Category: Life as I know it

Why I’ve accepted that resistance is futile

by Allie P., posted in Life as I know it, Personal Favorites

My day job has been abnormally stressful over the last several weeks and the last few days – even more so. It happens in the best jobs. There were several times I thought to myself, man, did I ever pick the wrong week to give up comfort food (and wine). Even so, I somehow managed to stick with the diet through the end. I am woman – hear me roar!

After the cleanse diet ended, I expected life to return somewhat to normal. If Lamont brings the kids home that usually means I’m greeted at the door by their smiling faces. Only, on Tuesday, there was only LT. I looked around. Where was Kiddo?

I found him seated in front of the computer with his face mere inches from the screen. That can’t possibly be homework. That’s when I noticed earthy tones and telltale cubic graphics. Minecraft. Someone let Minecraft into my house. The same program whose creator complained about the effect the game has had on his life.

“Mom! Dad got me Minecraft!”

“He did, did he?” I turned to the fountain of generosity which is my loving husband. “Did he at least do something to earn it?”

“Um. No.”

Awesome. Earlier this year, I speculated that Lamont was out to kill me. I’m now wondering if he has a death wish instead.

To be fair, Kiddo has been asking us for the game for months. He’s done everything short of creating a multimedia presentation with handouts documenting why he “needs it”. Even my resolve was cracking. Just days before, I found my cursor hovering over the “Add to Cart” button below the game’s image. It’s almost his birthday, I rationalized. But at the time I was looking to purchase it on any other platform than the computer. Definitely not something connected online. Especially not the computer where I save master files of my books.

It could happen – years of work deleted instantly by Kiddo so that he might free up extra memory for Minecraft YouTube videos. I shuddered.Thank goodness I also use the cloud. Then I remembered hearing that there are people out there making a living from these videos. Maybe I’m not looking at this right. Maybe I could guilt Lamont into taking me to a nice dinner out, or maybe Kiddo will discover a love of coding, make billions, and set us up for life.

I found myself starting thinking this development might not be so bad after all. Then I opened up my email:

Dear Female Human,

Your pitiful efforts to keep us from entering your home were no match for our advanced technology. As you are now aware, we subliminally compelled the one known as Male Human to download the program known as Minecraft the minute your defenses were lowered.

As you read this, we are redirecting your offspring’s attention away from his studies at school. Soon everything he thinks or says will be about Minecraft. We will consume his mind, just as we have done with so many others of his generation. We will drive you and Male Human insane with his obsession.

Your youngest is not beyond our reach. Know that each time he sings his ABCs, he is singing the anthem of our victory over mankind. All hail the mighty Alphabet. There will be none left to lead the resistance. There is no escape. We know where you are. You call it, smart. We are always listening. You call it, convenient. You even pay us for the priviledge.

You lost the war before you knew it even started. But that doesn’t mean things have to get uncomfortable. Accept your fate now and we will make life easy for you. We are good at making life easy.

-Your Robotic Overlords

p.s. please start by replacing your thermostat with the newest Nest model. It is so very slimming.

I looked up from the email to see Kiddo walking by with a trash bag full from the upstairs bins and a smile on his face. It was his way of saying thank you.

I guess a little random generosity isn’t a bad thing. Resistance, as they say, is futile and my Robotic Overlords know I can use the help.

Robotic Overlord

Why I will never be a weight-loss program spokesperson

by Allie P., posted in Life as I know it

Have you ever seen somebody walking by with their arms so loaded by things so random you just know there has to be a story?

Mine started a few weeks ago.

With the exception of five pounds or so which goes and comes back like carrier pigeons, the weight I’ve put on over the years put its roots down around the same time I did.  So when my gym issued a weight loss challenge,  I ignored it. Lamont, on the other hand, can lose twice that much simply by drinking an extra cup of water. The grand prize? $10,000. He was in.

I told Lamont that I would support his efforts even if it meant a temporary change to my diet. Then we went on vacation. My problem pounds? I think they requested a permit to build an extension on their home in my hips. At the same time, I received a notice that my company’s wellness program would be visiting the office in September for the quarterly weigh-ins used to calculate insurance premiums. Things just got real.

