- Brian Moen, Writer of Children's Books
- Washington, United States
- www.brianmoen.com
Showing posts with label funny. Show all posts
Showing posts with label funny. Show all posts
Monday, July 4, 2011
Saturday, October 30, 2010
POLITICS, ANYONE?
When will it end???
The intrusive, bitter, highly political messages invading U.S. homes and airwaves are not helpful. It appears that as more and more money pours into the campaign coffers, the number of crass and truth-averse messages grow exponentially. Is it any wonder that voters are having trouble deciphering the truth from the rhetoric?
As a contrast to all the lies, fear-mongering, and all out hateful messages, one citizen held up a sign at a recent rally in Seattle that read,
The intrusive, bitter, highly political messages invading U.S. homes and airwaves are not helpful. It appears that as more and more money pours into the campaign coffers, the number of crass and truth-averse messages grow exponentially. Is it any wonder that voters are having trouble deciphering the truth from the rhetoric?
As a contrast to all the lies, fear-mongering, and all out hateful messages, one citizen held up a sign at a recent rally in Seattle that read,
"I don't really have a message so I drew a bunny."
Well said, concerned American citizen. I salute you!
Sunday, August 1, 2010
Saturday, July 24, 2010
GREAT BOAT
I absolutely love Craigslist! Not only is it a good place to sell and/or buy hidden treasures, but is also a source of terrific inadvertent comedy. In perusing advertisements for watercraft, I stumbled upon this gem:
1972 16' Glasply with 1981 Chrysler. This has been a great boat for me until it sank last week. It has a small hole in the hull that should be easy to fix.
For future reference, using the words boat and sank in the same advertisement when you're attempting to sell the aforementioned water vehicle is probably a bad idea. In my humble opinion, MOST PEOPLE PREFER BOATS THAT FLOAT!
1972 16' Glasply with 1981 Chrysler. This has been a great boat for me until it sank last week. It has a small hole in the hull that should be easy to fix.
For future reference, using the words boat and sank in the same advertisement when you're attempting to sell the aforementioned water vehicle is probably a bad idea. In my humble opinion, MOST PEOPLE PREFER BOATS THAT FLOAT!
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
HURRAY FOR LIBRARIES
Libraries. I am a huge fan. Where else but in a library can a person discover FREE soul enriching, mind bending, or edge of your seat bound paper goodness? Heck, even the "Old Spice Guy" agrees with me. What do you think?
Monday, July 19, 2010
FLASHIN' IN SEATTLE
Seattle is a city known around the globe for its vast natural resources and beauty. We are also recognized for our trend-setting people, recreational amenities, educational opportunities, and cutting edge businesses. Computer innovations, aircraft technology, grunge music, coffee houses, and incredibly successful sports teams (I wish) are just a few of the things that have sprung from our little corner of the world.
We are changing the world in other ways, too. Specifically, FLASH MOBS. I know ... I may be stretching it a bit on the changing the world part. But, Flash Mobs are a fun and healthy diversion that are springing up more and more in this area since warmer weather has arrived.
If you aren't sure what this mob thing is, I've embedded a video of one held at the Seattle Central Library on July 1st of this year. Enjoy!
We are changing the world in other ways, too. Specifically, FLASH MOBS. I know ... I may be stretching it a bit on the changing the world part. But, Flash Mobs are a fun and healthy diversion that are springing up more and more in this area since warmer weather has arrived.
If you aren't sure what this mob thing is, I've embedded a video of one held at the Seattle Central Library on July 1st of this year. Enjoy!
Thursday, July 1, 2010
HATCHING AN EVIL PLAN
In getting ready for our garage sale this weekend, we stumbled across my old typewriter. I considered selling it. But, after my wife showed the kids how it worked, and seeing how excited they got, I changed my mind.
"It's better than a computer!" giggled my daughter almost uncontrollably.
And with that knowledge, I hatched a plan.
Instead of selling it, I will store it for another 8 years.
Then, when the time is right, I will wrap it up all nice and pretty in pink paper with a big purple bow, and give it to my daughter as a gift before she heads off to college.
When she opens the present and invariably throws a fit at such an outdated form of technology, I will smile and earnestly say, "Hey! It's better than a computer."
*Evil laugh*
Sunday, May 23, 2010
DAILY AFFIRMATION
Feeling a little down in the dumps? Need a motivational speaker to get you pumped up? Then have I got a clip for you ...
Saturday, May 15, 2010
WHAT GOOD IS A LABEL ANYWAY?
I spent time this morning adding labels to the blog posts I've written. Well, there was that, and listening to my 4 year old spell the word butt over and over again.
