The Right Hook That Taught My Son A Valuable Life Lesson

Mostly True Memoirs

That Right Hook

When the Grown Son was little, he loved to jump out and scare me.

It was adorable when he was tiny.

But it got gradually more and more annoying as he grew older.

It culminated in one disastrous evening when he was 12.

He hid, ninja style, in the hall closet, waiting for just the right moment to jump out.

He was quiet, he was stealthy, and he was as devious as only an adolescent boy can be.

Finally, he pounced.

And scared the living **** out of me.

I screamed.

And instinctively threw a right hook.

When I saw what I had done, I burst out crying.

Because I hit my baby.


I started yelling at him through my tears.

“Quit scaring me!”

Bob ran in to investigate the commotion.

I was bawling and yelling.

The Kid was still reeling from that right hook.

Bob laughed so hard he cried.

He told The Kid that’s what he gets for jumping out at me.

That was the last time my son did that.

Lesson learned.

He thinks it’s hilarious, now, to reference, “that time you punched me.”

Yeah, nah, it’s still not funny.

Well, maybe it’s a little bit funny.

OK, I’ll agree that it’s a lot funny, but he has to promise to never scare me again.

And never tell anyone that I punched him.



The Ultimate Opportunity for some Hearty Pirate Talk

Mostly True Memoirs

Pirate Talk

All Pirate Talk, All Day

Shiver me timbers!

Do you know what day it is today?

It’s International Talk Like a Pirate Day.

Arrghhh, Bob apparently forgot, the old salt.

He hasn’t pirated once today.

I’m kind of disappointed in him.

No, I take that back.

I’m very disappointed in him.

Queen Elizabeth I ruled during the Golden Age of Pirates.

Is it a coincidence that Queen Elizabeth II’s funeral was today?

There’s a historical connection.

A dubious connection, but it’s all I’ve got.

Avast, Bob, you scurvy hornswaggler, you’ve still got time to redeem yourself!



How To Resolve Your Millennial’s Problem With Bed Sheets

Mostly True Memoirs

The problem with bed sheets

The Problem With Bed Sheets

I don’t understand why millennials have such a problem with bed sheets.

I just went to change the guest bed.

There were no sheets at all in the room.

Every time the Grown Son comes to visit, he makes up the bed with only the bottom sheet.

He refuses to use a top sheet.

And he takes the fitted one home with him every time.

At this point, I have about a dozen top sheets in the linen closet.

But I don’t have one single bottom sheet.

At least I know the Grown Son has linens at his place.

He has plenty of fitted sheets.

Probably a dozen.


I will be shopping for more bottom sheets this week.

If I bought Justin Bieber bedding, I bet he wouldn’t swipe it.

Of course, I’d never have guests again either.

Y’all will have to come and visit me to see how I resolve this issue.



How To Get A Good Grade On A Bad Poem

Mostly True Memoirs

How to get a good grade on a bad poem

There’s a trick to getting a good grade on your writing projects.

Several years ago, my high-schooler woke me up in the middle of the night.

He had an assignment due in the morning, and he needed help.

“I have to write a sonnet,” he whined, “Will you write it for me?”

“No,” I said, “I won’t write it for you. But I’ll help.”

The first thing we had to do was define the assignment.

A sonnet is a love poem.


This teacher is going to have to grade 145 idiotic, teenage-angst-filled love poems.


I’d rather stick flaming needles in my eyes than read that drivel.

If I were the teacher, I would have assigned a limerick.

At least I’d get a laugh while I was grading papers.

I told my kid what I do when I can’t write.

I write about something else.

Writing anything at all can help to ease writer’s block.

From that first draft, you can edit and rewrite and revise and come up with something acceptable.

I had him write a sonnet about dog vomit.

He started laughing, and within just a few minutes he had his first draft complete.

We edited and rewrote and revised and came up with a poem about a boy and his dog.

A love story, of sorts.

Without the humiliation of writing an actual love poem.

It wasn’t a great piece, but it met the standards of the assignment.

He got a good grade.

But I preferred the first version.

Who knew that dog vomit, in iambic pentameter, could be so much fun?


Dog Family

One Easy Way To Manage an Epic S**tshow

Mostly True Memoirs

It Was a S**tshow

A literal s**tshow.

Blue ate a HotHands packet.

We rushed her into the Pet Emergency Room.

They induced vomiting.

And emptied my wallet in the process.

They told us Blue’s stomach would probably be upset.

However, her stomach was not upset.

She was happy and sassy and had absolutely no regrets.

