friskies cans and are we done here?! *imagine my voice rising to a whine at the end*
Hubby: Just don't put the wrong cans in the recycling. (So apparently 9 Lives and Special Kitty cans are not made of aluminium but some kind of radioactive teflon coated kryptonite or something because this is the only reason I can come up with for him yelling at me about something so ridiculous this early in the morning)*
Me: I'm going to go write now before the voices force me to hurt you. *shuffles off to cave*
*In my hubby's defense, he probably wasn't yelling, but did I mention it was 7 freakin A.M. and that I am not a morning person? And he tried to make it up to me by bringing me coffee when it was done??
The Stephen King book is phenomenal. I stayed up way too late last night reading. I don't know how he creates so many well fleshed out characters. This must be where the index cards and post-its come in handy because half the time I have to page back through the novel I'm writing to remember what I named a character. Next time I write a novel, I think I might have to make a better system first. I'm up to over 14,000 words. Not where I need to be but I'll catch up. Lulu read it when she came home the other day and when she got done she was all "OMG. That's just creepy! Do you know what's going to happen? Because there seems to be a lot of foreshadowing." Of course I know what's going to happen. Kind of. I have a general idea when I sit down and then it just comes out. Like my brain thinks about it on autopilot all the time and I don't even realize it. And you have to foreshadow. It's my favorite writer tool thing. Anyway, I just wanted her to make sure it flows and apparently it does. Yay!
But back to Stephen King...I'm on page 185 and the death toll is rising. Muahahaha. It's a pretty interesting concept he's using. And I just wonder how he came up with it. I wonder if he ever wonders how other people come up with things? Like when 30 Days of Night came out. Was he all Vampires. In Alaska. Where it stays dark for 30 whole days. Genius!!! Because that's how I was.
Went to dinner with a group of friends and family last night. Then we went to see 2012. It was nonstop edge of your seat the entire time! And the special effects were ah-mazing! I really liked the movie. My friend Brandi said she hated it because she was so nervous through the whole thing. My friend Roxy had an even worse reaction. She really doesn't handle disaster movies well apparently. But my family loved it!
Okay, gotta go...but in the interest of foreshadowing...the wedding tonight? Let's just say that one of the women who will be there tried to get her hands on my man a couple of years ago. If she so much as looks in his direction...there may be trouble. And you'll get to hear all about it tomorrow. Who's got bail money?? Just kidding...I like my revenge way more subtle...
♥Spot
Friday, November 13, 2009
How I convinced the hospital lady she didn't know what day it was
This whole being a full time writer thing has turned my brain to mush. Really. I mean I might not have been the most "with it" gal to begin with but it's gotten so much worse. I'm so wrapped up in thinking, plotting, what if-ing, writing that I lose all sense of time, place and sanity. Yes, everyone does still have clean underwear and socks and I do manage to emerge from my world and get supper on the table but that's about it. Here's the conversation I had with the hospital when they called to remind me of Lulu's appointment~
Hospital lady: Hi is this Molly?
Me: No. This is her mom.
HL: Oh. Okay. This is Blessing Hospital calling to remind you about her heart echo tomorrow at 1pm.
Me: Her appointments supposed to be on Friday.
HL: That's right. Tomorrow is Friday.
Me: No it's not. Today is only Wednesday. Isn't it?
HL: Um. I don't think so. Hold on, I'll check. (I'm so adamant, she's doubting herself)
Me: Oh. Crap. You're right. It is Thursday. So her appointment is tomorrow.
HL: Whew! Please don't make me work an extra day. Haha.
Me: (completely embarrassed) I'm sorry. We'll be there.
The really bad part? She called while I was in the middle of writing my "spread the word" Thursday post. So on some level...I had to have known it was Thursday. Sad and scary I tell you. I feel like the absentminded professor. Only not so smart. And more absent minded.
