BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

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

If you are a regular follower of B L, you most likely read “You Get HBO On That?”  a few weeks ago. In case you didn’t, or just don’t remember it and are too lazy to click on the link to refresh your memory, it was pretty much a transcript of a conversation I had with my newly 18 year old niece who had just had her nose pierced to celebrate her birthday.

For the record, I don’t care if she puts holes in her nose, or wherever else for that matter. Same goes for anyone else. However, I’m an uncle, I’m a writer, and I have a bizarre sense of humor. Therefore, it’s a moral imperative that I give my niece trouble. So, all of you pierced and tattooed whackos with email accounts can STOP sending me messages telling me what a bastard I am. If you honestly believe I am discriminating against you – and her – then your brains really DID leak out of those extra holes you poked into yourself.

Put simply: Slap some Dap ™ Stupid Crack filler on your holes and leave me alone.

But pointing out to the outraged idiots that they are idiots is not why I’m writing this particular blog entry. Nope. Actually I’m doing it to illustrate a “moral of the story.”

“What moral is that?” you ask…

Well, it’s kind of one of those “Fried Green Tomatoes” sort of morals. Remember that now famous line delivered by Kathy Bates?

“Face it, girls, I’m older and I have more insurance.”

…It’s sort of like that. In fact, I’m pretty sure it’s a lot like the moral I offered in the original blog on this subject. However, Christmas was upon us, and… Well… Allow me to illustrate. Literally.

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Side 1

Side 2

That moral?

Don’t do something silly, stupid, or otherwise bizarre if you have ME for an uncle. I have money, a copy of Photoshop, a color laser printer, and one hell of an imagination.

BTW, I didn’t want the other kids to feel left out, so…

Niece #2 got a “Booger ™” Logoed box containing a cork, carpet needle, and antiseptic wipe, along with instructions on how to pierce her own nose.

Nephew received a “Booger ™” Logoed box containing a lump of charcoal and instructions on how to make a diamond nose ring.

Texts and picture messages were flying, let me tell you. Not sure if the rest of the teenagers in Saint Louis think I’m a “Cool Uncle” or a Jackass. Maybe one day they’ll figure out that I’m both…

More to come…

Murv