E.C. Stilson's Blog, page 78
March 24, 2013
If you've ever read my blog, please read this post.
I thought today would be ordinary, but it took a strange turn. Something happened that I'll never forget.
Cade and I sat waiting for the verdict on our van's safety and emissions inspection. I nearly bit my nails, worrying because our van is a clunker. The radio's fuses are messed up--so every time I turn off the van, I have to disconnect the battery. The heater on the driver's side no longer works; the left sliding door won't open and the carpet smells like crayons. I laughed in the waiting room, thinking how just because I'm an author, people assume we're loaded, livin' the American dream. Even though money can be tight and we've put all of our saving into Wayman Publishing, I love our clunker house and van--they make life interesting for us and our four kids.
A mechanic opened the door--breaking through my thoughts--and waved Cade and me toward the computer. "Your vehicle passed. It'll be seventy-seven dollars and twenty-nine cents."
I smiled wide. "That clunker passed!" I elbowed Cade. "I knew our baby would pass."
As the mechanic typed, looking confused by my statement, I asked him how his day was.
"Terrible," he replied. "People have been so mean today. The last guy who came in here was a real A-hole. I hate people like that."
"I'm sorry," I said. "I've been dealing with mean people all week, too. I wish they'd be more appreciative and understanding."
I gave him my credit card then, but right after paying, I looked out the bay window and realized our van hadn't even been checked yet. "Corvette" flashed on the screen in front of me.
"Ummm . . ." I cleared my throat. "I think we just paid for the wrong vehicle."
"You're the corvette, right?" he asked.
Cade and I stood a little straighter. He thought we looked like "corvette people"? That was flippin' awesome!
"Nope, I wish," Cade said. "So we paid the wrong bill?"
The guy nodded, obviously worried for our reaction. "I thought that was strange you called it a clunker."
Cade and I looked at each other. "Cade," I whispered, "do you think this happened for a reason?"
He nodded.
So I looked at the mechanic and said, "We'd like to pay for the corvette owners' bill." Cade and I knew we'd just have enough in checking to cover the corvette bill and ours.
The mechanic turned, stunned. Another mechanic came up and said, "No, you don't want to pay that. The guy who owns the corvette is a creep. He's the biggest jerk who's been in here today, so is his wife--and that's saying something."
I second-guessed myself. But Cade didn't. "We'll still pay it," Cade said.
I thought for minute and agreed. "Maybe they need to see some kindness. I don't know why this happened, but it did."
So we even paid for the safety and emissions after that, on top of the registration fee. "Just don't tell them we paid," I said and the mechanic agreed.
The guys in the first bay were still dumbfounded, either thinking we were stupid or maybe trying to make up for a huge sin.
We went back into the waiting room, passed the rich couple who owned the corvette, and sat down. I didn't say a word to them and neither did Cade.
I couldn't help glancing at the rich couple before the mechanic called them to the other room. Both the young wife and her middle-aged husband puckered, like they'd eaten wasabi candies by the fistful. I wondered what went on in their lives to sour them so. Were they just bored, or truly sad?
I remembered then, times in my life when I'd been depressed beyond anything--when kids in high school spread terrible rumors about my virginity . . . when I'd been homeless . . . when Zeke--my son--had died in my arms. People probably thought I was a jerk because I wasn't always sociable; they had no idea.
Cade and I waited in that room for a long time. The Chinese lady across from me went out to smoke. The cigarette looked so elegant in her slender, pink-nailed hand. A kid next to me joked about the groundhog being wrong this year. And the whole time the corvette didn't leave and no one pulled our van into the bay.
Suddenly the door opened. A wind flew through the waiting room, smelling of gas and strong cologne. The rich couple came inside, peered around and then smiled warmly at Cade and me.
"What an awesome gesture, you guys." The man shook Cade's hand and looked at me like we deserved a damn medal, just because we'd been decent human beings. "What a nice thing. Why would you want to do that for complete strangers?"
I didn't want to say that I had a "feeling"--that something greater was at work than us spending all the money we had, on a whim. "Everything happens for a reason," I said, smiling at both the man and his wife. "It wasn't a big deal, not really." Tears lined the woman's eyes, and I wondered again, what she was going through.
"Well, we can't let you do it." He shook my hand then. Something rustled in between our palms, like a sacred secret. That man--who the mechanics said was such a jerk--had paid us back all the money and then some.
They left, and I can't explain what emotions went through me. The mechanics had us pay our own bill after that--we paid in cash. The main guy kept shaking his head and typing. "He paid you back," the kid said. "Here I thought he was such a jerk, but he paid you back. I'll never forget this. That really showed me something about people."
Cade smiled and put his arm around me.
"Me too," I said. "That was really somethin'."
And I realized, we weren't supposed to pay that bill just so the rich couple could see a simple kindness; we were supposed to pay it so all the mechanics in the shop could see the kindness that shone from the couple who just left in the corvette.
Closing: Regardless of all the "feelings," the failed attempt to pay someone else's bill, and after all the magic of the moment, the van still didn't pass safety and emissions. One miracle down, one to go!
P.S. I wrote about Wayman above. If you'd like to check out our new website, please go here: http://www.waymanpublishing.com/
I really hope our business will continue to grow. I'm a part-owner and editor now, dreaming for big things. Wish us luck ;)
Cade and I sat waiting for the verdict on our van's safety and emissions inspection. I nearly bit my nails, worrying because our van is a clunker. The radio's fuses are messed up--so every time I turn off the van, I have to disconnect the battery. The heater on the driver's side no longer works; the left sliding door won't open and the carpet smells like crayons. I laughed in the waiting room, thinking how just because I'm an author, people assume we're loaded, livin' the American dream. Even though money can be tight and we've put all of our saving into Wayman Publishing, I love our clunker house and van--they make life interesting for us and our four kids.
A mechanic opened the door--breaking through my thoughts--and waved Cade and me toward the computer. "Your vehicle passed. It'll be seventy-seven dollars and twenty-nine cents."
I smiled wide. "That clunker passed!" I elbowed Cade. "I knew our baby would pass."
As the mechanic typed, looking confused by my statement, I asked him how his day was.
"Terrible," he replied. "People have been so mean today. The last guy who came in here was a real A-hole. I hate people like that."
"I'm sorry," I said. "I've been dealing with mean people all week, too. I wish they'd be more appreciative and understanding."
I gave him my credit card then, but right after paying, I looked out the bay window and realized our van hadn't even been checked yet. "Corvette" flashed on the screen in front of me.