The tags I added to my posts will help potential readers locate this blog more easily. By adding key words, people conducting searches on the internet are more likely to find this site. Pertinent labels work as tiny advertisements, very similar to what you might come across in a newspaper or magazine.
My youngest child, coincidentally enough, also attracted attention by using a key word. He used the label butt to gain attention. It worked! His mother and I both asked him to report to our room for a quick discussion about proper etiquette.
So what is the point of a good label anyway? It attracts attention. Simple as that. And as more people are exposed to your writing, the better chance you have of gaining readers.
I'd love to write more, but it is time for me to sign off. It's not too often that we get sunny weather with temperatures in the 70's in Western Washington at this time of the year. So, I must take advantage of it and get outside to shovel some dirt.
Have a happy weekend!
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Shopping Sleepies
.
And Bean, upon seeing the lack of enthusiasm displayed by his lethargic owner, resolved to join me in a long winter's nap.
Good night, y'all!
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Spies on a Mission
“Sign our books!”
“What?” I confusedly answered after this unexpected demand.
“Sign our books to prove that we fulfilled our mission!”
“What are you talking about?” I stammered, still perplexed by the order. This command was being given to me by three nimble and wrinkle-free explorers who had just entered my abode. The squad had silently snuck up behind me and almost caught me by surprise. If I wasn’t blessed with the magic of peripheral vision, I might have been totally stunned.
In spite of it being over 70 degrees inside my house, the three members of the dangerous looking crew had on long coats and hats, with packs on their backs whose contents remained unknown. They also carried with them in their hands what appeared to be maps and light emitting devices. The oldest clutched a pointed object of some sort. To say that these three seemed out of place would be an understatement. They looked dangerous, and set me on edge.
My heart raced as sweat beaded upon my skin, and my other senses became heightened. I instinctively began to flex my hands. I silently cursed under my breath. If only I had been wearing my glasses, I might have been able to put up a better defense against these intruders.
“C’mon, Dad!” whined the three little spies. “Just sign our mission books already so we can get back to our job.”
The three, who I now took to be miniature Moen beings, all thrust out their self-made mission cards at me. Then, they all said loudly in unison, “Sign!”
As the small paper card from the largest child got closer to my nose, the print on it became legible. The piece of paper had on it a list of “missions” that each kid was supposed to accomplish. The first task – “Sneak up on Dad.”
“Would you please hurry up?” said my oldest. She then handed me the pointed object she was holding – a pen. “We have a lot to get accomplished today, and don’t have time to waste!”
“Okay,” I replied, while rapidly taking the pen from her and signing each child’s mission card. I handed each slip of paper back with my signature written as “Dad,” to each respective child. Then I asked, “All set?”
“Thanks, Dad!” they happily said. Then, all three of my imaginative children took off in search of another adventure.
As they traipsed around the corner, I quickly wrote down the spy gear they each had with them. Here is what I learned that each professional undercover agent needs in order to conduct a mission successfully:
Powder-Puff Girls Backpack
Notepad
Hand Sanitizer
Dictionary
Chapstick
Pencil
Pen
Light
Club Membership/Mission Card
Perry the Platypus would be so proud!
What you just read above is my second draft of an incident that I jotted down earlier in the week. I often write down a few words, sentences, or phrases on paper, record my thoughts on my digital recorder, and/or write out ideas using my computer’s word processing program several times a week. Sometimes these tidbits become stories or even blog posts. Others just become detritus.
In either case, valuable additions to my creative writing process has taken place – I get ideas, I think about them, and I decide which ones may have some merit. Then, I further develop the ideas that strike me as worthy of development. Others, I discard.
After writing for a bit on the “winners” for my stories and blogs, I sometimes sadly learn that some of pieces I’ve spent added time on don’t work. Rats! All is not lost though. I put these back in my portfolio and hope that someday I’ll happen upon them again just like I would a time capsule. Maybe these canceled ideas will work at a later date, and I’ll be able to recycle them in the future?
Below is my original ramblings about the “Spies on a Mission” short story I developed more fully above. Can you notice the similarities between the two?
My four year old son, along with his older siblings, snuck up behind me last night and caught me by surprise. Then, as all good spies do when accomplishing a task, my kids had me check off and sign their self-made “mission” cards to verify that they had fulfilled their spy mission by sneaking up on me quietly. They even had their own pens just in case I failed to bring one from my mission control reclining easy chair. Inspector Clouseau would be so proud!
“What?” I confusedly answered after this unexpected demand.
“Sign our books to prove that we fulfilled our mission!”
