“You know what your problem is, it’s that you haven’t seen enough movies – all of life’s riddles are answered in the movies.”
Welcome to the September Fly On The Wall- Under Pressure!
Have you ever thought about what people might think if they saw what goes on behind-the-scenes at your house? Do you ever wonder what it would be like to catch a glimpse of someone else’s daily life? Here’s your chance. Today 14 bloggers are inviting you into their homes to be a fly on the wall.
The real, the weird, the life as only my circus can live it.
I just launched a brand new publishing company and mentoring program to empower young writers. I am really excited how it is all coming together. It started as a passing idea and grew rapidly. It is pretty dang awesome to have the opportunity to work with a gifted group of students with big dreams that match their talent. Pinch me! There is something magical about watching the creative process.
I decided to get that disco cranking the same month I had to get my first novel to proof. The Sweetest of Woods comes out 10/15/13! I underestimated the huge amount of work that it would be as well, so I found myself working three full time jobs this month. It has been interesting to say the least. *Twitch, twitch*
I might have caused it.
All hopes of vacation bliss blew up.
If you would like to hear all the details, you may read where confess my stupidity in Explosions and Firetrucks.
I started the month out so stellar that my next move shouldn’t have surprised me.
Let’s just leave the story at, I might have fallen asleep unceremoniously on the throne after learning that a couple of the vitamins I had taken were actually laxatives.
Here sits Meg, no sleep she got,
For she tried to go night night and ended up on the pot.
Moments to cherish.
When I lie in bed at night trying to turn my brain off, I swear the cats roar about the house like little tactical ninjas. Until I open my door to see what crashed, then they all turn back into normal critters, doing absolutely nothing wrong.
Miss Lyss moved into her excellent new apartment with views of the Hollywood sign and with her departed two kittens from Lily’s last litter, Fangus Chan and Dinah Griffin.
Those keeping score were down to…
Then… that changed too.
That effectively killed the mood.
“Soooo, I was in history and I took off that necklace. You know, the one I got in second grade from Haven? The one with the K on it. I miss Haven. We should call her. So, the guy next to me was like, ‘Dude you’re green’. Then I burned a hole in him with my stare. He kept saying the word green over and over until I looked in the mirror and saw that the necklace had finally started to rub off. I tried to rub it off in the bathroom but they only issue that powder soap that makes me itch and tree bark rough paper towels. Like I was going to itch, break out in a rash after I ground the top twelve layers of skin off with the bark. I was left with only one option. I put the necklace back on for the rest of the day and no one saw it,” K shared with me when she got into the car after school.
Middle school issues.
It’s not easy being green.
He is currently dabbling in fashion and has been known to assist K in apparel choice. He has a thing for jewelry. Not kidding in the slightest, if she asks him for help he’ll pick something out. It is ridiculous!
He has a love for cardigans, scarves, necklaces, silver and dark colors.
He streaked down the hall with Min’s sweater gently in his mouth to hide it behind the office chair. The other day we caught him swiping a necklace off a bed and tucking it under the next bed in another hiding spot. Only Min and K’s things does he seem to covet.
There seems to be some dark arts afoot.
There was a huge brown rat in the garage on my washing machine.
It sat watching me freak out with no fear.
In true genius form, I took off my shoe and sent it flying at the offending critter. The sucker watched my sneaker disappear behind the dryer, looked back at me in a rather menacing way before disappearing behind the machines while I tried again to hit him with an argyle sweater.
He owns my shoe, the washing machine, Min’s sweater and the blasted garage for the moment.
Should he step a ratty toe inside the house, the four legged ninjas will get him.
I’m calling in sick for laundry.
I was assured that we achieved a year of no one consuming Kool-aid or other such colorful mustache creating liquids just before pictures.
I always consider that a win.
Spring pictures 2010- we remember opening those bad paid for orange ‘stash pictures like it was yesterday.
She is Min’s best friend and a lovely young lady.
How long she’ll stay with us? We don’t know and that is just fine.
There is always a little extra room to be made, we’ll always leave the light on for ya.
Spiders and a closed door.
Someone put those tiny plastic spiders in the toilet and all over the seat.
When I lifted the lid, the spiders on the seat slid into the bowl and appeared to be alive.