"Ummm . . ." I cleared my throat. "I think we just paid for the wrong vehicle."
"You're the corvette, right?" he asked.
Cade and I stood a little straighter. He thought we looked like "corvette people"? That was flippin' awesome!
"Nope, I wish," Cade said. "So we paid the wrong bill?"
The guy nodded, obviously worried for our reaction. "I thought that was strange you called it a clunker."
Cade and I looked at each other. "Cade," I whispered, "do you think this happened for a reason?"
He nodded.
So I looked at the mechanic and said, "We'd like to pay for the corvette owners' bill." Cade and I knew we'd just have enough in checking to cover the corvette bill and ours.
The mechanic turned, stunned. Another mechanic came up and said, "No, you don't want to pay that. The guy who owns the corvette is a creep. He's the biggest jerk who's been in here today, so is his wife--and that's saying something."
I second-guessed myself. But Cade didn't. "We'll still pay it," Cade said.
I thought for minute and agreed. "Maybe they need to see some kindness. I don't know why this happened, but it did."
So we even paid for the safety and emissions after that, on top of the registration fee. "Just don't tell them we paid," I said and the mechanic agreed.
The guys in the first bay were still dumbfounded, either thinking we were stupid or maybe trying to make up for a huge sin.
We went back into the waiting room, passed the rich couple who owned the corvette, and sat down. I didn't say a word to them and neither did Cade.
I couldn't help glancing at the rich couple before the mechanic called them to the other room. Both the young wife and her middle-aged husband puckered, like they'd eaten wasabi candies by the fistful. I wondered what went on in their lives to sour them so. Were they just bored, or truly sad?
I remembered then, times in my life when I'd been depressed beyond anything--when kids in high school spread terrible rumors about my virginity . . . when I'd been homeless . . . when Zeke--my son--had died in my arms. People probably thought I was a jerk because I wasn't always sociable; they had no idea.
Cade and I waited in that room for a long time. The Chinese lady across from me went out to smoke. The cigarette looked so elegant in her slender, pink-nailed hand. A kid next to me joked about the groundhog being wrong this year. And the whole time the corvette didn't leave and no one pulled our van into the bay.
Suddenly the door opened. A wind flew through the waiting room, smelling of gas and strong cologne. The rich couple came inside, peered around and then smiled warmly at Cade and me.
"What an awesome gesture, you guys." The man shook Cade's hand and looked at me like we deserved a damn medal, just because we'd been decent human beings. "What a nice thing. Why would you want to do that for complete strangers?"
I didn't want to say that I had a "feeling"--that something greater was at work than us spending all the money we had, on a whim. "Everything happens for a reason," I said, smiling at both the man and his wife. "It wasn't a big deal, not really." Tears lined the woman's eyes, and I wondered again, what she was going through.
"Well, we can't let you do it." He shook my hand then. Something rustled in between our palms, like a sacred secret. That man--who the mechanics said was such a jerk--had paid us back all the money and then some.
They left, and I can't explain what emotions went through me. The mechanics had us pay our own bill after that--we paid in cash. The main guy kept shaking his head and typing. "He paid you back," the kid said. "Here I thought he was such a jerk, but he paid you back. I'll never forget this. That really showed me something about people."
Cade smiled and put his arm around me.
"Me too," I said. "That was really somethin'."
And I realized, we weren't supposed to pay that bill just so the rich couple could see a simple kindness; we were supposed to pay it so all the mechanics in the shop could see the kindness that shone from the couple who just left in the corvette.
Closing: Regardless of all the "feelings," the failed attempt to pay someone else's bill, and after all the magic of the moment, the van still didn't pass safety and emissions. One miracle down, one to go!
P.S. I wrote about Wayman above. If you'd like to check out our new website, please go here: http://www.waymanpublishing.com/
I really hope our business will continue to grow. I'm a part-owner and editor now, dreaming for big things. Wish us luck ;)
March 21, 2013
I have Hypoglycemia
I haven't been feeling well lately. It's not a big deal really, just dizziness, blacking out, trouble breathing and memory loss during these short times. All right, so it might be a little problem. It hasn't been fun. And I'm really glad I went to the doctor. He did some blood tests and now we know what we're dealing with. I need to get on a diet, so I won't feel like this anymore. It's scary blacking out. AND scary going on a diet. I swear that if I didn't have a fast metabolism I'd be over 400 pounds. I just like eating what I want to--cheese, coke, chips and cookies.
Anyway, two weeks ago, I blacked out on the stairs, and luckily grabbed onto the railing before I fell down. That's when I decided to visit the doctor! How scary to have that happen while taking care of the Zombie Elf (4) and Doctor Jones (3).
Only a couple of people have known about this. It's not something I wanted to shout from the rooftops. . . . Comprende?
I guess I have hypoglycemia.
After these "episodes"--when I'd apparently not eaten the right things--I joked telling Cade, it's a good thing I wrote memoirs, because at this rate, I'm just losing my mind and my memories. Was it Alzheimer's? Adult onset autism? A brain tumor? This is partly a joke, honestly I've been really worried. It sucks blacking out so much, wondering if the next time I'd faint completely. I could just envision myself at an old folk's home--at thirty years old! Reading my own damn books and wondering who wrote them.
Anyway, this isn't a huge problem now. I'm excited to meet with the dietician and make a plan. This is better than a tumor, really.
I hope all of you are doing great. When things settle down with my health everything should go back to normal.
Here's a video of my last signing. It kinda cracks me up because, looking back, I always eat the same things before a signing/playing gig. I always feel better. Now I know why! Maybe my brain has been trying to tell me something subconsciously LOL!
Anyway, two weeks ago, I blacked out on the stairs, and luckily grabbed onto the railing before I fell down. That's when I decided to visit the doctor! How scary to have that happen while taking care of the Zombie Elf (4) and Doctor Jones (3).
Only a couple of people have known about this. It's not something I wanted to shout from the rooftops. . . . Comprende?
I guess I have hypoglycemia.
After these "episodes"--when I'd apparently not eaten the right things--I joked telling Cade, it's a good thing I wrote memoirs, because at this rate, I'm just losing my mind and my memories. Was it Alzheimer's? Adult onset autism? A brain tumor? This is partly a joke, honestly I've been really worried. It sucks blacking out so much, wondering if the next time I'd faint completely. I could just envision myself at an old folk's home--at thirty years old! Reading my own damn books and wondering who wrote them.