“What are you talking about?” I stammered, still perplexed by the order. This command was being given to me by three nimble and wrinkle-free explorers who had just entered my abode. The squad had silently snuck up behind me and almost caught me by surprise. If I wasn’t blessed with the magic of peripheral vision, I might have been totally stunned.
In spite of it being over 70 degrees inside my house, the three members of the dangerous looking crew had on long coats and hats, with packs on their backs whose contents remained unknown. They also carried with them in their hands what appeared to be maps and light emitting devices. The oldest clutched a pointed object of some sort. To say that these three seemed out of place would be an understatement. They looked dangerous, and set me on edge.
My heart raced as sweat beaded upon my skin, and my other senses became heightened. I instinctively began to flex my hands. I silently cursed under my breath. If only I had been wearing my glasses, I might have been able to put up a better defense against these intruders.
“C’mon, Dad!” whined the three little spies. “Just sign our mission books already so we can get back to our job.”
The three, who I now took to be miniature Moen beings, all thrust out their self-made mission cards at me. Then, they all said loudly in unison, “Sign!”
As the small paper card from the largest child got closer to my nose, the print on it became legible. The piece of paper had on it a list of “missions” that each kid was supposed to accomplish. The first task – “Sneak up on Dad.”
“Would you please hurry up?” said my oldest. She then handed me the pointed object she was holding – a pen. “We have a lot to get accomplished today, and don’t have time to waste!”
“Okay,” I replied, while rapidly taking the pen from her and signing each child’s mission card. I handed each slip of paper back with my signature written as “Dad,” to each respective child. Then I asked, “All set?”
“Thanks, Dad!” they happily said. Then, all three of my imaginative children took off in search of another adventure.
As they traipsed around the corner, I quickly wrote down the spy gear they each had with them. Here is what I learned that each professional undercover agent needs in order to conduct a mission successfully:
Powder-Puff Girls Backpack
Notepad
Hand Sanitizer
Dictionary
Chapstick
Pencil
Pen
Light
Club Membership/Mission Card
Perry the Platypus would be so proud!
What you just read above is my second draft of an incident that I jotted down earlier in the week. I often write down a few words, sentences, or phrases on paper, record my thoughts on my digital recorder, and/or write out ideas using my computer’s word processing program several times a week. Sometimes these tidbits become stories or even blog posts. Others just become detritus.
In either case, valuable additions to my creative writing process has taken place – I get ideas, I think about them, and I decide which ones may have some merit. Then, I further develop the ideas that strike me as worthy of development. Others, I discard.
After writing for a bit on the “winners” for my stories and blogs, I sometimes sadly learn that some of pieces I’ve spent added time on don’t work. Rats! All is not lost though. I put these back in my portfolio and hope that someday I’ll happen upon them again just like I would a time capsule. Maybe these canceled ideas will work at a later date, and I’ll be able to recycle them in the future?
Below is my original ramblings about the “Spies on a Mission” short story I developed more fully above. Can you notice the similarities between the two?
My four year old son, along with his older siblings, snuck up behind me last night and caught me by surprise. Then, as all good spies do when accomplishing a task, my kids had me check off and sign their self-made “mission” cards to verify that they had fulfilled their spy mission by sneaking up on me quietly. They even had their own pens just in case I failed to bring one from my mission control reclining easy chair. Inspector Clouseau would be so proud!
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Impromptu Concert
The crowd enters reverently, voices hushed, shuffling in across the plush crimson carpet. Purses and programs clutched in sweaty, trembling hands, the audience breathlessly anticipates a voluminous performance from the master. The excitement in the room is palpable. Even though many have beheld this conductor before, a montage like today is savored by the throng in attendance for its multiple layers of sound and unexpected lyrical surprises.
Once all are seated, and the cacophony of the tuning of instruments is completed, the maestro dutifully taps his baton four times. The expectant crowd instantly attuned to the meaning of the signal to get quiet, swiftly bring conversations to an end. The conductor lifts his arms heavenward. The entire patronage of the auditorium eagerly sits upright and gazes toward the orchestra pit. The prelude is over, and the symphony is set to commence.
Silence from the masses. Then the first notes of the piece emanate from behind the conductor. Sound flows down from the rafters of the hall and envelopes the increasingly mesmerized crowd. The director has chosen a familiar tune to all. Fingers snap rhythmically, feet tap energetically, and heads bob along in a trance-like manner to the orchestra’s beat.
Soon the conductor, now acting as lead singer as well, kicks into high gear and belts out the words, “Little ditty about Jack and Diane,” in full throated glory. The leader of the band now turned vocal performer, smiles at the spectacle he’s created.
