quick story

Cartoon boy

Joey likes a good squeezing hug. He'll launch himself at you, giving fair warning after his feet have left the ground, that he's coming in for a "HUGANDAKISS!!" So freaking sweet I can barely stand it. The boy can dish it out, but he can't take it, however. As I gathered him into my Mom-clamp yesterday, he squeeked--"Mo-om! You're squishing me and my head is blowing up like a big ballon!"

Nuh uh, I swear.

My eyeballs ache

It's been six weeks. *Six weeks* since Biology Teacher called me to tell me that Sam did not hand in her big biology project. It was due in *No. Vem. Ber.*

Since then, I have:
Directed my daughter to immediately research and write the paper.
Showed her how to research and outline a paper.
Ordered her to researcher and write the paper.
Researched the paper.
Taken away all priveleges until the paper is written.
Repeatedly.
Allowed her the personal space in which to DO THE PAPER.
Caught her talking with her Internet friends instead of doing her paper.
Repeatedly.
Firmly reinforced what my expectations are regarding completing the paper.
Yelled at her to do the damn paper.
Repeatedly.
Banished her to the third floor until the paper is finished.
Repeatedly.
Screeched at her to DO THE PAPER!!
Repeatedly.

I have withheld TV, computer, phone, freedom, food, and, yes, affection.
 
And now, I've spun over the edge, because in all this time, after all this bloodsweatandtears, she still only has two sentences. Two sentences.

Why-hy-hyyyy!!! won't she do the damn paper?
 

Tetherball and Clark's Teaberry gum

That was it, and it was more than enough. All I ever needed was to play tetherball in the school yard and chew Clark's Teaberry gum. OK, play tetherball, chew teaberry gum, and maybe play some center outfield in a couple of good games of kickball, but mostly it was the tetherball.

You had to have *skills* to play tetherball--a strong serve to get an edge; failing that, fast hands to foil the serve of your opponent. A quick-off-your-toes jump and precisely-timed hit were also key. Winning was good but it wasn't everything in tetherball--you had to have slapstick. Someone had to get knocked square in the head with that ball, either head-on or from a blast that swung around fast as a hiccup and got you in the back of the head. Now that could make you swallow your Teaberry gum.

After the game was the mad dash home to get there before dark. School was at the outermost limit of my territory, at the tippy-top of our neighborhood, which was situated on a good-sized hill, perhaps even classifiable as a mountain, that rose above the Delaware River valley. And I lived at the bottom. Getting home had to be accomplished at warp speed, to avoid getting in trouble, but also because something might get you. Running downhill all the way, my strides were loooong. Bounding along, toes just tickling at the ground every 2 yards or so, I flashed through yard after manicured, terraced yard; slapped across gravel side-streets; and threw myself down the next sideyard to the next gravel road. The last stretch was the hardest. Uphill? No. Dark forest. And this was the time of night when the bats woke up, in the dusky darkness. And everybody knew that bats dive-bombed like blind Kamikazees to grab the soft blond hair of children. And then they got tangled in there. Forever. Squeaking and scratching with their pointy bat claws and biting with their pointy bat teeth. But just in the nick of time, the forest spit me out on the other side and I made the last few yards with my heart beating like bat wings in my throat. Phew.

Food, shower, bed, and a good book. And that was it. :-) Where'd that go?

Gag

It's easy to make me laugh. Take the lowly whoopie cushion, for example. I've had at least 8 whoopie cushions in my life, and to this day, they never fail to get me laughing like a fool. I ordered my first off the back of a comic book when I was 8, along with some other superior items of comic ingenuity such as garlic-flavored gum and the old fly-in-the-ice-cube gag. I believe my mother ultimately retired that whoopie cushion with her sewing scissors after a few short hours of blappy torment.

And so the level of my humor was pegged at an impressive height early on.

I bought another whoopie cushion only a week or so ago. Did you know that advances in engineering have resulted in an improved whoopie cushion? It's true. It is now *self-inflating.* No more peeling those wet, spitty flaps apart with your fingers to blow the thing up. Nope, it automatically re-inflates. Genius. Now who (besides my tormented Mother) doesn't laugh when hearing the prolonged, trembling rip of a whoopie cushion?

No one. But let me tell you what's *not* funny. To be trapped in Evil Creep Skeevy One's car on the way to our meeting today when he talked over the high-pitched/low rumbling frrRRAP! that escaped his skinny shovel-assed buttocks, like "she won't notice if I keep talking." It was at that point in our trip today that I stopped breathing.

Gag.

