Finally! Another post from Yours Truly.

Ahh, if you haven't been following me over to my Writerly Journal, you might not be aware that I've been happily (though not 100% of the time) planning out my business.  Yepper, took the plunge into the formal business world's idea of success, ya know the one where one has to have a business plan to start with?

Well, have been doing one and it's now at the point that trips me up because of the (what I consider) nitpicky stuff of tracking expenses.  Right down to the penny or is it percentage of pennies?  And trying to do something called forecasting.  Luckily for me, there are programs that'll help with this.  Unfortunately for me, those things cost many pennies.  Which, being an almost broke fledging author, feels like an awfully high mountain to climb. 

Ahh well, I've climbed what seemed like high mountains, only to discover they were only high hills.  Being a Short Person doesn't help when coming upon these obstacles.  Well, I want to relate something that happened to me only yesterday during one of my monthly sojourns out into the real world. 

My son and I left home, (where I'd left my old computer happily, I hoped, transferring projects, writings, scapples, Scrivenings, etc. to the cloud so I can get them on the new laptop my sons got for me for Mother's Day) to get groceries which I'd only been trying to do for a week.  Got to town where the day's adventure really began.

First off, my son treated me to the Buffet at Jues where we filled our tummies with the good food they make round bout noon time.  As they like to hand out those fortune cookies when one has finished their meal, I looked forward to seeing what mine was.  My son touched them both, chose, and stuck it in his pocket.  He went to settle the bill, came back, sat down and promptly opened the cooky still on the table.  (Mine, in case you're wondering. I still wasn't done eating.) 

Whereupon, I informed him "that's mine."  He started to disagree, then checked his pocket and handed it over.  Well, tossed it on the table.  When I'd finished eating, I opened it, thinking to myself that whatever was in that cooky must have originally been intended for me, having taken a roundabout way to land in my hands.

"Be cautious and examine any business plan."  Hahahohoheehee! 

Course I showed him and informed him quite happily that it must have been intended for me.  He laughed. 

So, we left to get the groceries at the local WalMart (whoa, settle down WalMart haters, I prefer to spend my money at places according to the amount of money I have to spend.  Which as is so often the case with struggling, fledging authors, I have very little of.)  I came across the bridge, went up to the posted Speed and continued my way til the next stop light, having safely made the green lights.

It turned yellow and since I was a tad bit too far to "go faster," since everyone knows that's what those yellow lights mean, I slammed my foot down on the brake, promptly slid halfway into the intersection, son is yelling, 'You didn't have to stop." whilst looking in the mirror at the car behind me.  Fortunately, the driver left me enough room to back up.

Son and I were quiet.  Light turned green, "Go" and I proceeded.  I chanced a peek at my son and sure enough, he had the look.  "Are you mad at me?"  This is because he doesn't like me hitting the brakes too hard and i get comments, observations etc on my driving or rather stopping habits.  This attitude came about because he had to pay for and now knows what brake shoes, pad and perhaps rotors cost.  "No."

Thus ended the days adventures as we proceeded to go home, car loaded with groceries. The end?
Not.  Had to make a u-ie at the turn posted with a detour sign, head back to Hardee's for the Mushroom & Swiss burger my eldest desired for his supper. 

Upon reflection of the day's activities, I think of that fortune cooky and giggle.  I thought the be cautious warning pertained only to my business plan.  Tck, tck, tck.  Silly me.

Christmas on the Rez

Christmas programs at the school and church have great attendance.  People come to watch their children perform.  It's great chance to socialize.  Candy and treats are distributed.  Presents are exchanged.

At our house, the tree is put up and decorated on Christmas eve.  Sadly, this has changed in the last few years.  My children are grown.  We exchange gifts on Christmas morning.  We still have to wait for everyone to wake up Christmas morning.  Gifts have changed to the gift cards so readily available.  {I like that option.}  Christmas lists aren't very big as we've rarely had much money.  One thing we do is Christmas dinner-turkey, ham, wild rice, potatoes and pies.  Well, a few more dishes.  