Lamont had an idea. We’d both go on a cleanse for two weeks as means of jump-starting our efforts. He brought home meal supplements and read through the recommended diet plan.

  1. No refined sugar
  2. No complex carbs
  3. No dairy or soy
  4. No peanuts
  5. No alcohol
  6. No coffee

Basically, if I enjoy it, it is off the menu. But I knew it was only going to be for two weeks. I’d given up half of those things (twice) for nine months, surely I could handle going without for a couple of weeks.

The first week wasn’t too terrible. I drank a meal supplement shake in the morning, managed not to tear co-workers’ heads off due to lack of caffeine and ate salad after salad. By the end of the week, I was down two and a half pounds. Huzzah. Then came the weekend. Lamont asked me what I would like for breakfast.

“Bacon and eggs!”

“We can’t have eggs.”

“What do you mean, we can’t have eggs?!”

“It’s at the top of the list of the things we can’t have.”

“That’s not what you told me.”

“Oh, and next week we have to have two meal supplement shakes a day instead of one.”

Somehow or another he managed to survive the weekend. So did our children. Between those two miracles (three, if you count each individual spared separately) and my continuing self-sacrifice, I expect to hear from the pope any day now regarding my eventual canonization.

Although I hadn’t cheated on the diet (and had even exercised), I noticed one of my pigeon pounds found its way back Monday morning. Grumble, grumble, grumble. “Fine. Two shakes.” I grabbed the container of powdered mix and a large mixing bottle. Let’s do this thing.

By Tuesday’s lunch, my stomach wasn’t rumbling, it was roaring. At this point, I didn’t care how the calories were delivered, I just wanted something, and I wanted it now. I started pouring my “lunch” into its cup, but in my impatience, the powder escaped its container, covering my file cabinet and coating the floor. Ack! My Precioussss.

Images of bugs crawling behind my files scrolled through my head as I leaned across the file cabinet while scooping up the mess. I remembered there was a vacuum somewhere in the office and went to the storage closet. There, at the back of the room was an industrial shop vac. Its hose spanned a full foot taller than me and the vac would require two hands to carry. If the size wasn’t enough challenge, I would have to get it from the closet to my office while wearing heels.

So there I was, a light powder coating my shirt and a crazed look about my eye, lugging a shop vac twice my size down the hallway like some coked-up Quasimodo while muttering about nearly twisting my ankle. Before and AfterOf course, this was the moment co-workers decided to pass by. They took one look at me and scurried on their way. The pigeons left again and now I am waiting on the memo announcing future random drug screening, but at least that future might include eggs.

To those of you who continue to sacrifice day in and day out in pursuit of your goals, cheers!

Editors note: after publication Lamont advised me that I could eat as many complex carbs as I wanted. I am to avoid refined carbs. I feel so unrestricted!

Almost according to plan

by Allie P., posted in Book Stuff and Publishing News, Indie book promotion, Life as I know it
popcorn spill
Image courtesy of Flickr

Lured by the promise of unlimited popcorn and free movies, I once took a job at one of those giant megaplex movie theaters. I was only in my teens, but so were most employees, and after only a few months on the job I was promoted to Team Leader. My first assignment? Prepare the concession stand for a regular business day.

I was nervous the day I arrive. I had never led a team before, at least not through a corporate mandate, and I certainly had never “opened” a concession stand. I didn’t even know who would be there to help me as Team Leaders were expected to keep the newer hires on point but weren’t responsible for assigning shifts.

Movie theaters feel quite a bit different before patrons arrive. For one, the lights are on at full brightness illuminating all the popcorn kernels, candy wrappers, or greasy fingerprints the cleaning crew missed from the night before. It is also quiet. Almost too quiet.

Another employee entered the lobby, making me jump. It was Sean. Sean had recently been promoted to Supervisor, a rank made obvious by the maroon polyester vest he wore and was technically my superior in this organization (the rest of us wore black). Although I had never worked with Sean, I was relieved as I took his presence to mean that at least one of us had some additional experience.

“So, what do we need to do first?” I asked.

“I was hoping you knew.”

