Whatever Floats Your Tube

Instead of stopping to smell the roses, make time to float a river in a tube. Seriously. We should all spend more time floating instead of flying through life. 

Nothing brings people together or cleanses the soul like canned beer and slightly moist, mostly salty snacks. Today, I’m thankful for friends who are willing, year after year, hurricane after hurricane, to plop their asses in inner tubes and float beside me. 

Friends, here are some vital lessons (in no particular order) I’ve learned from tubing: 

1. The river is a great place to talk—not argue—politics.
2. Judging is a four-letter word. 
3. If you have a lesson on anatomy, by all means, bestow it. Don’t be shy. (See #2.)
4. Tubes should be named (and christened) appropriately.
5. Nostalgia should be embraced with a bear hug.
6. It’s mandatory to laugh, and it’s also perfectly acceptable to cry.
7. She may make you pee, guide you into sharp debris and write bad poetry, but the river will ALWAYS provide.
8. Beware of The Mateo and raccoons with laser-beam eyes.
9. We really, really should have commemorative t-shirts. 
10. Why can’t someone just invent a floating fire pit? 
11. If anyone is on the verge of capsizing, save the cooler. 
12. Rapids ahead. Asses up. 
13. Sure, a tent will protect you from lightning and gale-force winds. 
14. Taquito hunting is a sport. 
15. If you buy a pair of croakies for $11.95 at a gas station for yourself, and yourself only, well, that’s just short-sighted. 
16. Nearly naked is not naked. 
17. If you touch a frozen donut, you buy a frozen donut. 

Seventeen is enough. For now. If you’re feeling this vibe, feel free to drop some knowledge of your own. Just don’t drop a deuce. In the river. 

I'm the pretty one in the purple tube.

Check One, Two, Three, Four, Niner

Dear All One of You Who is Faithfully (or Not-so Faithfully) Following Me:

[Scene: The sound of a woman clearing her throat, followed by a pause, followed by the sound of someone passing gas (because face it, that's always funny), followed by the woman asking, “Is this thing even on?”] 

I need to read something dramatically genuine. A dear friend of mine and I are going to once again enter The Missouri Review’s audio contest (check out: missourireview.com). Last year we got our shit together way too late and felt fortunate just to submit something.

This year we have the freedom of more time before the deadline (typically in March), but I’m still fretting about my voice. Does anyone like the sound of their own voice? Keep in mind, I’m talking about reading, not singing. Because my singing voice is like a songbird. (Imagine the screech of a one-winged seagull circling a landfill.) 

Maybe I’m over-thinking it, but if you happen to have a flair for the dramatic, and have any advice, please go ahead and belt it out from your shower now. Trust me, I’m listening. 

In the meantime, I’ll get back to doing what my dear friend suggested: gargling whiskey. I mean, practicing. 

Yours,

The Notecracker 

I only want to sound (and dress) like her in the shower.

Lost & Hoping to Find

Dear Story,

I feel like you’re lost, and while I know I have to make myself write to find you, could you pretty please give me a hint on your whereabouts? My subconscious? My basement? Behind the veggies in the crisper? 

I remember what you were last wearing: an ascot of cinnamon heather and an overcoat of sandy beige. (No, it isn't called orange. It’s all in the details, sweetheart.) 

By the way, I refuse to utter the words Writer’s Block because that's Whiner's Bullshit. (Excuses, excuses. For now, let's just go with WB, for short.) Still, I’m feeling a little tapped out these days. I need some inspiration. A muse. Or amusement. Maybe it’s work. Maybe it’s too much revising and not enough creating. Maybe it’s too much Bravo TV? 

I know. You’re right. It’s probably all three.(Okay, maybe not the Bravo.) Just remember, you don’t even have to text or send an e-mail or facebook me first. You can just show up. Unannounced. Out of that wide blue canopy we call a summer sky in Michigan. Go ahead, stalk away. You know where I live.

I’ll be waiting here with open arms or bated breath or some other cliché that I'll just have to delete later.  

Yours,

A Humble Storyteller 

Isn't this free stock photo of broccoli adorable? 

I Really, Really Love My Pets and Am Not Ashamed to Admit It

I picked up my cat’s ashes last Friday. As I waited to pay, all the "kids" at the front desk kept eyeballing me, eyeballing the box of ashes on the counter, eyeballing me. I think they expected to witness a meltdown. I’m a veteran though. I’ve been through the drill before, which isn’t to say, I didn’t sob about it earlier in the week or won’t sob about it again. I miss the daily presence of my cat in my home. He was part of our family for over 14 years. I still miss Ruby, the Black Lab we lost over three years ago.  

I don’t judge people for making the choice to not have pets. Just as I don’t judge people for making the choice to not have children. That being said, I know I’ve been judged for loving and grieving the loss of my pets. I know I’ve been viewed as The Crazy Cat or The Crazy Dog Lady. I spent hundreds on medical care related to our cat, Ben. (I spent thousands, yes thousands, trying to save our Ruby.) I don’t have children, so I can’t say what I would or wouldn’t do to save a pet if I did. 