“A child prodigy!” breathlessly whispers a well-dressed woman in the front row. “Just look at the way he keeps perfect time, even with the difficult syncopated beats of the drums attempting to upend the entire orchestral composition.”
The emboldened performer, in addition to his singing with the voice of an angel, begins to thump along rhythmically with the tympanis. His directing baton magically has now transformed into a drum stick. A half-filled coffee cup, cracked saucer, and daisy-adorned glass vase become his drums. Mom’s change purse and Dad’s custodian-sized keys serve beautifully as cymbals. And the splendid cornucopia of sound reverberates.
The audience, now enthralled with the melodic spectacle of the performance, follows along intently. The artiste seems fully aware of the eyes staring at him from the expensive orchestra seats near the front to the nose bleeds in back. He smiles mischievously as he sings and plays. A song sung initially to bring joy only to him, has now captured the spirit of others as well.
As the last few measures wind down, the patrons in the coffee shop, with scrambled eggs and slices of pancakes on their breakfast plates growing cold, stare transfixed, open mouthed, with food covered forks hovering just out of reach. The final notes drift off and become history, and the audience erupts in approving laughter, wide smiles, and deafening applause.
A standing ovation is given by the woman and her husband in the front row. The woman lunges for the stage, and boldly wraps the conductor up in her arms and covers him with proud kisses. No call to security is needed. It’s just another typical day in the lives of a Mommy and Daddy, proud parents of an amazing 4 year old.
Once all are seated, and the cacophony of the tuning of instruments is completed, the maestro dutifully taps his baton four times. The expectant crowd instantly attuned to the meaning of the signal to get quiet, swiftly bring conversations to an end. The conductor lifts his arms heavenward. The entire patronage of the auditorium eagerly sits upright and gazes toward the orchestra pit. The prelude is over, and the symphony is set to commence.
Silence from the masses. Then the first notes of the piece emanate from behind the conductor. Sound flows down from the rafters of the hall and envelopes the increasingly mesmerized crowd. The director has chosen a familiar tune to all. Fingers snap rhythmically, feet tap energetically, and heads bob along in a trance-like manner to the orchestra’s beat.
Soon the conductor, now acting as lead singer as well, kicks into high gear and belts out the words, “Little ditty about Jack and Diane,” in full throated glory. The leader of the band now turned vocal performer, smiles at the spectacle he’s created.
“A child prodigy!” breathlessly whispers a well-dressed woman in the front row. “Just look at the way he keeps perfect time, even with the difficult syncopated beats of the drums attempting to upend the entire orchestral composition.”
The emboldened performer, in addition to his singing with the voice of an angel, begins to thump along rhythmically with the tympanis. His directing baton magically has now transformed into a drum stick. A half-filled coffee cup, cracked saucer, and daisy-adorned glass vase become his drums. Mom’s change purse and Dad’s custodian-sized keys serve beautifully as cymbals. And the splendid cornucopia of sound reverberates.
The audience, now enthralled with the melodic spectacle of the performance, follows along intently. The artiste seems fully aware of the eyes staring at him from the expensive orchestra seats near the front to the nose bleeds in back. He smiles mischievously as he sings and plays. A song sung initially to bring joy only to him, has now captured the spirit of others as well.
As the last few measures wind down, the patrons in the coffee shop, with scrambled eggs and slices of pancakes on their breakfast plates growing cold, stare transfixed, open mouthed, with food covered forks hovering just out of reach. The final notes drift off and become history, and the audience erupts in approving laughter, wide smiles, and deafening applause.
A standing ovation is given by the woman and her husband in the front row. The woman lunges for the stage, and boldly wraps the conductor up in her arms and covers him with proud kisses. No call to security is needed. It’s just another typical day in the lives of a Mommy and Daddy, proud parents of an amazing 4 year old.
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Question of the Day
How did you eat me into your body?
My wife got asked this question today by my 4 year old. My son really just wanted to know how he was conceived. But, I'm sure happy he asked for Mom to explain it instead of Dad.
When the nosy Daddy (me, of course) overheard the conversation that was building steam, I let out a spastic laugh and snort. Then, while attempting to stifle more giggles, I quickly shielded my face with the newspaper. I didn't want to curb the conversation they were having. And, secretly, I wanted to see how my wife would answer his strangely worded inquisition.
My wife then calmly explained to my son that Mommies and Daddies are like puzzle pieces. When you put them together, a baby is made. My son said, "Oh." Then, he flopped back down on the floor to play with his race cars.
My wife is so smart! Well done, Honey!
