all the things!

For this week's prompts from Mama Kat, I had trouble deciding on which one.  So screw it, do 'em all!

1. Share a favorite recipe you’ve been loving lately.

At work, during our morning breaks, the cooks will make us "anything we want" (within reason).  I ordered up this breakfast sammich early on, and now it's my fave.  The kitchen calls it the "Abby Special"

It's really not much of a "recipe".  It's just eggs (scrambled or over easy, surprise me) with melted cheddar, spinach, and tomato on a toasted English muffin.  

Simple.  Satisfying.

2. Write about what helps you stay motivated during these unprecedented times?

I do miss going to PEO meetings and events and have trouble staying motivated to attend the zoom meetings.  I recognize that's something I should work on rather than just waiting until we can meet in-person again.  

I'm glad I signed up for those monthly Tortoise and Hare races.  They are a nice respite from fact that there are no big races and provide some fun competition and motivation to stay race ready.  Really, I did not necessarily want to run in the crap conditions last Sunday, but was glad I did it in the end because I want those 5 points, dammit!

I also stay motivated by doing fun DIY projects around the house that I otherwise wouldn't make time for *anyone detect the dripping sarcasm there?*

3. Write a blog post about something that made you smile this week.

4. Write a blog post inspired by the word: enough

I've been thinking about how I have more than enough clothes these days.  I don't get out much except to go to work at the care facility, and our work clothes are issued to us.  Tuting is all online, and everything is super casual with that these days.  

Half my closet is clothes I haven't worn in nearly a year.  Anyone else? What are YOU wearing?

5. Write about the last argument you witnessed (could be a silly one)…did you take a side?

This isn't that recent, but once when we were on a family road trip, we stopped at a McDonald's for lunch.  There were two young female employees working the counter, and it was apparent that they didn't like each other.  We observed a short exchange as they put our order together:

McD worker #1: Stop touching my boob.

McD worker #2: Stop putting your boob where my hand is.

No violence ensued, but you could cut the air with a knife.  It stands as my favorite witnessed argument.  I did not pick a side because either one of those girls coulda kicked my ass.

6. Share a memory about something you did as a child that made a family member angry.

I was always an adorable child who never caused any anger.  I'm sticking with that story.

do you want to see?

I'm a blogger of few words today.  This appeared on my FB feed this morning and left me a bit unable to speak...

Know that it's all consensual.

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Linking up today with Mama Kat for the prompt:
2. Share something that entertained you this week, can be an article you read, video you watched, someone’s FB share…whatever!

plastered

It's a cutthroat, violent, aggressive sport.  It's a wonder it's not been banned.  Why were young formative children allowed to - EXPECTED to - participate?!

I knew nothing of its tragic effects until I got that phone call, THAT call.  It was a crisp February morning:

"Hello?"

"Hi Mrs. Abby.  It's the elementary school.  Your son Chaco was hurt in P.E. this morning.  He's in with the school nurse..."

I raced to the school (after I finished my coffee and combed my hair a little bit and stuff...)

Sure enough, there was Chaco, holding his right arm, the nurse at his side saying, "Yeah, he should probably get that checked".

As we were leaving, the P.E. teacher, Mr. Steve, appeared, all anxious.

"How's he doing?!  I don't know what happened!  This has never happened before!  *No one's ever broken a bone in my class!"

I glared at him with a mother's scorn.  By then, I'd heard what had happened.  Those sweet little 5th graders were hauled down to the gym from the comfort of their warm, loving classroom and thrown upon a brutal battlefield.  No tolerance for the meek, and no security for the aggressive.





Pillow Polo.  It was freaking pillow polo.

Bloody carnage waiting to happen.  Look away.









Is it any wonder Chaco broke his wrist?!  Especially considering that just a couple of days prior, he "fell up" the back yard stairs and noted lasting tenderness in his wrist, which probably warranted my writing a note to excuse him from P.E.??

But then if I'd done that, Chaco wouldn't have gotten that cool cast, and Mr. Steve couldn't have anxiously and temporarily taken credit for it.