The Stephen King book. Rules. I'm only allowing myself 80 pages a day so I don't just drop the novel writing and devour his book instead. He's just so good. I find myself noticing descriptive turns of phrase and thinking "why don't I think of these?" Because I'm not him. That's why. Speaking of him, here's a convo Sean and I had the other day while waiting in line at the grocery store~
Me: (reading tabloid headlines out loud) OMG. Seriously, if you were married to her, would you cheat with her?
Sean: Not a chance.
Me: Me neither! Man, I bet they get so tired of having their lives plastered all over the magazines and tabloids. Maybe I don't want to be famous. Then again, Stephen King's famous and you never see him in the tabloids.
Sean: (looking at me incredulously) Of course he's not in the tabloids! He's Stephen freakin King. Can you imagine writing something bad about him? I mean he'd show up on your doorstep and be all Really? Really? You're going to mess with me? and you'd crap your pants. Because you'd know that the Boogeyman was gonna get your butt.
Me: True. So the trick is to be famous, but really scary. So that nobody wants to mess with you.
And then on the way home. I was driving along on the highway and all of a sudden a hawk flies near the car. And seriously, I thought it was going to hit the windshield. So I ducked. Sean looks at me and~
Sean: Did you just duck?
Me: Yeah. So?
Sean: You know that doesn't help right? I mean you're in.a.car.
Me: Um. I know that. It's just instinctive reaction.
Sean: But it doesn't help. Look, there's something here (he taps on the windshield in front of me) and here (he taps on the sun roof) and omigod here (he taps on his side window) what is it? We're trapped!! Oh no! It's the witches! Witches have trapped us, what will we do?! How will we escape? (He sticks one hand out the open sunroof) Help help! Someone save me!
Me: (speeding down the highway laughing my ass off) you're ridiculous.
Sean: Riiiggghhht. I'm the ridiculous one. Which one of us got lost and wandered around aimlessly in Hobby Lobby today until I rescued them. Oh yeah. You.
I don't know if I mentioned this before or not...but Sean is somewhat of a sarcastic bastard. He comes from a long line of them. And I really did get lost in the store. I couldn't find the clearance items. Until he pointed to the clearance sign. Five rows in front of me. Sheesh.
Happy Friday (it is Friday, right?),
♥Spot
Hospital lady: Hi is this Molly?
Me: No. This is her mom.
HL: Oh. Okay. This is Blessing Hospital calling to remind you about her heart echo tomorrow at 1pm.
Me: Her appointments supposed to be on Friday.
HL: That's right. Tomorrow is Friday.
Me: No it's not. Today is only Wednesday. Isn't it?
HL: Um. I don't think so. Hold on, I'll check. (I'm so adamant, she's doubting herself)
Me: Oh. Crap. You're right. It is Thursday. So her appointment is tomorrow.
HL: Whew! Please don't make me work an extra day. Haha.
Me: (completely embarrassed) I'm sorry. We'll be there.
The really bad part? She called while I was in the middle of writing my "spread the word" Thursday post. So on some level...I had to have known it was Thursday. Sad and scary I tell you. I feel like the absentminded professor. Only not so smart. And more absent minded.
The Stephen King book. Rules. I'm only allowing myself 80 pages a day so I don't just drop the novel writing and devour his book instead. He's just so good. I find myself noticing descriptive turns of phrase and thinking "why don't I think of these?" Because I'm not him. That's why. Speaking of him, here's a convo Sean and I had the other day while waiting in line at the grocery store~
Me: (reading tabloid headlines out loud) OMG. Seriously, if you were married to her, would you cheat with her?
Sean: Not a chance.
Me: Me neither! Man, I bet they get so tired of having their lives plastered all over the magazines and tabloids. Maybe I don't want to be famous. Then again, Stephen King's famous and you never see him in the tabloids.
Sean: (looking at me incredulously) Of course he's not in the tabloids! He's Stephen freakin King. Can you imagine writing something bad about him? I mean he'd show up on your doorstep and be all Really? Really? You're going to mess with me? and you'd crap your pants. Because you'd know that the Boogeyman was gonna get your butt.
