7/2/08 Blog-Sitting

I'm guest blogging over at Mel's Life is a Marathon today while she's on vacation. Come over and keep me company.

5/23/08 Freaky Friday (or Momma Quirk’s Pet Peeves)

I figure I have whittled the readership down to a few family and friends so I decided to vent on a topic or two. Fewer readers mean fewer people I might totally alienate for the Quirk.

1. People Thinking Southerners Are Stupid. I probably haven’t helped this idea with the last four posts but it burns my britches for people to characterize a whole region of people because of where they live or their accents. I’ve never had much of an accent (at least while I was younger) and countless people from other parts of this great country have shared with me how slow and ignorant they regard people of the South (at least until they find out I was born and raised here). My mother can take any one syllable word and make it three syllables in short order but you’ve never met a smarter, more competent woman and mother. She is 81 and still goes through books of crossword puzzles like a buzz saw. She raised four children to be law-abiding, tax-paying, contributing members of society while my father worked morning, noon and night to clothe, shelter and educate us. How could anyone characterize them as stupid because of where they live?!
2. Nouns followed by Pronouns. Now this IS stupid. All have learned in school not to follow a noun with its pronoun. For example: The Quirk, she is on vacation. Yuk. But for some strange reason, the media has decided it is the way to present their stories. Newscasters, sportscasters, style-casters and weather people have been heard breaking this basic grammar rule. And, now that I have pointed it out to you, you will probably notice them doing it too and be as disgusted as I.
3. Road Rage. Did we not settle this issue in kindergarten? Everyone has to be able to play with the toys in a fair way; everyone has to drive on the roads in a fair way. My suggestion is to send road rage offenders back to kindergarten so they can see how closely their behavior resembles that of the children. Then keep them there until they learn how to play/drive fairly.
4. Labeling does not equal OCD. My motto is "A Place for Everything and Everything In Its Place." I’m very good with the first part but pretty lousy with the second part. In an effort to make it easy on who ever is living in the house at the time, I like to label where items go. Not everywhere. Just in the pantry. And in the garage. And in the craft room. And in the laundry room. And my closet. Hold it right there! I know what you’re thinking! I AM NOT OCD! I don’t trace the outline of the item. Anymore. When the kids were small, and my label gun was new, I labeled the pantry in our house so the kids could put away the groceries and anyone could see what we were low on before going to the store. Logical, right? Organized, right?! But when our realtor was showing the house, a woman had the unmitigated gall to suggest to her that the owner was OCD because of the labels. The nerve! I just bet she wished her house was as organized and her kids were as capable as mine!

Well, I could go on but I only promised a peeve or two and I’ve already doubled that. Proof that you get what you pay for when you come to Quirkyland!

I’ve enjoyed guest blogging this week. I just wish the Task Master Quirk hadn’t wanted all the entries before she left so I could have responded to comments and queries (okay, so there may not be any…yet. Don’t make me write my own!)

Ya’ll pass the word that it’s safe to come back to the site on Monday. You know there will be stories of Quirky’s quirky vacation. I, for one, can’t wait!

5/22/08 Thankful It’s Thursday (or Let Me Share My Love of Landscaping)

The Quirk has shared some of the fruit of her gardening so I thought I would do the same. This is a passion we share and are the happiest when wondering through gardening expos, planning additions to our gardens and sharing the stock we’ve cultivated. Hope you enjoy some of the beauty we have been blessed with.

5/21/08 Wonderful Wednesday (or When I Get to Set the Record Straight)

I mentioned yesterday that "You never let a future son-in-law get the upper hand in anything…" and that I would take my opportunity today to set the record straight regarding Tony. For the past six and a half years, Tony has seemed to have the upper hand. Seemed, I say, because it never appears anyone hears my very logical explanations for the messes we get into.