Anyway, this isn't a huge problem now. I'm excited to meet with the dietician and make a plan. This is better than a tumor, really.
I hope all of you are doing great. When things settle down with my health everything should go back to normal.
Here's a video of my last signing. It kinda cracks me up because, looking back, I always eat the same things before a signing/playing gig. I always feel better. Now I know why! Maybe my brain has been trying to tell me something subconsciously LOL!
March 12, 2013
Vote for Ruby! She's a gem!
Thanks to everyone who helped come up with a slogan for the Scribe. We picked Inger's--because it's AWESOME. If you haven't read Inger's blog, you should really check it out. Here's that link: Desert Canyon Living
The Scribe will find out the election results soon. I'm excited. This whole process has been fun, just seeing her work so hard. Even if she doesn't win, she's learned a lot.
The Scribe wearing a "Musketeer" set I made for her a few years ago. That kid is all business!
Also, I had something wonderful happen today! If you'd like to find out what it was, please go here: Today's Heroes
The Scribe will find out the election results soon. I'm excited. This whole process has been fun, just seeing her work so hard. Even if she doesn't win, she's learned a lot.
The Scribe wearing a "Musketeer" set I made for her a few years ago. That kid is all business!
Also, I had something wonderful happen today! If you'd like to find out what it was, please go here: Today's Heroes
March 9, 2013
The Scribe is Running for President. We need YOUR help!
Do you know of any campaign slogans that might be cute for the Scribe?
If you've read The Golden Sky , you know her name is Ruby.
How about:
Vote for Ruby . . . Making the world sparkle since 2001.
She's no newbie, vote for Ruby.
Ruby--vote for a gem!
I'm racking my brain for ideas, but I keep coming up with THE DUMBEST lines! Take this one for example:
Better than Chuck Norris, vote for Ruby.
And the internet searches aren't too helpful either. I'm finding pictures of people with fingers up their noses--Pick a Winner!
Or this . . .
I did find a slogan generator. It's pretty hilarious. Go here to check it out: The pcman Website
If you find a slogan for yourself, I hope you'll share it with me.
This is the one it generated for me:
Elisa . . . Loaded for Bear
See why I need your input!
Thanks in advance,
A Desperate Mother!
If you've read The Golden Sky , you know her name is Ruby.
How about:
Vote for Ruby . . . Making the world sparkle since 2001.
She's no newbie, vote for Ruby.
Ruby--vote for a gem!
I'm racking my brain for ideas, but I keep coming up with THE DUMBEST lines! Take this one for example:
Better than Chuck Norris, vote for Ruby.
And the internet searches aren't too helpful either. I'm finding pictures of people with fingers up their noses--Pick a Winner!
Or this . . .
I did find a slogan generator. It's pretty hilarious. Go here to check it out: The pcman Website
If you find a slogan for yourself, I hope you'll share it with me.
This is the one it generated for me:
Elisa . . . Loaded for Bear
See why I need your input!
Thanks in advance,
A Desperate Mother!
March 7, 2013
When Disney Movies Go Wrong--Guest Post
When Disney Movies Go Wrong
By Ken Myers
I
love, and have loved, almost every single Disney movie that has come
out since I was a kid myself, so naturally I wanted to share this love
with my two little darlings. Who in the world would ever think that
anything bad could come out of a Disney movie?
My
oldest, a girl, was talking from the time she was a wee little thing
and she understood everything so well. Anyone that has children knows
that some kiddos are ready to see movies at different ages than others.
Parents have to take into consideration if they are able to sit still
through an entire movie and if it will actually be entertainment for
them. Or will you end up spending the whole time trying to get them to
stay in their seats and watch?
I
actually waited until my daughter was four and a half to take her to a
movie theater. A new movie was out that I was dying to see and I knew
she had a great attention span so off we went. She was absolutely
thrilled with the big screen. Her eyes are the color of deep chocolate
or rich coffee and as big as saucers. She was mesmerized with the big
screen action and sat in a state of wonder while it was unfolding before
her eyes. I was thrilled and so happy to see her reaction… so far.
Who would figure that a Disney movie would end up scarring your child for life? The movie we went to see was The Little Mermaid
in 1989. I know anyone with children has seen this beautiful movie. But
when Ursula the sea witch came on the scene my world started to fall
apart. My daughter plunged her head into my neck and that was that for
this movie. I did convince her to come out from under cover when the
witch was gone but you could tell by the look on her face that she was
anticipating her return at any moment and she was ready to dart. I felt
like such a bad mother and even asked her if she wanted to leave. She
was, and still is, a wonderfully congenial and mature child and said it
would be alright and we could stay. Awww… bad, bad, mother.
We
laugh about it today, now that she is an adult, and she teases me about
being a bad momma. I swear to her I had no idea, I honestly do not
remember the movie trailers portraying Ursula as scary as she was. Since
I was writing this I went back and watched the original trailer for the
movie and honestly she is in the trailer like three times for less than
a second each time. They never show her in all her glory rising up out
of the sea over a thousand times bigger than life with that deep
guttural voice of doom. Unfair advertising! But even then I was so
surprised that my usually very practical daughter had gotten so upset.
When you are four and a half and the screen is so big and a half
woman/half octopus that is totally evil comes on the scene all
practicality goes right out the window.
Another Disney movie that went wrong in our household was Lady and the Tramp. My
youngest, a boy, absolutely loved this movie. We watched it over and
over and over…I know some of you know what I am talking about. The movie
you would like to hide or even burn but you do not want to see
disappointment in those little eyes. Right?
Anyway,
he had for all intents and purposes, taken on the persona of Tramp in
the flesh. He loved his attitude, his freedom, and he especially loved
the way Tramp kicked dirt ceremoniously behind him when he finished
taking care of a pack of dogs that were giving him trouble. Every time
my son wanted to make a point that he did not care what you were saying
or wanted him to do he would grin and kick a little dirt behind him. It
was absolutely adorable at the age of six because he was a toe headed,
bouncy little guy with a gleam in his eye. We all knew we had to put a
stop to it however or it could easily backfire on us as parents. We were
well aware that the teachers would not get the same kick out of it that
we did.
That
was not all that came out of that movie either. You would not even
think that a child that had just barely turned six years old could put
two and two together and come up with what my son did. You just never
know where their minds are at this age or what they are going to say.
There have absolutely no filtering system, what comes into their minds
comes out of their mouths!
