I woke up this morning and stumbled into the bathroom to find a neon green sticky note on the mirror. It said:
Good morning my love,
This morning as I kissed you on the head,
I thought of you as you laid there in bed
You are so lovely and sweet,
And there is no one else I'd rather greet
-Mulletman
Now ain't that sweeeeet?! *sniffle*
**************************************
Mulletman and I have indeed decided to sign up for this year's 180 mile Trek Across Maine cycling event. Consequently, I spent HOURS this morning online updating my Groovy Trekkers blog and my Trek Across Maine Squidoo Page. Please humor me by going to visit both of them!
(Warning: The begging for money will ensue as soon as I get the donation links up in my sidebar here, so SAVE UP YOUR POCKET CHANGE!)
**************************************
I am considering changing Girly-Girl's name to Contrary-Girl. She is at that exasperating stage of "maturity" that makes us occasionally consider permanent relocation of said child. (Hey Funsocksgirl, You want I should send you a long term houseguest????)
I say "black", she says "white". I say "yes" she says "no". Please observe her subtle non-logic:
GroovyMom: (In an uncharacteristically quiet voice) Hey Sweetie! It's time to get up!
ContraryGirl: (uncharacteristically glaring) I've been awake for hours. I didn't sleep ALL NIGHT!
GroovyMom: Oh...I'm sorry you had a tough night.
ContraryGirl: It wasn't tough!
GroovyMom: But you said you didn't sleep well.
ContraryGirl: I slept FINE!
um OK...Let's fast-forward to breakfast time
ContraryGirl: What's for breakfast?
GroovyMom: How about some apple oatmeal?
ContraryGirl: I want an English Muffin!
GroovyMom: (with raised brows) "May I please have an English Muffin instead?"
ContraryGirl: (mumbling) May I please have an English Muffin instead?
GroovyMom: Well, if you want to fix it yourself, you could have that and a banana.
ContraryGirl: I hate bananas!
GroovyMom: You ate a banana on your Cheerios yesterday...I didn't hear you complaining then.
ContraryGirl: I only like bananas in smoothies.
GroovyMom: So that was a Cheerio smoothie?
ContraryGirl: (glares)
Later in the day:
GroovyMom: Girly-Girl, I need you to go up and play piano now.
ContraryGirl: I hate piano!
GroovyMom: Oh you do, do you? Is that why you spend 45 minutes up in the music room every day practicing, composing (she really does compose), singing, and asking Silly-Head to come up and hear what you're learning?
ContraryGirl: (glares)
OY!!!
Of course, that's not her only face. When I specifically point out she's being rude and contrary, she's usually very contrite - genuinely so. She can be helpful and thoughtful and sweet and funny, but some days - oh mercy -she's a real buggar!
*************************************
SUCCESS IS MINE!!!!
Prevention Magazine as selected me as a Flat Belly Diet success story. :-D You can see how far I've come on my Prevention Buzz Blog. Only 10 pounds to go! Woot!
**************************************
Well, it's time for taxes. I've been doing ours ever since day 1 and usually we have our return before most other folks have filed. I'll need to do that this week. Although Mulletman keeps meaning to redo his W-4, he keeps forgetting. Consequently, we always, ALWAYS get a substantial tax return. This year it's a good thing because we have some large expenses coming up in the way of home maintenance. We have to paint/stain the entire exterior and we need to finally give in and buy a whole house purifier. Yep, the ole arsenic and sulfer are starting to get to us!
***************************************
I never really did any writing in January, even though I had planned on a lofty 50,000 words. However, I am intending to keep plugging away at my YA novels with 500 words per day in February. It should be easy what with the murder and all...
Showing posts with label fiction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fiction. Show all posts
30 January 2009
21 February 2007
A Little Bit of Groovy Blarney
If this isn't full of blarney, I don't know what is!
**************************************
Spring Invasion
by Sherry Grunder (groovyoldlady)
My husband kissed me good-bye, as usual, around 5:45am and then I drifted back to sleep. Suddenly, my room was bathed in a freakish greenish-yellow light and there was a queer whirring sound outside the sliding glass doors of my bedroom. I rose hurriedly and stepped to the door. I cautiously pulled a bit of the curtain aside with my trembling hand and peered out. There, right on top of my garden plot (smushing my rutabagas, no less) was this bizarre looking metallic machine of some sort. The queer light was emanating from it, pulsating like a fluorescent bulb that's about to die.
I stared at it in fascination. Had my Sweetie surprised me with a giant rototiller for our anniversary? (Please, oh Please!)