Happily, one or the other of my sons usually manages to send me and mom to the casino.  We don't go as often as we used to.  I've been pretty busy writing and checking out various income generating ideas.  teehee.  {Reminds me.  I was checking on the status of a page I like at my third favorite haunt:  ..."internet gremlins"....  Most heartening to know I'm not the only one.}  We go over in the afternoon, after dinner, play for a couple hours.  

In my younger days, {still feels weird} we'd go sliding on new sleds, or toboggans.  Now, those took a while to learn to steer.  I usually tried to get out of being at the front.  They'd tell me how to steer and I didn't have the weight or strength to turn.  After ending up in the snowbank too many times, I was finally relegated to the back.  That could be just a dangerous as one could fall off if not careful.  

There'd be five or six on the toboggan.  We'd have a contest to see who could get the furthest down the hill.  I think the goal was to try to get from the top of the hill all the way to the hill going to Big Point.  Being young and small, we never even made it to the church.  Heck, just making it to the bottom of the first hill was an accomplishment.  

Oh, and if there wasn't enough sleds, we'd collect cardboard boxes and use those til they fell apart.  Since the hill was in the middle of the village, I don't remember being interrupted and having to wait for cars to go by.  The adults would use an alternate route as long as there were kids on the hill.  One could hear us all over the village.  Talking, laughing, screaming.  That hill sure looked big going back up.  We usually managed to go down the hill three or four times in the hour we had.  Gets dark pretty fast in the winter.  

One year, {after snowmobiles arrived in the village,} I froze the tip of my ear.  I just went from the house to my friends and back, five minutes total.  Course, didn't have no hat, helmet or gloves on.  The day was warm.  Perception of warmth is dependent on the quality of the sun and sky to youngsters.  At least mine.  

When questioned by my parents as to why I didn't wear a hat, "I was only going to ---'s,"  a distance of about a thousand yards.  Naturally, when making sure my own sons were dressed warmly, I didn't go into the reasons.  Now that I think about it, why didn't I just tell them why, that I froze my ear and didn't want them to do so.  Hmm. All the little nieces and nephews, take heed.  Wear your hats, mitts and coats.  (teehee.)

Ahh, well, must continue doing errands for the rest of the week.  Being "Miss Drive" again.

On posting at my second favorite haunt

I am beginning to think that someone is trying to tell me something over at my second favorite haunt. I've tried posting an approval for 2 family members. For the fourth time in the past 10 days, I've had to review and approve their claim to be members of my family.

On the other hand, could it be that with the issue of enrollment popping up, someone doubts that we're related? How could that be? I've spent the last 8 years documenting that very issue. That's the problem nowadays. One has to have things in writing for a valid claim legally. Then again, one has to doubt that very same legality all because some clerk has made an error and refuses to own up to it.

A clerk dropped one letter in my name and I never knew I was misspelling my name for 16 years until the day my father corrected the clerk when I applied for my driver's license. However, that very same error followed me for the next 20 years. Until the day I asked a clerk down to the capital about what it would take to fix that error. Now, it's fine and dandy until....I discovered that in the aftermath of delivering my sons, a mistake was entered on their birth certificates which wasn't caught for 31 years. Now, to correct that, I have to pay $40 per, go to court, wait for comparisons and get the corrections. On the other hand {I'm fast running out of hands, maybe I'll use my fingers, then on to my toes,} I mentioned earlier that I had finally gotten my birth snafu straight?

Well, I found out that a more serious error had been entered on my birth certificate when it was transferred to the handy dandy new system. I now have a totally new father due to transposition of letters in his name. I've yet to tell my father about this error. Can you imagine what...I can see it now. Fourth of July fireworks would pale beside those over his house. Correcting that may or may not cost me depending on what the comparisons show between those certificates. However, that brings into question, my siblings bc's.

