Bike Update

Talk about a brazen thief.

Today my son walked out of school and saw HIS BIKE on the bike rack at his school!  WITH the lock still dangling around the body.

He called me so I could come pick him up as the brakes are messed up.

His school has an afterschool program so whoever rode that bike to his school today was probably still in there. I wanted to go in and ask, loudly, "hey, does anyone here have a gold bike out in the bike rack?" -- thinking someone would be stupid enough to say, "yeah, that's mine."

But the school secretary wouldn't let me.  Sigh.  So I told her to keep her ears open for anyone complaining about someone having stolen "their" bike.

So, son is happy, lessons learned.
1.  Put the lock THROUGH the body AND wheels.
2.  Use the bike rack, not a pole that can be knocked over.

Smiles all around!

Microfiction Monday

W00t!

I finished my 50,000 words!  Now I can relax as I flesh out more, tweak, edit and enjoy Thanksgiving.

And I can concentrate on Microfiction Monday.  Thanks, Susan, for the great photo and your story.  You're a tough act to follow!

This kind of reminds me of Ellen DeGeneres's old routine where she talked about the deer head on the wall:
"I ask people why they have deer heads on their walls. They always say because it's such a beautiful animal. There you go. I think my mother is attractive, but I have photographs of her." 


So here's my feeble attempt to do a story, although I've mentioned Susan AND Ellen Degeneres which means anything I write will PALE in comparison!

Sam had worked his way up from the enlisted ranks with the idea of leadership someday. Who knew that NF writers needed a static muse?

**to understand this, you need to Google "Mustang" as a slang word.

What a Day!

My poor son. To set the stage, he's been in the doghouse. We're one week into the new quarter and despite tearful promises, on Wednesday I had already received notice from his Algebra teacher that he was missing SIX assignments.

To understand this you have to know that

• he does the work
• when it's time to turn it in he often can't find it
• he has a binder
• he refuses to even tiptoe down the aisle of organizational skills

So, that's the backdrop. Yesterday morning I was going to chaperone the high school kids to a very cool National Archives field trip. I had NO.TIME.FOR.HIS.STUFF.

I had several checks that needed to get to his band teacher (citrus sales). I contemplated waiting until Friday because I know things go into his backpack and never again see the light of day. (The EPA requires a biohazard mask when delving for items possibly contained therein)

But he said he'd be really careful. I put the checks into an envelope and put the envelope on the kitchen table.

The alarm went off.

He didn't move.

He finally got up (after much ENCOURAGEMENT).

Despite the fact that he did NOT practice trumpet and did NOT take care of the bird, he was still running late.

He missed the bus.

I told him to ride his bike because I had NO.TIME.FOR.HIS.STUFF. He protested, I stood firm.

He took the bike.

I had budgeted about an hour to get ready, and catch up on some things around the house.

The phone rang.

It was son.  "Mom, somewhere near the high school I dropped the envelope."

My head exploded. After I hung up (not very nicely), I jumped into clothes (no shower), brushed my teeth quickly, and drove to the high school. I got out and looked all over and MIRACLE found the envelope intact.

I drove to the junior high (the campuses are connected but I had to move the car anyway), dropped the envelope in the teacher's box, asked them to send a note to my son that said "Envelope Found. Mom Still Loves You." They promised they would.

But now there wasn't time for me to go home and shower and still make the field trip. Sigh.

Went on the field trip, had a great time, no kids told me I stunk. Of course, they didn't get very close -- either the shower or the fact that I was an adult.

On the Metro back I called to make sure he'd gotten home from school.

"Mom, my bike got stolen."

WHAT?

"I locked it to a sign pole near the high school. When I took my lunch time to go look for the envelope I saw that the bike was still there. I didn't find the envelope."

Me: They were supposed to tell you the envelope had been found.

Him: Yeah, I got that note after lunch. After four hours of terror.

Me: I don't feel bad about that. You need to learn from this.  So tell me about the bike.

Him: When I walked over to get my bike after school, the sign had been pulled or pushed out of the ground and my bike was missing.

Sigh.

Nano Ketchup

40,128. Closing in on the target. Seriously avoiding the medical crisis in the novel because I don't know the right language. But it's fiction, right?