Me: True. So the trick is to be famous, but really scary. So that nobody wants to mess with you.
And then on the way home. I was driving along on the highway and all of a sudden a hawk flies near the car. And seriously, I thought it was going to hit the windshield. So I ducked. Sean looks at me and~
Sean: Did you just duck?
Me: Yeah. So?
Sean: You know that doesn't help right? I mean you're in.a.car.
Me: Um. I know that. It's just instinctive reaction.
Sean: But it doesn't help. Look, there's something here (he taps on the windshield in front of me) and here (he taps on the sun roof) and omigod here (he taps on his side window) what is it? We're trapped!! Oh no! It's the witches! Witches have trapped us, what will we do?! How will we escape? (He sticks one hand out the open sunroof) Help help! Someone save me!
Me: (speeding down the highway laughing my ass off) you're ridiculous.
Sean: Riiiggghhht. I'm the ridiculous one. Which one of us got lost and wandered around aimlessly in Hobby Lobby today until I rescued them. Oh yeah. You.
I don't know if I mentioned this before or not...but Sean is somewhat of a sarcastic bastard. He comes from a long line of them. And I really did get lost in the store. I couldn't find the clearance items. Until he pointed to the clearance sign. Five rows in front of me. Sheesh.
Happy Friday (it is Friday, right?),
♥Spot
Friday, October 2, 2009
Manic Mondays & Friday Night Lights...
This has been quite the week. And depending on who you are (or what kind of calendar you have) weeks could start on Sunday or Monday. I know my calendar starts on Sunday, but I've never been down with that. Monday is definitely the start of the week. And I don't usually mind Mondays, because well, I work at home so there's no "going back to work" to complain about, I never freakin left. And Monday is pretty much like every other day except that it's the day that I look at my calendar and see what's on it for the rest of the week and think "crap, I don't want to do that stuff".
But this Monday, I had to drive to Springfield, which is two hours from my house. We'd had CJ home over the weekend and I had to take him back to school. I begged Sean to come with me because I hate taking him back alone, because I get sad and cry unless I have someone to distract me. So...Monday morning I'm running around trying to get all of the stuff he got for his birthday separated, marked with his name and inventoried. (We keep some stuff at home and some stuff goes to his school with him). This takes forever, because both my mom & I go totally overboard with the birthday gifts. I realize twenty minutes before I want to leave the house that Sean is nowhere to be seen.
me: Is Sean up yet?
My hubby: Haven't seen him. (this is very odd, he's usually up by now)
me: will you go wake him?
My hubby: okay.
So I proceed to trying to finish getting around. Ten minutes later, still no sign of my youngest son.
me: will you please go make sure he's up? I have ten minutes til I need to leave.
my hubby: sure.
He walks out of the room. I (erroneously, it turns out) assume he's gone downstairs. I walk into the hall to go hang up my towel in the bathroom and my hubby is standing in the living room watching TV.
me: so did you make sure he was up?
my hubby: I'm on my way.
me: for the love of Pete! why did making sure he was up require a detour into the living room to watch TV?! you're a freakin addict dude. we have to get you some help.
Now, I'm frankly a little irritated (okay okay, irate) because nothing is going as planned! I'm also a teensy bit emotional because while Sunday and having my whole clan here for bdays was awesome, everyone leaving has left me a little down. Finally we manage to get out of the door and on the road. Sean starts giving me a hard time. You know, in the way that only a very smart but majorly sarcastic 16 year old boy can. I threaten to leave him at the gas station and call his father to come pick him up. (Unfortunately he knows I won't really do this because um, well that's just crazy). I pump gas, grab sodas, and lottery tickets (of course). The gas station attendant (who's nearly always cheerful) is obviously having a bad day too. I offer to let her drive to Springfield while I stay there and work but it's a no go.
