#206 - OUT OF THE MOUTHS OF BABES

This is about the age my 

little angel was when

 this story happened.

This is absolutely my favorite story, and the star of this story is my daughter Patricia.  It is hard to describe young Patricia.  She was my daring one; she was continually pushing the envelope.  As a young child she was definitely a drama queen who would constantly find ways to surprise us all. 

For example, before she was two, she found out that crying was a good way to get attention (but, most kids know that).  She was an adorable little imp and would cloud up whenever the mood struck her.  Only this little charmer would add a her own little twists.  She would dash through the room and dramatically throw herself onto the couch, bed, or whatever was available.  But, even that wasn’t enough for Patty.  She would detour by a box of kleenex, avail herself of a few tissues, press them to her face (leaving plenty of peeking room), and then perform the dramatic "fling" onto a piece of furniture.

I have already written several stories about Patricia but this next one happened when she was almost three years old.  It, by far, takes the prize and I decided to post this one on her birthday.

To set the stage, it was a lovely evening in a quiet little neighborhood in Southern California.  My family and I had just sat down to dinner.  Dad (the stern but fair principal of the local Jr. High) sat at the head of the table, as usual.  Patty (the imp) was parked at the foot of the table in her high chair (minus the tray) looking like an angle.  Mom (a slightly prudish, one time escrow agent, now housewife) was sitting on the side to Dad’s left.  Gene (my earnest six year old son) was sitting on the side to Dad’s right.  I (at that time a courtroom clerk at the municipal court) was sitting by my mother and to Patty’s right.  The table was neatly set; a Norman Rockwell setting if there ever was one.  There, have the picture?

My mother was an excellent cook and we all sat there with our mouths watering at the fare she had set before us.  There we were, the typical American family of the sixties.   We were a normal (except for me as I had just gone through a divorce), very wholesome (not a fowl word could ever be heard), church going  (every Sunday like clockwork) family about to have our typical, normal, wholesome, delicious dinner.  

Without warning Patty spoke up… … …   From her beautiful, pink, bow shaped mouth came words I WILL NEVER FORGET!   This sweet little child in a sing song-ie wee voice said,

“Pass the F- - - ing peas, please.”

(Only she said the actual word.)

Dad’s fork stopped two inches short of his mouth and he froze with the dazed look of a dear caught in headlights.

Mom let out a gasp that practically sucked her napkin off the her lap and threw her right hand across her heart.

Gene, then in kindergarten, fell to the floor laughing hysterically and clutching his groin (he, apparently had already learned that word somewhere).

I sat there dumbfounded as Mom and Dad slowly turned their eyes from Patty to me.  Ok, ok, in my misspent youth I did use THAT WORD once (ok often) to drive a point home or when I was angry.  But I hadn’t used THAT WORD since my children were born.

You could have heard a pin drop if not for the gasping and giggling coming from my son on the floor.

Patty immediately formed a frown on her forehead and looked irked that no one was passing her the peas.  She opened her mouth as if to speak again and that is all it took to immediately mobilize me.  I  burst out of my temporary coma and launched myself toward her.  Scooping her up into my arms I rushed to the bathroom; Patty protesting all the way. 

As I am sure you can imagine, how hard it is to have a discussion with a three year old child about the inappropriateness of a word, and questions about where she learned THAT WORD!  “What word, Mommy?” she said.  What made it worse is that I had to use THAT WORD in order to ask her.  It was awful!  I didn’t know what to do.

Well, about thirty minutes later we returned to the table.  Gene began to giggle again, but both Mom and Dad shot him a look that clammed that kid up, fast.  We made sure that Patty had plenty of peas and potatoes and roast, and everything else we could think of so she wouldn’t need to ask for anything for the rest of the meal.

Later, I informed my parents of what I had gleaned from my little talk with Patty.  Irately, Patty had said, "Mommy,  Sammy’s brothers say that all the time."  

Now, Sammy was her little playmate from next door (who had four older brothers).  Consequently, my mother (who was the caregiver while I was at work) made sure that Patty never went to Sammy’s house ever again. (Incidentally, Sammy was the kid Patty tried to test her toy thermometer on…rectally.  See  PAPER OR PLASTIC listed below).

In the first part of the story I told you about Patty’s attention seeking stunts.  Well, I tried everything to get rid of THAT WORD, but once Patty found out about all the attention she received (using THAT WORD) she used it more often.  

