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My humorous thoughts about life.

"My Humorous and Helpful Thoughts About Teaching / Educational Resources for Your Classroom / Music and Random Fun"
Showing posts with label #GBE2. Show all posts
Showing posts with label #GBE2. Show all posts

Sunday, June 3, 2012

#GBE2: "High" School

You know there's trouble when a school has an open lunch policy, a park next door, and a school full of spoiled rich kids with enough money to buy whatever they want. That was my 1970s high school.


Although I never partook in the afternoon escapes of my high school, I have vivid memories of the aftermath. Each day after lunch, I'd sit in English class and stare at the boy across the room. His handsome face was marred by bloodshot eyes and a faraway expression. He never spoke nor seemed to be a part of the class. Did the teacher not notice his drugged out appearance or did she just not care? It was scary to think someone could be that high in a high school class. It was even scarier to think of a good looking kid being so screwed up.


I know this is a humor blog, and I'm sure there is plenty to make fun of when it comes to high kids. I've included funny pictures because it's better than crying, but it just isn't funny to have recently attended TWO funerals for young men who over dosed. 

I attended "high" school without even a buzz. I survived, as did my stoned classmates, without any red ribbon weeks or "Just Say No" assemblies, so why are today's kids dying? Are the drugs containing dangerous fillers that my classmates didn't encounter? Is it a social class thing? Maybe my classmates bought purer drugs with their abundance of money. 

I know today's schools have a lot more control on kids than my school did. No open lunch policies and no smoking lounge for kids nor teachers. Is that the problem? Has too much restriction caused a youth rebellion? I don't know the answer to this. 



I'd say it's all about good parenting, but the parents mourning their kids are top notch! Seriously. These are wonderful parents who were there for the kids throughout.

I know this is not the direction Beth expected when she wrote "High School," but in lieu of what's been going on in my community it's what on my mind.



I can certainly tell the kids to "Just Say No," but I already did that. They didn't listen. So what now?


Sunday, May 6, 2012

#GBE2 : Parody


This week's GBE2 topic is "Parody," which is hard since my favorite movies are those that make fun of serious ones. So I figure I'll have to take a serious topic in my life and get a laugh out of it. Why should this post be different than any others?

My gynecologist and I are working to make fun summer plans. See I've got this growth in my uh-hm that's the size of a red, ripe, juicy strawberry--although it's shaped more like Charlie Brown's head than Stewie Griffin's.

Charlie Brown
Stewie Griffin
This little bugger bear not only makes my stomach protrude like a pregnant woman's, but it has also caused a bloody bad time along with tummy aches. However, my hormones indicate I'm still well within my baby making years.

"NOOOO!" I don't wanna go birthin' no babies. So, I've decided to kiss my female parts goodbye and undergo a hysterectomy.

Now if they take away my female parts, am I still a female? I don't anticipate growing chest hair and swinging on vines, since the male parts won't be there either. Maybe I should change my name to Pat. 



As an adrogynous person, I wouldn't have to wear dresses or paint my toe nails--not that I do anyway. I wouldn't have to style my hair nor wear make up. But most importantly, I'll surely lose ten pounds when they take this organ out? See I carried three babies in it, with the heaviest kid being over eight pounds, plus the placenta. A flimsy little organ could never carry that much baby weight, could it? Maybe getting rid of these used auto parts isn't such a bad idea after all. However, why is it called a HYSterectomy? Shouldn't it be a HERsterectomy?

Until next time,
Pat

Thursday, May 3, 2012

#GBE2: Stranger

From Bush 41
 parachuting?
This week's GBE2 topic Stranger made me think of our local newspaper.  

The Commercial Appeal posts many strange stories, like the  article about Bush Senior parachuting out of an airplane on his eightieth birthday. Next to the article was a photo similar to the one above with the headline: The Aftermath! Apparently that wasn't stranger than other photos because Jay Leno never used it for headline news. So, in order to find something stranger, I searched the internet for bizarre news stories. Are they any "stranger" than what I found in the Commercial Appeal?