One
day as my son and I stopped to get the car filled up with gas we
decided to run our car through the car wash as well. We pulled up to put
our coins into the meter and I started to drop in the quarters. As I
was doing so I heard what sounded like the quarters hitting the
pavement. So I opened the car door to look. It seems that the quarters
were going in the machine and falling out on the ground. To my
astonishment there were about fifty quarters on the ground. I am
guessing that people must have been going through there at night and did
not see or hear their quarters falling and must have assumed the car
wash was broken and moved on. I found myself in the position of picking
up all the quarters off of the ground and then puzzling over what to do
with them. I told my son we were going to take them into the attendant
at the gas station because I assumed that people were probably going in
and asking for their money back since the car wash did not work for
them.
When
we got into the store there was a line of about five people ahead of us
and before we got up to the attendant there was a long line forming
behind us. As we were standing in line I had a tissue full of quarters
in one hand and a six year old in the other who was getting very
impatient and wanting to leave. I did not realize he was even paying any
attention to the attendant but I was. She was an Asian woman, I do not
know where she was from, but she did not speak very good English at all.
People were having a hard time communicating with her about their needs
so I was beginning to wonder how me returning these quarters was going
to go down.
When
I finally did get up to the desk I started to explain to her that the
car wash was broken and the quarters were on the ground and I was
bringing them to her. She kept nodding and telling me that yes the car
wash needed quarters and all I needed to do was put them in the slot. It
went something like that, I am sure you get the picture. I tried for
what seemed like five minutes to get her to take the quarters but she
refused. My son was pulling at my arm and was anxious to get out of
there as was the line of people behind me. I was stumped so I just
decided to leave with my bounty.
As we turned to leave the store my son, in a loud robust voice, started singing the song from the Lady and the Tramp
when the Siamese cats came with the aunt to take care of the baby while
the parents were gone. If you are at all familiar with this movie you
will remember the cats and the oriental sound in their voices as they
sang, “We are Siamese if you please, we are Siamese if you don’t
please”. And as he sang he suddenly became very oriental in his speech,
walk, and in the rhythm of his body as well. Needless to say everyone in
the line was in hysterics. The only thing I was extremely grateful for
is that I do not think the lady had a clue of what Lady and the Tramp
was or that it had anything to do with her! But believe me my face was
red! This was another Disney movie that had gone terribly wrong for me.
Ahh, memories.
About the Author:
Ken
Myers is an expert advisor on in-home care & related family safety
issues to many websites and groups. He is a regular contributor to www.gonannies.com. You can get in touch with him at kmyers.ceo@gmail.com.
By Ken Myers
I
love, and have loved, almost every single Disney movie that has come
out since I was a kid myself, so naturally I wanted to share this love
with my two little darlings. Who in the world would ever think that
anything bad could come out of a Disney movie?
My
oldest, a girl, was talking from the time she was a wee little thing
and she understood everything so well. Anyone that has children knows
that some kiddos are ready to see movies at different ages than others.
Parents have to take into consideration if they are able to sit still
through an entire movie and if it will actually be entertainment for
them. Or will you end up spending the whole time trying to get them to
stay in their seats and watch?
I
actually waited until my daughter was four and a half to take her to a
movie theater. A new movie was out that I was dying to see and I knew
she had a great attention span so off we went. She was absolutely
thrilled with the big screen. Her eyes are the color of deep chocolate
or rich coffee and as big as saucers. She was mesmerized with the big
screen action and sat in a state of wonder while it was unfolding before
her eyes. I was thrilled and so happy to see her reaction… so far.
Who would figure that a Disney movie would end up scarring your child for life? The movie we went to see was The Little Mermaid
in 1989. I know anyone with children has seen this beautiful movie. But
when Ursula the sea witch came on the scene my world started to fall
apart. My daughter plunged her head into my neck and that was that for
this movie. I did convince her to come out from under cover when the
witch was gone but you could tell by the look on her face that she was
anticipating her return at any moment and she was ready to dart. I felt
like such a bad mother and even asked her if she wanted to leave. She
was, and still is, a wonderfully congenial and mature child and said it
would be alright and we could stay. Awww… bad, bad, mother.
We
laugh about it today, now that she is an adult, and she teases me about
being a bad momma. I swear to her I had no idea, I honestly do not
remember the movie trailers portraying Ursula as scary as she was. Since
I was writing this I went back and watched the original trailer for the
movie and honestly she is in the trailer like three times for less than
a second each time. They never show her in all her glory rising up out
of the sea over a thousand times bigger than life with that deep
guttural voice of doom. Unfair advertising! But even then I was so
surprised that my usually very practical daughter had gotten so upset.
When you are four and a half and the screen is so big and a half
woman/half octopus that is totally evil comes on the scene all
practicality goes right out the window.
Another Disney movie that went wrong in our household was Lady and the Tramp. My
youngest, a boy, absolutely loved this movie. We watched it over and
over and over…I know some of you know what I am talking about. The movie
you would like to hide or even burn but you do not want to see
disappointment in those little eyes. Right?
Anyway,
he had for all intents and purposes, taken on the persona of Tramp in
the flesh. He loved his attitude, his freedom, and he especially loved
the way Tramp kicked dirt ceremoniously behind him when he finished
taking care of a pack of dogs that were giving him trouble. Every time
my son wanted to make a point that he did not care what you were saying
or wanted him to do he would grin and kick a little dirt behind him. It
was absolutely adorable at the age of six because he was a toe headed,
bouncy little guy with a gleam in his eye. We all knew we had to put a
stop to it however or it could easily backfire on us as parents. We were
well aware that the teachers would not get the same kick out of it that
we did.
That
was not all that came out of that movie either. You would not even
think that a child that had just barely turned six years old could put
two and two together and come up with what my son did. You just never
know where their minds are at this age or what they are going to say.
There have absolutely no filtering system, what comes into their minds
comes out of their mouths!
One
day as my son and I stopped to get the car filled up with gas we
decided to run our car through the car wash as well. We pulled up to put
our coins into the meter and I started to drop in the quarters. As I
was doing so I heard what sounded like the quarters hitting the
pavement. So I opened the car door to look. It seems that the quarters
were going in the machine and falling out on the ground. To my
astonishment there were about fifty quarters on the ground. I am
guessing that people must have been going through there at night and did
not see or hear their quarters falling and must have assumed the car
wash was broken and moved on. I found myself in the position of picking
up all the quarters off of the ground and then puzzling over what to do
with them. I told my son we were going to take them into the attendant
at the gas station because I assumed that people were probably going in
and asking for their money back since the car wash did not work for
them.