*I've since learned that that was not true, but Mr. Steve didn't know me that well yet then, and was probably worried I would sue and drag him though the mud*

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Linking up with Mama Kat again this week for the prompt:

5. Throwback Thursday: Choose a photo from a previous February and write a poem or a blog post.

Monday Morning Murder

The thing I found most unexpected was how quiet they were about it.  They made no sound, even as their victim kicked and screamed and protested.  They were perfectly silent.

I witnessed some domestic violence yesterday.  I know these things happen, but I'd never watched it unfold in real time like that.  It was different than on TV and in the movies.

The neighbors to our left are a large and friendly family.  So many live there that sometimes I lose track of them all.

Yesterday started like any other.  I was getting dressed when I heard some squabbling going on in the neighbor's back yard.  From my bedroom window, I can see partially into their yard, and as I glanced over, I saw that, indeed, one of the girls was arguing with a couple of the boys.

Now, this particular girl and her sister have never gotten along with those two boys.  But, they're all in the same family, and have just kept out of each other's way to keep the peace I suppose.  So I don't know what happened.  Someone overstepped the boundaries, clearly.

Next thing I knew, they were on her.  She never stood a chance.

Thoughts of,  "Yikes, should I call?  Ring the doorbell?  Alert the parents or someone?", but even as I thought those things, I knew it was too late for her.  Those boys, like I said, were so quiet.  Methodical as they worked as a team and did the deed .  My only hope was that it would be over quickly, for her sake.

And for my sake too, as I listened to her screams.

Later, I investigated to see if Meego knew about what happened.   He rides the school bus with one of the girls.

"So... I think the dogs killed one of the chickens next door...?", I prompted.

"Yeah, one of them got out of the coop or the dogs got in somehow", he confirmed.

It's actually not the first time there's been a murder over there.

But now I must deal inwardly with what I witnessed.

Chicken screams, I keep hearing them!
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Lush

"Just wait until you've been there a while, then see what you need", was the motherly advice I gave Wolfgang when he first moved into his dorm.

One of the conveniences of having him and Chaco attending college so (very) close by is that it's easy to stock "necessities" that may have gone forgotten.  So it was no surprise when I got a text from Wolfgang:

"Can we go shopping today?  I need some stuff for my dorm and clothes"

I thought of texting back a snarky reply like, "What stuff do you need for your clothes?", but decided not to bring the grammar police into this.

Instead, I picked him up, we shopped.  And shopped.

Hours later, I dropped him off and caught up with Chaco who had a pair of my gloves I wanted back.  He came back to the house with me for "some stuff".

So where did the day go?  Oh well, it was pretty expected.  But as a result, my Illustration Friday play, where the prompt is "lush", was a rush.

I think I made up for it with this serious and complex composition...

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I wore a hideous bonnet

We were cast as lovers in the school's production.  Young lovers.  Planning a future together.

He looked so dashing.  His clean hair just so beneath the bowler hat.  His mustache neatly groomed.  He wore a garter on one of his ample biceps, over his crisp button-down shirt.

Frank.

As the also-rans sang "A Bicycle Built for Two", Frank pedaled onto the stage, me situated behind him.  Our number was a roaring success, the audience completely ate it up.  We were just so believable.

Of course we were.  We were so believable because, off-stage, we were actual lovers.  Well, as much as a couple of first graders could be anyways.

Frank was my first crush.  We even got married later that year during a lovely afternoon recess affair.  Another friend served as Chaplain and also provided the punch - saved from lunchtime for the occasion.   Alas, it turned out our friend wasn't an actual ordained minister, so my marriage to Frank was never official.  It was annulled by the afternoon bell.

But we'll always have that magical bicycle ride - which was actually on a tricycle that I had to stand on the back of - around the stage.

The story of Frank and me isn't very unique.  Many of our first budding "romances" happened shortly after we went out into the big world of elementary school.  Several crushes later, I made it to the halls of higher education where I met Magnum.  The rest is history, and our 23rd anniversary is this week.

I have not, however, remained immune to the assorted celebrity crush.  As someone has said - who was it that said it? - we can't choose whom we fall in love with.