Consequently she was kicked out of two preschools for what they called, earthy language.  They always gave me the fish eye when I came in to pick her up.  Then she entered Kindergarten.  Needless to say, I wasn't looking forward to my trips to to the principal's office.   The first day I thought it fair to warn the teacher of "THE PROBLEM".  I don’t know what that teacher did (I was afraid to ask because if she told me I may have to report her for child abuse) but before the first quarter was over THAT WORD was gone.

POST SCRIPT:

During her college years THAT WORD showed up again and enjoyed a long run.  I think it still OCCASIONALLY pops out.  It's amazing how THAT WORD doesn't have the same ring to it once a person has children.

AND ON A PERSONAL NOTE:

Happy Birthday, darling.  With you around there was NEVER a dull second.  You kept me on my toes and gave me reason to laugh frequently.  I treasure each and every memory of you, my dear daughter.  I would not change even one little moment of my life with you.  

I am so very proud of the woman you have become.  You are a loving and devoted wife and mother who gives it all when it comes to your family.  You are an attentive and supportive daughter and have acted as my cheerleader on several occasions.  You make this world a better place and I love you so very much.  You are so F---ing awesome! 

Mom

And here's my beautiful angel now:

Watching her children at the bow of the boat...

While in Ocean City, NJ 2011

POSTS ABOUT YOUNG PATTY:
Poor Kid 1    Poor Kid 2    Poor Kid 3    Paper or Plastic   No, Gene, You Can Not Hit Her

STOP BY NEXT MONDAY FOR A TAYLORed POISONING... ... ...

 kt 8/2/11

#205- A LETTER TO SHAY AND LOGAN

This picture was taken this summer 2011.

Shay and Logan are my daughter's children.  They live on the east coast and I don't get to see them very often.  I miss them very much.


One day something happened with the young cat they named Tinker Bell.   I just had to try to put it into words and share the fun.  By the way, the name Tinker Bell didn't stick.  This is the cat I now call Kit... ... also, Cassy was a dog I had before Toby.

Wednesday, January 9, 2008

My Dearest Shay and Logan:

I want to tell you a story about something that happened to Tinkerbell (Tink) just yesterday.

I have been working on the windows in the den for about a week (I’m sure you remember it as the room off the kitchen that is a brilliant blue and white).  At the end of each day I pile all of my tools and stuff on the top shelf of my unfinished bookshelf.  It is important to the story to understand that this shelf is only supported by a few books at each corner. 

It is equally important to know that Tink has taught herself to go in and back out of the doors to the garage (as long as I do not push them shut).  She comes in from the garage by slipping her curious paw under the metal storm door tugging until she can wrench it open enough to slip her equally curious nose through the opening.  Then she pushes against the door and it easily gives way to her nudge.  Both doors gently swing back to their almost closed positions once she is in.  She simply reverses the procedure when she decides it is time to go out.  Tink has been doing this for several months now, which proves what a smart kitty she is.  This skill is something that Cassy (who should be renamed “Big Dumb Chicken” won’t even try).  The storm door scares the devil out of her (as does just about everything – but, that’s another story altogether).

Anyway, back to Tink’s story. It was late yesterday afternoon and the weather had turned cold and damp.  I was snuggled up in my recliner; reading a good book and listening to the cold north wind bring in the threatened rain.  Tink, apparently having her fill of the fickle weather, let herself quietly in.  She chirped her usual greeting (which is something like a rolling meow) and jumped up on her stool by the window and over the heater vent.  She settled in to warm herself and check out her yard for interlopers.  Suddenly, the top shelf shifted and dumped its entire contents beside Tink. 

Now, I want you to say the words one thousand one. OK, say them again only faster.  That was how much time it took for Tink to “streak” into the garage.  I have never witnessed an animal’s reaction as fast at this.  I don’t know how she did it without breaking the sound barrier but she was gone in a flash.  The only indication that she wasn’t there anymore was the loud thump on the metal door as it slammed shut when she hastily exited the room.  I didn’t actually see all of this because she was so fast my eyes couldn’t take it all in.  The sound of her knocking open the storm door only a split second after the contents slid from the shelf was all I needed.  I could the see the entire exodus in my minds eye.

