News alert, news alert!
I have a friend, Bridgette, who writes SAT prep books for a living. She has asked me (me!) if she may use excerpts from my blogs in the SAT prep books. What?! Why? Because she needs “sarcasm, sardonic tone and irony.” Wha…? Then why is she contacting me? I use my blog to tell sweet little stories about my Darling Husband and precious children. Oh and look, while I’m writing this, there’s a fluffy bunny in my backyard eating a weed. No, no! Not eating our weed. Eating a weed. We don’t grow weed in the backyard.
We grow it in the basement.
I’m kidding, I’m kidding!
Which reminds me of a story:
The pastor of my church when I lived in Baltimore, Dick (yes, it’s an unfortunate name), was friends with a man who loved plants. I don’t know the friend’s name so we’ll call him Bert. This story happened well before Dick became a pastor.
With his love of plants, Bert had filled his apartment with houseplants. There were plants on the floor, plants on the windowsill, plants hanging from the ceilings…plants everywhere. It was much like the hanging gardens of Babylon; a wonder to behold.
Bert would sing and coo to his plants and fuss over his mixtures of plant food and spray the plants with little atomizers and hire someone to tend to them when he was away on vacation.
All of this annoyed Dick. They could never have a conversation that didn’t circle back around to Bert’s plants. “Blah blah blah, plants, plants, plants.”
Dick was fed up. He also happened to have an illegal habit. And one day, probably under the influence of his illegal habit, he came up with the brilliantly funny idea of seeding Bert’s houseplants with marijuana plants.
So he did.
And he waited.
And soon, little sprouts sprang up in Bert’s plants. “What are these,” Bert wondered. He would confide in his good buddy, Dick, “I don’t know what these little seedlings are, or where they came from, but they’ve infested all of my plants.” Dick would just shake his head and look bemused.
Later, when Dick got his act together and ended up as a pastor, he would tell this story at church to elaborate on the bible story of weeds growing next to the wheat and how once they were grown together, you couldn’t separate them out until the harvest.
It makes you wonder what Jesus’ parables would have been like if he’d come to earth in the 1960’s, doesn’t it?
Ok, I was sidetracked. Back to my amazing blog and how SAT test prep writers are clamoring at my door (Facebook page) willing to offer me gobs of money for my wit.
When I asked Bridgette for more details she wrote back to me (because I haven’t heard her actual voice in 23 years, isn’t Facebook weird?) saying:
“The SAT prep school I’m working at is all kids whose parents have sent them to test prep classes since they were four months old. LOL. They know every single test book backwards and forwards and we’re running out of options.
Now, I can use famous writers such as Orwell and Poe, etc, due to fair use. But I’m having a hard time coming up with humorous observation type passages. They need to be technically accurate and somewhat sarcastic. (They test to see if they can identify sarcasm, sardonic tone, and irony.) Those three words are pretty much YOU! Plus you are a very good technical writer.
I’m actually thinking I could just pay you a small fee. Like say $20 for five passages. They don’t need to be blog length, at most 2 paragraphs. They would need to be written in ways that would allow me to test for “author’s purpose” “main idea” “vocabulary” (just one fancy pants word) and inferential comprehension. Ex “why was a character annoyed” etc. So if you are interested let me know.”
She just compared me to Orwell and Poe, didn’t she?? You saw that, too, right?
A fancy pants word…hmmm. How about ‘ghastly’? I like that one.
And twenty whole dollars! I could buy like, 1/3 of a battery for Alex. Oooo.
The picture of the day is of Boy7’s tooth. Boy9 knocked it out of Boy7’s mouth with a DSi. Fortunately it was already loose.
Boy7 waited all day for Darling Husband to come home so that he could grin at Darling Husband and say, “Notice anything different?”
Darling Husband kept the tension going for a while by saying things like, “You’re wearing a new shirt!” “You’re wearing new contact lenses!”
The kids know I’m the tooth fairy, but we play an elaborate game where I pretend they don’t know and they try to make me slip up and admit I’m the tooth fairy. So tonight, when I said, “If you hide the tooth so the tooth fairy can’t find it, she won’t give you money,” they asked, “How do you know?”
And here’s the biggest parenting lie I’ve ever told them, “I know because when you have a baby at the hospital, they give you a little pamphlet that tells you everything you need to know about how to raise a kid.”
Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! Wipe tears of laughter from eyes. That’s a good one!
A few minutes ago I was tucking the boys into bed when we heard the low buzz of a Cessna flying very close to the house. We were thinking, “Wow! That’s close!” And then Boy9 spotted it!
It wasn’t a Cessna! It was some sort of mammoth government-test-subject if-it-stings-us-we’ll-turn-into-Waspman wasp! Oh my! It was the size of a 10 pound newborn! The wind from its wings ripped the sheets right off the beds! Even the fitted ones! With the boys on top!
It flew out of the boy’s room and into the hallway. I told them, “SHUT YOUR DOOR!” and they did with a resounding crash. I jumped over the banister and landed at the bottom of the stairwell and shut the door at the bottom of the stairs, trapping the behemoth in the hallway.
“Bryan!” (That’s Darling Husband’s name) “QUICK! Get the Bug Cup!” He said, all nonchalant, “Isn’t there one up there?” “Yes, but you’re gonna need something bigger!” Why are the bugs so gargantuan around here? The million-leggers are as long as my fibula.
So, Darling Husband takes his sweet old time finding a cup and moseys up the stairs. I think he patted me on the head and called me “little lady” as he went by.
And no wasp. Where did it go?
And then I heard it again. The low hum. Louder and louder and out it popped from behind a bookcase!
“HOLY MACKEREL! THAT’S A BIG ‘UN!” hollered Darling Husband and he danced back in terror. And I’m not ashamed to say that I cowered in the downstairs hallway, hand on the phone, ready to call for backup. I was expecting poor Darling Husband to come splintering through the wooden door at the bottom of the steps.
But all is well. Darling Husband cornered the mighty beast and trapped it in the bug cup and flung it in the front yard.