I was just about to open the door and step out to investigate when the whirring sound intensified and the top of the machine began to open. This was definitely NOT lawn equipment! Suddenly terrified, I ran to the girls' bedroom, grabbed one child under each arm and hauled them upstairs to the guest room. I gently laid their still sleeping forms on the futon and locked the door. Then, in a fit of motherly protectiveness, I pushed the bookshelf in front of the door and sat, panting and listening with all my might. I couldn’t hear anything. The house was silent.
It dawned on me that I should probably call the police, but both the phones were downstairs in the kitchen. Bummer! I would have gotten and loaded my rifle, but it was in the tippy top of our bedroom closet and I wasn’t exactly sure where the ammo was; I haven’t been hunting for the past six years. I prayed silently and kept listening. The girls kept sleeping.
Wait. What was that? I heard strange sounds underneath me in the kitchen. Was that my Kitchen-Aid running? It sure sounded like it! And who was going through my cupboards? I could hear the doors as they slammed shut. The fridge was opening and closing and I could hear the bleep of someone programming the microwave. This was too weird!
Cautiously and quietly, I slid the bookcase away from the door. I inched the door open and continued to listen carefully. There was definitely someone fooling around in my kitchen. My territorial instincts kicked in! I picked up a hefty textbook from my nearby office and silently crept down the stairs.
I crouched down low so that I could sneak past the bar in the kitchen without being seen. I was almost to the end of the bar when suddenly a horrible green creature of some sort leaped over the bar, knocked the book from my hand, and pinned me to the floor. I tried to scream and fight, but a second creature quickly joined the first and touched me with some sort of hand/paw-held device. Immediately I felt a strange, warm glowing sensation and I stopped thrashing. I was now their captive!
Within moments they succeeded in decoding the English language and made their wishes known to my mind. Appalled at their demands, I tried to dissuade them. I told them that I would take them with all speed to our powerful (and boneheaded) Governor Baldacci in Augusta and they could keep him for their evil purposes (no one here in Maine would miss him!), but they were not interested. Instead, they forced me to submit to their sick and perverse desires.
They coerced me into making doughnuts; Doughnuts made with white sugar and white flour. It was awful! Then they forced me to frost half of them with horribly rich chocolate frosting. The rest were filled with strawberry jam and then coated with (shudder) powdered sugar.
One of the creatures glided up the stairs and brought my precious daughters down. The girls seemed uncommonly cheerful and cooperative; I’m sure they were drugged! Then the worst thing of all happened - it’s so awful that I almost can’t type! They forced the girls to eat 2 doughnuts each. They shoved 2 chocolate pastries and one strawberry down my throat. Then they even had the nerve to take some next door to my in-laws!
Overcome by the absolute horror of the situation, I fainted. When I came to, the girls were running around the living room, screaming and giggling from the dreaded sugar high. The kitchen smelled of grease and sugar. Dirty dishes littered the counters. There were smears of flour and powdered sugar here and there. Crumbs covered the floor.
Unbelievably, there was also a platter of doughnuts still sitting on the bar. Apparently, the creatures had tasted them vicariously through us and their appetites were sated. At any rate, they were gone. One can only hope that they made haste to Augusta.
I am, of course tempted to throw those nasty doughnuts in the trash, but common sense tells me I should keep them as evidence...
**************************************
Spring Invasion
by Sherry Grunder (groovyoldlady)
My husband kissed me good-bye, as usual, around 5:45am and then I drifted back to sleep. Suddenly, my room was bathed in a freakish greenish-yellow light and there was a queer whirring sound outside the sliding glass doors of my bedroom. I rose hurriedly and stepped to the door. I cautiously pulled a bit of the curtain aside with my trembling hand and peered out. There, right on top of my garden plot (smushing my rutabagas, no less) was this bizarre looking metallic machine of some sort. The queer light was emanating from it, pulsating like a fluorescent bulb that's about to die.
I stared at it in fascination. Had my Sweetie surprised me with a giant rototiller for our anniversary? (Please, oh Please!)
I was just about to open the door and step out to investigate when the whirring sound intensified and the top of the machine began to open. This was definitely NOT lawn equipment! Suddenly terrified, I ran to the girls' bedroom, grabbed one child under each arm and hauled them upstairs to the guest room. I gently laid their still sleeping forms on the futon and locked the door. Then, in a fit of motherly protectiveness, I pushed the bookshelf in front of the door and sat, panting and listening with all my might. I couldn’t hear anything. The house was silent.