There sat Tink, minding her own business, warming her body after a cold foray into the late wintery afternoon.  She is feeling safe and comfy; watching her favorite animals flit in and out of a brush pile placed by the curb.  She has no intention of returning to the frigid out doors as it is beginning to rain.  She is thinking about ways to snag one of those pesky birds when she does decide to go back out.  Suddenly, her placid world was flipped inside out (or should I say SHE was).  Menacing objects came hurling down onto her from high above.  I do not know what she thought, but I AM sure it had nothing to do with birds!

If I had been filming this entire episode I am sure all that would be seen is a blurred streak flying into the air, across the floor and out the doors.  However, if we could slow the picture down we might be able to see Tink with every hair on her body on end, her legs flailing in the air, bottle brush tail stiffened, and  panicked eyes as big as buttons on a large teddy bear.  We would be able to follow her aerobics through the air as she flipped off the stool and flew toward the closest exit.  We would be able to see her streaking across the carpet, pull the first door back and hit the storm door so hard that it made a racket as  it flew open into the garage.  We would be able to see her flee the garage under the slightly opened door and escape the attack of the unknown aliens that invaded her home.

While hysterically laughing at Tink’s reaction I straightened the shelf and returned some of it’s contents to their place.  I then went into the cold afternoon to retrieve her from whatever hiding place she had found.  I called for almost 15 minutes before she finally answered my call and waltzed up to my leg.

She did not want to return to the scene of her attack.  She pushed against me as I brought her through the door.  Her ears were flattened tightly against her head, her body was tense and her eyes were narrowed into two tiny slits.  To say that this room is no longer her favorite.  I put her down in my chair as I tried to reassure her with my voice. But, Tink was glowering at the corner of the room where the attack took place.  Growling, she leapt from the chair and slinked in counter-attack mode across the floor to the foot of her stool.  Once there she immediately started slapping the electric screw driver that laid on the floor near the heating vent.  I guess, in her mind this was the culprit that turned her happy home into a disaster area.  She beat it several times with both right and left paws to make sure the darn thing was dead!  Convinced it was no longer a threat she jumped back up onto her stool and immediately began to take a cat bath to calm her frayed nerves.

This whole scenario struck me so funny that I laughed deep belly laughs, non-stop, for almost the entire 15 minutes from start to finish.  Through all of this Cassy had first disappeared behind the chair then came out doing her “What? What?” dance when I erupted into laughter.  I can’t believe I am still l laughing about an event that only took a fraction of a second to play out.  

I love you all and hope you enjoyed my story.

Love,
Grammy

7/2011

YEAH!  ...IT'S COMING UP...BE SURE TO BE HERE NEXT MONDAY FOR ..."OUT OF THE MOUTHS OF BABES."  


AND, WHILE YOU ARE AT IT PUT A BIG SMILEY FACE ON SEPTEMBER 16TH FOR THE  "Mini Skirts and Laughter Lines Launch Party." 

#204-"BOO!, BUG-A-BOO, T0BY, AND A KITTY TOO!"

PARDON THE BRIEF INTERRUPTION:  Ok, fishducky, don't go all postal on me.  "A Miracle" accidentally posted and I had to yank it off.  It won't post until October 10th, sorry, kiddo  kt 

Gene William, Age 4 (he is 15 now).

You all know what I mean when I refer to the “startle reflex,” don’t you?  Well, mine is extremely more developed than most.  For example, one of my grandson’s favorite pastime (when he was a little kid) was to slip up on me and say, “BOO!”  At that, I would fling whatever was in my hands up into the air, jump about a foot off of the floor, shoot my arms out, and shriek.  Gene William found this hilarious.  Over time he realized that he didn’t even have to say boo but just sneak up and stand close to me to get almost the same reaction.  In fact, he could get that reaction several times in a row as long as I didn’t know he was lurking close by.   There have been times when I just turned around and jumped out of my skin because I wasn’t expecting him to be behind me.  The degree of the “FREAK OUT” would be dictated by the strength of whatever I was concentrating on, prior to the surprise.

I have always had this over-reaction to surprises of this nature and have often wondered what would happen if a truly BAD guy snuck up on me.   I would probably do the same thing and startle the BAD guy who would reflexively shoot me.  Never would I ever be composed enough to grab something and protect myself.  Knowing me, I would simply go off like an automatic fire alarm and shower said BAD guy with spittle and what ever was in my hands at the time (hopefully an anvil or frying pan).