My wife got asked this question today by my 4 year old. My son really just wanted to know how he was conceived. But, I'm sure happy he asked for Mom to explain it instead of Dad.
When the nosy Daddy (me, of course) overheard the conversation that was building steam, I let out a spastic laugh and snort. Then, while attempting to stifle more giggles, I quickly shielded my face with the newspaper. I didn't want to curb the conversation they were having. And, secretly, I wanted to see how my wife would answer his strangely worded inquisition.
My wife then calmly explained to my son that Mommies and Daddies are like puzzle pieces. When you put them together, a baby is made. My son said, "Oh." Then, he flopped back down on the floor to play with his race cars.
My wife is so smart! Well done, Honey!
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Weekend with Daddy
My wife left me for the weekend. Not only did she leave me, she took my daughter with her, too. They are off to spend a rainy Washington weekend of camping with the Girl Scouts. That means that Daddy gets to spend the weekend all by himself with the boys, doing safe and manly activities.
We’ve already enjoyed a dinner of delicious peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, a side order of pears (fresh from the plastic single serving sized cups), small glasses of frothy 2% milk, and cookie dough ice cream with caramel syrup on top for dessert. Then, the boys messed around for awhile by pushing their toy trucks safely around the living room. But, as the thrill of competition between the two kids took over, the trucks became dangerous projectiles that knocked over some chairs and flew pell-mell toward the t.v., Dad quickly put an end to the monster truck rally. After that, we used quiet inside voices and kicked back for a bit, watched the prototypical kids’ cartoons, did some mazes, and played a few games of tick-tack-toe. I got the boys ready for bed at a respectable 10:30 pm (c’mon, it’s the weekend), and tucked them in for the night.
My next task is to figure out what we should do tomorrow. I’ve contemplated the pros and cons of taking the boys to the Serpentarium to hold snakes, hiking to a waterfall through a magical rainforest, finding our way through a corn maze, or visiting the children’s museum. Then again, the allure of going to a local fast food restaurant and letting them run around in the kids play area also sounds appealing due to the added benefit of not having to think about what to fix for lunch. And, there’s always football and car racing events to think about as well. Decisions, decisions …
I’m sure that whatever I decide to have the kids do for the rest of this weekend will be fun. It’s not often that the males in the Moen household get to bond like this. Besides, I know that my wife will consider the weekend to be a success as long as she finds the males of this household in the same condition as she left them.
We’ve already enjoyed a dinner of delicious peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, a side order of pears (fresh from the plastic single serving sized cups), small glasses of frothy 2% milk, and cookie dough ice cream with caramel syrup on top for dessert. Then, the boys messed around for awhile by pushing their toy trucks safely around the living room. But, as the thrill of competition between the two kids took over, the trucks became dangerous projectiles that knocked over some chairs and flew pell-mell toward the t.v., Dad quickly put an end to the monster truck rally. After that, we used quiet inside voices and kicked back for a bit, watched the prototypical kids’ cartoons, did some mazes, and played a few games of tick-tack-toe. I got the boys ready for bed at a respectable 10:30 pm (c’mon, it’s the weekend), and tucked them in for the night.
My next task is to figure out what we should do tomorrow. I’ve contemplated the pros and cons of taking the boys to the Serpentarium to hold snakes, hiking to a waterfall through a magical rainforest, finding our way through a corn maze, or visiting the children’s museum. Then again, the allure of going to a local fast food restaurant and letting them run around in the kids play area also sounds appealing due to the added benefit of not having to think about what to fix for lunch. And, there’s always football and car racing events to think about as well. Decisions, decisions …
I’m sure that whatever I decide to have the kids do for the rest of this weekend will be fun. It’s not often that the males in the Moen household get to bond like this. Besides, I know that my wife will consider the weekend to be a success as long as she finds the males of this household in the same condition as she left them.
Realistic Dialogue
During class today, one of my students read the following line aloud while sharing a story that he’d written in his journal:
“My Dad has a lot of hair … but none of it is on his head.”
This line cracked my students up! I knew right away that I had to share this with my readers.
I felt it was important to pass this quote along because it provided a terrific example of the type of humor that kids in the upper elementary and middle grades find amusing. By listening to and learning how kids talk in “real life,” you are more able to capture the feelings of your characters and write realistic dialogue for your stories. The genuine word choices you make will help you connect with your potential audiences better, and bring increased depth to your stories.
Plus,the fact is, now that I am in my mid forties, my back is beginning to resemble my student’s comment.
(Original Posting Date - October 6, 2009)
“My Dad has a lot of hair … but none of it is on his head.”
