Turning Boys into Men (Tuesday’s Tell All)

I try to do my part in preparing the next generation; in this case turning boys into men. This year’s Spring Break was an excellent opportunity; it was just me and the grandsons.

I was excited as I made the rounds [about a forty mile round-trip] to pick them up. As I drove east I was imagining what sort of fun and informative games I might play with these boys; after all they aren’t ‘little boys’ any more at 10, 12 and 14 years of age. I decided to ad-lib.

Three and a half hours later we arrived home (aka Nana & Papa’s). Yeah, what should have been a forty-five minute drive [round-trip] took a little longer because I let them direct me. When one of them said turn right/left I did – even if it was [obviously] wrong. It was an adventure and we didn’t end up in Alaska so I count it as a win.

“What are we going to do Nana?” the trio immediately began chirping like a nest of baby birds when we arrived safely.

“Hmm…” They had often talked about camping alone in the woods around our house. Of course they had heard stories of their parent’s escapades while growing up here in the boondocks. I mulled it over, reasoned with myself and concluded: we didn’t end up in Alaska and they are pretty reasonable kids. Surely they are mature enough now to sleep in the woods without supervision.   “Y’all are going to pick a spot anywhere within the ten-acre fence and camp out.” It probably sounded more like a command than an option but they were ecstatic!

The middle one had a brief anxiety attack, “I didn’t come prepared. I don’t have my sleeping bag – I didn’t bring my knife.”

The youngest one said, “So – you don’t need any of that! If you have to poop instead of cutting up your underwear you can use a leaf.” (His uncle taught him that.)

The eldest one was pumped, “I’ve got some Gatorade and sunflower seeds. We just have to manage our resources’. How many life-lines do we get?”

My daughter was listening on the phone, “Oh my gosh I thought they were just camping? Tell him three.” She cackled. (I don’t know where she gets her wicked humor.)

Yep, the #1 grandson went straight up survivor mode. I don’t know if he thought this was one of Nana’s games or he watches a lot of “reality” television; either way I went with it, gave them three life-lines and giggled to myself, Bwahaha this is going to be way more fun than I imagined.

“This is what you have.” I explained as I laid out three dusty web-laden sleeping bags, two coolers, a sack of food, a lighter and a gallon of water. “Make it last and good luck.”

They picked out their camping spot and began gathering wood. I went back to the house, closed the doors and pretended to ignore them as the hours ticked slowly by.

I truly thought they would be banging on the door and begging to come in by nightfall but nope; they made a cozy camp by the pond and had a nice fire going. They were so happy it made me sad smile.

After midnight I gave up spying on them, said a prayer and went to bed. The following morning I was sure they would be sound asleep in the living room but the house was empty. So I grabbed my camera and sneaked through the woods.

Then what to my wondering eyes did appear but three little men all drained of their cheer. Tee-hee-hee, oops I mean poor babies.

Boys 1

By dawn the fire had [literally and figuratively] gone out.

I continued to let them believe it was a survival game so they bargained for another gallon of water and a garden spade. By noon they were discussing if they should use their last life-line  for a pillow, a thicker blanket for the trailer they were sleeping on or a Pepsi.

Boys 2

They chose the Pepsi.

The #2 grandson had packed bubbles. He and the #3 grandson entertained themselves while the #1 grandson prayed rested.

Boys 3

I hung out with them for a while, chased bubbles and asked, “How is the survival game going?”

Boys 4

#1 grandson tried to smile but he didn’t have the energy.  “We still have plenty of food.” he replied. He was not going to quit or admit it was not so fun anymore.

“Well what if I said I am calling the game off – what if I said you boys have to stay in the house tonight. What would you say to that?”

Boys 5

“I’d say thank you!” he jumped to his feet with tears relief on his face. #3 grandson gave a smirk humble yet proud smile and #2 grandson disappeared inside before I could take his picture.

Thank goodness they don’t read blogs. 😉


Lucky Me

mail on the table
things piling up

leaning toilet
dad by nine
things falling down

mom on her i-phone, i-pad,  i – i – i
I make dinner for myselfDSC_0015 (1280x1125)
empty fridge, fruits and vegetables are for farm heroes.
save candy crush for dessert.

trip over musty towels, bang my head on rusty washer.
still no clean clothes in the dryer.
saving pets is more humane. baseball practice tomorrow.
a fruit cup with a bowl of lucky charms.

Lucky me.

Follow Me to Fame (The Numbers Game)

Everyone who is anyone has a twitter account, right? Well that’s what the promotional experts say. I want to be somebody, after all I am trying to sell books. But (for me) it’s not just about the selling I actually like people. I like to interact with them from time to time. I understand that is an outdated concept so call me old fashioned.

Anyway I opened a twitter account and for the most part I have met some interesting people and enjoyed getting to know a little bit about them and the work they do. A few of them just run naked down the twitter isles yelling buy my_____.

I suppose I am like any other tweeter who wants to be famous; I get a warm fuzzy feeling over new followers. As a matter of fact I check my mail first thing every morning to see if I have a new follower. This morning low and behold I do and there is more than one!

Yippee! I am pumped. From their profile [at least what shows up in my inbox] they look interesting. They’re acclaimed authors, bloggers, writers, photographers, anchormen, comedians, media moguls etc… so I hurry over to twitter to have a better look. I could click follow from the inbox but that would be too impersonal. I must go over in person and say hello, make them feel welcome and thank them. I mean, my gosh! These awesome upper echelons with thousands of followers want to follow a nobody like me?

My fingers are trembling against the keyboard as I log in. I nervously wait those 2.2 seconds for the page to load and all the while thinking Yes! Oh lardy yes, I already know I am going to follow them too!

Then the ‘hmm’ moment. I glance to the left at the double digit numbers that are the same as they were a week ago. That can’t be right so I hit the follower’s tab and guess what? They’re not there!? I’m devastated! My awesome followers have disappeared. How can that be? How could I have offended them before even saying hello?  Is this a cruel joke? Should I search them out and ask them what changed their mind? Should go back to my inbox and hit follow???

I seriously consider laying my head on the desk and crying but I can’t stop laughing long enough.

The numbers game that is being played to make one look important just strikes me as funny. To look good on twitter, to seem ‘sought after’ the number of people following you must be significantly higher than the number you follow. So how do you do that? You follow someone just long enough for the notification to be sent and then you un-follow them. Most of them will never notice because they’re too busy running naked down the twitter isles hoping you will buy something and follow them to fame.

[heavy sigh]

In closing let me say, thank you for that beautiful millisecond we shared but sorry Joe, Jim, Lisa, Dianne and all of you other fabulous, possibly famous, most popular peeps on the world wide web. I’m gonna sit this one out.