When
we got into the store there was a line of about five people ahead of us
and before we got up to the attendant there was a long line forming
behind us. As we were standing in line I had a tissue full of quarters
in one hand and a six year old in the other who was getting very
impatient and wanting to leave. I did not realize he was even paying any
attention to the attendant but I was. She was an Asian woman, I do not
know where she was from, but she did not speak very good English at all.
People were having a hard time communicating with her about their needs
so I was beginning to wonder how me returning these quarters was going
to go down.
When
I finally did get up to the desk I started to explain to her that the
car wash was broken and the quarters were on the ground and I was
bringing them to her. She kept nodding and telling me that yes the car
wash needed quarters and all I needed to do was put them in the slot. It
went something like that, I am sure you get the picture. I tried for
what seemed like five minutes to get her to take the quarters but she
refused. My son was pulling at my arm and was anxious to get out of
there as was the line of people behind me. I was stumped so I just
decided to leave with my bounty.
As we turned to leave the store my son, in a loud robust voice, started singing the song from the Lady and the Tramp
when the Siamese cats came with the aunt to take care of the baby while
the parents were gone. If you are at all familiar with this movie you
will remember the cats and the oriental sound in their voices as they
sang, “We are Siamese if you please, we are Siamese if you don’t
please”. And as he sang he suddenly became very oriental in his speech,
walk, and in the rhythm of his body as well. Needless to say everyone in
the line was in hysterics. The only thing I was extremely grateful for
is that I do not think the lady had a clue of what Lady and the Tramp
was or that it had anything to do with her! But believe me my face was
red! This was another Disney movie that had gone terribly wrong for me.
Ahh, memories.
About the Author:
Ken
Myers is an expert advisor on in-home care & related family safety
issues to many websites and groups. He is a regular contributor to www.gonannies.com. You can get in touch with him at kmyers.ceo@gmail.com.
March 4, 2013
Dreams. Is Your Subconscious Telling You Something?
I'm homeless, hardly wearing anything, lying in the fetal position in a dirty gravel alleyway. People chatter, getting ready for bed. They don't know I'm out there, starving and dying. Their lights slowly click off in the towering brick building to the sides of me. By turning out the lights, do they know their extinguishing my hope?
I know the darkness will come then--it always does--and I'm left dusted in numbing frost. My limbs stiffen, so cold I shake and my tears mingle with the grimy ground. That's when the mice come, picking at the flesh on my arms and legs. I don't see them, but I hear them, executing squeaky orders, working as a team to devise my slow death.
They gnaw, until almost nothing is left--then true oblivion comes. . . That's when I wake up.
I've told friends about this dream. Some think it's because Homeless in Hawaii was just published.
Maybe remembering those cold nights with nothing, except Cade and a violin, has triggered this strange reoccurring dream. I know there's a deeper meaning though. It's simply a matter of researching the roots of the dream and discovering what my subconscious is trying to tell me. But when would I be ready for that? There's a reason this has remained in my subconscious, right?
Dreams have always been a big part of my life.
Let me give you some history . . .
In Bible Girl & the Bad B oy , I dreamed about an ocean of ice, where I drifted away from my family--this was right before I ran away in waking life. In Homeless in Hawaii , I dreamed about a wooden burden that later took a human form--before I discovered (in waking life) that I felt of my own self-worth as a burden. In The Golden Sky --perhaps my most telling memoir--I dreamed about a fire that burned everything except people. This happened when my son passed away and brought so much change into my world.
These dreams each had a very symbolic meaning.
Over the years I've read many books about our subconscious minds, and how we deal with emotions while we sleep.
The most productive and accurate book I've found is The Element Encyclopedia of 20,000 Dreams .
So I pulled that book out last night, the whole time I thought about how I try to feel like I'm worth something. Then the same people drag me down, criticizing my every action. That's when I crumble. Why does their feedback hurt so much? I've tried my very hardest. With the help of others, I founded Wayman Publishing. I've written multiple books in the past few years. I'm on Wikipedia: HERE.
But the thing is, when you're a writer, you get feedback from limitless people. I've literally been receiving hundreds of emails each day. My Twitter and Facebook account have become overwhelming. Wayman Publishing has been getting around 90 queries a month. This has made me stronger. But why does the feedback of certain "friends" still sting so much? Is this what my dream, of being a beggar and getting eaten by mice, means? Am I just overwhelmed?
So I looked up beggars.
Beggar = Low Self-esteem. Starving emotions into destitution.
What about the mice?
Mice = Timidity. Changes that gnaw away.
Attacked by Animals = Repressing Instincts. Being too civilized. It could be time to stand up for yourself.
There have been many times in the past (and present) where people have walked all over me. I take it. When I love them--regardless of the friendship/love being toxic--I get hurt over and over.
I'm glad I've been having this dream and that I looked things up. Whether you believe in Telling Dreams or not, this is something for me to remember.
I need to stop looking to others for validation.
I need to stand up for myself and my family when the time comes.
No matter what anyone says, I'm doing the best I can. And at least when death comes I can say I lived . . . I tried .
Have you ever felt like this?
Do you believe in Telling Dreams?
P.S. If you need a good laugh after reading this post, please go check out these hilarious sayings: Janie Junebug's Tease
I know the darkness will come then--it always does--and I'm left dusted in numbing frost. My limbs stiffen, so cold I shake and my tears mingle with the grimy ground. That's when the mice come, picking at the flesh on my arms and legs. I don't see them, but I hear them, executing squeaky orders, working as a team to devise my slow death.
They gnaw, until almost nothing is left--then true oblivion comes. . . That's when I wake up.
I've told friends about this dream. Some think it's because Homeless in Hawaii was just published.
Maybe remembering those cold nights with nothing, except Cade and a violin, has triggered this strange reoccurring dream. I know there's a deeper meaning though. It's simply a matter of researching the roots of the dream and discovering what my subconscious is trying to tell me. But when would I be ready for that? There's a reason this has remained in my subconscious, right?
Dreams have always been a big part of my life.
Let me give you some history . . .
In Bible Girl & the Bad B oy , I dreamed about an ocean of ice, where I drifted away from my family--this was right before I ran away in waking life. In Homeless in Hawaii , I dreamed about a wooden burden that later took a human form--before I discovered (in waking life) that I felt of my own self-worth as a burden. In The Golden Sky --perhaps my most telling memoir--I dreamed about a fire that burned everything except people. This happened when my son passed away and brought so much change into my world.
