character interview, Characters, Just for Fun, Liberty for Paul, Scandalous Sisters Series

REPOST: An Interview with Paul Grimes, Hero of Liberty for Paul

This originally posted March 2011–and is “set” before the book, Liberty for Paul.

Good afternoon, Paul. Thank you for agreeing to talk to me (like you had a choice).

No problem. It’s my pleasure and…er…duty.

Oh, stop that scowling. Just saying the word duty isn’t going to lead to talks of propriety. At least not from me.

Good.

Good. Tell us, how would you describe yourself?

Physically?

Yes, and your personality traits if you will.

Hmm, well, I’m slightly above average height, I have green eyes, blondish hair, wear spectacles. I don’t know what else you want me to say.

Do you have any distinguishing marks or scars on your body?

(Coughs) Yes…er…a scar. Next.

By the way you’re blushing, Mr. Grimes, I daresay you have something to hide.

No, nothing to hide.

So you do have something. interesting. And where, pray tell, is it?

That information is unnecessary. Next question, please.

Fine. I’ll let the matter drop. For now.

Thank you.

You’re welcome. All right, what are your feelings about Liberty Banks?

(No immediate answer)

Sir, unclamp your jaw, please and answer the question.

Liberty and I have an unusual relationship.

That’s an understatement. Now, would you be so kind as to explain your relationship with Miss Banks?

It’s a love-hate relationship really. See, we both love to hate each other. Kind of. Well, actually no. It’s more like she has a passionate hatred that seems to consume her soul toward me and I just merely find her annoying. Unfortunately, her undisputable hatred for me has led to several…shall we say, uncomfortable moments for me.

Such as?

Where to start… Let’s see, she’s openly called me a coward and questioned my manhood, she’s “inadvertently” elbowed me in the groin and she’s hurled a book at my head that knocked me unconscious and left a bump the size of an egg on my forehead for a week.

Hmm, that doesn’t sound very endearing.

No. It doesn’t.

So is it safe to say you wouldn’t enjoy being married to her?

Now, that, Ms. Gordon is an understatement. I have no desire to be in a room with her, let alone married to her.

All right, calm down. We won’t speak of her anymore. Let’s talk instead about you.

What would you like to know?

Who is Lucy Whitaker to you?

I didn’t see that one coming. She’s a woman I once admired.

Admired?

All right. I proposed to her. But it was a long time ago and I don’t wish to discus her, her son, her wretched aunt or anything that has to do with that family.

Understood. Let’s talk about your relationship with John Banks. How exactly did you and Liberty’s father become acquainted?

He agreed to act as my mentor last spring when I approached him about a sticky situation that was going on in my church.

A sticky situation, you say? Care to divulge?

Not really.

Mr. Grimes, I’d have never thought you’d be so difficult to interview. You’ve a mark upon your person you don’t wish to discuss, a former love interest you’re not inclined to talk about and now you hint at secrets you will not share. You seem to be far more interesting than the bore we met in Intentions of the Earl. Do you have anything further to say for yourself?

No. I don’t think so. Oh, wait. Something about the way you’re looking at me just now makes me think I’m going to marry, fall in love with and share all my secrets–including my scar, former proposal, and unpleasant church situation–with that hoyden Liberty Banks.

You’re a smart man, Mr. Grimes. All those things and so much more will be happening to you very soon!

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I'm human too, Just for Fun, My own craziness, Randomness, Real Life, Save me from myself!

A random, somewhat disturbing thought… (you’re welcome)

Last night I had to use a public restroom. The germaphobe inside of me screams and throws a fit whenever I enter one, but sometimes you do what you gotta do…

As I entered the stall, my eyes caught on something shiny on the floor: a quarter. Cringing at the very thought of picking it up, I went about my business and soon realized, there were more coins on the floor.

I counted them up: one quarter, two dimes and a nickel; 50cents.

Hmmm, 50 cents. Do I take it or leave it?

Mentally, I weighed the pros and cons:

PRO–50 cents is 50cents, I don’t care how you get it. It all spends.

CON–It’s only 50 cents, is that worth touching money that’s been on the bathroom floor?

It was at this moment that I realize that if I don’t pick it up, someone else will. Thats just the facts of life. Someone will pick this up–and use it. Which further made me wonder how much of the change that was currently in my pocket had ever been on the floor of a public restroom–or worse.