All I can say about those snafu's are that we'd better get them corrected while we can. Else I can see us bringing into court dozens of papers, boxes of newsclippings and what have you just to prove that my father's name was misspelled. And I'd still have the problem of my name being misspelled. Jiminy Cricket, where are you?

Maybe it's due to the above mentioned snafu's that my second favorite haunt doesn't believe me when I approve my family members request to be listed as family. Oh good grief, I just thought of something. Did I ... enter ... the T w i l i g h t Z o n e?

Will Mulder and Scully be contacting me?

Did I book passage on the Enterprise and get transported to a galaxy far, far away?...Will I....

Father's post for the week

advice from one who loves you.

Never work before breakfast. If you have to work before breakfast eat your breakfast first.

Father

A Few Words from my father

A Few Words from my father:

My how time flies! Seems like just a little while ago that Millie arrived as a premature baby, weighing only four pounds ten ounces. So small and tiny that she had to live in an incubator for a couple weeks until her weight reached five pounds. And now, just the other day, August 1st, 2011, in fact, she became an official elder having attained the age of fifty five.

She thrived however, and I'm sure if you ask her she'll tell you about the time as a three or four year old she was running into the house, bumped her head on the table, then whirled around and bit it.

Meanwhile, consider: An echo can have the last word but it doesn't contribute much that's new.

Fathers who should know better.

My father and I sat and had a long talk about the business yesterday. Interesting.

Me: Well.

Father: {shrugs his shoulders while trying to hide a grin.}

Me: {tapping my foot}

Me: {drumming my fingers on the table}

Father: {puts palms up in the air, shakes his head, then hides his mouth with one hand.}

I gave an exasperated sigh, shook my head and left the room before he could see the twinkle in my eyes.

That's the extent of the conversation we had about the 'guest post'. He followed me into the kitchen and told me I write good. Told my sister I'm a chip off the old block. As if that will excuse any more pranks he has up his sleeve. Somehow, I'd forgotten just where my sister gets her sense of humor. I failed to foresee this possibility.

I've been working on some guidelines for him. Today, he told me that he'd come up with something for me. Huuuuh, I don't know. I don't think I will announce when he is guest blogging anymore. I'll just post it after I see it. That way, if I get two or three solved crytograms as his post, I can leave it on my computer. Sometimes, it's hard to keep one step ahead of him, and come to think of it, my sister. I grew up with gullible written on my forehead.

I am the oldest, hence I shouldn't be falling for these little pranks of theirs. I may have posted on this very subject before, somewhere, somewhen. I keep telling myself, "I won't fall for their tricks again." A week, two weeks, sometimes a month goes by. Wham. There goes Millie's forehead again. Gullible must be painted in neon colors and it just gets to be too much for them to resist.

That's the only explanation I can think of. The younger ones also do this on a smaller scale. So far, I've managed to discourage them at least. Now, they all know how to read. It might get to be a tad difficult to keep their shenanigans in check.

I will see if my father is sufficiently recovered from his bout of laughter over the past day or so. Maybe I will get a decent blog post from him. I should strike while the guilt is thick. Yes, that is exactly what I'll do. {leaving to get a pack of the 'you know what' while the getting is good.}

Guest Blogger - My father

Well, I received the guest blog entry. The guest blogger is my father, of course. He is the man who wrote a column called "Facts by Ax" in the reservation newspaper in the nineties. Here is his entry:

computers make it less complicated to do more things, but most of the things they make less complicated to do don't need to be done.

Methinks he's having a bit of fun with me. Fathers. He does cryptograms. He calls me on the phone to give me words of wisdom. The foregoing is an example of the words he expects me to live by. And now, that his debut is over, maybe we'll get more of the same. Or not.

One never really knows just what he is likely to write. And, of course, now you have an idea of where I get some of my humor from. Ahhh well. I shouldn't have told him to keep it short. It must be my own fault. Methinks a submissions guideline is in order specifically tailored to my father. I must get to working on that right away.