Man robs a Dollar General and post pictures on Facebook with his loot. Or maybe the story about a hiker who was attacked by a lion and was then saved by a bear that loosened its grip. I read another story about a man who lived with a bullet in his head for ninety-five years. Hmm. All these weird stories involve the male gender.

So tell me, did I successfully cover the GBE2 topic of "Stranger?" Oh, stranger. You meant someone I don't know! 

:p



Wednesday, April 4, 2012

#AtoZ : Dancing

My Old Stomping Grounds

Thanks to Beth, the GBE2 group has graciously included letter topics that follow suit with the A to Z challenge, so here is a double whammy of #GBE2 and #AtoZ all in one post.

I tended to be a bit more outgoing in my youth. I'll never forget the time I visited The Deja Vu at the University of Missouri and found no one on the dance floor, so I grabbed a chair, waltzed out to the middle of the circle, and spun it around for a few rounds. Next, I knew others followed suit to bring about a floor filled with chairs and people. The most ironic part: I hadn't had a drop to drink!

The Early Years


While dating my husband, we used to go dancing all the time. I believe it was one of our first dates when he made the mistake of singing in my ear while on the dance floor. It took everything in me not to belt out a laugh over his grossly off tune tones. His singing is so bad that his high school music teacher told him to, "Shut up and lip sync." At least it wasn't a deal breaker.  


Monday, March 19, 2012

#GBE2: The List

This week's GBE2 prompt is to make a list and give it a title. Here's mine.

My Daughter Is On A Cruise


Great Vacations I've Taken This Year

1.


At least my dog hasn't taken a vacation. No joke. I know someone who sent her dog to Texas. I was her Secret Santa years back and wrote her a poem.

          Roses are red,
          Violets are blue,
          Your dog took a vacation 
          instead of you. 

I guess I need to come up with another list. Hmm. 


Ways I've Saved Money This Year

1. No vacations
 

I give up; this sucks. I just had a week off from work... stayed home. As soon as I opened my classroom door this morning, I had a surprise. The portable was broken into, ransacked, and three computers stolen. I hope those slime balls get a long vacation, in JAIL! :p




Thursday, February 16, 2012

The Writer's Post: Interview

Remember in college when you had that hot date that your friends wanted to check out without being seen? So, they slyly hid behind a pole and peered at the young man as he came to pick you up. That was not the case with Michelle and me. We devised an ingenious plan involving a type of interview and a few hapless men who fell victim to it. 


Dressed in a trench coat, hat, and sun glasses, we'd approach the men as they came to pick up our friends. 

"So, tell me, where are you taking this young lady tonight?" We'd ask as we'd scribble his answers on our notepads. We'd bombard the poor guy with question after question making for a wonderfully awkward scene. Then we'd circle behind him and comment on his cute butt. Finally after receiving a seal of approval, the date would commence. How's that for the topic of interview?


Sunday, February 12, 2012

#GBE2: Do Over of "Why I Read Kid's Books"

Back when I first started blogging, I had no followers and 108 hits for the entire month of July, 2009–which beats May, 2009 where I received zero. Now with 386 GFC followers and 105 on Network, I receive quadruple that number of hits, or even more, daily. With GBE2's "do over" theme, I'd like to revise and repost one of my early attempts at blogging.


Originally posted: July 14, 2009

Why I Read Kid's Books

My daughter has said, “Mom, you’re an adult. Read adult books!”


Sure, I had my days inside the mind of psycho killers brutally murdering helpless victims. I used to be pasted to the pages of Dean Koontz novels, but I’ve moved on. Usually, we advance to more challenging adventures, not me. I write for children.


So, I wonder: am I immature when I laugh hysterically over Gordon Korman or Louis Sachar? Let’s face it, an adult story will never have Cap Anderson innocently referring to his classmates as Buttwad or Jerkface like in Schooled or the fun antics of kids breaking into a lowlife’s house in Swindle. Furthermore, will we ever see the silliness of Wayside School in the adult section of the library? "Class, let's learn about gravity by dropping this heavy and expensive computer down thirty floors." Ha! Doesn't happen in the adult literary world.