Then again, should love have a hierarchy? 

I don’t think so. And I’m glad I’ve reached the point where I don’t give a shit if people think I'm The Crazy Cat or The Crazy Dog Lady. I refuse to feel bad about giving my heart to anyone: feline, canine or human. Nobody is going to convince me the price tag I put on love is too high. 

RIP, Ben. (I don't know why "they" put your name in quotes.) 

(Me)mentos: The Freshmaker

After my father passed away in 2007, I asked my stepmom for some mementos of his to remember him by. Unfortunately, my father and I weren't as close as I would have liked us to be. I'm not placing blame. To be honest, we were both at fault. (Accountability is, in fact, a two-way street.)  


It was strange to be asking my stepmom for something that would somehow embody my dad's essence. It was stranger still when among what she gave me, I found photos of our childhood. Photos of mainly my brother and I. School pictures my mother sent my dad so he'd have some mementos of his children. 


When I asked my stepmom for "photos," I meant photos of my dad, because I don't have many (especially of him in more recent years). Why would she have sent the photos of my brother and I back? Were they too much of a reminder of his absence or the lack of family connection between all of us? I don't have an answer, but today, I put one of these school photos to use by downloading it as my profile pic on facebook. It became clearer than ever to me: I do look a lot like my pops. So I guess I'll have to settle for carrying around his essence in my DNA. 

Me and My Pops

Yes You Can Write The Perfect Status Update!!!

1.

Quotations can be thought-provoking. Gandhi, Abraham Lincoln, Sarah Palin, The Dalai Lama, Einstein, Jesus, Papa Smurf, Helen Keller, Winston Churchill, Lady Gaga, Socrates, Oprah—they’ve all delivered nuggets of wisdom. Don’t think of it as plagiarism. Remember that Charles Caleb Colton said, “Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.” 

2.

Don’t be afraid to express some enthusiasm by sprinkling in an exclamation point (or three). 

3. 

Shake things up by telling a dirty little secret about yourself. Maybe you:

• steal silverware from restaurants;
• had a one-night stand with your best friend’s mom; 
• like white wine spritzers;  
• downloaded Carly Simon’s Greatest Hits; 
• ate shrooms before your stepdad’s funeral; 
• don’t believe in recycling; 
• overlooked paying your taxes in the mid-90s; 
• got a tattoo of Bob Marley that looks more like the guy who works in the cubicle next to yours. 

4.

Whenever possible, refer to yourself in the third person, and by all means, embrace your omniscience. 

5.

Nostalgia rules. Tell people:

• how your heart bleeds for your alma mater; 
• how you loved your grandfather who put salt in his Budweiser and let you fishtail his pickup years before you had your license; 
• how lilacs remind you of spring in Michigan.

6.

Keep The Good Book handy. Bible verses will do in a pinch. 

7.

Song lyrics will make you look hip. It doesn’t matter if you’re a closet admirer of Garth Brooks— “‘Cause I’ve got friends in low places where the whiskey drowns and the beer chases my blues away”—or Lil’ Wayne—“I’m a cash money millionaire look at my Rolie girl. Drop to your knees top ya hair, ah ah slow me girl.” 

8.

R.I.P. FILL IN THE BLANK. Give a shout out to someone no longer among the living.

9.

When in doubt, post random numbers. While the first digit that pops into your head will suffice, posting the sign of the devil or your ex’s phone number is sure to raise eyebrows. 

10.

Lay the sarcasm on thick as buttercream frosting. E.g., Amie Heasley 

• has learned about humility from watching America’s Next Top Model. 
• ’s voodoo doll has an abnormal tolerance for pain. 
• is a frontrunner for the Nobel Prize in Physics. 
• has biceps of steel from doing Buns of Steel. 
• doesn’t fear humiliation, white supremicists, death, cockroaches, brain tumors, headcheese, failure, tornadoes, plane crashes or everyday clichés. 
• is The Greatest Ever.  

11.

Mundane doesn’t have to be synonymous with ho-hum. Devouring a peanut-butter and jelly sandwich can be worth sharing, particularly if one is allergic to peanut butter or the jelly is petroleum.

12.

If you must throw a pity party, do it in private. Now is the time to pull out that Thesuarus and show off newer, bolder ways to smile with your words. 

Positively Rejected!

"Thank you for submitting 'XXXXXX' to us--we enjoyed it quite a bit. Unfortunately, after some discussion, we decided that it wasn't quite right for us. We wish you the best of luck in placing this piece elsewhere, and hope that you will consider submitting to us again in the future."


This is what's "known in the business" as a positive rejection. There really are some positive takeaways here, and I'm not complaining. Wait, I guess I am, a little. I have received a lot of these lately. While I'm glad at least some of what I'm submitting is helping spread enjoyment among the publishing world, I wish said enjoyment would result in actual publishing. 


Remember, there is only one I in FAILURE. Thankfully, one thing I've never been is a quitter. So for now, it's back to the clickety-clacking. 

Word(s) = Love!