These dreams each had a very symbolic meaning.
Over the years I've read many books about our subconscious minds, and how we deal with emotions while we sleep.
The most productive and accurate book I've found is The Element Encyclopedia of 20,000 Dreams .
So I pulled that book out last night, the whole time I thought about how I try to feel like I'm worth something. Then the same people drag me down, criticizing my every action. That's when I crumble. Why does their feedback hurt so much? I've tried my very hardest. With the help of others, I founded Wayman Publishing. I've written multiple books in the past few years. I'm on Wikipedia: HERE.
But the thing is, when you're a writer, you get feedback from limitless people. I've literally been receiving hundreds of emails each day. My Twitter and Facebook account have become overwhelming. Wayman Publishing has been getting around 90 queries a month. This has made me stronger. But why does the feedback of certain "friends" still sting so much? Is this what my dream, of being a beggar and getting eaten by mice, means? Am I just overwhelmed?
So I looked up beggars.
Beggar = Low Self-esteem. Starving emotions into destitution.
What about the mice?
Mice = Timidity. Changes that gnaw away.
Attacked by Animals = Repressing Instincts. Being too civilized. It could be time to stand up for yourself.
There have been many times in the past (and present) where people have walked all over me. I take it. When I love them--regardless of the friendship/love being toxic--I get hurt over and over.
I'm glad I've been having this dream and that I looked things up. Whether you believe in Telling Dreams or not, this is something for me to remember.
I need to stop looking to others for validation.
I need to stand up for myself and my family when the time comes.
No matter what anyone says, I'm doing the best I can. And at least when death comes I can say I lived . . . I tried .
Have you ever felt like this?
Do you believe in Telling Dreams?
P.S. If you need a good laugh after reading this post, please go check out these hilarious sayings: Janie Junebug's Tease
February 28, 2013
3 Pick-up Lines that DO NOT Work
Facebook can be a real dream. But, it can also become a nightmare. Strange foreign men see any friendly profile pic and are compelled to hit on it.
I've been married for a long time, been with Cade since I was 17. Some of these pick-up lines have shocked me. Is this what the online dating scene is like? God forbid.
Let me tell you about three especially bad ones . . .
#1
I've always had a special feeling for my mother.
STOP . . .
Is this a pick-up--or an attempt to say they're STILL a mama's boy?
Resume . . .
You remind me of her in face and heart. I'd like to meet and see if we have a bond. You smile tells me we do. Let's message each other.
Hmmm . . . YOU smile tells me we do. Well, my smile says that I'm married--his wording tells me he doesn't speakie English very well. AND in the picture he attached of his mother . . . Well, I'm surprised he said our faces match.
#2
My wife died. You remind me of her.
This emailed called to me--the poor man! But honestly, do I just have a familiar face, or what? I continued reading, thinking this was just a kind email, not a pick-up. Boy was I wrong.
I think her spirit dwells in you. We lived a long life together. I can see her joy in your eyes.
I would like to date online and know you more.
If a message like that won't creep someone out--I don't know what will! My shaky hand clicked on his profile picture. The guy was a highly decorated military man who was about 9,000 years old!
#3
I like you. I think your a virgin.
I'm a writer, don't send a writer something with an obvious error like "your" vs. "you're"--unless you're approaching them for grammar lessons.
Now onto the obvious offense behind this facebook message. WHAT THE HELL? A virgin? And to think, I thought my army of children clued people in. Having a baby is like shouting from the rooftops--I've had sex--I lost my cheery, people! It's actually a bit embarrassing at first--if you want to know the truth.
But making a strange claim like this, made me feel as if he'd take me--a thirty-year-old--to the slave sex exchange! Are they taking thirty-year-olds with no boobs, and lots of character? If so, I'm terrified.
Is this really what the dating game is like these days?
I've been married for a long time, been with Cade since I was 17. Some of these pick-up lines have shocked me. Is this what the online dating scene is like? God forbid.
Let me tell you about three especially bad ones . . .
#1
I've always had a special feeling for my mother.
STOP . . .
Is this a pick-up--or an attempt to say they're STILL a mama's boy?
Resume . . .
You remind me of her in face and heart. I'd like to meet and see if we have a bond. You smile tells me we do. Let's message each other.
Hmmm . . . YOU smile tells me we do. Well, my smile says that I'm married--his wording tells me he doesn't speakie English very well. AND in the picture he attached of his mother . . . Well, I'm surprised he said our faces match.
#2
My wife died. You remind me of her.
This emailed called to me--the poor man! But honestly, do I just have a familiar face, or what? I continued reading, thinking this was just a kind email, not a pick-up. Boy was I wrong.
I think her spirit dwells in you. We lived a long life together. I can see her joy in your eyes.
I would like to date online and know you more.
If a message like that won't creep someone out--I don't know what will! My shaky hand clicked on his profile picture. The guy was a highly decorated military man who was about 9,000 years old!
#3
I like you. I think your a virgin.
I'm a writer, don't send a writer something with an obvious error like "your" vs. "you're"--unless you're approaching them for grammar lessons.
Now onto the obvious offense behind this facebook message. WHAT THE HELL? A virgin? And to think, I thought my army of children clued people in. Having a baby is like shouting from the rooftops--I've had sex--I lost my cheery, people! It's actually a bit embarrassing at first--if you want to know the truth.
But making a strange claim like this, made me feel as if he'd take me--a thirty-year-old--to the slave sex exchange! Are they taking thirty-year-olds with no boobs, and lots of character? If so, I'm terrified.
Is this really what the dating game is like these days?
February 26, 2013
Idiotic & Funny Moments of the Week
Example #1
Me: How'd golfing go? I prayed you'd score high.
Hubby: Thanks a lot. It worked. Too bad the point is to score low.
Me: Facepalm
Example #2
Zombie Elf: I'm really sick with the pox.
Me *freakin' out*: The chickenpox?
Zombie Elf: No! I ain't no chicken. It's the human-pox for sure!
Me *looking at his mirthful face*: Are you even sick?
Zombie Elf: No. I just wanted to see you go bonkers.
Note to self:
Stop saying, "I'm going bonkers," around the children.
And finally
Example #3
The Scribe *talking to her friend*: There's something that's been bothering me about life.
Friend: Like What?
The Scribe: I snuck downstairs and saw a movie my mom was watching. It was a completely real movie, not one of those fake ones. Anyway, they showed how if someone dies you can put a needle into their eye and bring them back to life!