I’ll let your minds decide the fate of that particular 50 cents (if it went home with me or someone else) and I’ll pose a question to all of you:

Would YOU have picked it up? It is money and it all spends and chances are you’ve unknowingly touched some with a sketchy past…

Or would you have left it alone?

If you’d have left it alone, how many coins would need to be there minimum to tempt you to pick it up?

(Okay, I wrote this very early this morning and my mind went in all sorts of wrong directions! LOL)

fun, I'm human too, I'm the victim of myself, Just for Fun, Real Life

More uncouth commercials for everyone to enjoy!!

A few weeks ago I posted some links to some rather funny, albeit satirical, commercials for Quilted Northern. Today, Ragu!

A mother’s spit–the old school Magic Eraser for faces:

No parent would try to secretly replace a deceased pet, would they?

And finally, my personal favorite:

 

Hope you all enjoyed those as much as I did. Now that I’ve had my comic relief I’m headed back to the sofa to chronicle more of Simon and Henrietta’s antics.

Family, funny, I'm human too, I'm the victim of myself, Just for Fun, Randomness, Real Life

Texts from my mom…

It’s Monday morning and as such, we are all in need of a little laugh to kickstart our week. What better way to do that than with a few texts my mom has sent me…

  1. A little backstory, she’s awful at math. So bad, it’s only college algebra that stands between her and a degree…
    IMG_3402
  2. If there was ever any doubt she loves her grandkids…IMG_3403Doubt solved. And yes, I’m a meanie… “Just delete it.”
  3. And finally…the very best way to say Happy Valentine’s Day to your daughter…IMG_3354IMG_3404

If ever you wonder why I’m so scandalous, I think that speaks for itself!

Have a wonderful Monday!!!

 

 

I'm human too, I'm the victim of myself, Just for Fun, My own craziness, Randomness

Walmart woes…and whoas!

I live in a smaller town and the closest store that has both food and clothes is Walmart. Yes, I could fall into the redneck category–but don’t you dare call me a hillbilly!

However, for as small town/redneck as I might be even I am amazed at times when I go into Wally World. I do try to be polite and keep my head down when I walk through the aisles but sometimes the kid wearing wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt finds you. As does the man dressed like a chicken. Or the woman with the bungee cord holding her pants up, yet her very…uh…generous middrift is in full sight. Of course a trip isn’t complete without at least two toddlers having a meltdown (no judgement here, one of my boys provided that ambiance more than once). 

Oh, Wally World wherever would we be without your low prices, temperamental cashiers and a clean up on aisle 4 that’s been there so long it’s become part of the floor?!

In case you can’t tell, I only go when I must. Yesterday I had to. Remember that flyer I posted up a few weeks ago, the one my boys thought would help them better with sports? Here’s a reminder:

IMG_3231
Well, on the backside was a coupon for a free box valued up to 6.99. This might be tmi but my pride only goes so far. Like most women I don’t enjoy having to buy these. Moreover, they’re rather expensive–especially when you consider what they’re used for. 

I digress. 

The coupon had an upcoming expiration date, so I decided: “It’s now or never”. My wallet screamed, NOW!!!! So I made a little list and off I went. Hey, I might be screwing up my courage to use such a coupon but that isn’t the only thing I’m going to the register with!  I grabbed my items and and headed to the register, but not before seeing theses:

  
Seriously?! It’s January!!! And 25 degrees and they’re displaying (and selling???) bikinis! Again, it’s Walmart. With that such reasoning, I start to look for a register. We have the self checkouts and I typically prefer to use those so I don’t have to deal with the crabapples who run the others, but I wasn’t taking a chance on the machine not scanning my coupon and me having to wave someone over to explain what’s going on. My luck would be that she’s be deaf and not know what to do and call a CSM over–and while waiting 20 minutes for one to meander over, she’d insist on carrying around my tampon coupon to every other station she helped. Then, when the CSM did show up, the lady would have no tact or volume control when she said, “That lady wants to use this here coupon to buy her fancy tampons but the machine is…blah, blah, blah…” Of course this would be followed with, “Ma’am, I’m gonna need to see your tampons…”

NO THANK YOU!