Not only do I like kid humor, but the YA section of your library or bookstore contains plenty of nerve-racking stories such as Margaret Peterson Haddix’s Shadow Children series where third born children must hide or be murdered by an uncaring government; or how about, The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins? Young Catniss must fight for survival in a future world. And YES, I love Anthony Horowitz’s, Alex Rider character. This junior James Bond is sure to hold anyone’s interest. Of course if you want to battle monsters in a modern day world, Rick Riordan’s Percy Jackson adventures make for a fine read. Adult novels seem to only fight sex monsters. 



Not long ago, I actually read an adult novel. The Slap by Christos Tsiolkas leads the reader through an adventure about an adult who slaps another couple's child at an outdoor barbecue. This one event leads to the unraveling of the entire social community as a lawsuit progresses and friends take sides. Though a good book, every chapter had details about sex and the like. I enjoyed the read, finished, then picked up my next kid's book.

Probably being a bit ADD, I love the way a child’s story taps into a scene or character quickly without boring me with too much detail. So next time you're in the library or bookstore, check out the kids’ section. If you're like me, you won’t be disappointed.

Sunday, February 5, 2012

#GBE2: Upset

Today's GBE2 topic is "upset," which if not done correctly could be a downer. Not feeling like posting a blah-blah-life-sucks piece, I present you with excerpts from three of my unpublished novels.

No real people have been harmed in the writing of these stories.

Hope you have a laugh!

From: Don't Eat the Chipmunks by Joyce P. Lansky
 
      Last night, me and the guys tiptoed to Adam’s bunk where his chlorine-bleached hair spread across his pillow in a do like a dead chia pet's. We played dot to dot with his freckles--just in case he wasn't dorky enough already. When he got up, the kid scrubbed his face pink but still looked like a road map.
 
Was Adam upset? Of course not because I didn't write him that way.
 
From: Being Bompsy Carleffa by Joyce P. Lansky

            Gil placed tomato-based soup in front of each of us. When I blew and sipped it off my spoon, I was shocked. Cold soup? All this money, and these people can't heat the soup?
            Do you like the gazpacho?” Fiso asked. 
             I dropped my spoon on the table. Why would he mention the Gestapo? What was he, a modern day Nazi? Sure, doesn't everyone like murderers? Sick. This guy's really sick! 
 
Yes! Ben was upset, but he stays upset throughout the novel. What do you expect? His dead dad turned out to be an alive mobster who has kidnapped him.
 
And finally, in case you haven't read enough, here's a little something from my WIP (Work in Progress).
 
From: Mrs. Zimmerman's Donuts by Joyce P. Lansky
 
Slater’s mom pulled a chisel-shaped knife out of the top drawer and leaned her head back. With the precision of a surgeon, she gently slid the blade downward until it disappeared into her throat. Next she thrust it out with one gigantic swing. Blood covered the blade while red liquid filled her mouth. Her eyes rounded as her lips curved into a smug smile. She winked at me! Blood gushed out of her mouth, and she winked! While the room spun in oval circles, I couldn’t decide if she was crazy or if I needed the loony bin.
When a thick, red droplet dribbled down her chin, I squeezed the back of a chair and stepped backwards. My pulse pounded in my ears, and I worried that I might hurl at any moment.
“You’re b-bleeding.” I gripped the chair with my other hand too until my knuckles went as white as Mom’s had when she drove me home after I’d gotten in trouble the other day. “Hospital. We need to t-take you to the h-hospital!”
Slater, Calfie, and Mrs. Slatker laughed so hard tears filled their eyes.
“What are you laughing at? I think she’s really hurt!” I plopped into a chair, put my elbow on the table, and leaned my head into my palm. “I don’t feel so good.”
“It’s fake, Knob,” Slater said in between chuckles. “She squirted fake blood in her mouth!”
“The blade’s fake too.” Mrs. Slatker placed the knife on the table then wiped her mouth with a paper towel. The knife had a squeezable handle and juice filled holes on the blade. “Sorry to scare you, but we like our little jokes around here.