It dawned on me that I should probably call the police, but both the phones were downstairs in the kitchen. Bummer! I would have gotten and loaded my rifle, but it was in the tippy top of our bedroom closet and I wasn’t exactly sure where the ammo was; I haven’t been hunting for the past six years. I prayed silently and kept listening. The girls kept sleeping.
Wait. What was that? I heard strange sounds underneath me in the kitchen. Was that my Kitchen-Aid running? It sure sounded like it! And who was going through my cupboards? I could hear the doors as they slammed shut. The fridge was opening and closing and I could hear the bleep of someone programming the microwave. This was too weird!
Cautiously and quietly, I slid the bookcase away from the door. I inched the door open and continued to listen carefully. There was definitely someone fooling around in my kitchen. My territorial instincts kicked in! I picked up a hefty textbook from my nearby office and silently crept down the stairs.
I crouched down low so that I could sneak past the bar in the kitchen without being seen. I was almost to the end of the bar when suddenly a horrible green creature of some sort leaped over the bar, knocked the book from my hand, and pinned me to the floor. I tried to scream and fight, but a second creature quickly joined the first and touched me with some sort of hand/paw-held device. Immediately I felt a strange, warm glowing sensation and I stopped thrashing. I was now their captive!
Within moments they succeeded in decoding the English language and made their wishes known to my mind. Appalled at their demands, I tried to dissuade them. I told them that I would take them with all speed to our powerful (and boneheaded) Governor Baldacci in Augusta and they could keep him for their evil purposes (no one here in Maine would miss him!), but they were not interested. Instead, they forced me to submit to their sick and perverse desires.
They coerced me into making doughnuts; Doughnuts made with white sugar and white flour. It was awful! Then they forced me to frost half of them with horribly rich chocolate frosting. The rest were filled with strawberry jam and then coated with (shudder) powdered sugar.
One of the creatures glided up the stairs and brought my precious daughters down. The girls seemed uncommonly cheerful and cooperative; I’m sure they were drugged! Then the worst thing of all happened - it’s so awful that I almost can’t type! They forced the girls to eat 2 doughnuts each. They shoved 2 chocolate pastries and one strawberry down my throat. Then they even had the nerve to take some next door to my in-laws!
Overcome by the absolute horror of the situation, I fainted. When I came to, the girls were running around the living room, screaming and giggling from the dreaded sugar high. The kitchen smelled of grease and sugar. Dirty dishes littered the counters. There were smears of flour and powdered sugar here and there. Crumbs covered the floor.
Unbelievably, there was also a platter of doughnuts still sitting on the bar. Apparently, the creatures had tasted them vicariously through us and their appetites were sated. At any rate, they were gone. One can only hope that they made haste to Augusta.
I am, of course tempted to throw those nasty doughnuts in the trash, but common sense tells me I should keep them as evidence...
19 February 2007
Twins? I Don't Think So!!
I'm posting this for Tammy who asked, as so many people have, if my girlies are twins:
As Different as Night and Day
by Sherry (Groovy) Grunder
Fran and Nan got into the van with Mamma and went to the store.
“They’re so cute!” gushed the cashier, “Are they twins?”
“Twins?” asked Mamma. “Oh my goodness, no!”
“But they’re just alike!” insisted the cashier. “They’re close to the same size and both have brown hair, sparkling eyes and mischievous smiles.”
“You’re mistaken!” Mamma replied, “They’re as different as night and day! Fran is six; Nan is four. Fran is slender; Nan is plump. Fran is pale; Nan is tanned. They’re most definitely not twins!”
*******************
The next day Fran and Nan got into the van with Mamma. They drove to the playground.
“What precious little girls!” said a grammy nearby. “Are they twins?”
“Twins?” asked Mamma. “Certainly not!”
“But they’re just alike.” The grammy explained. “Both have freckles, both giggle most delightfully, and both run like the wind.”
“I’m afraid you’re confused!” Mamma replied, “They’re as different as peas and carrots! Fran loves to swing; Nan would rather slide. Fran skips; Nan gallops. Fran climbs the monkey bars; Nan keeps her feet firmly on the ground. They’re most assuredly NOT twins!”
********************
The following day Fran and Nan got in the van with Mamma. They cruised to the post office to mail a package.
“What adorable young ladies!” exclaimed the postman. “Are they twins?”
“Twins?” Mamma asked “Absolutely NOT!”
“But they’re so much alike!” continued the postman. “They both like to hum while they’re waiting, both have ballerina sneakers and both smile shyly at the other people in line.”
“You’re quite wrong!” Mamma said, “They’re as different as rain and sunshine! Fran is talkative; Nan is quiet and thoughtful. Fran is impatient; Nan could wait all day. Fran is very silly; Nan takes life seriously. They’re OBVIOUSLY NOT twins!”
