Puzzles

When you grow up in a small house with 8 siblings one things that you don't play with are puzzles. Hence, I never knew how to do them. 

 I clearly remember that the first time I worked a large puzzle (think 300 pieces), Peter helped me and he was six. That meant that I was 28 years old.

 For years as the kids got older, I usually sat on the sidelines and watched. I would try to help, but invariably a piece would be put in wrong. I thought that if I could make it lie flat, it fit. Imagine lots of pounding. 

So, now 20* years later, I work puzzles. And I enjoy them. I do 1000 piece ones, but I have only done one by myself. 

So it's cold out, the puzzle table is ready, and I'm raring to go. Wanna help?

You are not my Father

Whenever I go to the dentist, I'm always afraid that my father will appear. 

 Not, my birth father, but the father that hides behind the dentist mask and says, "You seemed to have missed this place while flossing." sigh

 Sometimes he may even become sterner, "You know, you only have to floss the teeth that you want to keep."

 And inside I'm shouting, "You, unlike Darth Vadar, are not my father. I'm paying you over $5 per minute to clean my teeth, so clean. If I knew how to get tartar and plaque off on my own I wouldn't be here." 

What if the hairdresser, tsk,tsked, because your hair was too long? 

How about pooh poohing over somebone's inability to do their own sonogram?

Sock sale mania

Yesterday, we headed out for the annual sock sale in Northfield, VT at Cabot Hosiery. We were an hour early and made it to just 4 people shy of standing by the door. Next year we're going to aim for the vestibule.

 Anyway, at 8:30, we headed on in. I made a beeline for the shot sock table and Russ headed up front to grab a bag. 15 minutes later and $70 poorer, we were on our way to the Mazzillis for homemade donuts. The grandkids helped sort socks and we are home today with way too many socks. The Mazzillis have a huge pile of mismatches to wear and destroy while doing chores. 

 I have dozens to give to the family and I plan to bring a large box of 40+ pairs to work. We like bargains, quantity, and great deals, I guess. 

On Thursday, we raided Penney's and filled a cart with maternity shirts for my clients. I think we bought 100, spent $19, and saved $3000.Yes, those numbers are real.

Update on Christmas boxes

I talked to my daughter and she relayed how proud the grandkids were when they brought their Christmas boxes to church. "They marched down the aisle holding them proudly, and then stacked them onto a tower of other boxes. They thought they were so amazing." 

Everything was fine until they got in the car after service. It was then that Antonia began to sob. They finally figured out what she was saying, "You forgot my present." 

Evidently, she didn't understand that she had to leave it. After it was explained, she was fine. But, hey, she's only 2.

Plays, some of my favorite things

For our anniversary Russ took me to see a play. I love everything about live theater, the seats, the sounds, the costumes, the energy.

 What I enjoy the most is the mistakes. There's nothing quite so fun as watching the clever way that the actors recover if they forget a line, trip on stage, or if the prop door doesn't open. I don't know if I could be so skillful. I'm afraid that I would probably burst into laughter. That tends to be my operating mode when I'm embarrassed.

 Witness someone trip and fall on their face? I'm there holding my sides. 

Enduring a class for continuing ed credits? Some remark made by the instructor will be misconstrued by me and I'll be hiding a smile. 

Let's just say that there are some of my co-workers that refuse to sit by me during lectures. They don't want to end up laughing.

 And me? I'm looking for a mistake. There must be one. On any given day, I make several.

Line dancing

At the end of October I held a small (4) dance instruction class for my nieces. I had gone on the internet and found a dance set to some Alan Jackson music. It looked doable if I took out a few spins. I am not a spinner. 

Over the next 3 weeks I found myself working through the steps while I sat in my recliner, ate at the kitchen table, worked at my desk, and waited at stop lights. 

 How do you say obsessed? Anyway, the night for the dance came and we did it!!! They actually learned two variations and we ended up dancing for about two hours with a nice break for pizza, salad, soda, brownies, and ice cream.