I know, it's catch-up rather than ketchup...just trying to maintain a sense of humor!

Wherefore Art Thou, Emajean?

Wherefore Art Thou, Emajean?

A Friends of the Library Mystery

Prior Installment

“Won’t you sit down?” László asked, gesturing to the table.

Emajean was still hesitant as she sat. “Usually at this time the doctors are elsewhere so I come in to have a little quiet cocoa. I really am sorry if I interrupted you.”

“Not at all! Is there some place where I too could get a cup of cocoa? It’s just that it reminds me of home, and for a moment, I had a bit of nostalgia,” László said.

“I bought it at the canteen. We can go there,” she said.

He frowned a little. “No, I don’t think I want to leave this room,” he said quietly.

“Is it because doctors don’t like to be seen in public with nursing students?” she asked.

“No,” he replied. “I like that it is just us here.”

“Then I’ll share. Here,” and she pushed the cocoa to him. The mustache of cocoa that covered his upper lip after he took a deep draught caused her to start giggling.

He took on a look of mock hurt. “Are you laughing at me? A poor foreigner trying to learn American customs?” he asked.

She bit her lip lightly. “No, it’s nothing foreign about you that makes me laugh. Even American boys get cocoa mustaches. It’s just very undignified for a medical student.”

He hung his head in pretend sorrow. “Ah,” he replied. “The stereotype of the doctor being too dignified to be human.”

She smiled, and reached across the table to retrieve her cocoa. László closed his hand around hers on the mug and said, “You may not have it until you tell me your name.”

Her smile grew wider and she said, “Jean. I like to be called Jean.”

He furrowed his brow and answered, “That sounds very American, short and to the point. It doesn’t seem ornate enough for you.”

She said, “Well yes, my parents named me Emajean but it sounds so old fashioned. I wanted to be called Jean once I came here.”

László tried it out, “Emajean.”

She had never heard her name pronounced with such precision wrapped in velvet. It made something inside her warm even more to this man. “All right. You may call me Emajean, but only you. Everyone else has to settle for Jean.”

“And already you have given me another gift,” he said.

“Another?” she inquired.

“Yes, first you started my heart. Second, you shared your cocoa. Third, you gave me exclusive use of your full name, Emajean,” he said.

There was something about the way he declared the gifts and finished with his caress of her name that Emajean knew she’d be a goner if she didn’t leave the room immediately. Suddenly the door flew open and a dark haired girl looked in. “They’re looking for you, Jean! Hurry up!” she called and ran off.

Emajean abandoned the cup, straightened her cap, and fled out the door.

They both knew where they’d be tomorrow at the same time.

Chapter XI

From their beginning with cocoa, László and Emajean tried to progress as if they were colleagues. When others were around, they struggled to ignore the currents of electricity that ran between them. But in their second year, the inevitable occurred and thrown together by long shifts and difficult patients, the electricity matured into a deeper relationship, cemented by friendship and shared challenges.

When László was in his third year of medical school, his father died. This coincided with the world-wide depression so his father’s already small pension from the Hungarian government was worthless. As the only child, László was committed to caring for his mother and was making himself sick trying to decide what was best for her.

Uncle Teodor provided what appeared to be the perfect solution. He offered to pay for his sister-in-law’s passage to America. László agreed that it was a great idea. Unfortunately, his mother refused to get onto a ship that would cross the ocean. Anticipating her answer, Teodor had been urging the young man to finish a semester early, quickly take his exams, and then go to Hungary to bring his mother back to Chicago. Teodor had picked up the current that ran between his nephew and a young Irish nurse, so his additional hope was that the trip would give the young man an opportunity to be immersed in all good things Hungarian, and the Irish girl would no longer appeal to him.

László suspected that his uncle had such an intention, but his suspicion was of no consequence to his decision. He was torn between the duty to his mother, and his love for Emajean. László also knew that if he left immediately following his exams, he would not be considered for further specialization studies, and might even have trouble finding a position practicing medicine when he returned.

NaNo Update

34,940

I hate it when I get an idea but I'm too tired to type. Solution: put in a few key words for the next day and then hit the hay.

Back on Track

33,162

Back on track

Must produce lots of words

BEFORE

Thanksgiving gets here

Remind me of why I'm doing this?