Momnesia

AUGUSTA, GA. - We're all itching to read a new book that none of us can find: "Pride & Prejudice & Zombies." I scoured Atlanta for it last weekend and finally ordered it through Amazon. Amy tried to find it this weekend. No luck. It's on back order everywhere.

Amy: "We asked for the book at the counter, and the funny thing was that the clerk said, 'I'm sorry, what was it called? Pride & Prejudice & Donkeys?'"

Alice: "Oh, that would have been even funnier!"

"Emmie, please put your clothes on," I said, wearily, for at least the third time, as I strode past her to get myself ready for a family birthday.
"I don' WANT to!" She shrieked.
"You don't want to see Gran-Gran and MeeMaw? At Nona's house?" I asked, gently. I know she does.
"NOOO!" She shrieked again.
"I'm sorry, what did you say?" I asked, dryly. I'm pretty sure DFACS can hear her. "I can't hear you."
"Wull, can you hear dis?" She asked, and slammed her bedroom door in my face.
Oh, snap. Where did she learn that?!


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Look at these adorable stepping stones at Distinctly Different Antiques in Surrey Center - only $10!

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Younger, I wondered
Does grey hair grow all over?
I tell you: It does.

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Amber Carlson (heeeelll, yes, I called you out) and I are conversing out of our car windows at each other like the domesticated suburbanites we are (really, you could replace everything we said with "moo" and it would be just as accurate).

I had only just coaxed Emmie into the car, and I was trying to get everything done before the Dinosaur Jr show tonight. I'd been teasing Amber about her slackness in not going, but she's breast feeding. No fun for her for a while.

"Hey, Emmie," Amber says, with a sneaky grin on her face. "Your mommy is going to a dinosaur show tonight."

"No!" I point at her as Emmie turns to look at me quizzically.

"You should ask her if you can go, too," she finishes, and pulls off, laughing in unison with her oldest daughter.

"You're going straight to hell, Amber!" I shout after her... and turn to deal with a VERY excited pre-schooler.

"Look! Dose are fire ants!" Emmie points.

"Do you know why they're called fire ants? Because they bite you and it burns like fire," I explain. I leave out the part where it itches like mad for a week, but Em still looks frightened. She backs away from the small mound.

"I didn't mean to scare you, sweetie," I laughed.

"I don' wan' be fire," she whispered.

We encountered an unknown animal yesterday at the Welcome Center just inside the Columbia County line.
On the way back to the car, it attacked Emerson. The Thing, which had previously been sleeping, opened its eyes and stopped Emmie at the sidewalk. After, she climbed onto a concrete bench while I tried to coax her back into the car for the last 20 minutes of our ride.
But The Thing trapped her in place, an unreadable expression on her face. Em didn't blink, didn't react to my trying to engage her.
"Okay, Doodle," I called, laughing. "I gonna leeb you!"
I skipped to the car and opened the door. Usually, doubt registers on Emerson's face about that time. But The Thing narrowed its eyes. The Thing likes a challenge.
"Come get in the car, sweetie! We have to finish watching your Scooby Doo movie!"
No dice. The Thing eats speech-impeded dogs for breakfast.
"Daddy's missing us, Doodle-bug! Let's go see him!"
Bah! The Thing has no father. The Thing was spawned directly from the union of an erupting volcano and a radioactive meteor strike.
"Young lady, I'm going to start counting. You'd better get in this car! One..."
Threats? The Thing looked mildly interested. Would there be blood and entrails?
"Two..."
The Thing took stock of the angry creature in front of him, noting its ineffectual claws and teeth, its delicate skin and its organs unprotected by armor. The Thing would make short work of this creature.
"Three!"
The Thing sighed and looked away in disappointment. The creature standing on the pavement was not going to be fair sport.
In fact, the creature was backing its car slowly out of the parking spot while shouting more words. More words. More words. To The Thing, they sounded like yip!yip!yip!yip!yip!yip! The Thing did not like loud noises. The Thing turned away, looking for a new interest.
Faster than could have been imagined, the creature was upon The Thing, arms outstretched, eyes blazing. The Thing seemed to have underestimated the creature. It's powers increased in its anger! And it was too late to position itself for a fight. The Thing would have to run for it!
A mere three steps later, the creature had The Thing tucked securely under one arm. The Thing kicked, screamed, and hit, but was no match for the creature.The Thing was tossed into the car on a cushioned, elevated platform of some sort, and the creature slid menacingly into the front seat.
"Get in that car seat and put your strappies on right NOW, young lady," the creature commanded.
The Thing snarled. It swung. It connected with the creature's head. But the creature was undaunted. It removed all articles of entertainment from The Thing's surroundings and buckled the seat belt so that The Thing was incapable of escape.
The creature sighed. "When we get home, you're going right to bed, young lady."
The Thing roared in frustration and rage. But The Thing saw it was outmatched. It retreated behind the four-year-old's innocent visage as the perfect camouflage. Plotting its revenge upon the creature, The Thing closed its eyes and slept again.
"Thank God," I sighed. "Let's go home."