 I'm ready to teach it to anyone else who'd like to learn. I can see a future event with the whole room moving to "Walkin' to Jerusalem". Let's dance.

Bumper stickers

I don't have bumper stickers on my car. I don't want to offend people that might perhaps become my friends. 

Have a sticker complaining about other drivers? That'll be the day that you run a red light or rearend a fellow traveler. 

Pro-life, pro-choice, Republican, Democratic, redneck? As soon as you label yourself, you become associated with every extremists that is giving your cause a bad name. 

While driving recently I experienced someone misreading a bumper sticker. They read, "I love ME," then commented, "Boy, that person is pretty self centered."

 My reply, "I think it means I love Maine." It did, we laughed, and that's why I don't have bumper stickers on my car.

Changing seasons

The season is changing again and we are getting to the point in life where there is no yardwork. The leaves are raked, the flowerbeds are put to rest, and for a short time it isn't snowing. I think most of marking time here is dependent on yardwork. 

 I wouldn't trade the changing of the seasons though. Putting on warm socks, turtlenecks, sweaters, and warm pants is comforting to me. 

 Don't let that be confused with how I feel when spring approaches. Then I can't wait to go barefoot, hang up the winter coats, and yes, even mow the lawn. 

This is the thankful month of life, this month of November. Look around and be thankful, it'll brighten the grey skies.

Death and Kids

Last May, my grandchildren's paternal grandfather died. Over the last year they have had numerous visits to his home and watched their parents and aunt sort through the household items and personal affects. They have witnessed many conversations on where and to whom things should go.

 One day I was in my bedroom and my granddaughter at 2, spied my necklaces hanging on a rack. I took them down for her to look at. My 7 year old grandson ran in and called to his 5 year old brother. "Domi, come here. Antonia, look at the necklaces. Pick out what you want for after Monya dies!"

Don't Forget Your Shoes

The grandkids and I went shopping for school supplies on Friday. I offered to take them out for breakfast, but since they think I make the best eggs, they opted to eat here.

 Getting three kids, street ready a

nd presentable, took some time but we were finally ready to head out. Karl, 7, set the lock on the door. They all grabbed a bottle of water, and while I was hunting for their shoes, I commented, "We can't forget your shoes. Where are they?" "In the car," the boys chorused. That's when Antonia pointed and ran into the livingroom. I followed to see her picking up her sandals. Pretty smart for 2. 

We hustled out, I closed the door, and began to load them into the car, adjusting car seats as needed. I tossed my purse into the front seat and looked down, no shoes. Pretty inept for 54.

Swing Set Hazards

Russ assembled a swing set for the grandkids this past Saturday. It took four hours due to the wrong placement of bars, numerous small parts, and the occasional scramble looking for loose washers. 

The kids loved it and before it was totally assembled, they already manned the swings. 

The wildest part was the notice of warnings that was to be posted on the top cross bar. Seriously, they didn't want kids to stand on, jump off, or hang over swings. 

 It's like expecting a newborn to stay dry. Anyway, it provided great material for my column for the Herald this week.

Sparklers

Last night we gave each of the three grandkids a package of sparklers to ignite for the 4th of July. There were six small stems enclosed in a box that could have held 24.

 Did we used to get 24? 12? when I was young or is my memory clouded by the years? I seem to remember the glow being brighter or colored or lasting longer. 

The thread that was still true was the look of delight and wonder on their faces. It still was magical to have a silver stick turn into a fairy wand. 

A campfire with marshmellows being roasted glued smiles into place. And a summer night was light until past bedtime. 

 It doesn't get much better than that.

Reflections on the 4th

Before the arrival of the 4th, Russ and I got into a discussion on why we celebrate the 4th of July. What we ended up remembering was the great sacrifice that was made by the colonists to be free from England. And just looking at that battle, we realize that it was all about freedom from tyrnny. Now I am not going to tackle any type of political commentary here on the blog. That is not my objection. I just want to say that deep inside every human heart is the desire to be free and all people struggle against bondage. So wherever you rage battle against injustice, labor on. You are in good company with those that have gone before.