Instead, I walked down the row of cashiers and looked for one who looked to be a female who was older than me, but not my grandma’s age. When I found the right one, I stood in line and waited while she scanned the groceries in front of me. Then it was my turn. She scanned it all and gave me my total. I said, “I have a coupon, too.” Then handed her my strategically folded massive coupon so the bacode was visible but thr picture was not. She scanned it–then her eyes got huge. She unfolded it and started looking it over on both sides. “This just came to your house?”

I nodded. Yep, my address was right there on the back. 

“I gotta check the mail when I get home. I need this for my granddaughter.” Then, the unthinkable happens. She opens it fully and shows it to the lady behind me! “Isn’t this cool? She just got a free box of tampons.”

Without missing a beat the lady behind me goes, “Oh cool, those are the kind I use too.”

And at that moment all I wanted was my receipt and a getaway car! 

I'm the victim of myself, Just for Fun, My own craziness, Randomness

Because it’s Monday…

Because it’s Monday and we all need a little pick-me-up (and because I love you all so much I had to share this, of course), I’m posting this.

Like most kids, my boys like to check the mail. Usually, they’ll bring it in and sort it into two piles: Mom and Dad. To them, there’s no junk.

So, they’re sorting through their stack and my husband walks up just as they find the following:

IMG_3231
On the back is a coupon.

Before he could say anything to them about what to do with this piece of mail, Henry in all of his eight-year-old innocence says, “Look! These help you with sports!”

There’s just nothing to say to that. However, in case you, too, want to improve your athletic ability, you can order your box here and have it delivered to your home in a discreet package.

Now, I’m going to try to get about my day without laughing every time I look at the counter and see that stupid flyer.

Just for Fun, My own craziness, Randomness

Don’t Poke the Bear–the Mama Bear, that is.

As I was happily blogging away about my oh-so-wonderful experience last night, I came to a screeching halt when I realized that in order to understand part of my inner struggle as a parent, you needed to know a little background information.

So here it is…

For anyone not keeping up with all the important details of my life, my boys are now 10 (Eddie) and a sneeze away from nine (Henry)–and yes that makes me feel old because when I first started blogging they were 4 & 5…

This year, they’re into sports. Naturally because life is never simple they don’t want to play the same sport. Eddie is into basketball and Henry likes wrestling.

Great.

Not so great is that they both lack something very important: athletic ability. I try to be positive with them, but I’m also a realist. When we talk about how great they are, I try to stick with things they really are good at: Your dribbling was awesome today! or Good passing! I try to steer clear of praising his shooting because frankly, I don’t think the boy has ever made a basket. And that’s okay. We’re not all good at sports, and the team needs someone who can dribble the ball down the court–half the kids can’t.

With Henry, it’s different. Wrestling is a one-man team. You either beat your opponent, or put up one heck of a fight losing. He does neither. He loves to go and the child is taller than average and as strong as an ox, but for whatever reason–mainly due to lack of proper technique–he rarely comes out the victor.

I dated a wrestler in high school so I tried to give him some ideas of what to do. He wasn’t having it. He only wanted to hear what the coaches told him to do, not his mom. Most of what they’d told him to in practice was to let some of the other boys do a 2-legged take down on him because of his size compared to theirs. Fine, I get that it’s practice, and in practice in order to learn technique you have to let your opponent win. What they didn’t say was when he could STOP allowing the other boys to beat him. (In defense of the coaches, my child has some genuine hearing problems, so likely, they did and he just didn’t hear it.) So his first few wrestling sessions, he lost every time because he didn’t put up a fight and he wasn’t learning to use the technique OR what could block it.

Unfortunately, all the others kept progressing and he didn’t because of this so when they’d do free wrestling, he’d almost always lose. Well, one of the boys there goes by Reynolds. Now, Reynolds is about the same age, just a little smaller. Of the four boys Henry has ever won against, Reynolds makes up a quarter of them. Now Reynold’s dad has a chip the size of a Ruffles Potato Chip on his shoulder because he saw Henry get taken down by several of the other boys in their age/weight division and told his son he wasn’t allowed to wrestle against Henry anymore that he wasn’t good enough.

When this news traveled back to me that this was said, the coaches honored his request and now my child had to stand out a few rounds to wait for other partners, I reacted like any other mother would: I Facebook messaged an old wrestling friend of mine (not my old flame, I’m not that crazy) and said, “Can I hire you to come teach my son how to wrestle–specifically, I want him to be able to pin this other kid’s ass in front of his dad over and over again?”

Judge me if you want, but hell hath no fury like a Mama Bear!