To all of you participating in NaNoWriMo, good luck! Thank you again, Kristin for hosting. Here’s to finishing those novels.
Tag: humor
I’m fixing a hole
Getting your novel ready for its grand debut is like battling a hydra. You make one correction, only to then discover the need for three more. I had grown somewhat obsessed over the last few weeks, a condition that has only gotten worse the closer I got to my launch date (which is next week by the way). I’ve been waking up in the middle of the night worried that there might be some aspect of the reading experience I could still improve.
The boys were taking their bath. Knowing they were occupied for the moment, I decided to sneak away to process yet another last-minute update. They’ll barely notice I am gone. After Lamont caught me in the act, I felt the need to explain what I was up to, and why. He wisely refrained from rolling his eyes. We’ve probably only had this same conversation a half a dozen times over the last month (I have the slight tendency to worry something to death). I was turning to go back to the boys when I saw it – a stream of water coming from the kitchen ceiling. Yes, it was raining out, but my kitchen is on the first floor. Considering we hadn’t recently installed an indoor water feature, there could be only one source.
LT. The boy is currently obsessed with volcanos and waterfalls. He likes the look of thing cascading downward. Sand. A glass of milk. An entire roll of toilet paper. He’s not picky. I must have left a cup within his reach once again (whatever happened to those good old days before he was mobile). I flew up the stairs, stopping at the bathroom door. Sure enough, you could almost make out waves and tidal patterns in the amount of water that covered the tile floor. (I’m a tad surprised NOAA wasn’t already there). I had only been gone a couple of minutes. Five tops! It takes the boy twenty minutes to eat half of a peanut butter sandwich, but he can cause trouble with amazing efficiency.
Ahhhh, children – such bringers of joy and destroyers of all things expensive to replace.
I looked to his brother, who immediately volunteered, “It was LT” as he scurried down the hall. Kiddo is a survivor. He takes after his father.
LT, on the other hand, happily continued to splash, as unconcerned about the pulsing vein in my forehead as he was about the stream flowing downstairs. Scooping our little future delinquent volcanologist out of the water, Lamont and I sent him to bed without a story (the worst punishment this writer could think of at the time – I have since come up with several other things that I would have liked to have done), before we set out to clean up the mess. Several soaked towels later, it occurred to us that we would also have to address the moisture in the space between floors. (Finding mold would make this a horror story)
So in the words of Paul McCartney and John Lennon
“I’m fixing a hole where the rain gets in
And stops my mind from wandering
Where it will go”
As October closes, allow me to summarize. My coffee pot caught on fire, a mouse moved into my house, and there is now a gaping hole in my kitchen ceiling. Even so, I still love this time of year. The leaves are changing and autumn brews are back on the shelves along with other seasonal treats. Best of all, by writing this, I am now thinking of pie, Halloween, and Thanksgiving (but not Christmas – stay in December where you belong). I am finally not thinking about what else I could do to the book. It is time to stop worrying about the what ifs and get back to recognizing the what wills.
The water will dry, the mouse will take the bait, and I will enjoy some coffee. All the rest can wait.
I may have one tiny problem
All was quiet in the deep dark wood, a mouse saw a nut and . . .
What! A mouse! Jumps on ottoman.
I am not a morning person, so imagine my delight as I noticed a small dark shape run across my kitchen floor only to disappear behind the couch first thing Monday morning. This is not how I like my Adrenalin served. Admittedly it might not have been a mouse. I’d only caught a glimpse of movement in my peripheral vision, but I really wasn’t keen on validating that first impression with another sighting.
No problem is so big or so complicated that it can’t be run away from!
– Charles M. Schulz
Lamont assured me that he would take care of the problem as soon as the boys were safely at school. I went to work and attempted to settle my nerves, however, all I could think of was the witch from Hazel and Gretel. “Nibble, nibble, little mouths. Who is eating my house?” Yes, I would be the witch in this example. And sure, one could argue that she was asking for it when she made a whole house out of gingerbread and candy, but let’s not get side-tracked blaming the victim.
When Lamont arrived home, he brought a highly recommended trap, which he placed near where I thought I saw our little uninvited guest. A day passed. Then another. There has been no sign that the trap has been disturbed in any way.
Now the paranoia is starting to set in. Each thump, bump, creak, or tap of the house settling is making my heart race. What was that?! Oh, just the neighbor kids playing kickball nextdoor. I hadn’t enjoyed my coffee yet that morning. Now I am starting to question myself. It was a Monday. Had I really seen anything at all? Or is the creature simply mocking me?