New Grandbaby

I'll be brief. Life has been flying by for us with vacation in early June, my father's funeral the following week, and the birth of our new granddaughter, Trinity Marie, on the 26th. I plan to write about some of the things that have been happening, but there's not been the time or the energy to give to it. Now it's July and I'm off for four days. I'm hoping to get in some writing time.

My Father's Eulogy

If you look around this church you see before you the people that loved Charles Ruark. And he loved them, daily, faithfully, for all of his life, he loved them until the end.

 I am privileged to be a part of that heritage, and honored to share some small insights into the life of this man. Husband, father, grandfather, uncle, brother, and friend. 

Although the last two years of his life were marked with great physical suffering, he journeyed on without complaining. When I once asked him how he was after a chemo session he said, “I can’t complain. I got my three squares, my chair, my bed. Life is good.” 

 Dad was funny and sarcastic. And he was quick; he always had the last laugh. That attribute has been passed on to his children and grandchildren. Spend time with any of them and you will see that reflection. He loved golf, fishing, the Bulls, the Bears, the White Sox and sharing those experiences with his family. 

 He shared many things, but not the newspaper. Sneak a peak at the comics and he knew, he knew. Some advice he offered was, “Only you can decide what you can live with. You are responsible for your choices.” Or even more bluntly, “Don’t screw up.”

 His work ethic was impeccable and no sacrifice was too great to provide for his family. Opposites attract and the love that he and my mother had will endure throughout eternity. They knew that one day the kids would have lives of their own, so they built their life together on a solid foundation. 

 We could tease mom, he would not tolerate disrespect. 

 Back in 2000 he wrote letters to his grandson, Kendric, as part of a school project. I wanted to share some excerpts from one of those notes. 

 These are his words of his early life, a life that formed him into the man that he became. When I was your age I lived with my mom and dad and three of my sisters and two brothers, the rest of my sisters and brothers had married and didn’t live at home. Remember there were were 11 children in all.

Later he wrote of the large farm about 360 acres. We had 4 horses, 12 cows, about 200 chickens…there were other animals involved. We had to feed and care for these animals every day….we would put in a very large garden and raise the largest part of our food to eat. 

He went on and described other ways that they gathered food. And then …my father died when I was 10 ½ yrs. old so we had to quit farming and get rid of all the animals except the chickens. 

 We had a very hard time trying to get food…We had no income. My sisters that were home had to go work for room and board.

 So his father died, their livelihood disappeared, the family had to disperse. When I was about 13 ys. old we were able to move to town (Momence) where my mom found a job working for a very nice man. We got to live there until I grew up and went to the Navy in 1945. 

 Although it was a hard life for me when I was young I look back and really have no regrets as I cannot remember going to bed hungry or cold and not being happy. 

 So today we remember and honor a man who had a simple life. But during that simple life he had a successful marriage for 58 years, was an exemplary employee, and raised nine children who never went to bed hungry or cold and were happy. And even in the midst of our great loss, we are still happy because we have this legacy and example before us.

Kind Acts

Once mowing the lawn begins it continues until the last leaf is mulched in the fall. Yesterday I was mowing. The front yard has a lot of shade so I was waiting for early evening before sprucing up the back. We had grilled burger and salad with my daughter and the grandkids and were enjoying our time together. After dinner I decided to finish the yard. I was going to let Russ and Elisabeth visit and relax. 

When I was about 1/3rd of the way through, Russ came out to finish for me. To be kind. Which he is. Five minutes later he ran over a charred log in the yard and blew the engine. 

Throughout the day I had noticed the wood and kept forgetting to move it to the burn pile. While mowing, I know that I would have kicked it aside.