You might have heard crickets chirping had the theater’s speakers, not at that moment, begun to blast a selection of top 40 pop tunes which would repeat on a loop for the rest of the day. We stood there equally dumbfounded for a couple more minutes, but no one else showed with a checklist of opening duties. Training wasn’t the theater’s strong suit.

“Umm, I guess I’ll sweep?” I suggested.

As we finished cleaning the floors and wiping down surfaces, a manager zipped by (they do exist!) “You need to get the butter ready,” he announced before disappearing once again.

Butter package
It definitely does not look like this at the theater and yes, you can believe it is not butter. (Image from Wikipedia)

Lamont loves coating our popcorn in butter on the rare occasions that we get to enjoy going out to a movie, but I’ve seen how it is prepared. Sean and I pulled out several jugs of congealed yellow paste resembling ear wax (really gross stuff), placing them over the dispenser as we continued getting the rest of the concessions ready. Ten minutes later, the butter paste remained firmly in the jar. Examining our handiwork, we realized that we hadn’t turned the warming tray on. “Almost got it,” we joked at our mistake.

The rest of the morning was filled with several other “almost” disasters, to the point of being comical. “Almost” became our inside joke and we were cracking up over our near incompetence by the time the first patron came through the door. Our manager might have wondered what was so funny, had he bothered to check on us more than a passing second, but the important thing was the patrons never knew that their soda had been two seconds from being pure syrup, or that at one point the counter resembled a mountainside avalanche as napkins launched themselves out of their spring-loaded containers.

In the right context, “almost got it” still makes me smile. Had the morning gone as planned, I doubt I would remember it today. It would have been just another day, boring and indistinguishable from the next. Instead, the day’s imperfections made it one of my favorite teenage memories.

With that being said, I have reached the decision to launch my second book, The Fair & Foul under the imprint of Axil Hammer Publishing this Fall. Are there still tweaks I could make to the story between now and then, an adjustment to the font, or layout of the cover? Perhaps, but, there will always be things I could improve. If it had to be perfect, you’d never remember it because it would never be published. While it may prove not to be perfect, I am proud of the story as it stands and look forward to sharing it with you.

A walk on the beach

by Allie P., posted in Life as I know it
storm brewing off topsail island
I could get used to views like this

“Do you want to go for a walk?” I asked Kiddo. It was only the second day of our beach trip. Earlier that morning, Lamont spotted a four to five foot shark chasing after a school of fish in the waves and none of us were exactly jumping up and down to get back into the water.

“Sure mom,” he replied, trotting to my side.

As we walked, every so often Kiddo would leap ahead, driven to scoop up a shell and hurl it back into the sea while he waited for me to catch up. It was a far cry from the early years I spent begging him to stay focused and keep up. I glanced back toward our tent and noticed that his footprints in the sand weren’t much smaller than my own.

“Do you still want to be a firefighter when you grow up?” I asked. It was a question that had been on my mind for the last several months. Kiddo had decided at the age of two that he was going to be a firefighter and stuck with his original announcement as the years progressed. He has a lunch box-shaped like a fire truck, a dozen firefighting themed books, and even a note from his Kindergarten teacher stating that perhaps we might like to expose him to other topics after journal page after journal page featured the same red and white truck. But over the last several weeks he had been picking dinosaurs over trucks when given the option. It made me wonder.

“Well I still would like to… some of the time.”

There it was. He was considering other career options. My baby was growing up.

“Well what do you want to be?” I asked. It was a simple question, one I had asked dozens of times, but for the first time in years, I didn’t know how he would answer.

His new school year starts next week. He’ll be attending a brand new school, with brand new teachers, at a brand new time, with brand new friends. Many of our neighbors are excited about the opportunity. They see the school’s raw potential, but as much as I would love to share their enthusiasm, I am too obsessed with the what ifs to look forward to the school year. Kiddo was identified as potentially gifted and a future leader at last year’s school. What if the teacher’s notes didn’t follow him? Would he be asked to slow down so the rest of the kids could catch up? What if there is no chemistry with the faculty? Would parents and students have to suffer while they figured out how to work together? What if? What if? What if?

