Awful or awfully funny? You decide. Let me know in the comments.
We had guests over Sunday afternoon. One graciously explained to us about different phone plans. And providers. And phones themselves. And frequencies. And something about company buyouts. Plus a lot of numbers were being bandied about.
In other words, I was completely lost by about the third sentence. Maybe second.
Meanwhile, my children sat in the room with us listening patiently. Or so I thought.
When the dear fellow was finished downloading us with all this information, my youngest daughter said, “Finally. I wondered if he was breathing between words.”
I’m not sure if any of the adults in the room have laughed that hard in a long time.
Queen of spades courtesy of pixabay.
Except perhaps when we were playing the card game Tripoli and another daughter, not well-versed in the various suit names, laid down “the queen of hoes.”
After drying our eyes on our sleeves, we informed her that it is actually called the queen of spades.
Of course we try to teach our children manners.
Little Joe asked me for a bagel.
“Did you say, please?” I asked him pointedly. Read the rest of this entry
Last week I wrote about my failed attempt to get serious writing done at home. The following week, I decided to venture back to the library.
Instead of sitting in the back corner in the section marked “Silent Zone,” I found a more central area, not directly under the AC, that was, at least initially, quiet.
Then someone I couldn’t see carried on a phone conversation at full volume. Minutes later, a librarian, of all people, explained to a patron the organizational system of the book stacks at even greater volume. And finally, an older gentleman asked if the seat next to me was taken. When I said no, he responded, “Now it is,” and plunked down with a waft of week-old body odor, dropped his pile of newspapers next to him, then crinkled through them one by one, all the while taking rattling breaths that twice made me check to be sure he hadn’t actually fallen asleep and was snoring. Read the rest of this entry
I’ve previously written about my difficulty finding a quiet place away from the house to work without fear of freezing or minor theft. But since that didn’t happen at the library, I decided to just stay home.
I got cozy and warm under a blanket on my bed with my laptop snuggled on my lap. The house was quiet. Joe was napping. The girls were reading. I was being productive.
Then Joe woke up. Read the rest of this entry
When I step outside to throw something in the recycling bin, I might be gone for ten minutes. My family doesn’t wonder after me anymore, because, cats.
The neighbors’ four cats want us to adopt them. Or, rather, three of them do. Callie, the oldest and wisest, with whom I’ve had stunning conversations, knows better. She thinks we’re a little unstable. Or knows that I am.
The one we’ve named Caramel now sleeps in our yard. Whenever a door or window opens, she starts meowing. I once found her asleep on a carpet square in our garage.
My youngest daughter was the first to befriend Caramel, so now, when we hear her meowing, one of us will say to her, “Your friend is calling for you.” Now my daughter sighs. Befriending a cat can be exhausting. I suggested she take her book outside so she can read and pet at the same time.
I suspect Caramel was initially so skittish because she lives with three young boys, who perhaps are a little rough with her. Clearly, she doesn’t feel that way with Joe.
Read the rest of this entry
This may come as a shock to readers, but my two-year-old is not fond of napping. When I announced naptime, he hid behind the Curtain of Invisibility.
To prove their love and devotion, my kids will often let me sleep with stuffed animals carefully chosen from among their vast stores.
It’s a little like paying tribute but without the volcano. One daughter will even hold out the proffered gift, head bowed, and back away, still bent at the waist, arms out. She’s a silly one. I don’t know where she gets it.
Lately the girls have been on a rabbit kick, so the space between Husband’s and my pillows has become filled with Thumper, Hopper, Flopper, and friends.
Five stuffed rabbits, one bear, and one Alf in an apron and chef’s hat.
Husband said, “Why do there seem to be more animals here instead of less?” Read the rest of this entry
“I forgot to tell you,” my husband says, “When I was in my office today, I saw something out of the corner of my eye. I looked over and there was a spider on my shoulder.”
My eyes widen in horror.
“It was just a little one.”
My eyes relax a smidge.
“My first thought was to brush it off, but then I remembered this is October. I’ll just walk around and introduce it to people as my pet.”
“But then I forgot.”
Me: “You forgot?”
“Yeah. I must’ve gotten distracted. I forgot all about it.”
“So what happened to the spider?!” Read the rest of this entry