This line cracked my students up! I knew right away that I had to share this with my readers.
I felt it was important to pass this quote along because it provided a terrific example of the type of humor that kids in the upper elementary and middle grades find amusing. By listening to and learning how kids talk in “real life,” you are more able to capture the feelings of your characters and write realistic dialogue for your stories. The genuine word choices you make will help you connect with your potential audiences better, and bring increased depth to your stories.
Plus,the fact is, now that I am in my mid forties, my back is beginning to resemble my student’s comment.
(Original Posting Date - October 6, 2009)
It’s Logic, Mom?
Dinner last night was a struggle. My 4 year old didn’t want to eat his hot dog. He spent much of the mealtime watching others, making faces at his siblings, and talking to himself while the rest of us ate.
After being told by my wife over and over again to stop messing around and to start eating, my son suddenly paused and looked up at her. With a serious expression plastered across his face, he dryly said, “I can’t eat right now, Mom. I’m too busy playing around.”
Who can argue with the logic of a 4 year old?
(Original Posting Date - October 4, 2009)
After being told by my wife over and over again to stop messing around and to start eating, my son suddenly paused and looked up at her. With a serious expression plastered across his face, he dryly said, “I can’t eat right now, Mom. I’m too busy playing around.”
Who can argue with the logic of a 4 year old?
(Original Posting Date - October 4, 2009)
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Singing Pants
What would you do if someone smiled at you and said, “You are so talented, even your pants sing?” Would you be thrilled at such a compliment? Would you be embarrassed and confused? Or, would you just think that the saying sounds like a great title for a book? If you’re like me, you chose the last option – great book title!
Every day, things said all around you could and should be woven into magical and original stories. All you have to do is look, listen, and be aware that your next great book idea could be just hanging there in the air, waiting to be snatched out of the ethereal plane, and plopped down on a page for all to see. Don’t miss the chance to find inspiration that comes from out of nowhere and sets your creative juices flowing!
p.s. Yes. The comment made at the beginning of this short entry about my “pants singing” truly did happen to me today. But, it’s not as irreverent as it sounds. The remark was simply made by a co-worker of mine to me when she heard my cell phone, which I carry in my front pocket, ring. My ring tone … “Always look on the bright side of life!”
Every day, things said all around you could and should be woven into magical and original stories. All you have to do is look, listen, and be aware that your next great book idea could be just hanging there in the air, waiting to be snatched out of the ethereal plane, and plopped down on a page for all to see. Don’t miss the chance to find inspiration that comes from out of nowhere and sets your creative juices flowing!
p.s. Yes. The comment made at the beginning of this short entry about my “pants singing” truly did happen to me today. But, it’s not as irreverent as it sounds. The remark was simply made by a co-worker of mine to me when she heard my cell phone, which I carry in my front pocket, ring. My ring tone … “Always look on the bright side of life!”
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Mr. Independent
Help! My 7 year old is exhibiting an independent streak that must be stopped!
Okay, so maybe I’m being a little melodramatic. But I ask you: What exactly is the proper attire for a kid to wear to bed anyway?
I don’t believe that this should be a difficult question for most parents to answer. But, based on the difficulties I’ve been having this past week, it seems to be a battle of epic proportion in my house.
I’m just curious about this question because my oldest son seems to be having trouble conforming to the standard night-time attire for most children: a pajama top, underwear, and pajama bottoms. You see, when he gets ready for bed lately, instead of putting on the prescribed kids’ uniform that has worked perfectly for generations, he wants to deviate and choose something on his own. Now, you may be asking yourself at this point, “What’s the big deal, Brian?”
The big deal is that instead of wearing his pj’s to sleep in, he wants to wear his new tennis shoes to bed. That’s it – just his tennis shoes. No amount of logic and begging has been able to dislodge this curious idea from his head. At bedtime, he insists on dancing around the living room, shouting out that his tennis shoes make him feel “Good.”
In time, I’m sure that I’ll be able to get him to see that there’s a perfectly logical reason that he can’t sleep with just his tennis shoes on. Your sheets will get filthy, you’ll get cold without pajamas on, etc. Until that time though, it’s a problem that I’m just going to blame on his Mother. After all, she’s the one who bought him the new school shoes, so it must be her fault. Right?
(Original Posting Date - September 14, 2009)
Okay, so maybe I’m being a little melodramatic. But I ask you: What exactly is the proper attire for a kid to wear to bed anyway?
I don’t believe that this should be a difficult question for most parents to answer. But, based on the difficulties I’ve been having this past week, it seems to be a battle of epic proportion in my house.