For example, the famed Placenta Story:
Tony’s version (as told by Quirk, the Traitor)- "This is the woman who sat around the Easter dinner table, bombarding my brand new boyfriend with stories of how she pushed too hard and ruptured her placenta when she was pregnant with me. (Poor Tony- he was totally freaked out. Here he was meeting my family for the first time, and my mother is describing oozing placenta stories over the ham and deviled eggs. It's a wonder he ever stuck around long enough to marry me)."
My version- When the Quirk was first describing Tony, along with "how green and beautiful his eyes were," she mentioned he was getting his degree in Animal Science. Fantastic, I thought. Quirk’s Dad and I both had taught science and loved scientific information. We had raised the girls with conversations regarding the science of life over dinner, science trivia questions during car rides and had discussed science television shows at length. Tony would fit right in. And, as the Quirk seemed serious about him, so much the better! How fortuitous then that I came across Tony studying a book about placentas for one of his classes! Not only had I covered placentas in the Life Science classes I had taught but his beloved Quirky entered this world with drama (no surprise there) by tearing the placenta. Sharing this scientific, medical story with him would show him I recognized his study and command of this topic and would forever bond us as kinsmen in the coming years. Who knew he hated that area of his major and had a weak stomach?

Then, there’s the Pee Story:
Tony’s version (as told to the whole dorm)- Quirk’s mom asked me when was the last time I peed! Can you believe that??? Right out of the blue, the woman asks me when I peed last. She’s nuts, I tell you, Nuts!
My version- Tony and the Quirk accompanied us to a track meet where her seester was competing. Having been a coach for many years and knowing how easily both competitors and spectators can become dehydrated in the 90+ degree heat, I had us stop at a convenience store to stock up on bottled water. Tony refused to get any. I told him it was fine to get a bottle-our treat (thinking he was short on cash). He still declined. I explained we’d be out in the hot sun all day as the meet wore on and there might not be water there. Still, he declined. I was becoming alarmed but the Quirk said to leave him alone. I simply bought an extra bottle anyway.
Mandatory clinics have covered at length the signs, symptoms and precautions regarding dehydration and the best guide to a person’s hydration level is their frequency of urination. If a person has not urinated for at least two hours while in the sun or exercising, water is recommended.
The meet wore on, the temp. was 98 degrees and Tony hadn’t touched any water. So, I asked him when the last time was he had urinated. A perfectly logical, caring question. Downright required of a coach to the team members! So why not to Tony? It certainly was not deserving of the hilarity and ridicule expressed by the members of this family and Tony!

Although I could go on and on with the anecdotes that proves it is Tony that persecutes me instead of the other way around, I will leave you, dear readers, with this last topic:

The Anatomy Story-Structure and Function:
Tony’s version- We can’t get through a meal without some discussion of a bodily function. It’s disgusting the things they talk about without blinking an eye. And, Quirk’s Mom is the worst!
My version- As discussed previously (see the famed Placenta Story above), Quirk’s Dad and I taught science for a number of years, including sex education, and biology. Then we became pharmaceutical sales representatives where we were further schooled in the structure and function of the human body. Our daughters were used to the stories from the classrooms and the doctors being shared during our meals together as we each discussed things that happened during our workday. We would laugh at stories such as when the wife of a patient was overheard telling him, "I told you, you weren’t supposed to drink that fleet (enema)! Now you have to buy another one!" Or, how an eighth grader announced, "My Momma carried me in her left breast when she was pregnant." You can’t make these things up and we always have great fun sharing them. They are also teachable moments (how to correctly take an enema, where the uterus is actually located, etc.) that SOME people just don’t understand. When I was in the Women’s Health Division selling birth control to OB/GYNs I had some of the funniest stories (you found a toothbrush where???) and some of the saddest (she had a hair shirt???). But all were told as scientifically and medically correct as relayed to us (okay, some docs are pretty crude). All in all, though, the stories are fun and educational (if you don’t mind that kind of stuff being discussed, Tony!!!)

See? Logical explanations all!

5/20/08 Ten on Tuesday (or Ten Ultimate Quirky Times in the Quirk’s Life)

I thought I would use the Ten on Tuesday to enlighten all you faithful readers on how the Quirk comes by her quirkiness naturally. She has shown Quirky Greatness since birth and who best to know this (and record it) than Momma Quirk. So, without further ado, a trip down memory lane:

1. When the Quirk was just a wee little Quirk, she was fairly quiet. She smiled a lot, laughed a lot, was very active and said Da-Da, Momma, Ball, Tipper (the dog) and Ethan (the little boy next door). Being our fist, we didn’t know if she was advanced, average or slow to talk…she was just our Wee Quirky. She was not quite two years old when we were visiting the paternal grandparents and all loading into the car to go eat. As I strapped her in her car seat in the middle of the back seat she announced, "I would like to sit in the front seat." All the adults froze and looked at each other to see who had spoken. We looked at the baby and said, "What?" to which she repeated, "I would like to sit in the front seat." And she has been talking in full sentences ever since!
   
