SoCS – anybody got a Sharpie?

I’ve had something of a fascination with signs lately.  The ones with misspellings or incorrect punctuation are particularly vexing (that’s a nice crotchety word…vexing), and I daydream about doing Sharpie corrections on the fly.  Yes, that’s kind of a sad daydream, but let’s not address that right now.

I’ve managed to restrain myself because a) adulting, and b) I’ve made it to 46 without a record and really don’t want to get arrested for vandalism.  Although I think I’d have an excellent argument in that the offensive signs themselves are really the vandalism, but bygones.

Just a couple of the signs I’ve wanted to correct:

**  Names in yards or on mailboxes.  Is this a southern thing?  Or does everyone announce their presence with a sign?  Maybe it goes back to the pioneer days when you had to claim your land with a flag.  At any rate, I’ve given up hope that the general population will internalize that ‘s is possessive and works for, say, The Smith’s house.  If, however, you’re going for just the name then it needs just the s.  But can someone tell me why the sign companies aren’t gently advising their customers on the correct version?

**  a.m. versus p.m.  Okay.  I get that midnight is tricky since it comes after all the evening hours but for real, people, if your store/restaurant/rollerskating rink posts that it closes at 12:00pm that is noon.  As in lunchtime.  If, however, you close at midnight?  Use the a.m.  Just do it.

I’ve also been trying harder to pay attention to the (metaphorical) signs in my life.  Where I’m heading, what I’m doing, all that jazz.  I’ll admit it…in my twenties I thought this was bunk.  That sounds harsh but for reals, folks talking about “getting a sign” sounded just a bit hippie dippy to me.  I am now eating those words, of course, but there it is.

Surely that’s a sign that it’s time to sign off.

Linda offers a weekly Stream of Consciousness event.  This week’s prompt is “sign.”

SoCS – sin (lite) for a third grader

I was raised extremely Catholic.  Not so much in a daily mass, weekly confession, don’t-you-want-to-become-a-nun sort of way.  More like a church on Sundays, memorize your prayers, receive the sacraments, and show up for holy days sort of extreme.   

I guess you’d call it more serious than extreme religion-ing.

At any rate, a major rite of passage for us was first communion, a sacrament we received in third grade.  If you know any Catholics then you know this one is a pretty big deal (okay, they all are), but speaking from someone who remembers what it was like to prepare for it at eight years old?  It was a big freaking deal.

Before you could receive holy communion, though, you had to receive the sacrament of reconciliation.  Most of you have probably heard of this one as confession.  As in, face the priest (who, I’ll admit, always made me nervous because they were, like, HOLY), remember the prayers, and confess your sins.

There’s nothing like waiting in line for confession to make an eight-year-old’s mind go completely blank.  My visit with the priest would be imminent.  I had to go in there and say something.  And I had nothing.  Nothing.  Suddenly I was Mother Teresa, love personified, instead of the girl who hid half her dinner under the bathroom sink and tormented her younger brother by hiding his stuffed bear.  Puh-lease.

But when push came to shove my brain would freeze.  So I’d find myself with the priest, supposedly examining my conscience, and admitting to things like I didn’t clean my room or I didn’t share my cookies.  The lamest sins ever, but still quaking in my proverbial boots because HOLY.  Looking back, I can’t begin to imagine how those priests sat through fifteen third graders admitting to sin (lite), without even cracking a smile.

Pretty impressive, when I think about it.

Linda’s Stream of Consciousness prompt is always a fun way to empty your brain onto the screen.  This week’s prompt is “admit.”

SoCS – the almighty weather app

We are obsessed with the weather around here.  My kids are probably the only ones their age who religiously check the weather app before going to bed.  Try to get them to turn in for the night without their fix and there’s likely to be a riot on our hands.

What will the temperature be in the morning.  You wouldn’t think this would matter an awful lot since they’re going to be inside a building all day long, but it does.  Especially with T-man.  BrightSide gave him a cutoff (don’t ask me what it is, they keep changing it) for what the temperature needs to be for him to leave the house in shorts.  Lawdy, the uproar over shorts around here…it’s enough to drive a girl to drink mimosas espresso.