Me *dying as I drove past a cemetery--did I really just write THIS post about parents (and Netflix) letting kids watch terrible things*
The Scribe *not realizing I was still listening*: Just think about all those dead people buried in cemeteries. People could have brought them back to life, but no one cared. . . .
Me *with a lot of explaining to do*
I racked my brain after easing her fears. What show had she seen?
Then it hit me like a fart in the night--she'd seen Lockout! I LOVE that show. But it's not the best for imaginative children.
To see what I'm writing about--IF you have a strong stomach--go to 4:30 on this clip.
Anyway, it's only Tuesday and it's already been a long week.
I might just watch Lockout again. It's filled with so many wonderful cliches that I get to turn my mind off. If you watch it, I hope you'll enjoy the silliness and hysterical one-liners proper people refuse to laugh at.
Hoping for a calmer week, for all of us,
E
Me: How'd golfing go? I prayed you'd score high.
Hubby: Thanks a lot. It worked. Too bad the point is to score low.
Me: Facepalm
Example #2
Zombie Elf: I'm really sick with the pox.
Me *freakin' out*: The chickenpox?
Zombie Elf: No! I ain't no chicken. It's the human-pox for sure!
Me *looking at his mirthful face*: Are you even sick?
Zombie Elf: No. I just wanted to see you go bonkers.
Note to self:
Stop saying, "I'm going bonkers," around the children.
And finally
Example #3
The Scribe *talking to her friend*: There's something that's been bothering me about life.
Friend: Like What?
The Scribe: I snuck downstairs and saw a movie my mom was watching. It was a completely real movie, not one of those fake ones. Anyway, they showed how if someone dies you can put a needle into their eye and bring them back to life!
Me *dying as I drove past a cemetery--did I really just write THIS post about parents (and Netflix) letting kids watch terrible things*
The Scribe *not realizing I was still listening*: Just think about all those dead people buried in cemeteries. People could have brought them back to life, but no one cared. . . .
Me *with a lot of explaining to do*
I racked my brain after easing her fears. What show had she seen?
Then it hit me like a fart in the night--she'd seen Lockout! I LOVE that show. But it's not the best for imaginative children.
To see what I'm writing about--IF you have a strong stomach--go to 4:30 on this clip.
Anyway, it's only Tuesday and it's already been a long week.
I might just watch Lockout again. It's filled with so many wonderful cliches that I get to turn my mind off. If you watch it, I hope you'll enjoy the silliness and hysterical one-liners proper people refuse to laugh at.
Hoping for a calmer week, for all of us,
E
February 25, 2013
A Movie Originally Banned from TV is now on Netflix for Kids!
A flying ship, Huck Finn, a stop motion adventure . . .
Sounds like a great movie, right?
And it really is except for one scene that left parents and critics balking.
As a child, I watched this before it was banned from TV. Over the years I didn't retain much about the plot, just a vivid picture painted from the bit about Adam and Eve.
But as an adult, one scene really shocked me.
Now my own children have a chance to watch this movie through instant streaming on Netflix for children. Although, I'm a big fan of claymation, I doubt I'll let my kids watch this.
What do you think about this scene?
Are you surprised it's on Netflix?
Do you think it was rightfully banned from TV in the mid-80s?
Sounds like a great movie, right?
And it really is except for one scene that left parents and critics balking.
As a child, I watched this before it was banned from TV. Over the years I didn't retain much about the plot, just a vivid picture painted from the bit about Adam and Eve.
But as an adult, one scene really shocked me.
Now my own children have a chance to watch this movie through instant streaming on Netflix for children. Although, I'm a big fan of claymation, I doubt I'll let my kids watch this.
What do you think about this scene?
Are you surprised it's on Netflix?
Do you think it was rightfully banned from TV in the mid-80s?
February 20, 2013
How to make a spud gun.
I made this for Cade on Valentine's Day two years ago--such a fun memory!
There are so many awesome SAHM (stay at home mom) blog recipes out there. I thought I'd contribute one of my own. It's not how to cook quiche or how to create a perfect potato soup. Instead it's: How to make a spud gun.
Ingredients:
Flint igniter (grill igniter) I got mine at ACE. I've heard you can get them at Wally World in the camping section
4" ABS cleanout plug (Make sure to use ABS pipe. ABS will split from pressure, but PVC will shatter)
4" ABS fitting cleanout adapter
4" ABS coupling
4" x 24" ABS pipe
2" x 4" ABS increaser reducer
2" x 48" ABS pipe
ABS cleaner, primer, & cement
Sack of Idaho potatoes
Hair spray (aerosol) We discovered that Aquanet works the very best
Preparation Instructions:
1. Cut the ABS sections to length (or do what I did and convince the nice Home Depot employee to cut them for you.) Cement all the ABS parts EXCEPT THE CLEANOUT PLUG together.
2. Drill two 1/8" holes in the middle of the 4" x 24" ABS pipe then install the igniter with its included hardware. Use electrical tape to tape it down. Don't use duct tape since it's conductive. I left my wires long so I could detonate it from a couple feet away if I wanted to.
Note: My friend actually screwed the igniter right into the ignition chamber. Her igniter got an arc without the wires, but mine didn't. If your igniter gets an arc without the wires, then you don't have to drill two holes, instead you can drill one large one and screw the igniter into place.
3. File the end of the 2" x 48" ABS pipe so you can shove the potato in easier.
Wait at least 24 hours for the glue to dry!!!
4. You're done. I read somewhere that these only shoot 20-30 feet. That is not true! This went at least 250 yards. The bigger the barrel the greater the distance. Find a nice big area and go have fun. Stay safe. These are very dangerous and not toys. Don't ever aim at someone and if you can . . . avoid making this altogether!
My funny story of the day involves what a hassle it was finding the flint igniter. I went to five different stores. Apparently the only people who buy barbecue igniters--WITHOUT the rest of the grill--make potato launchers. I walked into one store and asked, "Do you sell flint igniters?"
The man eyed me. "What ya want with one of them?"
I paused because I'm a sucky liar. "Ummm. I want to fix . . . something."
"Your grill?" I looked down. "Are you making a potato launcher, Ma'am?"
I acted offended REALLY offended. "Do I look like the type of person who'd build a potato launcher?"
"I . . . I guess not. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to accuse you of anything."
"I'll let it slide this time," I said.
But it turned out he didn't have the igniter anyway. My whole "innocent act" had been for nothing!
