If you have young children and need some help (as if anyone with little ones doesn’t!) bond with a nearby fifty-year-old woman without grandchildren. Baby Fever never stops, no matter what your age (for women, at least). When someone says, “I’d love to watch your little ones while you run errands, go out to dinner, take a nap and a shower . . . whatever – take them up on it!” Women of my age tend to be authentic. We don’t say it unless we truly mean it. I’m lucky enough to spend Friday evenings with my bestie Lisa and her two adorable grandsons. I look forward to it all week long. And I’m always up for some extra time with the boys if their mom needs me. The eldest can actually say “Angie” and the youngest has decided my chin is a teething toy. Clearly, they have me wrapped around their little fingers!
Meanwhile, my 17yo baby took me to see Finding Dory this week, and it was awesome. He and his dad need to go to the movies together on an evening Michael’s not too tired (hard to schedule since he’s still working at least six days a week in the heat with no AC). John’s latest “working at the cinema” story was a couple who brought a seven-day-old newborn to the movies. I didn’t even ask which movie, because it doesn’t matter! They are all too loud for an infant. One plank in my large Presidential platform would be requiring a few simple tests before people become parents. One would be a multiple-multiple test about what large social functions in which a newborn should be included. (Hint: correct answer, no matter the choices, will probably be “none of the above”).
Teenagers are alternately the most fun and the most frustrating creatures on Earth. This week he’s been a blast. We both have the same dark sense of humor (he’d make a fabulous ER doc), so running out of dog food and having only one car mobile turned into serious entertainment. Michael had my car (the only one big enough to haul crates of Alaskan lobsters to Nashville) and had a flat. John’s brakes are totally shot, and John had Michael’s car at a friend’s house, where he’d stayed up until 3am watching classic horror movies. I started texting him at 4pm, reminding him that our chocolate lab insisted on her supper being served promptly at 5. About ten minutes later I texted that I had barricaded myself in the bedroom, but wasn’t sure the door would hold. The 4:20 text was, “HELP! ARRGH!”. He calmly called me from Kroger about the preferred brand, which I managed to strangle out before screaming, adding a deep “WOOF! WOOF!” and hanging up. He called again in the checkout line to see if we needed pancake syrup, to which I replied, “They hit an artery! Blood is hitting the ceiling! ARRGH! WOOF! WOOF!” When he came home I dragged myself, moaning, into the living room. He counted my limbs and saw there was no blood trail, and was unimpressed.
Of course yesterday John and I went frame-shopping at the Goodwill down the street, and even though I’d talked to him only five minutes earlier Michael was worried when he got home and John and I weren’t there. It’s all about knowing your audience, I guess.
Do you have a Click-It option at the Kroger/Publix/whatever is near you? If you do, use it! It’s the best thing since sliced bread. It only costs $5 per order, and it’s very easy to order your staples for a full month at one time, show up, and have them loaded into your car. Then you only have to make weekly trips for perishables, and it forces you to meal-plan. Awesome. But poor and disabled people can’t use it. Due to chronic severe neck and back pain I cannot even walk through Kroger anymore. So it’s yet another thing on Michael’s to-do list. But Kroger will not take the EBT card (food stamps) for a Click-It purchase, even if all items are eligible. I sat at the computer and cried, because I was so mad that I’d put that much time and effort into my list and meal-planning and downloading coupons to my card . . . and wasn’t going to be able to use it. And it’s perfect for handicapped people – all the brand names, sizes, and prices are right there on your computer screen – no crouching down or craning up to compare prices.
I’ve been writing every day. What I thought was just a short story has already hit 40,000 words and I have so much more to write! Maybe it would have been a good idea to memorize the keyboard and use the home keys in Junior High typing class after all. This one will be published under a nom de plume – Sowing Wild Oats by BeBe (pronounced Bay-Bay) Boudreaux (like the butt paste) if you’re interested. It should be out in time for Christmas gift-giving for those who like erotic suspense. No, that’s not my usual genre (hence the nom de plume), but you write what the muse serves up. And lately she’s been ladling out steamy and Southern. You don’t say, “No thank you, ma’am” to the muse. Not if you want to keep writing.
I wish everyone a wonderful Independence Day Weekend!! Eat watermelon and grilled burgers, lounge in the pool until your fingers and toes get all pruney, and insulate your dogs as well as possible from the fireworks. But above all don’t forget all the hard-working men and women in the military who are serving our country 365 days a year. And be thankful for the doctors, nurses, and other medical personnel who are on hand July 4th when you do something stupid. Last but not least, remember in your prayers the many proud Americans who don’t get paid holidays, can’t afford to grill out, and don’t have any access to a pool or a safe fireworks display. Buy some extra sparklers and watermelons and hand them out to the children and adults you encounter between now and Monday! You’ll be surprised how much more you enjoy the holiday!
For more Quick Takes, visit This Ain’t The Lyceum!