2. When the Quirk was about 3 years old, her seester was born. My mother (the secretary for my dental technician dad) came to stay with us and brought Quirky up to the hospital to see her new sibling. There were about five newborns across the front of the nursery, four of them screaming their heads off and one sleeping peacefully. The Quirk stood on a chair so she could see through the glass and surveyed each baby carefully. Finally, she pointed to the sleeping baby boy and said, "I want that one." We smiled and pointed to the second screaming babe and said, "But, Quirky, that is your new baby sister. That is the one we have to take home." She looked at the little quivering chin, the wide open toothless mouth and the scrunched up eyes as her sister thoroughly exercised her lungs. She was quiet and thoughtful for several minutes. Then with a big sigh of resignation she said, "Well, okay. But, Pap-paw will have to make her some teeth!"


3. Since Quirk’s Dad and I both taught school, the Quirk and her sister went to nursery school. Quirky loved school and in the best Walton’s tradition, we always shared stories about our day during dinner. One day, Quirk was very excited about the trip her class took to the library. They had seen a movie there and I, with visions of the classics I loved-Snow White, Cinderella, etc.-running through my mind, asked what the movie was on. "Oh," she replied, "a big white screen down front."


4. When Quirky reached the second grade, she had a wonderful teacher named Ms. Whitaker. Her teacher was so impressed with Quirky the first six weeks of school that she requested Quirky be tested for the gifted program. We agreed and were very proud when she passed with flying colors. However, by the end of the second six weeks something was obviously wrong. Ms. Whitaker told us during a conference that Quirk had stopped turning in all her homework. Homework? We never saw any homework. The teacher said she knew Quirky was doing it because she had seen her doing it during free time. We called Quirky into the room and asked if she had done her homework. She assured us she had. We asked if she put it into the homework basket and she assured us she had not. When we inquired further, she went to her desk and pulled every piece of homework out for the whole six weeks and said if she had put it into the basket, she wouldn’t have it anymore.


5. Quirky was a fantastic big sister-if you occasionally overlooked her basic quirkiness. She told her sister we bought her at a flea market for a nickel and overpaid. But, she told her things with such conviction that her sister believed she was the fount of all great knowledge. One day, as we were driving down a shady lane, I pointed out a horse with rider clopping down the side of the road. I heard her sister ask Quirky why the girl was riding the horse. I thought of every girl’s love of horses, of the joy of riding, of the privilege of owning and caring for such a magnificent animal. In the backseat, however, was a very different answer. The Quirk told her, in a very solemn and confident voice, that the girl probably could not afford a bike.


6. We had a trampoline at our house which made the neighborhood kids hang out in our back yard most of the time. Surprisingly, Quirky and her sister were the only girls around. They were as athletic as any of the boys so everyone was just one big happy group. The peace in the group was shattered one day when Quirky got off the school bus and slowly moped her way inside. Was she sick? No. Had someone hurt her feelings? No. Well, what was wrong? She reached into her book bag and pulled out a red box of Valentine candy. Oh, I thought, my little girl has her first boyfriend, her first box of Valentine candy and she didn’t get anything for him. But when I hugged her and asked if that was the problem, Quirky burst into tears and said she didn’t want the candy, she didn’t want the neighborhood boy to feel "that way" about her-why couldn’t they all just be friends? At eleven years old, the Quirk already knew that friendships could be irreversibly changed by the ‘L’ word.



7. Our family has always been known as the "Hair Family." The Quirk, her sister and I had our hair to our waists at one time. The Quirk and I have naturally curly hair and wore it long so the weight of it would pull out some of the curl. However, the humidity often caused our hair to expand exponentially. When the Quirk was a freshman in high school, the guys around her desk used to play a game where they would see how many school supplies they could hide in Quirky’s hair without her knowing it. One day she stood up to change classes and four pencils, three pens, a slide rule and a graphing calculator fell out of her hair as she pulled it back. (I think she should have kept them!)