If you are an interested agent or editor, feel free to contact me.

Monday, January 23, 2012

#GBE2: No Time For Time

Some twenty-five years ago, at a time when I didn't know anything about brand names, someone gave me a Rolex watch. As an anti-fur, don't be ostentatious type gal, I had no idea of the cost or prestige of such a gift. My sister even poked fun–simple me wearing a showy piece of jewelry–as if I knew I had something of value.

Being that it is pretty, I wore it for over twenty years without ever servicing it or buying other watches. I justified it by thinking how in the long run, its cost might be equal to the purchase of multiple watches that break every few years.

The watch has never kept great time–always five minutes slow. Someone told me to buy some gizmo that will spin it twenty-four / seven since it's wound through perpetual motion. I never have.

Last August, about the time this school year began, it stopped. Not having the time to get to my jeweler, who's a good drive from home and closes early, I paid $11 for a slap-on watch that kept better time than my Rolex; but, it eventually rolled off its band and disappeared. I figured I'd use my Fall Break to visit the jeweler and get my Rolex back.

Come vacation, I drove down Poplar to the shop where I found a sign on the door, "On vacation. Be back--yep, you guessed it, the day my vacation ended.

After another month, we finally got the watch to the jeweler who sent it across the country for ridiculously expensive services. I wore my watch almost a month, and then, the band broke. Back to where I started. Will I ever find the time to fix my time keeper? Maybe someone like me is not meant to wear a Rolex.

Sunday, January 8, 2012

GBE2: History–Lincoln was Funny

This week's topic–history–is one of my faves; but at the same time, it was hard to narrow my post to one event. In searching historical events online, I remembered Abraham Lincoln who was not only a great leader, but also one of the funniest presidents we've ever elected.

Here are some fun anecdotes about him:

*Once as a young lawyer, several attorneys wrestled outside the court house before a trial. One of the men split his pants causing the others to pass a note asking for money to buy him a new pair of trousers. When the note reached Lincoln, he wrote, "I have nothing to contribute to the end in view."


*A ranking man in the post office, who was a personal friend of Lincoln's, died. A job applicant immediately asked the president if he could take his place?”
“Well,” replied Lincoln. “It’s all right with me if it’s all right with the undertaker.” 


*During the Civil War, Edmund Stanton, the Secretary of War, told Lincoln that General Grant was boozing in his tent.
“Find out what kind of whiskey he is drinking.”
“Why is that, Mr. President?”
“Because I want to send a case of it to my other generals.”


 And finally, here is my favorite story!


*A visitor once asked Lincoln how many men the rebels had in the field. Lincoln replied seriously, “Twelve hundred thousand, according to the best authority.” 

The visitor turned pale and gasped, “Good Heavens!”

Lincoln continued: “Yes, sir; twelve hundred thousand. You see, all of our generals, when they get whipped, say the enemy outnumbers them three to one, and I must believe them. We have four hundred thousand men in the field, and three times four makes twelve. Twelve hundred thousand; no doubt about it.”


Monday, January 2, 2012

GBE2: Work

This week's GBE2 writing topic is work. For better or worse, here's my take on it:

For over twenty-five years, I've taught intellectually gifted kids in an affluent suburb of Memphis. I've seen dramatic changes in what and how I teach since the eighties. Don't get me wrong, the kids are great other than the fact that they never grow older. They will always be around nine or ten even though I've aged twenty-five years. Yet their parents have grown younger. When I first started teaching parents were old people, so how did they get so young? Scary!

As for gifted curriculum, it used to be if the kids were happy, the parents were happy, and administration was happy too. I only was responsible for meeting the IEP goals which I wrote. Not anymore. It's all about test scores and achievement.

Gone are the days of paper-mache´ puppet shows, fancy tooth pick bridges, or spending 100,000 fictional dollars on the stock market. Today, teaching is all about curriculum. My math lessons follow closely to what the classroom teacher is doing yet tougher. I teach reading lessons, with reading groups that cover novels. At least they still let me pick my novels–sorta. We have a list of board approved books.