 Russ, however, thought it was a pile of charcoal dust and plowed on through. So, today, we purchased a new mower and he's almost forgiven himself, but not quite. 

Hey, it happens. If life's too short to dance with ugly men, it's definitely too short to sorrow over dead mowing machines.

Springtime in VT

This year should be marked in the books of history as the one in which Vermonters had a spring. Usually spring here consists of waiting for mounds of snow to melt and laying down boards to walk past mud in the dooryard. 

But this year we have had warm weather, sunshine, early flowers and lots of greenery. We are probably about a month ahead of where we usually are in gardening.

 The funny thing is that is the middle of all of it, parts of Vermont can get 16 inches of snow. Then it's back to stoking up the wood furnace or twirling the dial for the propane.

 Yesterday I hung out three loads of laundry, mowed the entire the yard, weeded two large flower beds, sipped soda on the deck, and watched the grandkids chase each other with sprinklers. 

 Today, it's dropped to 50, the rain is nonstop, and I'm pulling out an insulated vest so that I don't have to turn up the heat. 

You gotta love it or you gotta move. I think I'll stay.

More Mice to Hunt

Early Monday at 3:30 a.m. we were awakened by the sound of Ogden meowing. Ogden is a very silent cat and I told him to be quiet. He waited a minute and meowed loudly again. This was soon followed by a deep growling.

 I hoped that it was just Russ settling into a snore but I had to acknowledge that it had to be Og with a mouse. I elbowed Russ, he fumbled for the light, stumbled to get his glasses, and confirmed that Ogden had indeed caught a mouse. “Good Ogden, good kitty,” he crooned. Og was encircled by the other two cats hoping that he would drop his find, thus the growling. 

Russ scooped up the vibrating cat that had the mouse hanging from his jaws and closed him up into the bathroom. We were able to fall back asleep. 

Monday night around 8 p.m. I was reading up in our sitting room when I noticed our young cat Pippin scurrying back and front by the door. It was a familiar move and I called Russ' name. She batted her paw along the door frame. I called louder. 

 The activity increased, I jumped up on the chair, shouting for help. (Did I mention I am terrified of mice?) Meanwhile I heard Russ crashing into furniture downstairs in the dark. (Did I mention that I rearrange furniture a lot?)

 Now Pippin and the mouse are running around the interior of the room, I reluctantly admit that I was whimpering words to the effect of, "Save me,” as I stood on the chair, 

Russ  careening into the room saying, “Have you hurt yourself? I think I may have broken a toe on the couch.” 

That was when Pippin chased the mouse from behind my chair and into our bedroom. All was revealed. I was helped from the chair, ordered to go downstairs and Russ closed off the room to deal with the mouse. 

Time passed. I waited downstairs and listened to furniture being moved, the scrabbling of cat feet, and Russ shouting for Pippin, “Get the stupid mouse!” Finally he bellowed, “Kathy, grab Ogden and bring him up. Pippin doesn’t know how to catch a mouse.”

 Og was sleeping curled next to Russ’ computer. I scooped him up, dashed to the sitting room, tossed him into the room, and hurried away. 

Ten seconds after Ogden entered the room the mouse was caught and entered the annals of history. I am surrounded by heroes. One large and furry, one small and furry. Thank you Russ, thank you Ogden.

Nightmares

My husband has been battling a nasty cold for the last few days. Friday night it peaked and this is a summary of what followed. I had worked the Home Show and returned late at night. 

 We needed quite a bit of time to unwind so we did not head to bed until midnight. That's when the snoring began. 

 This was the cadillac of snoring. He would rapidly fall asleep and then it would sound as if he was sucking his entire body down his throat only to spew it up moments later. This went on for an hour. 

 I decided to take a bath. From the bathroom I continued to hear the tortured snoring. 

 Sadly, after returning to bed it continued for 1 1/2 more hours. It finally ceased but by then I was afraid he had stopped breathing. He hadn't. Thankfully, around 3a.m. I fell deeply asleep. 