I get out to the car and discover that the travel cup I brought for CJ has a hole in it. Fabulous. So I have to give him the bottle of soda (with a very stern admonishment that if he decides to dump it on the floor in the back of the car I will probably lose it. Yes, this has happened before, hence the travel cup.) We actually make it to Springfield without too much else going wrong. But as we walk into CJ's school it suddenly dawns on me that I have completely forgotten to bring his medicine back. Ack!!! This is a major blunder. I mean of monstrous proportion. He has to have his meds. And it's like a full months worth. Sh*t! So I tell them that I will go home and get them and bring them back. I will have to take them to his group home as it will be four hours from now before I get back. This is beyond stupid on my part. I can even picture his meds, sitting in their brown paper bag beside the bookcase in the family room, right beside where his suitcase was. In my defense, I usually manage to cram them into his suitcase to take them back, but this time it was too full of bday loot.
As we walk out of the building, my son starts giving me crap again. I warn him that I'm very near tears and if he doesn't stop, I'm going to be sobbing soon and he does NOT want to deal with that. I'm trying to hold off til I'm home tonight. He says he gives me less then an hour before the tears set in. Jackass. We run into mcd's (keeping it young folks, keeping it young) potty, grab some food and hit the road. I call my hubby to tell him about my incredible blunder. He offers to do the return trip for me, but then we both realize that he can't because he & Sean have a scout meeting. So, not only do I have to drive all the way home, pick up the meds, and drive all the way back and then home again, I have to do it alone. I start crying. My son says, cheer up lets listen to some tunes. At which point he puts in an old CD that has britney spears, backstreet boys and n*sync on it. The first song- "Bye bye bye". He starts belting it out and dancing in his seat. Have I mentioned he's completely tone deaf? And looks like a complete goober while doing this. Now I'm laughing, choking on my coke, and wiping my eyes. Whew, meltdown averted. Btw, I was not supposed to reveal the fact that he knew almost all the words and danced to that song ever under penalty of death, so pretend you didn't read it. mmmk?
Well, I dropped him off to work with his dad. Got the meds, potty breaked, and headed back out. To keep myself awake and cheer myself up I sang at the top of my lungs to an old CD of 80's love songs. " Once upon a time I was falling in love...now I'm only falling apart". Picture it. If you're brave. I made it back okay. Although so tired I was literally shaking. Which explains Tuesdays laying on the couch, hacking up a lung.
The rest of the week? Pretty uneventful. Tuesday...laid on the couch sick. Watched my backlog of DVR'd items. Wednesday...caught up my blogs. Thursday...funeral. Yeah, OK that sucked. Then grocery shopped. Do I know how to liven up a day or what?! Which brings us to today...
So, tonight is our high school's homecoming parade and game. I've been to these periodically (when the kids were attending regular school) and I do like a parade and I actually like the football games. Even though the team never ever wins. Ever. They suck. Bad. But it's nice to see people and eat tacos-in-a-bag. But I haven't been to one this year. Sean could care less about going to the games. And Bobby (the one who actually goes to the school) usually works on Friday nights and Mo lives in Iowa now. So no reason to go. Until tonight. Tonight my attendance is mandatory. Why? You ask? Because tonight they present the candidates for homecoming court and of course Bobby had to go and get himself elected. Geez. Okay really, he could care less, but he's a cutie and nice to everyone so he got voted in. So he has to ride in the parade (which means I have to go and take pics, because that's what good moms do). And then they present the candidates at halftime. And they have to be escorted by a parent. Guys by moms, girls by dads. That means, I have to dress nicely and walk out on the football field with him and then pose for pics. And frankly, I'm petrified. I know...you're probably thinking what? Spot's not scared of anything! And usually this holds true. And yes, I was queen of the drama club in high school. Yes, I did rule my speech and drama classes in college. Yes, I did do a bunch of community theatre. Yes, I did sit on panels and give lectures on parenting at parenting kids with disability conferences (yeah, I know, that scares you huh?! Me, as a parenting expert. Try thinking about that before you go to bed tonight. Guarunteed nightmares. But it's true) So why is this freaking me out??? I'm not sure really. I guess because alot of these people don't like me. The principal hates me (this feeling is mutual) because I took my kids out of his school to homeschool them and told him his teachers sucked. So um, yeah, most of the teachers don't like me either. And some of the parents. Turns out they get pissed off when their kids would rather be at your house then home. So I begged my hubby, and Sean, and Sean's gf to go with as moral support. And whew! They are. Now I just have to figure out what I'm wearing because oh yeah, I have to dress up and wear a corsage and it's freaking freezing outside so I'm gonna freeze my hiney off. And I have to practice my "I don't care what you think of me" face and my "butter wouldn't melt in my mouth" smile. And biting my tongue. So I don't say what I really think of these folks. I may be exhausted tomorrow. The things we do for our kids....
