Don’t Go Here
Fair and Balanced
Sometimes I think my personal life could generate high-volume failblog.org traffic, if my mishaps were captured digitally. The best advice originates from the loser–er, the individual who experiences (or witnesses) failure first-hand, so please accept my offering below:
1) If your bank provides an online bill pay service, tread your keys carefully when posting payments, so as to avoid sending your $2,075.00 mortgage payment to a credit card company for which you intended a minimum payment. Credit card agencies hesitate to refund two-thousand-dollar payments, and tend to submit your refund request through a labyrinth of finance committees and approval forums, so expect a three-to-four-week checking account balance deficit.
2) When other credit agencies phone your house inquiring about your subsequent missed payments, brace yourself for their silent pause after your explanation. They are thinking, as is everyone else to whom you explain this fail, “Idiot,” as they stifle a smug laugh under breath. Hold off on such explanations to employers supervising upcoming promotions, in-laws, and especially teenagers to whom you owe allowance. Feel free to capitalize on this fail, however, when approached by church donation receivers, door-to-door Comcast Cable upgrade representatives, and the Sierra Club.
3) Never sip a Starbucks Peppermint Hot Chocolate Grande post-major dental work before the local anesthesia has worn off. It may taste cool enough in your car, but your tongue’s numbness the following day will testify to you that it was, indeed, too hot.
4) ALWAYS ASSUME A CHILD IS THE WOMAN’S CHILD, NOT HER GRANDCHILD.
5) When you run out of whipping cream while preparing a dessert for the following day’s work party, do not seek whipping cream at your local, run-down gas station mini-mart late at night if you are a remotely good-looking woman–unless accompanied by an intimidating man or an intimidating woman.
6) Remember, always, that a few years ago the family dog went to the farm, where he could chase butterflies in the open fields all day. Remove “animal shelter” from your vocabulary.
7) If you drop an unopened diet soda in a parking lot, and it springs a spraying leak as it quickly rolls downhill, do not bend forward and chase after it with open arms. You won’t catch it, but you will sustain soda spray to the face and public humiliation predicated by the laughter of stoners in the adjacent Dodge Neon.
Here’s to a healthy sense of self-deprecating humor!
Opportunistic Correspondence
Worth a pack of Red Vines and some Smarties
Our oldest son Jackson has attended USC now for two months, and although our empty-nest days won’t arrive for another decade, our nest still feel a little bit empty. We just don’t hear from him enough.
Seasoned parents advise me to savor Jackson’s reticence, because (they say) boys call home for three reasons:
1) They need money
2) They are in trouble (myriad kinds and degrees of which friends say I do NOT want to know)
3) They are failing to adjust
Friends say these three purposes for contact leave moms strung up and tortured, paralyzed for weeks with anxiety. Meanwhile, Johnny runs off to the football game, meets a cute girl, and forgets he ever called to unload his problems.
Jackson calls once a week or so, Skypes with us a few times a month, and seems to exude an I-am-so-glad-I-went-away-to-college vivacity, about which we are thrilled–er, I mean, pleased, if the converse would be an I-am-a-screw-up-idiot-pot-head-college-failure update, or a my-new-nickname-is-insufficient-funds notice.
I would, however, appreciate just a little harmless deception. How about a hint of homesickness, Jackson? Not like you’re distraught, a moping loner or cipher haunting the food court, or even like you realize how much we’ve done for you, and suddenly appreciate all of my hard work surviving your 34-hour labor, the nightly three-hour colic fits (for seven months straight), the countless diaper explosions, acid reflux, potty-training mishaps, public tantrums, inclement weather sports practices, poster projects (last-minute panic, remember?), vats full of prepared food you and your friends inhaled, the snakes, the turtles, tarantulas, Hannibal the bearded dragon, pro-abortion dinner debates, the totaled car, the FAFSA, and you leaving. I don’t expect you to appreciate the sacrifice in all of that.*
But how about faking a tiny bit of Geez-Mom-and-Dad-you-guys-are-hard-to-live-away-from? Or, could you feign a little Dad-I-sure-miss-scraping-and-loading-the-dinner-dishes-with-you-because-you-always-told-the-greatest-jokes?
See, the astute college student recognizes the connection between charity-deception in parental correspondence, and care packages. Candy-loaded, money-laced, holiday-themed, middle-of-the-week and for-no-good-reason mailed care packages. Because, just as we loved you through all your mishaps and adventures, we love you now, and we want to show it. Just throw us a miss-you-Mom-and-Dad bone, huh?
So, Jackson, I’ll pretend you didn’t read this, and I’ll start on a new Flat-Rate Priority Mail box, awaiting your next email, phone call, or extended text.
*Mom, I appreciate your sacrifice in all of that with me. I love you.
Charge Toward the Unknown
I spent the day submerged in URL language (like reading Greek), so a fuzzy first post welcomes you to this site. I am finally master of my own domain! (Elaine would be proud.*) I’m blog-foggy, but ready to post excerpts of my work and updates about publishing success. I’ll save the David Copperfield kind of crap for later!
*Seinfeld allusion, Mom.
jillwellock 