I still love my time with the kids, but I miss egg drop competitions that plummeted raw eggs with goofy faces and silly names down shoots into kid designed landing pads. I can do some of the fun stuff, but by golly I better find an SPI objective before I do.

I used to start each class with a Shel Silverstein poem; now, I begin with Daily Grammar Practice. Sounds awful, but it's not bad. The kids' ability to diagram complex sentences is even impressive.

But teaching means unbelievable pressure. We've heard of teachers cheating to raise their students' test scores. I certainly don't condone this behavior nor would I ever cheat on a test; but honestly, I understand where this is coming from. It doesn't matter if you have a Doctorate degree or how long you've been teaching, it's getting to the point that your students better show growth or you could be out of a job.  Do you know of any other profession where a person's bread and butter is dependent on fickle kids?

In Tennessee, every public school teacher has a minimum of three (was supposed to be four) evaluations every year. These evaluations involve massive time commitments and paper work as administrators who are stretched thin enter classrooms to watch us teach. Plus, the same folks are scouring over value added scores. This is a comparison of students' growth on tests from year to year. Mind you, I teach gifted. This means that even though my students' test scores are already in the upper nineties, I need to show growth! However, when it comes to other measures of student achievement, I'm scored on the performance of the entire school. Ie., kids I don't even teach.

Please remember, I love the kids! I love the delight when they understand something new. And I love hearing them laugh when I inject humor into my lessons. However, I'm ready to retire because I'm tired. Typically, I arrive at school between 7:15 and 7:30 and leave sometime between 5:00 and 6:00 in the evening. Many times, I bring my work home with me once I leave. Sure I just had two weeks of vacation, but I spent several hours of it completing special education report cards, writing IEPs, making flip charts for my Promethean board, grading writing, and re-reading chapters for discussion this week. Unfortunately, the pressure on us is so intense that the fun has evaporated. In fact, when my college age daughter took a career placement test to help her find a major, the counselor said, "Be a teacher."

I said, "Don't you dare!" Those who are eligible to retire are doing so in mass... and this is supposed to improve education? What has the government done to my profession? I know my teachers from the 60s and 70s never worked as hard as I do nor did they get blamed when I misbehaved. We are one of the most disrespected professions and have even been blamed for the weak economy because we have too many benefits. I pay for my insurance, and it's not cheap!

November 1, 2017, that's when I'll be eligible to retire... unless our lovely legislators raise the retirement age.

Sunday, December 25, 2011

GBE2: Free Write

This week's GBE2 prompt is called "free write." That means we're supposed to pop out our random thoughts onto the computer without worrying about how stupid it sounds or what boring dribble comes out. Hey! I've got a reputation to keep up.

Boring Clip Art found within 15 min.
In preparation, I had to find a timer. I searched the internet and my widgets only to remember that I already have a cool one that will bark after fifteen minutes. This ought to be fun because my dogs react to barking. In a mere twelve minutes, their furry heads will pop up and they'll look around for a nonexistent dog. However, I won't be able to write about their reaction because my writing time will be up. Sucks for you.

As for now, my kids have a movie on the TV that I could care less about. Which is probably good because if I paid attention they'd be embarrassed. I don't know what's embarrassing about watching movies with your parents. The movie is called "No Strings Attached." I think Ashton Kutcher and Natalie Portman had some kind of sex affair. Maybe it's good that I'm not paying attention if they are bedding it up. Don't worry--my kids are adults, so I'm not a totally awful parent. Kevin Klein is also in this movie. He went to my high school... for about a year, but I never knew him because he's old.

Back on topic: The problem with free write, is that the trash that comes out on the keyboard won't be anything that folks will want to read. And if by some chance you care to read my worthless ramble, I probably won't want to read yours. No offense, but I like posts that are short and focused. With that in mind, I'll spend my last seven minutes revising this post so that it's not totally boring because I have a reputation to keep up. If I publish junk, no one will care to CATCH MY WORDS.