All of this is being told to you to help you envision a short episode lasting about 3 seconds which developed into a "startle reflex" marathon.  I was sitting here at my computer typing away; deeply involved with what I was writing.  Suddenly, something brushed against my foot and bit my little piggy.   I kid you not, I came up out of my chair so fast that both knees slammed into the desk and I left the chair like a person propelled out of a cannon.  I was across the room and at the door when I spotted Bug-A-Boo, my grandchildren’s ferret. 

Apparently, Bug-A-Boo was feeling his oats as he threw all four legs out like a scared cat, sprang from the floor,  his body making this funny U shape, and took off like his tail was on fire.  Out the door he flew.  Apparently, one of the kids had not completely fastened his cage door when they were visiting him (Yes, LeAnna has moved on but the critters are still here because she does not have a place to keep them…… BUMMER!) 

GREAT!  Now I had to search the house for a ferret who could be almost anywhere in this 9 room house.  This part of the event took a few minutes.  I was on  my hand and knees looking under my Dad's bed,  sweetly calling, “Bug-A-Boo, Bug-a-Boo, here, Bug-a-Boo,” when something pounced on my rear.  Since I was concentrating on Bug-a-Boo I let out a yelp for the second time in 3 minutes.  Even though it seems impossible, I levitated with all of my body off the floor at the same time like someone in a Chris Angle stage show.  It was Toby who had decided to enter the fray.

Seeing Toby, the ferret went up onto its back legs and clunked his head on one of the slats, coiled it‘s body onto itself and lunged out from under my dad's bed.  He loped in that weird way that ferrets do where their back legs catch up to the front legs and take on the look of an inchworm on speed.  But, Bug-a-Boo’s back legs not only caught up with his front legs, they passed them.  This caused him to do a funny flip and roll.  I was impressed because he continued at break neck speed to the back of the house with Toby fast on his heels.  I was right behind Toby (Ok, lagging a bit) and we took on the appearance of a strange, fast moving, circus parade (obviously, I was the clown).

When I arrived at the door of the guest bedroom, Bug-a-Boo was under that bed and Toby was half under the bed with his behind in the air.  Just as I arrived a frightened kitten (Yes, LeAnna added another pet to her menagerie) ran from under the bed and up my pants leg to my chest.  Her sharp little claws laying down tracks as she ran up me like a tree.  Reaching my shoulders she sprang for the top of a recliner, bounced off it, and disappeared into the kitchen.  Of course, I uttered yelp number 3 at the surprise and YELP numbers 4 and 5 at the tracks being laid down on my body.

Toby was so excited he didn’t know which animal to pursue so he kept looking back and forth from the bedroom to the kitchen.  Finally, he decided that the kitten was going to be his new target so off he went.  I managed to get Bug-a-Boo out from under the bed, toss him in his cage, and slam home the door.  Then I took off for the crashing sounds coming from the front room.

When I reached the front room a recliner was over turned (apparently when the kitten jumped to the back and Toby hit it in hot pursuit).   Several pictures on various tables were knocked over, the kitten had climbed Kit's cat tree to the very top, and laid there calmly looking down at Toby.   Toby was in a recliner by the cat tree barking, and wagging his tail and butt (always a tandem act) in celebration of a jolly good time.   Grabbing Toby, I slapped the leash on him and led him out the back door.  As I passed through the den I looked up to the mouse enclosure half expecting one of them to pounce on me as I passed by.  Thank God they were all in their terrarium merrily running to nowhere on their wheel (come to think of it... ...
it seems to me that this was exactly what I was doing for the past 5 to 6 minutes).

Once I got Toby outside I collected the kitten, deposited her in the den, closed the door, went to the front room, righted the recliner/pictures, and sat down to catch my breath.  It was at that moment that the front door burst open with a bang and my two youngest great grand children entered the house clamoring like a troop of crazed monkeys.

Having used up my allotment of startle reflexes I just sat there wondering if Tequila was a possible answer to my problems.

 kt 7/2011

SEE YOU NEXT MONDAY FOR...... #205 - "A LETTER TO SHAY AND LOGAN"
  BE SURE TO WRITE THE 8/29 ON YOU CALENDAR FOR MY FAVORITE STORY.   