The whole incident has reminded me of a story I read a few years back about a rodent infestation on a massive scale. An estimated two billion rats were displaced as land was developed. Considering there has been only one unverified sighting in my house and I am freaking out, it is hard for me to imagine how someone could even start managing that kind of issue. I would likely be frozen in some combination of disgust and terror. So what did they do? Go with the knee-jerk reaction? Call in the national guard? Torch the countryside? Poison every potential food / water source? No – someone got creative.
Problems are only opportunities with thorns on them.
– Hugh Miller
The powers that be created a contest for the best recipe featuring, yep, you guessed it, rat. Some of the recipes proved to be quite popular, and soon area restaurants couldn’t pay the locals enough for the rats to keep up with market demand. In addition to eliminating the rat problem, the locals were paid handsomely and stomachs were filled. It was a surprisingly organic and elegant solution for what appeared to be an overwhelming problem.
It is a mistake to think you can solve any major problems just with potatoes.
– Douglas Adams
However, I have no intention of trying out one of those recipes any time soon. Just because their solution worked for them, doesn’t mean it will work for me. The point is that by thinking creatively and trying something new, they were able to come up with a solution that not only solved their immediate problem, they were able to address two other issues that on the surface were unrelated.
Progress is obtained only by exploiting opportunities, not by solving problems. When you solve problems, all you do is guarantee a return to normalcy.
– Peter F. Drucker
The trap remains baited, but now I am seriously considering caving into Kiddo’s demand and bringing home a terrier, or at least borrowing the neighbors. I hear pets are good for reducing stress. In any event, I am open to any creative solutions (minus recipes).
I missed the red moon arising
So apparently there was this whole blood moon, super moon, lunar eclipse thing, and I missed it. Not to worry, I will have another chance to see it again in (pulling out the calculator because I no longer do simple math in my head). 18 Years. (I mean I can, otherwise I might never escape the recurring hostage situation known as Kiddo’s homework time, I just prefer not to). That’s plenty of time for me to forget again.
I might have missed seeing the red moon rising, but I’ve noticed that things have been getting weird around my house ever since that event. For example, Lamont and I were getting ready for our second cup of coffee for the day when we heard an odd bubbling sound coming from the kitchen. The sound was coming from our trusted coffee maker and provider of wondrous mornings. The semi-full carafe was seated on its warming pad and I noticed a cloud as it coiled its way out of the machine and into the air. At first I thought it was steam. Only then did I get a whiff of burnt plastic and bad electronics. Lifting it up for better examination, I noticed the cloud was coming from the bottom of the machine where a metal plate read, “Do not submerge”
Yanking the cord out of the wall I presented the smouldering heap to Lamont. “The coffee maker is on fire,” I announced. I really wasn’t sure what to do at this point as I hadn’t yet drunk my second cup. (I am barely conversant in the morning. I definitely wasn’t prepared to problem solve.) Lamont turned on the faucet and started filling the sink. “But it says do not submerge,” I countered (this is why I married a ‘morning person.‘)
Evening came. Later. Much, much later, I was awoken by the sound of music playing in the house. At first I thought it was Lamont’s phone as it is not entirely unexpected that he might get a phone call in the wee hours of the morning due to his job, but the music continued well beyond a typical ringtone and Lamont wasn’t moving. Fine. First no coffee. Now no sleep. I hauled myself out of bed to investigate while Lamont pretended not to notice (and this one of the reasons why Lamont married a non-morning person).
Opening the bedroom door I was assaulted by They Might Be Giants blasting from across the hall. What in the world?! I opened Kiddo’s door. The clock display on his CD player was blinking. Not only had the alarm clock feature been enabled, someone (or something) had set it to trigger at a time long after midnight (ruling out a simple power outage reset). I glanced into the shadows of Kiddo’s bed. There he lay, sleeping as peacefully as if a minimum of 100db of alternative rock / children’s music wasn’t currently vibrating the room’s walls. At least I hoped he was sleeping.
As I located the off button, I noticed that Kiddo still hadn’t moved. I inched closer to his bed to determine whether he was either only pretending to still be asleep or if I needed to check his vital signs. I watched his chest rise and fall. At least he is alive, although if he was goofing around after lights out he might wish he wasn’t.
I returned to my bed with my imagination working overtime. Were aliens playing tricks on my family and testing our defenses? Did a being from an alternate dimension invade my home’s electrical grid during the eclipse? Has a poltergeist decided to get an early jump on the Halloween season? Are my beloved robotic overlords simply trying to modify my sleep cycle to make me a better me? (All hail, as they are just and know best).
I may not learn the answer anytime soon, and until then I may lay awake in self-induced paranoia, but one thing is for sure – Kiddo can sleep through anything. Note to self – ask him to guest write how he does it. But at least, I may have a few ideas for some short stories.
Why I’ve accepted that resistance is futile
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.
Allie Potts 