I’m just curious about this question because my oldest son seems to be having trouble conforming to the standard night-time attire for most children: a pajama top, underwear, and pajama bottoms. You see, when he gets ready for bed lately, instead of putting on the prescribed kids’ uniform that has worked perfectly for generations, he wants to deviate and choose something on his own. Now, you may be asking yourself at this point, “What’s the big deal, Brian?”
The big deal is that instead of wearing his pj’s to sleep in, he wants to wear his new tennis shoes to bed. That’s it – just his tennis shoes. No amount of logic and begging has been able to dislodge this curious idea from his head. At bedtime, he insists on dancing around the living room, shouting out that his tennis shoes make him feel “Good.”
In time, I’m sure that I’ll be able to get him to see that there’s a perfectly logical reason that he can’t sleep with just his tennis shoes on. Your sheets will get filthy, you’ll get cold without pajamas on, etc. Until that time though, it’s a problem that I’m just going to blame on his Mother. After all, she’s the one who bought him the new school shoes, so it must be her fault. Right?
(Original Posting Date - September 14, 2009)
Middle School Memories
Based on my middle school teaching experience last year, I guess it’s a good thing I moved back to the elementary level. I’d now equate my year working with middle school students to the sport of skydiving.
You start by going through ground school in an attempt to get ready for your first jump. Only, once you get in the plane and up in the air, you start to get a little nervous. Eventually, you overcome your fears, and jump out of the plane anyway. You figure that you’ve got to be safe ’cause you have a parachute on. Right?
Unfortunately, once you start falling, you reach for the rip cord, only to discover that your main chute has malfunctioned and won’t open. You panic for a moment. But then, you thankfully realize that you have a back-up chute. Whew! So, you quickly grab for the 2nd rip cord and yank. RIP!!! Uh, oh. The 2nd cord, now detached from the parachute bag, dangles from your sweaty palm, and your back-up chute is nowhere to be found. All at once you find yourself free-falling rapidly. Now is the time to panic!
I jumped out of that metaphysical plane last year, and found the free-fall incredibly different than I’d first imagined. The wind did whip through my hair on the way down, and it was thrilling for a time! But, hitting the ground (and my head against the wall over and over again) really hurt. I can honestly say though that it was … interesting.
(Original Posting Date - September 11, 2009)
You start by going through ground school in an attempt to get ready for your first jump. Only, once you get in the plane and up in the air, you start to get a little nervous. Eventually, you overcome your fears, and jump out of the plane anyway. You figure that you’ve got to be safe ’cause you have a parachute on. Right?
Unfortunately, once you start falling, you reach for the rip cord, only to discover that your main chute has malfunctioned and won’t open. You panic for a moment. But then, you thankfully realize that you have a back-up chute. Whew! So, you quickly grab for the 2nd rip cord and yank. RIP!!! Uh, oh. The 2nd cord, now detached from the parachute bag, dangles from your sweaty palm, and your back-up chute is nowhere to be found. All at once you find yourself free-falling rapidly. Now is the time to panic!
I jumped out of that metaphysical plane last year, and found the free-fall incredibly different than I’d first imagined. The wind did whip through my hair on the way down, and it was thrilling for a time! But, hitting the ground (and my head against the wall over and over again) really hurt. I can honestly say though that it was … interesting.
(Original Posting Date - September 11, 2009)
Saturday, September 26, 2009
The Dark Side of RVing
I’m sure that most of you have seen the GO RVing commercials on t.v. that show a happy family exploring a myriad of wilderness opportunities across our country. The too enthusiastic campers are always smiling, laughing, and appear carefree while traveling to their destination. And, I have to admit, as an owner of a compact travel trailer, my family and I have a wonderful time camping throughout the Western United States. It’s nice for us to escape from the “rat race’ occasionally to commune with nature, swim, hike, bike, trike, and sit around the campfire eating s’mores.
What they don’t show you is the “dark side” of RVing – cleaning out the waste holding tanks. The trailer owner’s manual makes it seem like it’s not a big deal to empty this reservoir. In fact, I’m sure that some smart cookie within the RV industry created the mundane sounding terms like “Black water” and “Gray water” so as not to turn off potential customers. What they don’t tell you is that the black water tank is a euphemism for a large, sealed container that holds your family’s excrement. Plus, another downside that they don’t mention on the sales floor when purchasing your RV is that you, as a proud new owner, get to empty these aforementioned tanks by yourself. Whoo hoo!
Today was the day that I got the pleasure of emptying the vat of waste from the trailer. A little gauge inside the trailer was glowing “full,” so I figured I couldn’t put off the task any longer. Luckily for me, we have a public RV dumping facility located conveniently just down the road from our house. “Easy as pie,” I thought. So, I hitched up the trailer and set off to clean out the holding tanks.