Annual housekeeping

Another birthday looms, so it must be time for a list, the first annual Things I've Noticed Over the Past Year list:

1. It has become next to impossible to think of something good for dinner

2. I’ve developed a fear of Rollerblading

3. I’m worrying less about the sulphuric eruptions from evil creepy skeevy one

4. I’ve got folding laundry down to perfection

5. Mostly, I prefer a nice fire in the fireplace to people

6. With most things in life, yelling louder doesn’t help

7. It's easier to fall asleep in front of the TV

8. It's harder to stay asleep in bed

9. I can’t force people to do homework assignments

10. The use of a nice new pen does not make ideas for a book flow more freely

11. Some people are going to say things just because they want to cause upset

12. My face fits my skull a bit looser

13. My clothes do not fit my body a bit looser

14. My daughters are deeply embarrassed by me

15. My son still adores me

16. I am as yet unable to reflect on past marriage and ex-husband without getting mad

17. I don’t miss not having a cat/dog or 2 around the house

18. Everybody is not smarter than me

19. I’m still waiting to be discovered . . . helloooo!? *hello lo lo looo*

20. There’s an echo in here

Petricide

I’m engaged in a fierce battle. Public Enemy #1: the new neighbor’s dog.

It’s a black-eyed multi-colored guerilla that barrages me with rapid-fire barks and attacks my ankles with the energy and wiles of an Iraqi insurgent. Every night, I quickly maneuver toward the back door, dodging this way, feinting that way as I outgeneral his efforts to topple me while I carry in the groceries. So now the evil genius has launched a new campaign. In the early morning hours, he silently slithers under the fence on his stomach commando-style and calculates the optimum placement for the day’s first poop-landmine. His poop-field strategically blankets the area on the lawn between my car and the back door. It’s an intricate maze that would challenge the best and the brightest Navy Seal, maybe even Tom Cruise as that Mission Impossible guy, but probably not Lara Croft.

I smell like poop again.

Doggie—5. Em—0.

Stupid tricky job

There have been a few editorial misfires on em's watch over here at Big Med Pub Co. The short list:

1. Ran a Table of Contents in the April issue that in no way reflected the actual content of the magazine.

2. Ran an article in Aug on osteoporosis. Then ran it again in Dec.

3. Kindly printed the answers to the continuing medical education test at the end of the article.

4. Deleted a 25-page paper.

Missing some pronouns? Hmm, wonder how that happened.... Okay, okay, I! I! I! I! Phew, I feel better now.

Stop, rewind

I had to stop jogging and stare--a teenaged boy of indeterminate race came up behind me on his bike (one of those small BMX-type contraptions) and passed me as I chugged along up the sidewalk. Easy to do, you're thinking and you are correct. But the thing was, he was seated on the bike's handlebars facing the rear wheel, pedaling, smoking a cig, drinking a soda, and singing out loud to the song piped in through his earphones. Then he executed a flawless right turn (left by his reckoning) and he was gone.

This boy clearly has the world by its tail.    

I want a bike like that. Maybe if I pedal it hard enough, I can reverse things. Rewind to a clean starting point back there in my past. And then try again, like a do-over. But then again, every time I wanted to go right, I’d go left, and that wouldn’t do. I'd end up a Republican or something.

Mechanical denial

What does it mean when the front end of your car goes KA-BLUMK! when you drive over a small hump and a piece the size and shape of a doorknob falls out from within? Well if you're me, you don't know, so you toss the dirty hunk of rubber and metal onto the floor of the car and try to drive to work anyway.

Not so wise.

I hope the tow truck gets here soon.

Representative em

I'm practicing my self-restraint this morning. Yes, I drive like a terrorist, self-medicate prn, and mouth off loudly to whatever thick-necked boulder-fisted thug gets on my nerves, but that's not what's worrying. I'm working from home today (which means I can visit my blogs--yay!) in preparation for a meeting with Big-Time Med Ed Exec at Major Pharmaceuticals Corporation, Inc, and I'm worried that my OCD/Tourette's syndrome might kick in in the middle of my meeting, and I'll suddenly bark out something horribly, horribly inappropriate.

"Thank you for coming all this way editor em. Now please tell me about the med ed capabilities of your group."

*Giggles hysterically, face contorting with the effort to stop*
*Mutters curses*
"Well, we... FUCK! Pardon me. We perform a STRIDENT!! no, stringent editorial TANGO!! I, uh, mean process that rigorously follows all pertinent OIG, ACPE, and ACCME continuing education guidelines. Which is to say, we work hard. Work with you hard. No, wait, we hardly work hard with you! EEE-RECK-SHUN!! oh dear god."
*Coughs, yelps*
"We ensure BIAS!! I mean balance. And scientific rigor and independence. But you can tell us what to change..er, what I mean is, conduct a scientific review of the data...."
*Yawns, burps, faints*