P. S.  Since I wrote this Leanna, kids, and menagerie have moved on.

ANOTHER P.S. TO FISHDUCKEY:

ABOUT YOUR BRAIN, I FOUND IT!  THAT STUPID GOAT ATE IT AND THEN WOOFED IT UP LATER ON MELYNDA'S LAWN.  IT MAY NEED A GOOD WASHING BUT IT SHOULD BE GOOD TO GO.

For those of you who think I have gone around the bend you need to read

Deer Me and Crazy Challenge (particularly the answer to #9 and fishducky's comment).

# - SOUNDS, THE MUSIC OF LIFE

DISCLAMER:  IF YOU HAVE LOGGED ON TO THIS PAGE EXPECTING TO LAUGH I NEED TO LET YOU KNOW THAT I AM TRYING MY HAND AT JUST WRITING ABOUT ORDINARY THINGS (WHICH EXCLUDES ANYTHING I USUALLY GET INVOLVED WITH). 

I have had to push this piece over several times to make room for something else that popped up so this is no longer current.  We have had around 30 days of 100 degree + weather and I haven't had my windows open since a day or two after I wrote this.  Not only that but my granddaughter, her children (and her critters) are no longer living with me.  But, it is my first attempt at just being serious.

It's a beautiful sun shiny day and as I sit here composing at my computer I pause to take in the clamor of sounds that are emanating from all around me.  The first sound that grabs my attention is the sound of my dog, Toby, as he grunts and huffs while trying to dig a hole to China through his blanket,

Of course, he stopped digging the minute I picked up the camera!

From outside my raised window I hear the twitter and chirps of a variety of birds going about their business in our hugh back yard.  In the background, I can hear the relentless hammering and sawing of a handy-man replacing damaged siding on the house.  From the kitchen the sounds of my grandson, Gene, teasing, joking, and laughter with friends as they play Yu-gi-oh.  Filtering in from the back of the house is the television blaring some kind of children's cartoon.  Accompanying all of this are and the squeals, yelps, and screams of my great grandsons (ages 4 and 5) as they play and squabble with one another.  Blended in with all of this are the occasional snorts and snores of my dad who is sleeping in his recliner in the front room.

Maybe I should I will help Toby dig his hole to China and escape the din.  But, you, know, it isn't half bad hearing life being lived.  There was a time when this house was brimming over with all kinds of relatives and kids and the sounds that accompanied their visits.  Most of those relatives are gone now and their kids have disbursed throughout the United States and have kids (and grand kids) of their own.  I have lost contact with most of them as it was my parent's brothers and sisters, my aunts and uncles who got us all together from time to time.

Do we all look back and miss those days, whenever or whatever THOSE DAYS were?  I can remember groaning when Mom told me we had to go to Aunt Marjorie's (or whomever's) house for a family dinner.  None of us cousins were particularly close and it seemed like such a horrible idea.  But, for some reason, now, when I look back, I remember those times with fondness.

Well, my neighbor on the east just joined in on the din.  He is apparently sanding something metal because it is making a terrible grinding noise.  To the west my other neighbor is mowing his yard and all of this noise is becoming a cacophony of sounds that is part of the music that is life.  All of us doing what we need to do in order to complete the daily requirements of upkeep on a home, and family responsibilities.

Perhaps this is a melody that is actually the song of life.  The final note, added by me, a sigh... ... ...

       

kt 5/7/2011

#203 - MAN UP TO THE PANTY CHALLENGE

FISHDUCKEY...SEE SPECIAL NOTE TO YOU AT THE VERY END.

(THIS IS KT WRITING IN RED)  I received THIS from thedesertrocks.blogspot.com on Saturday 8/6 GEE THANKS!:　

Laila at The Untroubledkingdomoflailaknight sent me this challenge saying that since I was sweet she knew I wouldn't turn her down. How do I argue with that? Thank goodness it's not a let's all jump off a cliff challenge....

IT'S MEME TIME

Then, after I answer these questions I am supposed to tag five bloggers so this delightfully easy challenge gets passed along.  

Try to go for sweet and vulnerable and you shouldn't have a problem....

        I TOOK OFF THEIR PICTURE

          AND DECIDED TO POST MY OWN:

            

CAUGHT SHORT
This is me during my infamous mini-skirt days.
The picture was taken then posted on the bulletin
board where I worked (a Municipal Court House
 in Calif.)   NOTICE = my knees are together...

