Tag: life

I missed the red moon arising

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

Sorry we missed you signSo 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.

Sleep Wanted
Image Courtesy of Flickr

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.

 

 

Gone but not forgotten

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

One of my favorite shows growing up was Jim Henson’s Fraggle Rock, and one of my favorite episodes in the series was an episode entitled Gone but Not Forgotten. In the episode, one of the Fraggles named Wembley meets a character named Mudwell, a Mudbunny. Mudbunnies are a solitary species which spend their entire lives preparing for their eventual end. They know their time has come when the mud is ready.

Being a Fraggle, a creature which lives entirely in the moment and the complete opposite of a Mudbunny, Wembley has a hard time at first accepting the reason why his new-found friend won’t join the other Fraggles and their fun community forever. Mudwell sings about the water cycle.

“One day it’s an ocean.
One day ice in motion.
One day it’s a tear drop in your eye.”

As he continues, it is clear he is singing about a completely different cycle –

“You’ve got to leave to stay.
We’ll meet again someday,
Just a dream away.”

It is a beautiful, moving episode about handling grief, how painful and awkward it is, and yet it is also an episode about connection, the cycle of life, and rebirth. Mudwell’s song stayed with me throughout the years and has only grown more poignant as I’ve gotten older.  I am especially reminded of it on weeks like this.

Our friend, Ashley passed away this week. Ashley was funny, caring, and nice, but never obnoxiously so. She enjoyed helping others and spending time with her family. In my mind’s eye, I still see her joining the group after a mud run, ridiculously filthy from head to toe, but always with a smile on her face and always looking like the definition of health.

I am conflicted.

I am angry. Cancer takes so many and took her too young. I am sick to my stomach thinking about those left behind. I am sad. I didn’t get to know her long enough. But I suspect if I asked her family, they would say there would never have been enough time. I am happy she is no longer suffering. I am working on accepting. We’ve known this time was coming.

I am grateful.

We are all here for only a moment but live on in the memories of others. Ashley, although we never spoke about it, you’ve inspired me to live each day fully and helped to keep my priorities in order. You had a bigger impact than you’ll ever know. You may be gone, but you are not forgotten. May you live long in memory.

Until we meet again.

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.