BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

On any given day my life could be a sitcom. Or a soap opera. I guess it just depends on the day. Personally, I prefer the sitcom days because I don’t do drama. I laugh at drama. I shoot spitwads at the llama. But I don’t do drama. I even send friends packing when they bring their drama to my home.

Rule number 1437.5 – If you bring drama to my house, leave it in the car with your llama.

But, sometimes drama sneaks in the back door when someone leaves it open, and you have to chase it out with a broom. Been there, done that. But let’s run around a different block. As I said, I prefer the sitcom days, and I have way more of them than I have accidental soap opera days.

Now, if you follow me on Facebook (there we go with The Zuckman’s social network again… talk about drama…whewww…) Anywho, if you follow me over there you hear me mention E S. No, not E K… E S. No, E S is not Evil Stephanie, EKay’s heretofore unknown half-sister just announced on national TV. (How’s that for a gratuitous Oprah reference?)… But back to the story – E S stands for Ethical Society.

Yes Virginia (Fred, Joe, Sandy, Arlene, Bob, Carol, Ted, Alice, etc…) I am a Secular Humanist. Thought I was Pagan didn’t you? Not for quite a long, long time now… I have my reasons, but that’s another blog. Suffice it to say, I’m not anti-pagan, just like I’m NOT anti-Christian, anti-Semitic, anti-Muslim, etc. I’m good with all of ’em, but I’m not any of them either.

But, like I said, different blog.

So, anyway, the O-spring has friends at E S, as do Her Supreme Evilness and I. And we hang out at E S on Sunday’s, and even at other times. Like recently. Right after that foot of snow dropped on us. We even had some more falling from the sky to top it off a bit. Get where I’m heading? Good, because I don’t either.

Wait… Maybe I do. You see, after E S this past Sunday, the O-spring went home with one of her friends so they could hang out and do tween o-spring stuff. What with all the snow they did sledding and all that general wintry fun crap we used to do when we were young enough to be able to get back up off the ground after slamming into a snowbank at the bottom of the hill. Anyhow, as will happen they ended up snow covered, and as the snow melts the coat, etc ends up wet.

Fast forward to that evening. This is actually where the sitcom moment comes in. The Redhead and I hop into the Evil Mobile and head over to retrieve our kid. We arrive, business as usual, our friend – we’ll call her Alison because I promised I wouldn’t use her real name –  invites us in and calls the girls down from upstairs. While we wait for the kids to actually make it to the main floor, what with them being tweens and all, we stood around in the sitting room – yeah, I know – chit chatting.

Alison eventually says, “I’d better get o-spring’s boots. They were wet so I’ve been drying them out over here.”

The Hottest Thing In Kids Shoes

She takes a step over to the fireplace and when she turns back around she is holding a suede girls boot. Nothing terribly odd about this, except that smoke is rolling out of and off of it. Literally. In fact, it looks just like one of those smoking shoes that is left behind after Larry, Moe, Curly, or Shemp is blown out of his socks…

We all looked at it. No drama. No excitement. No nothing.

After a moment of us all staring at the smoking boot, in a calm, even voice Alison said, “I think I burned it.”

I replied, just as calmly, “Burned? Actually I think it’s still burning.”

It was. Smoke was still rolling off of it. Out of it. Around it. There even appeared to be some glowing embers spreading along the side around what used to be a buckle. And the rubberized sole was looking just a bit drippy.

The smell of a tire fire was beginning to permeate the room.

We all looked at it again. Calmly. No exclamations. No hurry. Just standing there staring at the hottest thing in fashion footwear for kids, so to speak.

“Yep,” E K finally said with a nod. “It’s definitely on fire.”

Alison said, “I think I’d better put it out.”

“Well, at least the kid’s feet will be warm on the way home,” I offered.

“Well, the other one didn’t burn,” Alison said as she headed out of the room with the smoking shoe with no more urgency than if she were just going to  grab a drink. Over her should she added, “Just this one.”

I shrugged. “I guess we need to move it closer to the fire then.”

I guess that makes me a bad parent.

Moral of the story? There isn’t one really. The kid ended up with a new pair of boots, and I ended up with a story. Of course, I guess I need to remember to ask Alison the next time I see her if the house still smells like someone tossed a steel belted radial into the fireplace.

More to come…

Murv

It was a day like any other day…

Well, that’s not actually true. It was a day like any other day in the first half of January, when just enough snow fell overnight – and was still falling that morning – that the schools canceled classes and left parents of Elementary school kids scrambling to make arrangements. Of course, what with me working from home – I mean, after all, you can write a book pretty much anywhere if you try, so why not at home… But anyway, what with me working from home there wasn’t as much scrambling as there was re-planning.

You see, I can’t work when I have people in my house.

This is not to say that I don’t love having E K and the O-spring at home. I do. Problem is, they are a distraction, even when they are trying very hard not to be. Either they end up making some sort of oddly repetitious noise that is at just the right frequency for me to be able to hear, or I just can’t concentrate because I’d rather be doing something with them than working.

The long and short of it being, on snow days I don’t get any writing done. I find other work to do. Used to be I’d play scrabble, monopoly, or something else with the O-spring. But these days she’s in that zone where dad is only cool if he has something she wants… you know… like money, or an orange that’s already been peeled and sectioned.

Therefore, on this particular day I parked myself in my office to do other work that comes along with the whole author gig. Answering interview questions, doing research, reminding myself to pay my HWA dues then getting sidetracked and forgetting. That reminds me, I need to do that…

Everything seemed to be plugging along okay. O-spring with her nose buried in her new Nook. O-spring singing. O-spring going all Rembrandt on some paper with her oil pastels. And me, sitting in my office, working and forgetting to do things I need to do.

Then I heard it.

“Heard what?” you ask.

The thing that strikes fear into the hearts of parents everywhere.

“Dad?” came the voice from the next room.

“Whatcha’ need, kiddo?” I asked.

“Ummm… Do we have any ‘Duck’ Tape?”

<silence> <blink> <silence>

Finally I asked, “What did you break?”

<silence>

Eventually the answer came. “Umm… Nothing…”

Snow days. Apparently it isn’t just shoveling the white stuff that’s hazardous to your heart.

More to come…

Murv