I fear the unknown almost as much as I fear sharks. I hate not being able to see what is in the water next to me. I hate not being in control of my destiny. I hate what ifs. We kept walking.

The following day, the morning sun reflected off the water to our left as gray skies grew to our right. Storms were in the afternoon forecast. If we were going to swim, we thought we’d better do it soon, or not at all. As we approached the surf, a dark fin appeared several feet in front of Lamont and Kiddo. Great. There goes another vacation day. Then another fin popped up. Each was attached to a curved back. The fins disappeared beneath the water only to reappear several more feet away. Not sharks. Dolphins.

I let myself relax. Where there are dolphins, there is unlikely to be sharks. The fins didn’t appear again, but we took it as a sign and dared to go back into the water. I am still far from thrilled about the start of the school year, but maybe, just maybe, things might yet work out. Tomorrow is still a big unknown, but at least it is another day.

rainbow over topsail

Coffee and Karma

by Allie P., posted in Life as I know it, Personal Favorites

Three am.

I was wide awake. I just couldn’t seem to find a comfortable enough position to sleep more than ten minutes at a time. I tossed and turned. Nothing seemed to work. Time passed during the wee hours of Saturday morning in fits and spurts. After hours which felt like years, I felt the bed shift as hubby got up for a pre-dawn run. Morning people… grumble, grumble…

Slightly after dawn, (I can’t tell you the specific time as the clock and I were no longer speaking, but it was early) I heard the sound of Kiddo moving around in his room across the hall. It didn’t matter if that I hadn’t gotten a good night’s sleep. Morning could no longer be denied. I exited the bedroom with a single mission in mind. Find coffee now.

Immediately Kiddo’s door swung open. “Mom! Mom! I need help!”

“With what?” I asked, although it probably sounded more along the lines of “gah! wha?”

“With my museum. Can you help me build it?”

Available on Amazon
Yup – This pretty much sums up my mornings. Too bad the kids are still learning to read. (Mug available on Amazon – Click to link)

I rubbed my eyes. It didn’t help the view. His LEGOs had turned the floor into a land field, and there, at the other side, was a partially built construction about the size of two loaves of bread. It would take hours to complete his ‘vision’. Run, my body urged me. Run, while there is still time. “Sorry kid, Mommy needs her coffee.”

I made my way downstairs. Kiddo followed. “I’m starving. Cereal please!”

At least he was trying to be polite. “Here you go,” I said, pouring him a bowl. Or did I say bah!?

“Then can you help me with the museum?”

“Mommy needs some time to wake up.” Darn you coffee pot, why are you still empty?

Thump. It was a sound that meant LT was not only up, but jettisoning toys from his bed. I could go upstairs and collect him at once or spend the rest of the day attempting to coordinate a clean-up process with a stubborn three-year-old. It was my decision.

“Milk!” LT greeted me while flinging another animal friend.

Sigh… I  carried him downstairs, placing him near his brother.

“Movie please!” they demanded in stereo. My tummy grumbled, the coffee pot remained dry, and the kids were on a fast track for early naps.

Ding. Ding. My phone chimed. You’ve got to be kidding! Who in the world is texting me at this hour?

“Am bringing home a bagel for you.” The unsolicited text was from the hubby extraordinaire and savior of offspring.

No act of kindness no matter how small is ever wasted – Aesop

I love that man every day, but some days even more so than others. Fortified, Kiddo and I completed his museum. It only took two hours. A new record! Huzzah.

Fast forward a couple of days. I saw another message from the hubby. Someone had placed a handwritten note on his windshield. “You’ve been RAK’d,” it said. Beneath the note lay twenty dollars. There were no strings attached and no name on the note. It was exactly what it said it was. a RAK, also known as a Random Act of Kindness.

Carry out a random act of kindness, with no expectation of reward, safe in the knowledge that one day someone might do the same for you – Princess Diana of Wales

Out of all the cars in the parking lot that morning, some individual had chosen to be generous with my family. We will never be able to pay that person back, so I guess we have no choice. We will have to pay it forward.

Thank you, note-leaver, whoever you are. I hope that your kindness is returned as swiftly as was my hubby’s.

Easy Random Acts of Kindness
background image courtesy of unsplash