I mention this now for another of Mama Kat's prompts:  5.) First crush.     And since I felt my own first crush was pretty run-of-the-mill, I'm taking the next step.

Magnum is aware of each of my post-marital crushes.  I confess to them on the blog now, knowing that readers will refrain from going all tabloid on me.


In the early '90s, I fell for Marky Mark.  The rapper with the rap sheet to go along, and those baggy jeans.  Of course, it wouldn't work out between us.  I was married to a good responsible man who left his shirt on when outside the house.

When it ended, Marky Mark transformed to the responsible, clothing wearing, no more Boston accent, Mark Wahlberg.

Oh well, we'll always have our underwear pictures.

This may come as a surprise to many, but I later developed a crush on Johnny Depp.  Yeah, I know.  Strange.

We managed to keep things platonic, however.  I do occasionally accompany him to awards shows because he has a hard time finding any other women that want to go with him.







I may have mentioned here before, my cougar crush on Shia Labeouf.  He's obviously too young for me.  Is he even out of his 20's yet??

That's okay.  I still let him buy me coffee sometimes.  Very grownup.






So there they are, my crush confessions.

For those who may be wondering, Frank and I are still friends, in touch through the magic of facebook, where we might wish each other happy birthday or something.

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wanted

Amelia Earhart.  Is the mystery almost solved?  Based mainly on a found jar of freckle cream, it's suspected that she spent her last days as a castaway on a deserted island. 

This reminds me of a writing prompt a student of mine had not long ago.  He was to write a short essay on this:

"If you were going to be stranded on a deserted island and could take only 2 people with you, which of these would you choose:

• construction worker
• minister/priest/rabbi
• doctor
• musician
• soldier
• police officer
• firefighter

He chose a soldier and a doctor, which I thought were good choices based on that list alone.  I also thought the list was kinda slim pickings! 

Nothing against any of these professions, but really, how useful are they in a survival situation like being stranded on a deserted island?  At least the soldier would have some survival training, the doctor could diagnose stuff...

But let's see, if we could come up with a want ad.  Who would apply?

Dynamic Executive Assistant needed to organize, manage and oversee  procedures for stranded adventurers.

Eligible candidates must know how kill wild animals and prepare them for human consumption, be able to identify, with 100 percent accuracy, edible plant life, and be familiar with antidotes to counteract the ingestion of non-edible plant life.  Fire building and maintenance is required along with the generation of non-intestinal parasitic water and the construction of shelter against typhoons and stuff. 

Knowledge of Excel, Microsoft Word, Power Point, and Photoshop is pretty worthless for this position.  Experience in dealing with wimpy people in the throes of freaking out is desired as is the ability to work long unpredictable hours on little or no sleep or caffeine. 

Salary is comensurate with how many edibles you can kill. 

If you know of anyone, have them give me a ring.

I did

Several years ago, a neighbor friend and I used to walk our dogs together. One day she told me that her 30th wedding anniversary was coming up. "Wow, thirty years", I commended her, "What's your secret?"

She pondered a moment and then, "Welp, every time I wanted a divorce, he didn't.  Every time he wanted a divorce, I didn't". 

Well... OKAY THEN!

Recently, I read an article by a woman advocating for term limits on marriage.  I should link it, but I don't remember where it was...   She cited the high divorce rate, and the fact that our courtrooms are already overcrowded.  Plus, divorce is expensive.  Why not just have term limits?

Her thought was, when the term is up, both can either walk away clean, or decide to "renew".  Much like we renew our driver's licenses, why not the same for the marriage license?  I don't recall what happens with property and children.   I thought it pretty outside-the-box. 

She posed an interesting question, though.  She pondered how many couples have stayed married because daily, they choose to stay married vs. couples who stay married just because they GOT married. 

Magnum signing his life away

In some ways, it seems like forever ago when Magnum and I got married.  And it's safe to say that we are in the "choose daily" bucket.  Today, I ran across another similar blog post asking if marriage was becoming obsolete.   I admit that I've wondered this one myself, partly because I've got a bit of a rebellious non-conformist streak.  I wonder, why do I need a government issued license for love?  Well, technically I don't.  I just need one for marriage.