8. I had the joy and terror of teaching the Quirk to drive. I remembered how I terrorized my own mother while I was learning so I vowed that I would be cool, calm, and composed at all times. For the most part, the Quirk did very well. After all, who really wants to learn to drive in a Ford Aerostar XLT van? It is about as big and uncool a vehicle as one can get. But you use what you have and that’s what we had. One evening, we were headed up the interstate to a school function and Quirky was driving. All of a sudden she whipped the van to the right lane then immediately whipped it back to the left lane. Back and forth we went with her turning the steering wheel faster and faster. The van was rocking up on two wheels as we careened back and forth and I had visions of us flipping over into the deep ditch on the left if Quirky didn’t get a handle on things soon. Finally, I reached out and grabbed the steering wheel, effectively straightening us up and allowing Quirky to pull over to the side of the road. "How did that happen?!" exclaimed the Quirk. "How did all four tires blow out at once like that???" "Oh, Quirk," I replied, "the tires are fine. You just over-steered while changing lanes." She was astounded but after we both calmed down, we laughed until we cried about her "four blow-outs".


9. In the second half of Quirky’s junior year of college, she started talking about this guy she had met. She talked about how nice he was. She talked about how green and beautiful his eyes were. She talked about how she wanted us to meet him (so we knew it was serious). But did she ever tell us he shaved his head like many of the college guys were doing then??? NO! Just said he was reading at the dorm’s front desk and left us to wonder over and check him out for ourselves. He looked up, my eyes opened in surprise and he caught me being surprised. How embarrassing! I introduced myself and acted like it was the no big deal that it was but He. Caught. Me. You never let a future son-in-law get the upper hand in anything but Tony had it and he knew it. (By the way, Wonderful Wednesday will deal with setting the record straight regarding Tony! Stay tuned.) You would think the Quirk would mention a shaved head in a basic description. But, then, she IS the Quirk!




10. When Quirky was a little kid, she always said she wanted a "half-car" when she grew up. A Volkswagen? No, a half-car. A little sports car? No, a half-car. Finally, one day we passed a convertible with the top down and she cried, "There it is! There’s my half-car." And her last two cars have been just that-her half-cars.

5/19/08 M is for Monday, Mom and Monotonous…as in Dull!

By Momma Quirk

What could I have been thinking?? When the Quirk asked if I wanted to guest host, I immediately saw visions of bloggy greatness, much like the Quirk’s dream: I HAD A Dream. After all, wasn’t I responsible for half her quirky genes? And, didn’t the Quirk, her seester and I crack jokes continuously and laugh like loons whenever we got together?? And, didn’t I think of a hundred quirky subjects to write on when no one had asked me to??? Where are the ideas now? Where is the humor?? Where are the five blogs I’m supposed to hand in for my homework???

It’s not like the bar was set low to ease me into the blog world. The Quirk’s 5/13/08 entry lists the requirements: "… funny, and thoughtful, and poignant, and everything a good blog entry should be." Sheesh! I haven’t done any serious writing for YEARS! I’ll be lucky to put one word in front of the other! And, if the Quirk’s requirements weren’t enough, she follows it with the Intro from Hell: "…the best possible hands I could think of…funny and thoughtful and smart and quirky…and Mother knows best…" That was so sweet I could have cried but, Oh, my goodness, how do I ever live up to that? Obviously, I can’t so I’ll just do the best I can and hope all her faithful readers will come back after this week!

The agenda for this week includes:
Ten on Tuesday (or Ten Ultimate Quirky Times in the Quirk’s Life)
Wonderful Wednesday (or When I Get to Set the Record Straight)
Thankful It’s Thursday (or Let Me Share My Love of Landscaping)
And Freaky Friday (or Momma Quirk’s Pet Peeves).

If none of that floats your boat, remember what the Quirk said, "Ya'll be nice to Mom while I'm gone." And come back next week for the real quirky thing!