my smile hides a sarcastic smirk,
♥Spot
But this Monday, I had to drive to Springfield, which is two hours from my house. We'd had CJ home over the weekend and I had to take him back to school. I begged Sean to come with me because I hate taking him back alone, because I get sad and cry unless I have someone to distract me. So...Monday morning I'm running around trying to get all of the stuff he got for his birthday separated, marked with his name and inventoried. (We keep some stuff at home and some stuff goes to his school with him). This takes forever, because both my mom & I go totally overboard with the birthday gifts. I realize twenty minutes before I want to leave the house that Sean is nowhere to be seen.
me: Is Sean up yet?
My hubby: Haven't seen him. (this is very odd, he's usually up by now)
me: will you go wake him?
My hubby: okay.
So I proceed to trying to finish getting around. Ten minutes later, still no sign of my youngest son.
me: will you please go make sure he's up? I have ten minutes til I need to leave.
my hubby: sure.
He walks out of the room. I (erroneously, it turns out) assume he's gone downstairs. I walk into the hall to go hang up my towel in the bathroom and my hubby is standing in the living room watching TV.
me: so did you make sure he was up?
my hubby: I'm on my way.
me: for the love of Pete! why did making sure he was up require a detour into the living room to watch TV?! you're a freakin addict dude. we have to get you some help.
Now, I'm frankly a little irritated (okay okay, irate) because nothing is going as planned! I'm also a teensy bit emotional because while Sunday and having my whole clan here for bdays was awesome, everyone leaving has left me a little down. Finally we manage to get out of the door and on the road. Sean starts giving me a hard time. You know, in the way that only a very smart but majorly sarcastic 16 year old boy can. I threaten to leave him at the gas station and call his father to come pick him up. (Unfortunately he knows I won't really do this because um, well that's just crazy). I pump gas, grab sodas, and lottery tickets (of course). The gas station attendant (who's nearly always cheerful) is obviously having a bad day too. I offer to let her drive to Springfield while I stay there and work but it's a no go.
I get out to the car and discover that the travel cup I brought for CJ has a hole in it. Fabulous. So I have to give him the bottle of soda (with a very stern admonishment that if he decides to dump it on the floor in the back of the car I will probably lose it. Yes, this has happened before, hence the travel cup.) We actually make it to Springfield without too much else going wrong. But as we walk into CJ's school it suddenly dawns on me that I have completely forgotten to bring his medicine back. Ack!!! This is a major blunder. I mean of monstrous proportion. He has to have his meds. And it's like a full months worth. Sh*t! So I tell them that I will go home and get them and bring them back. I will have to take them to his group home as it will be four hours from now before I get back. This is beyond stupid on my part. I can even picture his meds, sitting in their brown paper bag beside the bookcase in the family room, right beside where his suitcase was. In my defense, I usually manage to cram them into his suitcase to take them back, but this time it was too full of bday loot.