Ok, you can hardly blame me for stepping up to the challenge as I have authored TWO posts which discuss my undies!

http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=874207911908838979&postID=1591679827437061830

(HOW I GOT THE NICK NAME BETTY BOOP)   I understand this one didn't work so try:                http://outofmymindbykt.blogspot.com/2011/03/159-friday-flashbacks-how-i-acquired.html

AND

outofmymindbykt.blogspot.com/2010/12/61-paranioa-tighty-whities-story.html

(PARANOIA, THE TIGHTY WHITES STORY)

AND ta-ta..ta-da! here are the questions:

1. What do you call your panties / underwear / undergarments? Do you have any commonly used nicknames for them? 

Well, not tighty whities I learned this the hard way.  What?  Doesn't everyone call them under pants?  Give my underpants a Nickname...are you nuts!

2. Have you ever had that supposedly common dream of being in a crowded place in only your underwear?

Nope,  but I have dreamed about suddenly finding myself shopping in the nude.  However, since the dream happens in Walmart, nobody noticed. 

3. What is the worst thing you can think of to make panties out of?

Well, dental floss.  Woops, they already make them out of that don't they?  They're called thongs.

4. If you were a pair of panties, what color would you be? 

Ahhh, no way would I ever all myself to be changed into a pair of panties.  I can't imagine hanging around crotchety old ladies netherlands (or is it Never-Never lands?).  

5. Have you ever thrown your panties/underwear at a rock star or other celebrity? If so, which one(s)? If not, which one(s) WOULD you throw your panties/underwear at, given the opportunity?

I have never thrown my underpants to anyone.  However, it just so happens that I did throw my panty hose at a Matador while in Tijuana watching a bull fight.  But, cerveza (beer) did play a major role in that fiasco (and I did have underpants on under the hose).  This incident is on my list for a future post.  

6. You’re out of clean panties. What do you do?

Go commando!  Duh!  btdt (been there done that)

7. Are you old enough to remember Underoos? If so, did you have any? Which ones?

No.  But, I'm old enough to know that Cleopatra probably didn't wear undies.  However, I haven't a clue what Underoos are.  Must have missed those.  Let me check on the internet... ... ... 

Oh, I see.
These came out in 1977 (when I was 36).
 They probably didn't have them for adults.
But. if they did I would have chosen these.

8. If you could have any message printed on your panties, what would it be?

BACK OFF!, I'm too old for that kind of S#!T...

9. How many bloggers does it take to put panties on a goat?

SIX
One to club the goat over the head.

One to put the panties on.
One to take pictures.
One to bail the first three out of jail for animal cruelty & malicious mischief.
One to pay off the farmer whose goat was violated.
One to write up the blog post.


Come on....only nine...there should be at least ten questions when doing a survey.  Every statistician knows that.


10.  What was your most embarrassing moment involving your panties?


Don't have any, BUT I SURE HOPE YOU DO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Now to choose a few friends who won't mind playing along. So here we go....

You can if you want to but...NOPE, you know me better than that.  I don't always follow the rules  (Ergo, the picture change).  So let me try this... ... 

Any of you reading this post, who would like to rise to this challenge, please do, and then comment back to me so I will know that you did so.  (That is all except Christine Lucas who begged to be include  http://christinalucas.blogspot.com/).

The challenge is to MAKE ME LAUGH.  COME ON, I DARE YOU!

kt 8/6/2011 

SEE YOU NEXT MONDAY FOR...... 
"#204 -

 "BOO, BUG-A-BOO, TOBY AND A KITTY TOO"

BE SURE TO WRITE THE 8/29 ON YOU CALENDAR 

FOR MY FAVORITE STORY.
  

PS:  My granddaughter  has moved four hours away to another tow (Amen).  Call me crazy but, I will miss the little ones (and I am not talking about the critters!).  

TO FISHDUCKEY:  THERE ARE ALL KINDS OF GLITCHES IN THE BLOGSPOT PROGRAM.  AND,THERE ARE ALL KINDS OF THINGS FOR ME TO REMEMBER TO DO.  PUT THOSE TWO ISSUES TOGETHER AND S#!T HAPPENS.  