Sometime later I heard him let out a loud shout and then yell, "What was that?" He then shot across the bed dragging the bedclothes, shoved me out of the bed, and deposited me next to the dresser where he held me tightly saying, "What was that? What was in the bed? Are you ok? Are you ok?"

 I have no idea why I'm standing next to the dresser rubbing my knee. Or why Russ is clutching me. I did see something fly out of the bed and I was looking anxiously around the room for "something scary". 

Now ala, Paul Harvey, for the rest of the story. It seems that he was having a nightmare that someone was coming in through the bedroom window and trying to grab me. The cat decided at that moment to jump between our pillows. Pippin was tossed out of the bed, the bedclothes followed, and my valiant husband scooped me away to safety. 

 Unfortunately, that was into the side of the dresser. So today I have a bruised knee, a funny story, and a hero.

Common phrases, Uncommon Day

It’s always the darkest before dawn. Especially if you are hitting the snooze button and pretending that it’s the middle of the night. 

 One morning I got up determined to put my best foot forward but after attempting three different outfits I had to call a spade a spade and admit that this early bird was not catching the worm. 

 My husband who is a man after my heart woke up on the wrong side of the bed and was giving me the hairy eyeball. Perhaps it was because it was raining cats and dogs outside. Nevertheless, I cheerfully said, “Keep a stiff upper lip. Don’t get your dander up. There’s a song in my heart and I’m ready for love.”

 My effort went over like a lead balloon and I realized if I continued to mess with the bull, I was going to get the horns. Time passed and there was no use beating around the bush, it was time to go to work. I rode shotgun.

 I was expecting an easy day and Russ reminded me not to count my chickens before they were hatched. “The best rule of thumb is to cut to the chase and to realize that what goes around, comes around. Don’t beat around the bush and if it all goes down the tubes, remember that loose lips sink ships.” 

 With all this encouragement I girded up my loins and got my foot in the door and was determined to mind my p’s and q’s. The day began like a shot and soon I was busier than a one armed paper hanger. 

 One crisis followed another but I was on it like white on rice even though occasionally the right hand didn’t know what the left hand was doing. 

 Our newest employee who was still wet behind the ears resembled a chicken with its head cut off but after I encouraged her to pass the buck she was much better. The client that was a fry short of a happy meal was made an offer she couldn’t refuse and that hit the nail on the head. 

 At the end of the day my boss complimented me by saying I was a chip off the old block and though I’d felt like a fish out of water that was a shot in the arm. 

 When Russ picked me up I commented, “Even though it felt like things were going to hell in a handbasket, we snatched victory from the jaws of defeat and right now I’m as happy as a clam.” So ended another day. And before I kick the bucket or am pushing up daisies I wanted to share it with you.

Grandchildren

My grandchildren give me so much joy. I guess being able to observe kids and the way they process information is too precious. 

We were talking with the boys about natural disasters and I was telling them what it was like to have a tornado pass through. We used to go down the basement, hide under my dad's work bench, and pull a mattress over the opening. 

 Their Paacha had the bright idea of showing them excerpts from the movie "Twister" so that they could see a tornado. We rarely have them in VT. 

They went on up ahead of me and I entered the room to see the boys, Karl (7) and Dominic (5) with just their heads peeking out from under the futon to watch the movie. Did they think it was comparable to me hiding under a workbench. Every time I think of it, I smile.

Writing a book

I'm in the process of compiling columns that I've written over the past eight years into a book. It's been time consuming, but fun, and will fulfill a dream that I've always had.

 Lately, people have been coming up to me with story ideas for the book. It's especially funny when they ask if it can be included in the book. The idea may be one line, or even as much as three, but there's really not a story, it's definitely not written, and it's not mine. 

What should be the answer when the book is already in the process of being formatted and the stories have been picked? Should I suggest a second book? I've got to get through the first one. 

