Tag: family

A little editor in all of us

I was reading Jeffrey Ricker’s blog, and he mentioned that at his gym, he recently noticed the signs “Mens Locker Room” and “Womens Locker Room,” with no apostrophes to indicate the words as possessive.

One of the most memorable mistakes I ever saw was when I was about twelve. It was Christmas season, and my father parked in front of a store with a huge sign in the window that advertised, “Neckless For Sale!” I still don’t know what creature was neckless; my parents refused to buy it because they said they’d be the ones who ended up feeding it. 😉

Do you have a favorite misspelled, poorly punctuated, or grammatically incorrect sign?

Monday Miscellany

First, hey, Steve in Florida, hope you had a memorable fiftieth birthday yesterday. Happy belated! (Also, happy belated to Becky in Mississippi and to Miss Squishi, who may or may not be reading here and could kick EVERYONE’S butts at TJB trivia.) I celebrated all these February birthdays by going to my friend Trish’s play “You Go Girl,” then later taking my mother some early Valentine’s Day goodies and treating her to dinner, but mostly working on my tax stuff. There’s nothing more exciting than doing a bunch of financial paperwork on Sunday night!

For those who asked… When I post a photo for Photo Fridays, traffic to my LiveJournal picks up considerably from all over the world because I put the link on the Photo Friday web site. I just try to keep those posts as simple as possible. No moods, no music, no comments. But thanks for saying you like the photo! Rex watched with great interest from his second story window as I messed around with the camera at midnight. He was like Rapunzel. Only without the hair. Plus he’s a he. And no one was holding him prisoner. But other than that…

Have a great Monday, everybody! Maybe I’ll come back later after I get the tax stuff to my tax preparer. If I do come back, what would you like for me to talk about? Give me a topic. I’m game.

Because Mother Nature is…

…. Actually, I can’t complete the sentence that titled this entry, though I said it aloud to Tim yesterday. I mean, my mother-in-law could read here! The word I want to use to describe Mother Nature is nothing so mild as “bitch.”

It does include that word we used on Page 23 of IT HAD TO BE YOU, the one that I meant when I told my mother-in-law, “I didn’t write that line!” And I didn’t. Since then, I’ve gotten over my anxiety about what my families read in our novels. They’re grown-ups, and in any case, we don’t write smut. (Not that there’s anything wrong with that, and if I wrote it, I’d make it the best smut I could.)

Still, there’s no reason to let my mother-in-law know that I occasionally have the mouth of a sailor. Actually, in honor of my father, I suppose I should have the mouth of a soldier. By all accounts, he could let fly with the blue language. I never actually heard it, only heard about it from men I dated after they had a few beers with him. Heh.

In any case, Mother Nature has decided that this will be the week she inflicts me with the hormonal headache from hell. Ever tried to write through one of those? In between taking narcotics to help you sleep in spite of the pain? It’s a mean trick to play on me in the final days counting down to submission of a manuscript.

Here’s me… Mother Nature’s plaything. I pity my writing partners and my husband.

Bingo!

Have you ever gone to one of those bingo halls located in some unfamiliar suburban location? A big utilitarian building with fluorescent lighting that makes everyone look ten years older? Where the non-smokers are put into a separate, smaller room because the majority of the bingo players are smokers?

My sister loves bingo and she wins. A lot. She’s been able to take vacations with her bingo winnings. She buys those little pull tabs at the bingo hall and wins with them, too. When she comes to Houston, I generally find one of those bingo halls and go with her. I do not win. But that’s okay. I’m not there for the bingo. I like to watch the people.

For one thing, this is the ONLY place in Houston where people gather quietly. We truly have the noisiest restaurants and stores of any city I’ve ever been in. But the bingo hall is hushed. Players are concentrating on their bingo sheets and the caller’s voice.

I enjoy checking out the good luck totems people bring and set up around their bingo sheets. It reminds me of when I travel. I like to carry favorite stones and crystals with me and set them up in my hotel room or condo. I usually have nag champa incense with me, too, and if I get a chance to buy cut flowers, I’ll add those. I don’t know why I started doing this, but it always makes me feel safer and happier in an unfamiliar place. When I did it on my first visit to New York, it made the hotel housekeepers smile at me and ask me questions. In countries like Bali, my friend Tandy tells me, hoteliers and innkeepers actually do this for their guests–leave little iconic gifts with fresh flowers in their rooms.

So I totally get why bingo players like to arrange their little space with their lucky charms, their dabbers, their ashtray–everything just so. I was sitting at my computer today when I suddenly realized that in my busy-ness, I’ve kind of let things collect on my desk. Though these things have no particular significance to me, I told Tom I feel like a bingo player.

I hope I win.


Stress ball from Tom, Happy Meal doll, champagne cork from New Year’s Eve, bookmark from our niece.