We're in the midst of our 22nd year.  If someone asked me my secret to staying married, what would be my answer? 

(a) I love him

(b) He fixes stuff around the house for free

(c) He's warm and winters are cold

(d) Divorce was invented by lawyers, and I refuse to let them win!

(e) All of the above

What do you think?  Term limits?  Is it all obsolete?

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missives

What I actually wrote:

Dear Coach (of x-country),

Wolfgang didn't have transportation to Black Forest on Saturday 9/18. He ran 5 miles on his own.

Abby Normal


What my mind wrote:

Dear Coach (of x-country),

Neither my husband nor I was the least bit willing to drive Wolfgang 35 miles in order for him to run a 5-mile shake out run with the team on Saturday 9/18. He ran a perfectly good shake out run by simply going out the back door and returning 5 miles later.

Although there was breakfast at someone's house later, we suspect this is just a ploy by you to get lots of free food during x-country season, cleverly disguised as "team building". In my high school days, team building consisted of diligently straining and striving and struggling and sweating and toiling and exerting with my teammates. It was running up hills while carrying a large rock in each hand. It was running down dirt trails while right on the cusp between control and complete lack of control. It was crashing and falling in the cinders. It was blisters. It was scabs. It was occassionally holding each other's hair... just in case. It was the natural bonding that occurs between teammates who win together or lose together or suffer together and scar their knees together. All of that to be followed by water from the spicket, nothing more.

Not breakfast at someone's air-conditioned home and photos snapped by cell phones that get uploaded on facebook pages after.

XOxoXoxO,
Abby Normal


Okay, maybe my mind got a BIT carried away... but the first paragraph stays.
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writing good

The fourth leg is there. I can see part of it. I don't, however, know if it is a girl coyote or a boy coyote. That would take more work.
Speaking of work, I'm about to grade some essays. Before starting my evaluations, I like to warm my brain up with a few basic rules. Join me?
1. Always avoid aliteration

2. Prepositions are not words to end sentences with.

3. Avoid cliches like the plague.

4. Eschew ampersands & abbreviations, etc.

5. Parenthetical remarks (however relevant) are unnecessary.

6. It is wrong to ever split an infinitive.

7. Foreign words and phrases are not apropros.

8. One should never generalize.

9. Eliminate quotations. As Ralph Waldo Emerson once said, "I hate quotations. Tell me what you know."

10. Comparisons are as bad as cliches.

11. Don't be redundant, don't use more words than necessary, it's highly superfluous.

12. Profanity sucks.

13. Be more or less specific.

14. Understatement is always best.

15. Exaggeration is a billion times worse than understatement.

16. One-word sentences? Eliminate!

17. Analogies in writing are like feathers on a snake.

18. The passive voice is to be avoided.

19. Employ the vernacular

20. Who needs rhetorical questions?

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fear of commitment

What should I do?!?

(A) Admit that I didn't let it happen intentionally
(B) Give in to the temptation and cheat
(C) Genuinely try to work it out and get past this
(D) Counseling
(E) Write-in vote

Okay, here's the background **DEEP BREATH**

Meego's school is having a book fair next week. The librarian sent home volunteer request forms. It states: "Please circle ANY (emphasis mine) time that you could help..."

I circled 4 different time slots, meaning that I could work one, but not all, of them. I figured she'd let me know when she wanted to me be there. The sheet came back home with Meego today. All it says is:

"Thanks so much, Abby! The time might change for Tuesday - will let you know on Monday. - The Librarian".

Oh no! She thinks I was volunteering for ALL four time slots! I (don't want to) can't do that! I want to come out and tell her I just can't continue, but I have such feelings of guilt! Was I leading her on? Am I being a selfish b*tch for only thinking of MY needs? Maybe I should just stick it out. Make it work somehow.

For the sake of the children.

Sorry to bring up such personal topics... but... the sanctity of The Book Fair depends on it!
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