So I went to a couple more stores and by the time I got to the fourth one I learned to ask for a "barbecue igniter" instead of a "flint igniter." It turns out people are less judgmental when you say the word, "barbecue."
I expected our conversation to go similarly to the one I already told you about.
"Do you sell barbecue igniters?"
"Are you making a potato launcher?" the man asked--point blank.
I paled, not believing my code word "bar-be-cue" hadn't worked on that man. I shook my head.
"Are you lying to me?" He pushed his glasses farther up his nose and crossed his arms. I watched his foot tap the seconds away. "So?"
What was it, twenty questions! I stayed silent and then realized I wasn't sitting in a principle's office; I was there to buy something. I was the customer. The big-fat ball of goodness was in my court! "Do you sell them or what?"
"Fine," he said. "I'll show you where the igniters are." He led me down rows of gadgets and gizmos. I could almost hear the whirring of strange contraptions and the snapping of oblong lights going on and off. "Here are the igniters." He'd let me to the camping section. That wasn't the lighter I wanted. Sure I could buy it if I needed to start a camp fire and cook my potatoes instead of launch them.
"Thank you so much," I said. "But that's not what I'm looking for."
"Because you're making a potato launcher." His eyes practically spurted flames.
"I'm not."
"You ARE!"
"I'm not!"
"Are too!"
It was like we'd become two-years-olds again, fighting over some stupid toy we'd forget in less than a minute. "Fine." I glared at him. "You wanna know so badly? I AM making a potato launcher. I love potatoes and I want to launch them!!!"
"Well, then, I can't sell this igniter to you."
"That's not the right kind anyway!!!" I stomped from the store, but the man laughed as I walked out. I think he'd had a great time.
So at the next place I found the damn igniter myself. Sure it took me a long time, but I found it and finally got to launch some potatoes.
"Was it worth it?" you ask. "All the heartache and time it took me to find that igniter?"
Absolutely! Because there's nothing quite as cool as flying potatoes.
Me on V-Day
There are so many awesome SAHM (stay at home mom) blog recipes out there. I thought I'd contribute one of my own. It's not how to cook quiche or how to create a perfect potato soup. Instead it's: How to make a spud gun.
Ingredients:
Flint igniter (grill igniter) I got mine at ACE. I've heard you can get them at Wally World in the camping section
4" ABS cleanout plug (Make sure to use ABS pipe. ABS will split from pressure, but PVC will shatter)
4" ABS fitting cleanout adapter
4" ABS coupling
4" x 24" ABS pipe
2" x 4" ABS increaser reducer
2" x 48" ABS pipe
ABS cleaner, primer, & cement
Sack of Idaho potatoes
Hair spray (aerosol) We discovered that Aquanet works the very best
Preparation Instructions:
1. Cut the ABS sections to length (or do what I did and convince the nice Home Depot employee to cut them for you.) Cement all the ABS parts EXCEPT THE CLEANOUT PLUG together.
2. Drill two 1/8" holes in the middle of the 4" x 24" ABS pipe then install the igniter with its included hardware. Use electrical tape to tape it down. Don't use duct tape since it's conductive. I left my wires long so I could detonate it from a couple feet away if I wanted to.
Note: My friend actually screwed the igniter right into the ignition chamber. Her igniter got an arc without the wires, but mine didn't. If your igniter gets an arc without the wires, then you don't have to drill two holes, instead you can drill one large one and screw the igniter into place.
3. File the end of the 2" x 48" ABS pipe so you can shove the potato in easier.
Wait at least 24 hours for the glue to dry!!!
4. You're done. I read somewhere that these only shoot 20-30 feet. That is not true! This went at least 250 yards. The bigger the barrel the greater the distance. Find a nice big area and go have fun. Stay safe. These are very dangerous and not toys. Don't ever aim at someone and if you can . . . avoid making this altogether!
My funny story of the day involves what a hassle it was finding the flint igniter. I went to five different stores. Apparently the only people who buy barbecue igniters--WITHOUT the rest of the grill--make potato launchers. I walked into one store and asked, "Do you sell flint igniters?"
The man eyed me. "What ya want with one of them?"
I paused because I'm a sucky liar. "Ummm. I want to fix . . . something."
"Your grill?" I looked down. "Are you making a potato launcher, Ma'am?"
I acted offended REALLY offended. "Do I look like the type of person who'd build a potato launcher?"
"I . . . I guess not. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to accuse you of anything."
"I'll let it slide this time," I said.
But it turned out he didn't have the igniter anyway. My whole "innocent act" had been for nothing!
So I went to a couple more stores and by the time I got to the fourth one I learned to ask for a "barbecue igniter" instead of a "flint igniter." It turns out people are less judgmental when you say the word, "barbecue."
I expected our conversation to go similarly to the one I already told you about.
"Do you sell barbecue igniters?"
"Are you making a potato launcher?" the man asked--point blank.
I paled, not believing my code word "bar-be-cue" hadn't worked on that man. I shook my head.
"Are you lying to me?" He pushed his glasses farther up his nose and crossed his arms. I watched his foot tap the seconds away. "So?"
What was it, twenty questions! I stayed silent and then realized I wasn't sitting in a principle's office; I was there to buy something. I was the customer. The big-fat ball of goodness was in my court! "Do you sell them or what?"
"Fine," he said. "I'll show you where the igniters are." He led me down rows of gadgets and gizmos. I could almost hear the whirring of strange contraptions and the snapping of oblong lights going on and off. "Here are the igniters." He'd let me to the camping section. That wasn't the lighter I wanted. Sure I could buy it if I needed to start a camp fire and cook my potatoes instead of launch them.
"Thank you so much," I said. "But that's not what I'm looking for."
"Because you're making a potato launcher." His eyes practically spurted flames.
"I'm not."
"You ARE!"
"I'm not!"
"Are too!"
It was like we'd become two-years-olds again, fighting over some stupid toy we'd forget in less than a minute. "Fine." I glared at him. "You wanna know so badly? I AM making a potato launcher. I love potatoes and I want to launch them!!!"
"Well, then, I can't sell this igniter to you."
"That's not the right kind anyway!!!" I stomped from the store, but the man laughed as I walked out. I think he'd had a great time.
So at the next place I found the damn igniter myself. Sure it took me a long time, but I found it and finally got to launch some potatoes.
"Was it worth it?" you ask. "All the heartache and time it took me to find that igniter?"
Absolutely! Because there's nothing quite as cool as flying potatoes.
Me on V-Day