P.S. Ruby's head popped up as she looked for the dog. It was amusing.

Sunday, December 18, 2011

#GBE2: Curiosity/Wonder and After Life

As a little girl, I kept seeing these huge wads of toilet paper in the bathroom trashcan each month and couldn't figure out what they were. So one day, I reached into the garbage and opened one to see for myself. Scared the snot out of me!

Maybe curiosity is not such a good thing, after all it killed the cat. Plus there is the old "ignorance is bliss" phrase too. None the less, I've always been intrigued by death. I wonder what happens when we die? Where do we go? or...Will we come back in a reincarnated form? The only true way to find out is to die, and I'm not that curious. I am, however, sure we're never totally gone because the body is made of energy and energy can never be destroyed. It only changes form; scientifically a part of us will always remain on Earth.

None the less, I believe in reincarnation and karma. For example, as a teacher, I must have done something horrendous in my past life. I have a theory that my current and past students belonged to villages that I sacked and burned, and they continuously get their karmic pay back on me every year. That's the history of everyone in the teaching profession because why else would we suffer such abuse?

But the barbarian's life must have been an old, old existence because back in college, a hypnotist captivated us kids in a journey to our past lives to observe what we had experienced. I was an African American slave and knowing myself, it makes sense. Although I'm white, I've always gotten along well with black people and feel a natural chemistry with African Americans who I've worked with or have had the pleasure of being around. Also, I instinctively have a terrible fear of authority figures and hate wearing turtle necks or anything tight around my neck or wrists. I've even experienced anxiety and had to look away upon seeing someone with something bound tightly around their neck. Yep! I was probably bound, shackled, and eventually hung. In my mind, hanging would be the worst way to die.

What? You don't believe this? Fine. I'll prove it to you in the next life. And by the way, a friend of ours visited a hypnotist who told her she was Queen Isabella in a past life. As a result, she has apologized for the way she had treated Jews.

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

GBE2: The Truth

When I first met my third graders last week, the four of us played a game to get to know each other. One person states two true facts and a lie. Then everyone has to guess which statement is NOT true.

One darling little boy knew the adorable young girl all too well. After she said she had a cat, he said, "Yep. She does!"

I told him not to answer these out loud or he'd ruin the game for everyone else; so when she said she was a good artist, he smiled from ear to ear and shook his head, "Yes."

Kids can be so truthful, but their truthfulness worked in my favor when someone passed me in the hall and wished me a happy birthday. "How old are you?" The kids asked.

I told them I couldn't say it because it's one of those zero ages, and it's an "F" word.

One little girl said, "I know! You're forty." Got to love her.

Here are my:
 
Two Truths and a Lie

(1) I was born in Memphis.
(2) I have a rare blood type.
(3) I've written five novels.
  
Can you guess the lie?

Monday, November 28, 2011

#GBE2: Bucket List

GBE2's topic for the week is "Bucket List," which means things you want to do before you "kick the bucket." My desires are short but mine.

(1) I want to publish a novel. Although my third manuscript is strong, it's been rejected by a few–okay a lot–of agents, but that's their mistake. I mean, who wouldn't want to be engrossed in a story about a teenager running from mob dudes?

My fifth book is also strong, but I have yet to quit polishing it and send it out. It's difficult for an author to drop her hands from the keyboard and say, "This is as good as it's gonna get." Plus, after meeting Linda Sue Park, I'm determined to make every detail and object in the novel count–including the blue bucket. I'm just not there yet; but when I am, hopefully the world will enjoy meeting Knob.


(2) I want to travel to New Zealand and visit Rhonder. I've never been to NZ, Australia, Fiji Islands, or anywhere else in that corner of the world. Unfortunately, we are college poor as we work to educate our young. But one day, I will sell my award winning novel and hop on a plane across the world. Please God, let it not be a Delta flight!