 I haven't even mentioned everyone who wants to be on Oprah with me. I'll discuss that with her, Oprah, later. (right)

Teachers

It's a funny thing about teachers, at least some of them, they have to teach. Now their field of expertise might be Calculus, Economics, Chemistry, or even Hopscotch, but they feel compelled to teach everyone. Having a conversation about gardening? They may explain at length the value of mulch, raised beds, or fertilizer. Offer them a cup of coffee and you are regaled with how coffee beans are processed. 

Share a drive and learn about anti-lock brakes. This is always done in a patient caring way. Careful instruction is given with a lot of eye contact since surely you are not mentally capable of understanding on your own. 

OH, did I mention volleyball? Apply the above approach to volleyball and you will understand why I completely freeze and am incapable of putting one foot in front of the other when approached this way.

 I could always try tiddly winks, but I'm sure a teacher would be there.

volleyball woes

Tonight we will be playing volleyball. Now volleyball is one of my favorite games but my play has been limited to backyard picnics and reunions. 

 When I say volleyball, I mean people that are serious about it. The odd thing is that everyone has a little bit different take on the rules, and generally, you find out what you did wrong after the error. Knowing the rule could have made it simpler. 

One night when I was on the front line on the right, another player informed me that, "This whole space is mine. If I can reach it, it's mine. If you get in my way, I will run you over." Need I say that this did not inspire trust or confidence in me? And I spent most of the night staying out of his way. 

Later after I let the third ball drop between us, someone said, "Those are y

our balls." I replied, "He said if he could get it, he would, or he'd run me over. I'm staying out of his way." Long, awkward pause...some mumbling of denial on his part and the game goes on... More stories to come.

Eccentricities

I've come to the conclusion that everyone is eccentric. Everyone. Even me, especially you. 

 Some of the oddities that I've observed include the following: flossing your teeth with a strand of hair, separating recyclables when they go in one bin at the dump, forgetting to ask where your locker is located and going without for two years because your too embarrassed to ask, saving technical gadgets because they cost so much when you bought them, rolling Kleenex into a cone shape to clean your nostrils, storing new clothes for years until the old ones wear out and thereby being arrayed in rags.

What eccentricities do you have? Which have you observed?

Resolutions

New Year’s Resolutions

 2010 is on the horizon and the talk turns to New Year’s Resolutions. The only thing I know is that I don’t keep them. 

 I’m to the point in my life when I have ceased to even compile a list. At least not for myself. I do, however, have some great ideas on what other people should do.

 Athletes - I’m not just talking to the professionals here, this is to anyone that considers themselves an athlete. Be kind to those that are not. Remember that a great deal of us can’t tell right from left, don’t walk and chew gum at the same time, and forget game rules each and every time. We are here to make you a more patient and kind person. Don’t miss this opportunity. 

 Drivers - When traffic is moving slowly, don’t toot, wave your middle finger in the air, or rev the engine. Put on some good music that you can keep rhythm with on the steering wheel. Kegel to improve muscle tone. Try to name the states in alphabetical order. Repeat ‘this too will pass’. 

 Employees - Make your fellow employees happy. Bring in special snacks, for no reason at all buy them a gift, compliment them on their work, appreciate their differences and your job will greatly improve. Remember, they have to put up with you. A pay check is a good thing, be thankful. 

 Homemakers - Never refer to yourself as a housewife or one married to the house, again. Make your home a haven for anyone who enters, but especially let it be your haven. Everyone needs a safe place to return, to be replenished, to regroup. Home is where the heart is and the refrigerator, and the bath, and the cookie jar. They don’t call it sweet for nothing. 

 Internet surfers - When you have finally found the site that you want and your service becomes disconnected, don’t reboot. Leave the beastly machine and get a good book to read. Make sure you have plenty of light and a comfy chair. Leave behind the real world of electronic headache for one of imagination. This is not a bad place to be. 