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"Das not fair! And if you not be nice to me when we get home I goin scream at you like dis: AAHHH! You hear dat? Lithen: AAHHH! Das whas goin happen."
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We've been at Borders for a couple of hours, now, and the pile of books we've gathered is now slipping out of our hands (damn you, Borders, and your $3.99 sale). The two younger children have devolved into turning flips and racing each other down the aisles. It's definitely time to go.

"Okay, troops, line up!" I call, marching my legs. Like magic, they fall in behind me, marching in rhythm. Wow. That's a first. "Fall out!"

We march through the bookstore, winding without reason around display shelves, until we reach the counter and get in line: "Halt!"

I'm so proud of myself for getting my little soldiers organized. They are standing neatly in line, quietly anticipating the purchase of their new toys - uh, I mean, books. Of course we bought them books... My daughter is grinning at me and when I look over, she gives me a salute: "Aye-aye, Captain!"

Dang Skippy, I think.

"Ma'am?" The clerk calls, waving to get my attention. "Um, you might want to march your troops over to the other end because that's where the line starts."

Oh.

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(Peering out the back window of the car)

"Sir! Sir! We got free trucks behind us! We gotta go even more faster! Or dey goin' spank our butt!"

"What?! Who spanks your butt, Emerson?" I ask, alarmed.

"Da ancient trees!"

Huh?...
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"Guess what?! When da talking broccoli growed up, I'm gon' EAT it! Hey, mama, why you got dat pen in yer hair?"
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"University Medical Associates - how may I help you?" a distant female voice asks.
"Yes, I'd like to speak to the billing department, please," I answer.
"I'm sorry, but you've reached the answering service," she says.

"Oh, well, may I leave them a message?" I ask.
"No. You'll have to call back during business hours."
"... I'm sorry - What?"
"Call back during business hours, please."

"... Um... I can't leave a message with the answering service?" I ask.
"No, ma'am."
"Then... what do you do?" I ask, thoroughly confused. Did I call the wrong number, maybe? "Is this the answering service for University Medical Associates?"
"Yes, but this line is for emergencies."
"But... isn't that what 9-1-1 is for?" I ask.

*Click*
She hung up on me.

So I ran by Augusta Prep to pick up some paperwork, and once I got there realized that I had absolutely no idea where to pick it up.

"That's okay, I thought. "I'll just ask in this random office. Everyone is so nice here!"

And suddenly I was on my face in the foyer.

After a stunned second, I leapt to my feet and realized that I had completely missed the step up into the entrance.

Brushing my palms and the knees of my trousers, I darted from that (thankfully) deserted foyer into the nearest office.

The woman behind the desk smiled warmly.

"Did you see that?" I giggled.

"Oh, no. You didn't fall did you?" She asked, eyeing my pants for injuries.

"Spectacularly!" I laughed.

"Are you hurt?" she asked.

"Just my ego," I quipped. I couldn't stop chuckling. How ridiculous I must have looked!

"I'm so sorry!" She said, with obvious concern.

"Hey, I'm just sorry you missed it!" I laughed. "It was maybe the best fall ever!"

And I limped back to my car, trying desperately to hold my head up... while keeping my eyes on the ground!

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Tossed my clothes in the dryer this morning to knock the wrinkles out. Ran back shortly to see what the loud clattering was about to discover that I had left them on their hangers.

Smooth.

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I am carrying a single car key on a Tinkerbell key chain.

Scott: "Did you lose your regular keys?"
Me: "No."
Scott: "You did."
Me: "No."
Scott: "Where are they?"
Me: "Uh..."
Scott: "That's what I thought."

• If Larry the Cable Guy was a ventriloquist, his dummy would be Al Gore
• He’s not really Dave Coulier from “Full House.” “My wife thinks that one is hilarious.” Trivia: It’s said that Coulier was the inspiration for the Alannis Morisette song “You Outta Know.”
• He has never taken acting classes: “I think I do an okay job. It’s not like I’m makin’ Shakespeare.” Trivia: Hey, some people think that Shakespeare didn’t make Shakespeare.
• His fans are miscategorized. Trivia: “I know you’re trying to be funny,” he said, when asked how many trailers will go into foreclosure after their owners buy tickets to his Augusta show. “But the majority of blue-collar fans make above the minimum of average income.” My bad.
• In his spare time, he studies the history and politics surrounding the Civil War. Trivia: A “copperhead state” was a state that chose neutrality in the conflict. And here I thought that was Switzerland.
• Late at night on the Blue Collar Comedy Tour bus, Larry said that Jeff Foxworthy is a spooner – “but he likes to stick a fork in every now and then.” No word on whether or not Foxworthy is smarter than a redneck.
• Larry drove a black Dodge on a 12-inch lift until he did a mockumentary for country singer Toby Keith’s concert tour. Keith got his tour sponsor to send Larry a new Ford F250 in metallic silver.
• Larry immediately drove his new truck to a friend’s garage, put it up on a six-inch lift and put 35-inch-(somethings – tired? Rims? Squirrels?) on it. He put his old Dodge up for a charity auction for juvenile diabetes and raised $23,000. “And I miss that truck. I almost cried when the guy drove it out of my driveway,” he laughed.