As far as bucket lists go, is there such a thing as an anti-bucket list, aka - things I DON'T want to do? We can call this the mop list since mops take care of what falls out of the bucket... and it's usually a mess to clean up.

I don't want to sky dive. Rhonder did, and it almost killed her.

I don't roller coaster or thrill ride. I even wet my pants on the little log flume at Six Flags.

I have no desire to visit the moon, the bottom of the ocean, or war torn countries.

Call me no fun, but I'm a gal who likes her feet on the ground. Now socially, I have no filter and have been prone to say what comes out of my mouth! If that doesn't make sense, you don't know me. ;-)

Sunday, November 20, 2011

#GBE2: Laughter

The theme of this week's GBE2 post is laughter. The first thing that came to mind was that delightful song from Mary Poppins. When the movie hit theaters in 1964, my mom wouldn't let me see it because, "I couldn't sit through a movie." Having never been to a movie, I pictured tall seats that one had to balance on or you'd fall off. Why else could I not "sit" through it? Eventually I saw reruns of Mary Poppins on cable, and this scene is awesome.




Laughing from a movie is great, but the best kind of laughter is the home-spun-something-funny-just-happened type. As a teacher, nothing beats making a class laugh. It satisfies my unfilled dream of being a stand up comic. I also hope to make kids laugh with my writing. According to Bruce Coville, that's easy. You just need to include the magic words: fart, pooh, underwear, toilet, and what was the other? Excuse me, I'm having a Rick Perry moment.

At my ten-year high school reunion, we all folded up when reminiscing  about sixth grade. When anyone was feeling playful, they'd whisper "underwear" and everyone within earshot would crack up. underwear. Underwear. Underwear! UNDERWEAR! Are you laughing yet? If not, congratulations. You've made it out of the sixth grade mentality.

As for farts, my son said it best in eighth grade, "When we were in sixth grade and someone farted, it wasn't funny; but now, it's hysterical!" Here's the proof. Boys become less mature with age. Although in reality, an occasional fart in an odd setting can still make adults cackle.

Sometimes laughter isn't good medicine. I'll never forget my husband making me giggle after surgery. He didn't realize how much his jokes hurt until I cried from laughing. Then there's the old, "Don't make me laugh or I'll wet my pants." Who has never leaked from more than just the eyes when something was funny?

She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named recently told us a story about not being able to hold her pee when laughing. (Pee-that's Coville's other magic word!) She was at a neighbor's house playing a game called, "Naked City." All the little girls took off their clothes and sat around laughing. Unfortunately, laughter led to wetting the neighbor's carpet. She never told her friends or the neighbor's Mom what happened. All I can say to that is POOR Cocoa! I'm sure that black lab got a bawling out for that one.

I leave you with another great movie. This scene from Singing in the Rain makes me laugh every time I watch it.


Monday, November 14, 2011

GBE 2: Surprise


Funny that this week's topic should be about surprises because my husband is planning my surprise birthday party right now. We've been invited to Vic's Dirty Santa party on December second (close to my big 50). Although my husband claims this is Vic's annual party, we've never been invited to it.

He said, "Oh, sure. He's invited us before. I just never wanted to go." 

Yeah, right.

Mitchell threw me a surprise birthday party when I turned 30 and 40, so I figure it's time again. Of course, I'm a stink pot when it comes to these things, so he might not want to plan one for 60 (or this year). Ten years ago at the last minute, I told him I was sick of the restaurant we were headed to and wanted to go somewhere else. My bad. I don't deserve him.

I of course, threw surprises for him on his 30th, 40th, and 50th too. The most recent was quite fun. My mother-in-law bought airline tickets to bring our two older kids to town. Without telling my husband, I took the afternoon off and picked up the kids. Later––when I'd normally be home, I called him at work and told him he had to come home because the upstairs toilet was over flowing and I didn't know what to do. When he said he was in the middle of something, I faked anger in my frantic state and told him he HAD to get home now.

Mitchell rushed to the rescue and proceeded to inspect the perfect toilet. "I don't see anything wrong with it," he grumbled.