Several days later, we had some air conditioning guys in the house.

Blue was getting in their way, and I had a Zoom call, so I gave the dog to the Grown Son to watch.

His bedroom is right next to my home office.

Soon, I heard a frantic ruckus from next door.

Blue’s upset stomach had finally manifested in the Grown Son’s bedroom.

There was a lot of yelling.

It was, from what I could hear, an explosive, gigantic, horrifyingly messy episode.

The Grown Son was freaking out.

Bob didn’t know what to do.

I have always been the on-call person for this kind of disaster.

Since I was in a meeting, they had to take care of it themselves.

They figured it out.

The good news is that Blue has most certainly expelled any residual toxins that might have been in her system.

The Grown Son was furious that I was laughing so hard.

Until he finally started to laugh too.

Yeah, there’s nothing funnier than a s**tshow.



The Best Plums I Ever Ate In My Life

Mostly True Memoirs

The best plums I ever ate in my life.

She Grew The Best Plums Ever

They were the best plums I ever ate in my life.

My mother-in-law, back in the day, had the most amazing tree in her yard.

It produced the best plums ever.

Every year in early July she would harvest the fruit.

And we would gorge.

I have never eaten a plum as good as one from that tree.

And then one year the tree stopped producing.

My mother-in-law had a green thumb.

She tried everything she could to get more fruit to grow.

But the tree was done.

It was the end of an era.

I was thinking about that tree today.

We have been eating from a big bowl of plums on the kitchen table.

They’re good.

But they’re not nearly as good as the plums that my mother-in-law grew.

Family Lifestyle

Strike Three! Now I Know My Luck Is Going To Change

Mostly True Memoirs

Strike three, you're out!

Strike Three – You’re Out!

Strike one was my knee injury.

Strike two was Bob’s broken wrist.

Strike three is our busted AC unit.

They can’t install the new one for two weeks.

It’s a holiday weekend, so there will be a delay in ordering parts.


No air conditioning for two weeks?

In the heat of a North Texas summer?

Luckily Home Depot has some portable AC units in stock.

It’s not perfect, but it will do nicely.

I’ve had as much misfortune as I’m going to take.

We won’t be accepting any further applications.

All the open positions have been filled.

Go away, bad luck, I’m done.

Family Lifestyle

Why Hot Weather Brings Out A Serious Chance Of Monsters

Mostly True Memoirs

Why hot weather brings out a serious chance of monsters

It’s Hot, and It’s Monster Weather

It’s hot.

A cold front is moving through North Texas.

But it’s all relative.

It’s just way less hot than it might be.

Our air conditioner died yesterday.

The service guy is coming this afternoon.

Last night was brutal.

At least for me.

Bob suggested that if I didn’t sleep with a blanket, I might have been more comfortable.


I can’t sleep without a blanket.

I would feel so exposed.

There might be monsters.

What kind of crazy person can sleep without a blanket?

I should just leave the house and let Bob wait by himself for the air conditioning guy.

I could pack up my laptop and spend the afternoon at the library.

Where it’s air conditioned.

And there are no monsters.


It’s Her Happy Heavenly Birthday Today – Miss You Mom!

Mostly True Memoirs

Happy Heavenly Birthday to my Mama!

Happy Heavenly Birthday!

Today is my mom’s heavenly birthday.

It also happens to be National Awkward Moments Day.

She would not have appreciated that.

It’s a good thing we never knew this holiday existed.

Her birthday dinners might have been, well, awkward.

Luckily, it is also National Lacy Oatmeal Cookie Day.

That’s a holiday she would have liked.

I’m making chicken tetrazzini for dinner, which I do every year for her birthday.

Maybe I will make some lacy oatmeal cookies too.

She would like that.

Happy birthday, heavenly Mom.


An Oldie But Goodie

Mostly True Memoirs

An Oldie but Goodie

Today is a good day to revisit this particular story.

An oldie but goodie. I’m busy taking a class, and I haven’t had time to write new posts. Today is a good day to revisit this particular story.

An Oldie But Goodie

This morning I came downstairs to discover that Bob had made coffee with a paper towel as a filter.

Apparently, we are out of coffee filters.

How can that be?

I just bought a package of filters.

I suspect that they disappeared into some sort of motorcycle repair project.

That’s where all our missing household supplies end up.

I wondered if the coffee might be poisoned by the toxic, non-food-grade paper towel.


I drank it anyway.

Beware the Ides of March.

If it’s not a stabbing, it’s a poisoning.

Et tu, Bob?