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"Sophistry," I announce to Alice, after a 20-minute search for the correct word.
"What?"

"Sophistry," I say, smugly.
"I've never even heard of that word," she says, and commands me to spell it.

"Sophistry?" she asks again.
"Well, it could be soff-istry," I say. I don't know. I've only ever read it, not heard anyone else pronounce it.

"And what is it?"
"It's a fallacy in argument and reasoning, like using one point, idea or example to back up another, when really they're quite unrelated," I say.

"Like what people say irony is?" she asks.
"Like what people think irony is, but, ironically, it is not!" I laugh uproariously at my retarded joke.

Alice is not amused: "Okay, I'm hanging up now."

A.W.: "I don't do Facebook."
Me: "Why not?"
A.W.: "It's too Big Brother-ish for me."
Me: "No, it's not! What do you have a cabin in the woods and some bomb-making supplies, or somethin'?"
A.W. (laughing): "No!"
Me (sputtering): "Bu- I - Look!" (displaying unmitigated sophistry) "NPR is now following me on Twitter! This means I am very cool. Ira Glass and I are TIGHT!"
A.W.: "Ira Glass is my husband."
Me: "Well, you better ask him why he's cheatin' on you with me."
J.C.: "Did you guys see where they're going to do This American Life live and they're playing it here?"
A.W.: "No."
Me: "I sent Alice an e-mail with information on interviewing Ira Glass and she just deleted it."
A.W.: "I couldn't do it. I would open my mouth and just nonsense would spill out."
Me: "And that's different from every other day because...?"
A.W.: "Because it's Ira Glass. It's not sittin' around here talkin' to you fools."

This is why I love where I work.
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The Chronicle sent an intern over to the office to get our rates for U Magazine.

The problem is that when she walked in, we recognized her from when one of us worked for the daily. When she left, she went back across the street.

Real slick, big daily paper. Your tactics are both way advanced and super professional.

Next time, don't send a little blonde white girl to request rates for an African-American publication.

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Emmie and I played in the rainstorm this afternoon.

It began as a quick walk - or, as she calls it, a "wikwok" - and ended with us both soaked to the skin. But once she was wet, it didn't matter HOW wet she got... So we kept playing and we both ended up soaking wet!

We hopped into a hot bath together the moment we got back.
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Sometimes I meet people and think: "This person is awesome! I should know them more. I should invite them to dinner, or whatever something that real adults do to start friendships, and maybe we'll be bosom friends like Anne Shirley and Diana Barry.

And then I snap awake and remember that one can only have bosom friends before one actually has a bosom. So that idea is about 20 years too late...

... So the moment passes, and no one invites anyone anywhere and the friendship never progresses. But out there in the world are some people I like very much, who laugh with me at my self-deprecating jokes instead of widening their eyes and quietly making a note that their children should never be allowed to come over and play with mine. Somewhere out there are intelligent women who don't worry about their weight, who read books more than they watch TV, who care about their effect on other people's lives, and who can say The F-Word and still be classy!

One day, we should all get together.

One day.
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Hee!
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Gmail AutopilotTM by CADIE

Email will never be a thing of the past, but actually reading and writing messages is about to be. Gmail Autopilot automatically manages your inbox better than you can, with zero effort from you. Learn more » Keep in touch Brand-new CADIE technology enables Autopilot to scan every one of your incoming messages and automatically send the perfect reply. Manage relationships Impress everyone with your prompt and insightful responses to everything from urgent notes from your boss to cute messages from your significant other. Match your style Autopilot calibrates for tone, typos and preferred punctuation. It's just like you, but automated.

I was totally appalled by this when I opened my gmail this morning. Canned e-mail messages are one thing, but canned e-mail responses? But a moment after I finished glancing through it, I realized what the date was: April Fool's Day. This is the first time in my life I've ever NOT been taken in - fully - by an April Fool.

But just for kicks, I clicked through the hyperlinks:

The easiest email could possibly be. As more and more everyday communication takes place over email, lots of people have complained about how hard it is to read and respond to every message. This is because they actually read and respond to all their messages.
Sample Autopilot responses Respond to business proposals Manage relationships Match your personal style

If that first response doesn't clue you in to the joke, then I am pleased to inform you that I have a relative in the Congo who needs help smuggling their millions out of the country. You can have a 10% cut if you help!