Whether it will be raining, and when, and for how long.  Bear rolls with this but T-man is an outdoors fella, so rain is a pretty big deal.  Rain ruins skateboarding plans.  And scooter time.  And basketball.  And whatever else those boys do when they’re hanging around in the driveway for hours at a time.  (No, they’re not drinking beer.)  Whether it’s gonna be a light shower that passes during school hours or a steady rain all day is the difference between a “YES!!” or a “awww, man” when the boy gets in my car after school.

T-man’s also oddly talented (well, I guess not oddly, it’s just a skill I don’t understand) at reading the skies.  Guess his fifth grade science teacher did an outstanding job because that kid can tell whether a storm is imminent or if it’s just a gloomy sky.  And he’s never wrong.  Never.  I have learned not to buck T-man’s predictions or I end up soaked in a shower.

Now that we’re heading into summer I suppose we’ll shift our obsession to temperature highs.  I’ve already seen my car heat to 100° as I sit in the car rider line.  (I’d like to say I delicately fan myself ala Scarlett O’Hara but in reality I’m mouth breathing as sweat soaks through my hair.)  I am particularly heat sensitive (as well as cold sensitive, ‘cuz I’m low maintenance like that) so I keep a close eye on summer weather.  Highs into the 90s or (ugh) 100 will land my butt firmly on our couch for the day, whether it pleases my kids or not.

When they get older they’re welcome to melt outside all they want.

Linda’s blog hosts a weekly Stream of Consciousness event.  This week’s prompt is “whether/weather.”

SoCS – sniff, sniff

Parenting has forever altered my sense of smell.  I hate to seem like I’m taking the easy way out with this prompt – smell…smelly…kids…parenting – but for real, I believe my olfactory nerves have literally shifted since these little delights have marched into my life.

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SoCS – all or nothing? guess this one leans toward nothing…

Wow.  This never happens, you guys.  My brain is so ping-pongy – drop a couple of words in my lap and something comes to mind.  It might be random and bizarre but it’s something.

But I’m sitting here with nothing.  Which is particularly ironic since this week’s stream of consciousness prompt is “all or nothing,” so at least my writer’s block includes one of the words.


I’m staring at the computer…

  • All or nothing…isn’t there some kind of saying about going all or nothing?  No, that doesn’t sound right.  Damn.
  • We use All laundry detergent, the kind with no added perfumes and stuff because I have crazy skin that bursts into weird rashes when it meets a random ingredient it doesn’t like.  Can I predict these ingredients?  Nope.  It’s a little like playing Russian roulette with my entire body.
  • I think “or” is a particularly useful conjunction.  Hot or cold, in or out, up or down, sweet or salty – there are a million choices to make.  Can you imagine how convoluted our speech would be if we didn’t have “or”?
  • Nothing.  Nada.  Niente.  Nulla.  “Nothing” is one of the few words for which I have three alternate language versions at the ready.  What do you suppose that says about me?
  • I’m a wordy girl.  A book person.  An English major, even.  But there are some books that I haven’t read (or if I have I don’t remember them) – the kind of books that bring shame in literary circles.  All the King’s Men comes to mind.  Try claiming a literary arts education while tossing out that you have no idea what this one’s about…talk about a cred killer.
  • What if I switch it up to nothing or all?  Yeah, nope, that doesn’t help.
  • Maybe some rhymes…all, hall, mall, tall, ball, wall, stall, y’all.   Hey, those look a lot like what shows up on Word Walls in the kindergarten classrooms. Except y’all.  Even down here that’s not a part of formal language education.

Okay, that’s probably enough torture for today.  Love ya, mean it!

Linda’s blog hosts a stream of consciousness post each Saturday.  This week’s prompt is “all or nothing.”

SoCS – do they make pollen medic alert bracelets?

I’ve always been allergic to yard work.

Okay, okay, not technically allergic, although once we moved to the Obscenely High Pollen state of NC I could probably put that on a medic alert bracelet without being too far from the truth.  Stepping outside right now is akin to an assault on my lungs.

But I digress.

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SoCS – the power of three

I recently revisited one of my old guilty pleasures, Charmed.  Gotta love Netflix – all the crap television you’ve ever watched, ready to waste your time on another go ’round.

In case you missed this particular tv show, it tells the story of three sisters (four, once Shannen Doherty supposedly went a little woo-woo and they had to bring in another “power of three” character) who come into their powers once they’re reunited in their childhood home.  Cue sisters struggling with identity issues as they battle the forces of evil to save the innocent.

Yeah.  It’s pretty much as bad as it sounds.

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