As we walk out of the building, my son starts giving me crap again. I warn him that I'm very near tears and if he doesn't stop, I'm going to be sobbing soon and he does NOT want to deal with that. I'm trying to hold off til I'm home tonight. He says he gives me less then an hour before the tears set in. Jackass. We run into mcd's (keeping it young folks, keeping it young) potty, grab some food and hit the road. I call my hubby to tell him about my incredible blunder. He offers to do the return trip for me, but then we both realize that he can't because he & Sean have a scout meeting. So, not only do I have to drive all the way home, pick up the meds, and drive all the way back and then home again, I have to do it alone. I start crying. My son says, cheer up lets listen to some tunes. At which point he puts in an old CD that has britney spears, backstreet boys and n*sync on it. The first song- "Bye bye bye". He starts belting it out and dancing in his seat. Have I mentioned he's completely tone deaf? And looks like a complete goober while doing this. Now I'm laughing, choking on my coke, and wiping my eyes. Whew, meltdown averted. Btw, I was not supposed to reveal the fact that he knew almost all the words and danced to that song ever under penalty of death, so pretend you didn't read it. mmmk?
Well, I dropped him off to work with his dad. Got the meds, potty breaked, and headed back out. To keep myself awake and cheer myself up I sang at the top of my lungs to an old CD of 80's love songs. " Once upon a time I was falling in love...now I'm only falling apart". Picture it. If you're brave. I made it back okay. Although so tired I was literally shaking. Which explains Tuesdays laying on the couch, hacking up a lung.
The rest of the week? Pretty uneventful. Tuesday...laid on the couch sick. Watched my backlog of DVR'd items. Wednesday...caught up my blogs. Thursday...funeral. Yeah, OK that sucked. Then grocery shopped. Do I know how to liven up a day or what?! Which brings us to today...
So, tonight is our high school's homecoming parade and game. I've been to these periodically (when the kids were attending regular school) and I do like a parade and I actually like the football games. Even though the team never ever wins. Ever. They suck. Bad. But it's nice to see people and eat tacos-in-a-bag. But I haven't been to one this year. Sean could care less about going to the games. And Bobby (the one who actually goes to the school) usually works on Friday nights and Mo lives in Iowa now. So no reason to go. Until tonight. Tonight my attendance is mandatory. Why? You ask? Because tonight they present the candidates for homecoming court and of course Bobby had to go and get himself elected. Geez. Okay really, he could care less, but he's a cutie and nice to everyone so he got voted in. So he has to ride in the parade (which means I have to go and take pics, because that's what good moms do). And then they present the candidates at halftime. And they have to be escorted by a parent. Guys by moms, girls by dads. That means, I have to dress nicely and walk out on the football field with him and then pose for pics. And frankly, I'm petrified. I know...you're probably thinking what? Spot's not scared of anything! And usually this holds true. And yes, I was queen of the drama club in high school. Yes, I did rule my speech and drama classes in college. Yes, I did do a bunch of community theatre. Yes, I did sit on panels and give lectures on parenting at parenting kids with disability conferences (yeah, I know, that scares you huh?! Me, as a parenting expert. Try thinking about that before you go to bed tonight. Guarunteed nightmares. But it's true) So why is this freaking me out??? I'm not sure really. I guess because alot of these people don't like me. The principal hates me (this feeling is mutual) because I took my kids out of his school to homeschool them and told him his teachers sucked. So um, yeah, most of the teachers don't like me either. And some of the parents. Turns out they get pissed off when their kids would rather be at your house then home. So I begged my hubby, and Sean, and Sean's gf to go with as moral support. And whew! They are. Now I just have to figure out what I'm wearing because oh yeah, I have to dress up and wear a corsage and it's freaking freezing outside so I'm gonna freeze my hiney off. And I have to practice my "I don't care what you think of me" face and my "butter wouldn't melt in my mouth" smile. And biting my tongue. So I don't say what I really think of these folks. I may be exhausted tomorrow. The things we do for our kids....
my smile hides a sarcastic smirk,
♥Spot
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