 Mother-in-laws - Love your daughter-in-laws. No, they are not you, and will never be you, but they put up with your son. Be honest here, you don’t want him back at home. You raised him to grow up, so cut loose the apron strings. Take a deep breath, relax. 

 Parents - Be imperfect around your kids. They already know. Don’t be afraid to say you goofed or you are wrong or you are sorry. They’ll learn that they can be authentic around you. This will last until they are teenagers; then they grunt. The good news is they get older and you find that you have a friend. 

 Pharmacy clerks - Don’t ask your customers how they are. They are picking up medicine for someone; they’re not fine. Either they are ill or they are dealing with someone unwell. Give them a smile and chocolate.

 Reporters - Just tell the news. Don’t embellish it, don’t give your opinion, just state the facts. Say it and then shut up. How many times is the same story rehashed with no new insight, just suppositions? Respect others enough to let them come to their own conclusions. Your readership is guaranteed to rise. 

 Telemarketers - If you think that you are not liked, you are right. The only way to remedy this is to get another job. Wouldn’t it be nice to no longer hear the sound of phones slamming in your ears? The scraping of forks on dinner plates? Perhaps you could practice the words, ‘Welcome to Wal-Mart’, that could be job security. 

 As I’ve written there are some resolutions that I have incorporated into my life. I can’t tell left from right consistently, I kegel at stop lights, I love to bring snacks to work, the refrigerator is usually full, I read always, I don’t want my son back, my kids as well as most people I know realize that I’m far from perfect, and chocolate helps most things. I’m not going to practice the Wal-Mart greeting, but I do want to say Happy New Year.

Facebook Jargon: A Reluctant Examination

This summer when I was facing six weeks worth of recovery from surgery, I joined Facebook. Because I do not like to talk on the phone I found it a great way to visit with friends. It was amazing to be able to reconnect wth my nieces in college as well as folks I’d not talked to in 25+ years. I think the most satisfying part was in realizing that a true friendship lasts despite time and distance. 

 There was a factor that I’d not counted on, though, and that was Facebook jargon. It seems that over the years words have been replaced with acronyms. To date there are 72 pages of acronyms listed under internet abbreviations. These abbreviations cover most topics. There are literary references. 14AA41- one for all, all for one, 2BN2B-to be or not to be. 

 You can send caring messages. XOXO-hugs and kisses. 2G2BT-too good to be true. UOK-are you ok? BW-best wishes. AML-all my love. 

 Teen-alert language includes AITR-adult in the room and POMS-parent over my shoulder. You can also be BTD-bored to death, say WE-whatever, CM-call me, BON-believe it or not, WCA-who cares anyway? or B4N-bye for now. 

 When you return you are BAK-back at keyboard. A lot of people on Facebook are usually LOL-laughing out loud. This can be confusing because LOL can also mean-lots of love. Type that your dog threw up and someone may LOL. You might be sharing about a recent embarrassing episode and they LOL. Have a hard time though and someone is sure to LOL. Confusing to say the least. I usually read it both ways and try to figure out the sense of it all. It also gives me insight into the psyche of the writer. 

 Yet you not only LOL, but you can do this while on the floor (LOLF), you can be rolling on the floor (LOLROF), falling out of a chair (LOLFOC), or laughing until your belly hurts (LOLUBH)> `In extreme cases socks can fall off (LOLSFO), pants become wet (LOLWMP), or various body parts fall off. I’ll let you fill in the acronym on that.

 For myself, though, except for an occasional OK, I’m valiantly attempting to write without jargon, swearing, or acronyms. It’s my personal attempt to stay true to the English language. Recently while on line I was chatting with a friend across town. For some reason I could not hit the right keys and the conversation looked like this... It’s preety cold out. Sorry,k pretty. Can’t seem to tyep tody. Type today. The response was simple. Do you have mittens on? What could I say? LOLMFO (Laughing out loud, mittens fell off).