5/18/08 Mom's In Charge While I'm Gone

Well Quirky fans, I'm off. A whole week of me without Internet access, and a whole week of my mother guest posting to keep you company. Ya'll make her feel special and leave her lots of nice comments...unless of course she's telling stories to embarrass me, and then feel free to roll your eyes and hiss "Moooooooooooom! Stop it!" (Try to put as many syllables in Mom as you can- that way she'll recognize that it came from me).

Mom will be posting for the next few days, and I'll see you back in a week!

5/14/08 Quirky Mom! Coming To A Blog Near You!

If you've seen the auto-publish test feature on here, you may have deduced that I'm planning on leaving ya'll unattended for a little while. I'm taking a little bloggy vacation next week, as I will be without Internet access for several days. Not to worry though! I have left you in good hands. Actually, the best possible hands I could think of- my mom's.

Yes, while I am away on my internet-less sojourn (pray for me...I may not be able to stand not being connected for an entire week), my very own real life mother will be guest posting. And oh, you do not want to miss this! If you have ever wondered what made a Quirky the way she is today, look no further than her mother, the original Quirk. I have given her no restrictions or parameters, so there is no telling what she's going to post about. The sky is the limit. And ya'll, her generation has no filter, so anything is fair game. I'm just warning you in advance. This is the woman who sat around the Easter dinner table, bombarding my brand new boyfriend with stories of how she pushed too hard and ruptured her placenta when she was pregnant with me. (Poor Tony- he was totally freaked out. Here he was meeting my family for the first time, and my mother is describing oozing placenta stories over the ham and deviled eggs. It's a wonder he ever stuck around long enough to marry me).

On the other hand, she's also funny and thoughtful and smart and quirky, so it'll be just like me, only with reading glasses and a recollection of the Nixon administration.

Ya'll be nice to Mom while I'm gone. She wiped my rear and taught me to ride a bike and made my prom dresses and risked her life by teaching me to drive. She gave me advice on boys (not that I listened) and helped me with my science projects and kissed boo-boos. She's always been here for me, even now when I asked her to take time out of her day to guest post.

If you have any questions that you'd like Mom to answer, ask them now in the comment section and I'll pass them along to her. I'm not saying she'll answer them, because she may have already been thinking of something to write, and Mother knows best, but she may like the ideas too.

Mark your calendars! Quirky Mom starts Monday.

4/17/08 Strikingly Unconventional

It's here! It's here! Today's the day! It's the guest post from Antique Mommy! And now, for the moment you've all been waiting for...

Strikingly Unconventional
By Antique Mommy

Last Saturday, my four-year-old son Sean, had a T-ball game. And I don’t mean to brag, but he is good. He hits the ball well, he runs with determination and he can throw the ball with a fair degree of accuracy. He is athletic and good at the components of baseball. What he is not good at is the game part of baseball – the part that requires you to leave your quirky at home and be a part of the team.

Instead of chatting up his team mates while standing in line awaiting his turn at bat, he’ll wander off and pick dandelions. Or spin in circles until he falls down. Last Saturday, he started hopping on one-foot, backwards down the 3rd base line. With his hat pulled down over his eyes.

“Wow. Look at Sean go,” one of the other mother’s said to me. “He can really hop.”

“Yeah, he’s talented,” I sighed. “He’s from a long line of good hoppers. I can hop on one foot as can my mother and her mother before her.”

Watching Hop Along Cassidy was like watching myself as a four-year-old. I was always a little off beat, always had to do things my own way, just a little bit differently than everyone else. I’ve never been good at team sports or things that require lockstep precision. I was, and still am, exactly like that backwards hopping little boy – quirky. Being quirky has made life both more difficult and more interesting.

Dictionary.com describes quirky as strikingly unconventional -- idiosyncratic, capricious, off beat, whimsical and even unique - Albert Einstein, Mozart, DaVinci! But it also goes on to define quirky as peculiar, wacky, screwy and just plain weird – Michael Jackson. When does quirky become weird? And how do I teach Sean to harness the power of quirky and use it for good and not evil so that his life might be more interesting and less difficult?

“Yeah, he’s a little quirky,” I stated for the record to no one in particular.

“Oh no he’s not!” the other mother rushed in to console me. “He’s fine, he’s a four-year-old!”

I didn’t need consoling. In my mind, quirky is a compliment.