"Me neither," our son said from behind him. The look on Mitchell's face was priceless, but the picture didn't come out well. :(

I'll let you know how my surprise birthday party goes--or maybe I'll be surprised when it doesn't happen. NAH! By the odd chance that it's not on the second, I'll just figure it's going to be late since the kids can't make it to town until after Christmas.

Here's a funny YouTube clip about a surprise birthday party.



Thursday, October 27, 2011

Writer's Post: Ghosts of Halloweens Past

Once upon a Halloween, I was a kid who didn't need parents to escort me from door to door, nor did I wear expensive store-bought costumes. After someone brought me a poncho from Mexico, I was a Mexican Hat Dancer for three years. Of course being a hat dancer meant planning a routine because someone would always ask me for a trick. 

Get it? "Trick or Treat." In the St. Louis of the 1960s that expression meant exactly what it said. Kids rang the doorbell, said "Trick or Treat," and gave the homeowner a choice: Give candy immediately or ask for a trick. As a Mexican Hat Dancer, I did a dance. In other years, I wandered the neighborhood with a joke to tell. 

When I mention this tradition around Memphis, people look at me cross-eyed. That's not the only Halloween culture clash from moving 300 miles south. The first time my husband left to take our son trick-or-treating, he came home and asked, "Did you give out a candy?"
My kids: Halloween 1995


I said, "Sure. I gave out lots of candy. One to this kid, another to that."

He said, "But did you give out a candy?"

I hadn't a clue that he was trying to find out whether or not we had candy left. Go figure. We've yet to give out a candy, except for the year that the neighbors threw a huge party with gazillion kids, but didn't tell anyone they were coming.

Another Halloween memory of mine was Mrs. Zimmerman's Donuts. Every year, David's mom made homemade donuts that she'd give to all the children. I never ate one. 

Kids can be quite literal, and that I was when Mom always said, "Never eat anything unwrapped." So year after year I'd skip those sweet smelling snacks that all the kids would go out of their way for. If I could go back in time, I'd eat one of her donuts on Halloween; but, it's not all bad. The memory of skipping donuts inspired my latest novel. I wonder if this manuscript would even exist if I'd eaten a donut. I also wonder if her son, who grew up to be a chef, bakes these donuts on Halloween. If he does, I just might have to go to St. Louis and ring his bell.



Wednesday, October 5, 2011

#GBE2: Balance

I don't have great balance. In fact, if a cop pulled me over, I might get arrested if they asked me to walk a straight line, even if sober. It's just that balance has never been one of those natural tasks for me.

When I was a Girl Scout, our troop performed a dance in which we jumped through sticks. Being uncoordinated, the leader stuck a grass skirt around my waist and had me wave my arms like a hoola girl. Everyone was jealous that I got that job. Let's hear it for clumsiness!

Way back when, I took taek won do and actually developed some balance. Then I got pregnant, and it was gone. I've never found it again.

Oh. You mean we're supposed to write about having a balanced life? Balancing everything we have to do? Heck! I can't even balance my check book. And as for the serious side of balance, my life is so out of balance, it would make my dancing look good!

Sunday, September 25, 2011

#GBE2: The Beautiful Legs Contest

Is this a good one?
As a mere elementary student, I was chosen from the audience at a high school carnival to decide which guy had the most beautiful legs. A paper screen covered their faces and torsos while I walked across the stage looking for a great pair of legs. To be honest, I didn't have a clue. What are good legs supposed to look like to someone with an age still in the single digits? Finally, I pressed my finger against some guy's knee and he reveled in his victory.

Today, I'm still not sure what makes a great pair of guy legs. I'm more of a face girl, maybe one who takes notice of a cute butt, but legs never did anything for me. So at a young age I learned that the secret to judging is to set a criteria. I still don't have one, so I'm asking for your help in case anyone else ever asks me to judge beautiful legs.

What makes male legs beautiful?

I'm leaving you with a funny leg clip because nothing is beautiful about a possessed leg!


I don't know why I still ask people to push the Picket Fence button, but go ahead if you want to.