I arrived at the dumping facility and started pulling out the various hoses, tubing, connectors, disposable gloves, etc. that I would need to do the job. Then, I connected a handy, see-through sewer-dumping device to the trailer. I pulled the handle on the black water tank and voila! I won’t go into the graphic details, but to my amazement, the smelly contents of the trailer tank reservoir flushed out. After a brief time, the draining stopped. Now it was time for the next step in the process: Rinse.
But, before I could proceed, I needed to connect a special valve to my tank rinsing hose. I located my brand new, fancy $7.00 hose valve. I had to use this special valve because many public dump sites cut off the threaded ends of their hoses (for some reason that I just can’t fathom), and you cannot rinse your RV tanks out easily without it. Anyway, I screwed my hose onto my holding tank cleaning device and onto the valve. Then, I squished the shiny, made-just-for-this-situation (according to the salesperson) valve on to the cut-off public hose. I pushed the button to start the water pumping and … KABOOM!
The fancy valve that I bought exploded into two pieces, and broke apart from the public hose. Water sprayed out in all directions, soaking my face, hair and glasses. Startled, I attempted to squeeze the hose and valve back together, but only succeeded in creating an even bigger mess. Water spurted from the hose again like when the stem breaks off a bulging water balloon. I got another burst of wetness in my face, and the remaining dry portions of my body received an inadvertent shower. I was now soaked, and the water continued to flow. I dropped the hose, and ran to seek shelter behind my trailer until the water stopped.
Thankfully, the water eventually ceased flowing. I decided that, after the pandemonium I had just experienced, I would just pack up my toys and go home. I would contact my local RV dealer, and have them complete the tank cleaning and winterizing of my trailer instead. Ah, the joys of RVing!
(Original Posting Date - September 6, 2009)
What they don’t show you is the “dark side” of RVing – cleaning out the waste holding tanks. The trailer owner’s manual makes it seem like it’s not a big deal to empty this reservoir. In fact, I’m sure that some smart cookie within the RV industry created the mundane sounding terms like “Black water” and “Gray water” so as not to turn off potential customers. What they don’t tell you is that the black water tank is a euphemism for a large, sealed container that holds your family’s excrement. Plus, another downside that they don’t mention on the sales floor when purchasing your RV is that you, as a proud new owner, get to empty these aforementioned tanks by yourself. Whoo hoo!
Today was the day that I got the pleasure of emptying the vat of waste from the trailer. A little gauge inside the trailer was glowing “full,” so I figured I couldn’t put off the task any longer. Luckily for me, we have a public RV dumping facility located conveniently just down the road from our house. “Easy as pie,” I thought. So, I hitched up the trailer and set off to clean out the holding tanks.
I arrived at the dumping facility and started pulling out the various hoses, tubing, connectors, disposable gloves, etc. that I would need to do the job. Then, I connected a handy, see-through sewer-dumping device to the trailer. I pulled the handle on the black water tank and voila! I won’t go into the graphic details, but to my amazement, the smelly contents of the trailer tank reservoir flushed out. After a brief time, the draining stopped. Now it was time for the next step in the process: Rinse.
But, before I could proceed, I needed to connect a special valve to my tank rinsing hose. I located my brand new, fancy $7.00 hose valve. I had to use this special valve because many public dump sites cut off the threaded ends of their hoses (for some reason that I just can’t fathom), and you cannot rinse your RV tanks out easily without it. Anyway, I screwed my hose onto my holding tank cleaning device and onto the valve. Then, I squished the shiny, made-just-for-this-situation (according to the salesperson) valve on to the cut-off public hose. I pushed the button to start the water pumping and … KABOOM!
The fancy valve that I bought exploded into two pieces, and broke apart from the public hose. Water sprayed out in all directions, soaking my face, hair and glasses. Startled, I attempted to squeeze the hose and valve back together, but only succeeded in creating an even bigger mess. Water spurted from the hose again like when the stem breaks off a bulging water balloon. I got another burst of wetness in my face, and the remaining dry portions of my body received an inadvertent shower. I was now soaked, and the water continued to flow. I dropped the hose, and ran to seek shelter behind my trailer until the water stopped.
Thankfully, the water eventually ceased flowing. I decided that, after the pandemonium I had just experienced, I would just pack up my toys and go home. I would contact my local RV dealer, and have them complete the tank cleaning and winterizing of my trailer instead. Ah, the joys of RVing!
(Original Posting Date - September 6, 2009)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)