USUALLY I TRY TO SCHEDULE BLOGS AHEAD SO I WON'T MISS A MONDAY POST (DUE TO LIFE'S LITTLE SURPRISES).  ANYWAY, WHEN I FINISH A POST I SCHEDULE A DATE FOR ITS RELEASE.  THEN I HAVE TO CLICK ON "PUBLISH POST."  HOWEVER, SOMETIMES THE DARN THING POSTS IMMEDIATELY.  IF THAT HAPPENS I HAVE TO IMMEDIATELY WITHDRAW IT OR IT MESSES UP EVERYTHING.  ONLY, THE SNAPSHOT OF THAT POST DOESN'T COME OF AT THE SAME TIME.  I HAVE A NAME FOR THIS.  I CALL IT C.R.A.P. (Computer Related Attacks by Poltergeists.


BY THE WAY...I DEFINITELY LOOK FORWARD TO YOUR COMMENTS.  I JOIN WITH MY BLOGGER FRIENDS AND AGREE THAT YOU SHOULD START YOUR OWN BLOG.  THINK ABOUT IT.  WE BLOGGERS ARE REAL HELPFUL AND WILL ANSWER QUESTIONS AND HELP.  THINK ABOUT IT.     kt

#202 - ALL FIRED UP!

When I was a Sophomore at Santa Monica City College I took several speech classes.   Noooooo, way you say!  This gal is way too shy!  Sure, right!  Well, this story is about my final speech in that class.

I wanted to get an "A" since I was thinking about becoming a member of Toastmasters International.  All of my other speeches received fantastic reviews and I was working on straight "A's."  To me this had to be a speech that EVERYONE would remember, especially the instructor (who could be my Toastmasters' sponsor, if I finished well).

I researched feverishly on my topic which was drawn from a box.  At first I wasn't too enthused because it the topic I drew was, "The Dangers of House Fires."  However, after reading a gazillion articles a plan began to form in my mind.

An outline of the required techniques was made and under each one notes were sketched.  I began to get excited and could see the way it was going to go.  My information was well documented, phrased in interesting and unique ways, and I had come up with a mind staggering (required) demonstration/finale.

On the day of the final, I admit, l I was a little nervous.  With my notes memorized in my head I stepped to the podium and set up my props, stage right, on a table.  One of these props was a carefully crafted paper and cardboard house with shingles, a chimney, windows, door and the typical type of siding drawn in color on the model.

My voice was well modulated, my tempo was up beat and crisp, I demonstrated an excitement about the information I was imparting and put across the seriousness of the topic.  I HAD THEM EATING OUT OF MY HANDS.  I was cooking on all burners.  I was firing on all cylinders.  I was going like a house afire.  It is then that I launched into my final comment and the ending that would grab them all.

As I said, "Don't let this happen to you," I stuck a match and touched it to the house.  Well, here is where it gets interesting.  I had worried about the house not catching fire, or only partially burning so (remember I was only a Sophomore in college and REALLY STUPID!)  therefore I had soaked the paper house with lighter fluid....................  WOOSH!  up it went.  If the front row had been any closer their eyebrows would have been part of my speech.  Everyone jumped up, the fire alarm went off, and I looked on stunned at the conflagration melting the top of the table.  The instructor rushed up with a fire extinguisher and became a participant in my memorable demonstration.

Mann, oh mann, it went up in a mini explosion of flame in less than 5 seconds.  WHAT A SIGHT!

I GOT AN "A." (and a lecture from the Dean).


POST SCRIPT:  I have had several blog worthy experiences with fire.  See the following:
          #32 = the 9th Street Fire Fiend,  http://outofmymindbykt.blogspot.com/2011/03/164-fiday-flashbacks-9th-street-fire.html

          #20 = Recipe for Disaster,  http://outofmymindbykt.blogspot.com/2010/08/20-recipe-for-disaster.html

          #90 = From the Frying Pan to the Fire, http://outofmymindbykt.blogspot.com/2011/01/90-from-fring-pan-into-fire.html

I also have one more coming up as soon as I get around to writing it.  What can I say....I'm a slow learner and I have already told you that have ADHD (and am a tad nuts).  By the way.  I never joined toastmasters.  I fell in love instead... ... ...

                             

             SEE YOU NEXT MONDAY FOR.....#203-"BOO!, BUG-A-BOO, TOBY, AND A KITTY TOO!"
       BE SURE TO WRITE THE 8/29 ON YOU CALENDAR FOR MY FAVORITE STORY.

kt 7/3/11