Wednesday, September 10, 2014

The Write Woman is so Sick! –(361 Days to Graduate)


 Okay, so I’m going to graduate – I am going to graduate and at the top of my class! I just need to follow the explicit guidelines of success that say trying isn’t a valid word, either you do it or you don’t. Never let anything stop you. (I’m not sure if anyone said that verbatim, but if they didn’t they should have.)

I’ve managed to contract the flu virus, but I went to the library anyway. I brought a can of Lysol and sprayed everything down in the little glass cubicle where Cameron and I study. When I went to the store to get some anti-nausea medication, the pharmacist shook his head and told me I needed ginger. So I grabbed some ginger root capsules and a bottle of ginger ale. As we passed the pharmacy again, my daughter stopped to ask the pharmacist, “Excuse me, can you tell me where the gingerbread men are?” He smiled, shook his head, and then looked at me wryly. I’m not sure he appreciated the humor, although I believe she intended on me buying some. The ginger root certainly disperses the gas, but Sprite works better for the nausea than ginger ale. Make a note.

My son came home last night from his father’s and after I pried it out of him, told me about his evening. A couple of months ago, I purchased the trilogy of Lord of the Rings for him and he loves it. He told me he recorded the full three hours, in the middle of the night, of The Hobbit at his father’s, hoping to watch it the next day. Then he told me how disappointed he was that he doesn’t speak Spanish because even though the channel was in English, the movie was not. Problem solved at Wally World for $12.



When we got home, I wasn’t up to cooking and Cameron had eaten. Nikki wanted macaroni and cheese in those little single serving cups. Usually I add plain macaroni noodles before I put the container into the microwave, to ensure she gets full. But she chose the shell noodles with the creamy Velveeta instead of the elbows with powder. There was about four spoonfuls in it when it was finished cooking. Yummy? Or would the serving size simply make it Yu?

Before bed, the kids were playing with a foam baseball. Nikki came over to taunt me, and I captured her. “Hold her there,” Cameron called. She laughed while I held her and he threw the ball, bouncing it from her tummy. I let her go and we had a giggle when she dove for the ball but missed. Cameron grabbed it, gave it to me and I caught him, tossing the ball to Nikki. Sitting in my chair, I wrapped my arms around him, I instructed her to throw it at him. Incredibly, she threw it at his face. He dodged to the side and she missed. “Don’t throw it at his face, Nik,” I told her. She wound up as tight as she could and let it rip, giggling. I felt him stiffen. Doubling over, red-faced, he hit the floor without breathing.

“What happened?” I asked.

Nikki danced across the floor singing, with her arms waving around like a rapper. “Beat that! Oh, yeah! Gotcha!” she said, pointing at his cringing body with both her hands.

That’s when I realized she had thrown a slugger right into his p*n*s. That pretty much ended the gaiety of our evening.

Oh yeah! I told you yesterday I would tell you what I’m going to school for, didn’t I? Screenwriting. It’s a tough road, I know. It’s takes the average screenwriter about a decade to get something worthwhile published, but I don’t have that much time. I gotta be a quick study. But I’m making my connections. My school is in Winter Park, Florida. (What oxymoron named that city?) But I’ve decided we want to go to Florida for my graduation.

I sent my former employer a card full of tiny smiley face stickers so when he opens it, he’ll think of me the entire time he’s cleaning them up. Hopefully good thoughts.

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