It's All Fodder

      This past Sunday my daughter, granddaughter and I traveled 3 hours (each way) to Kirksville to see my son. He's in med school there.

       I've written a number of stories about "Da Boy" some of which have been published in various anthologies.

        With our son, there is no shortage of stories...

        We got to enjoy a late lunch/early dinner at Macon's best restaurant and meet his girlfriend. Over the meal, we entertained her with retelling some of his antics.

        For instance:

• My boy took advantage of a "special" senior skip day--in the fall--that was held for just his friends. He expected me to believe him.
• Our son refused to get his hair cut or use a hair net for marching band. His hair was too long to be hidden under his hat. His solution: have the girls in the marching band put his hair into dozens of tiny pigtails, using pink and purple and green rubber bands. To make the matter even more comical, this was during marching band camp, and it was also the day that yearbook pictures were being taken. In the yearbook is a portrait of our boy looking quite, uh, unusual... 
• Our child, so excited that it was almost the end of his junior year of high school (on the second-to-last day before summer break), turned himself into a human bowling ball and slid across the cafeteria. He slammed into a garbage can, causing it to tip over. He got suspended--the end of the school year came quicker than he had originally thought--and had to take some finals early.

       And there was the time when we had to rent a Speedo swimsuit for him while in France. He was under the impression we had bought the suit--new--for him to wear, since it was required for the water park. Ooops. That was one of the many stories I didn't have time to tell. It'll have to wait until next time...

McDonald's was NOT where we dined. We ate at AJ's, but I had to turn
so the sun was at my back when I took the photo... and there are the golden arches
filling up the background. What an incredible photographer I am... ;)

       When you have kids, you not only get gray hair and wrinkles and an ever-increasing waistline because of them and an addiction to chocolate, you also get fodder for stories.

        How do your kids react when you tell (or write) stories about them? A talkative mom wants to know.

The Need for Speed

        A few weeks ago I was heading to the airport. It wasn't even the crack of chicken yet. I had a 6 a.m. flight, and was told to get there 90 minutes before the flight, so there I was, on a mostly empty highway a little before 4:30 in the morning.

        Fortunately, I had just gotten onto the highway not even a minute earlier. Otherwise, I might have gotten to an even faster speed. Unfortunately Bruno Mars and "Uptown Funk" had just come on the radio. My right foot mashed down on the accelerator as I danced in my seat and rocked my head back and forth to the insanely contagious beat.

        Were those disco lights, to add to mood? No, they were a police car's flashing lights. While talking to me, the officer saw my suitcase, asked me if I was worried about missing my flight (as he tried to figure out why I was going 78 in a 60). No, I wasn't worried about getting to the airport too late, I told him honestly, but I also didn't tell him the whole truth.

        "Officer, a really good song came on--Uptown Funk--and I couldn't help myself."

         Now when "smoother than a fresh dry Skippy" comes on, my foot instinctively eases off the gas pedal.

         What song makes you groove (and possibly speed) when you're driving? A woman who's $86 poorer wants to know...