********************
That evening, Fran and Nan got into the van with Mamma. They rode to Pizza Palace for lunch.
“What sweet little girls.” said the waitress. “Are they twins?”
“Twins? she gasped. “NO, they’re NOT twins!! Why does EVERYBODY think they’re twins?
“Well,” continued the waitress, timidly. “They are both so sweet and cute and precious and adorable...”
Mamma’s lips were pressed together. “You’re right,” she said. “Fran and Nan are sweet and cute and precious and adorable, but they are NOT twins! They’re as different as night and day! They’re as different as peas and carrots! They’re as different as sunshine and rain! THEY ARE MOST DEFINITELY, ASSUREDLY, AND OBVIOUSLY NOT TWINS!”
*********************
“Mamma!” said Fran.
“Mamma?” said Nan.
Mamma looked at her two little girls.
Fran began, “Nan and I ARE as different as night and day.”
“We ARE as different as peas and carrots.” continued Nan.
“And we ARE as different as rain and sunshine!” they said together.
“But we’re both hungry, and we BOTH want pizza!” they shouted.
Mamma smiled. “It’s true that you’re not twins, but in many ways you ARE alike. Waitress? Pizza please!”
“What kind?” she asked.
“Pepperoni!” cried Fran
“Mushroom!” insisted Nan.
Mamma just laughed.
As Different as Night and Day
by Sherry (Groovy) Grunder
Fran and Nan got into the van with Mamma and went to the store.
“They’re so cute!” gushed the cashier, “Are they twins?”
“Twins?” asked Mamma. “Oh my goodness, no!”
“But they’re just alike!” insisted the cashier. “They’re close to the same size and both have brown hair, sparkling eyes and mischievous smiles.”
“You’re mistaken!” Mamma replied, “They’re as different as night and day! Fran is six; Nan is four. Fran is slender; Nan is plump. Fran is pale; Nan is tanned. They’re most definitely not twins!”
*******************
The next day Fran and Nan got into the van with Mamma. They drove to the playground.
“What precious little girls!” said a grammy nearby. “Are they twins?”
“Twins?” asked Mamma. “Certainly not!”
“But they’re just alike.” The grammy explained. “Both have freckles, both giggle most delightfully, and both run like the wind.”
“I’m afraid you’re confused!” Mamma replied, “They’re as different as peas and carrots! Fran loves to swing; Nan would rather slide. Fran skips; Nan gallops. Fran climbs the monkey bars; Nan keeps her feet firmly on the ground. They’re most assuredly NOT twins!”
********************
The following day Fran and Nan got in the van with Mamma. They cruised to the post office to mail a package.
“What adorable young ladies!” exclaimed the postman. “Are they twins?”
“Twins?” Mamma asked “Absolutely NOT!”
“But they’re so much alike!” continued the postman. “They both like to hum while they’re waiting, both have ballerina sneakers and both smile shyly at the other people in line.”
“You’re quite wrong!” Mamma said, “They’re as different as rain and sunshine! Fran is talkative; Nan is quiet and thoughtful. Fran is impatient; Nan could wait all day. Fran is very silly; Nan takes life seriously. They’re OBVIOUSLY NOT twins!”
********************
That evening, Fran and Nan got into the van with Mamma. They rode to Pizza Palace for lunch.
“What sweet little girls.” said the waitress. “Are they twins?”
“Twins? she gasped. “NO, they’re NOT twins!! Why does EVERYBODY think they’re twins?
“Well,” continued the waitress, timidly. “They are both so sweet and cute and precious and adorable...”
Mamma’s lips were pressed together. “You’re right,” she said. “Fran and Nan are sweet and cute and precious and adorable, but they are NOT twins! They’re as different as night and day! They’re as different as peas and carrots! They’re as different as sunshine and rain! THEY ARE MOST DEFINITELY, ASSUREDLY, AND OBVIOUSLY NOT TWINS!”
*********************
“Mamma!” said Fran.
“Mamma?” said Nan.
Mamma looked at her two little girls.
Fran began, “Nan and I ARE as different as night and day.”
“We ARE as different as peas and carrots.” continued Nan.
“And we ARE as different as rain and sunshine!” they said together.
“But we’re both hungry, and we BOTH want pizza!” they shouted.
Mamma smiled. “It’s true that you’re not twins, but in many ways you ARE alike. Waitress? Pizza please!”
“What kind?” she asked.
“Pepperoni!” cried Fran
“Mushroom!” insisted Nan.
Mamma just laughed.
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