Naturally, I became a flying ninja, ran smack into the wall before levitating onto the bed, grabbing an open box of Cheez-its for defense succeeding at sprinkling my bedroom with a dusting of cheese crackers while I waved the box in the direction of the offending toilet.
Someone has upped their game around here.
They got me good.
I have taught them well but revenge is sweet.
A birdy might have told them we could be getting them WiFi as part of their group gift for Chanukah.
Ha! We have our kids convinced to do awesome so they collectively earn something most take for granted. I thought that was genius!
(Obviously we have internet just not the version they’d like. I have it on good authority the rumors are true. )
“Aw, she just wants to be the writing cat. Come on, just let her snuggle up,” He says.
I sit with my legs criss crossed, the cat races for my lap and curls up in my legs. It is her spot. Her place, in her opinion and all is well until she starts needed her hypodermic needles into my lady bits.
“Seriously, vagina under fire,” I tell him.
“I can’t help that the cat likes your crotch,” He tells me, being of zero help.
I loathe the word crotch.
It evokes vivid images and creepy feelings. I’ll go about shouting correct anatomy in the air all day long but the words crotch and moist bugs me out. Reverse them, say them together and you’ll get an image too. Thank you, now you feeling my weird? Okay so humor me.
I pulled a face.
“We have a wrinkle of the nose ladies and gentleman! Seems the resident linguist is calling for a word substitution in the sentence! What would you like to call it, darling? The area just below the beans and frank? Loins? The spot Paris Hilton forgets to cover? The coming together of the nether regions? The place where fabric is sewn together to create a division of the legs? Groin? Pubic area adjacent? The lower intersection…” He continued but I went back to work after admitting, “Fine, you can have the crotch! Crotches win!”
“Don’t dampen the win for crotches everywhere!” He replies.
** As I looked for a more appropriate picture of a crotch for you… I came across none other than a picture posted by our pal and fellow Fly Writer- Stacy Sews and Schools.
I totally had to click on the fox pajamas just so you got a creepy hit from someone getting to you by way of crotch. Maybe I should re-word that? Na. Love ya, Stacy!
Word held my book hostage for a number of hours.
All 106,872 of those blasted words were stuck in there.
I was tired.
It wasn’t a pretty scene. Not pretty in the slightest.
By the time everything was just fine again, I realized I had it backed up in three different ways already.
Apparently, I just needed to come totally unhinged.
Then I took a nap.
I feel emotionally abused by myself.
Self, I’m this close to pressing charges. Get it together!
“Maybe Doro stopped by,” I say referring to the full car sticker wrap of Doro Pesch on our neighbors car.
“Dora? Why Dora?” K says in a panic.
“Look, the Holy Moses car,” I tell her.
The neighbors car and this conversation freaks me out a bit.
Checking out of the market, I had left the 24 pack of water bottles in the basket of the cart as the person bagging usually scans it so no one has to do any extra lifting. There was no available person bagging at the moment so the checker rang up all of my other items first and then asked me to lift the water so she could scan it.
Maybe it was the angle or something because I set them down no problem, paid but as the bagging assistant came over to put the last of my bags into the cart, I experienced the craziest muscle spasm in my back. It forced me to hunch over in the most painful way and I flailed an arm to grab the cart that was now rolling away.
The Bagger, seeing my spectacle promptly bowed and gave me the Vulcan symbol while telling me to
http://BakingInATornado.com Baking In A Tornado
http://followmehome.shellybean.com Follow me home . . .
http://stacysewsandschools.wordpress.com/ Stacy Sews and Schools
http://thesadderbutwisergirl.com The Sadder But Wiser Girl
http://menopausalmother.blogspot.com/ Menopausal Mother
http://mooreorganizedmayhem.blogspot.com/ Moore Organized Mayhem
http://hypnoticbard.blogspot.com/ The Insomniac’s Dream
http://themomisodes.com/ The Momisodes
http://spatulasonparade.blogspot.com/ Spatulas on Parade
http://singlemumplusone.blogspot.com Searching for Sanity
http://www.therowdybaker.com The Rowdy Baker
http://www.bethteliho.wordpress.com/ Writer B is Me
http://sorrykidblog.com/ Sorry kid, Your Mom Doesn’t Play Well With Others