Grand Slam Communication
A big storm is moving in.
My dog is pacing nervously.
I already know how the rest of my day is going to proceed.
She is going to sit in my lap, fearful, while I try to work on my keyboard around the trembling.
Yep, we’ve been down this road before.
My girl does not like thunderstorms.
I sat down to play with the dog, and I noticed that the floor was gross and could really use a mop.
It kind of made me regret playing with the dog.
HAHA just kidding!
I never regret playing with the dog.
Mopping the floor, however, is nothing but a crushing disappointment.
My poor little dog.
She’s never been accused of being bright.
We got a new doggie door that makes a little whooshing noise.
This scares the daylights out of the poor little doggo.
It took us ages to train her to actually use the door.
Today something has spooked her, and she’s afraid of it all over again.
She just got groomed.
She had a significant amount of fluff removed.
She has no more padding.
I think that the door is hitting her a$$ on the way out.
I guess that would spook anyone.
The tornado sirens were going off.
We had plenty of warning.
This storm was predicted.
We had blankets and pillows.
A leash for the dog.
Extra cables and batteries for the phones.
An ax and a crowbar in case we need to claw our way out.
I even made a point to wear shoes and socks instead of flip flops.
In case of rubble.
But there was one thing that I hadn’t prepared for.
My socks were the kind that sagged under my feet with every step.
This is going to seriously impede any kind of rescue effort.
I don’t know which is worse – sock bumps or tornadoes.
At any rate, the storm passed over us without incident.
My first plan of action was to change my socks.
Now I’m ready for the next round of tornado sirens.
Oh, how the tables have turned.
We were in the midst of a major rainstorm.
It had been gray and rainy all morning, but suddenly it turned pitch dark.
The wind began to howl.
And the rain started pelting in sideways.
My little dog was freaking out.
My last dogs were German Shepherds.
They would have stood guard to protect me, barking at the storm.
But not my little Wrigley.
She was trembling in fear, burying her snout in the crook of my elbow.
Oh, how the tables have turned.
My poor little wet dog.
She’s a Southern California gal.
She’s not used to these cold and wet North Texas mornings.
When she comes back into the house, she is always soaking wet.
I make her lie down on the doormat while I dry off her soggy paws.
She really hates this.
It’s torture, apparently.
Today she tried to run off and escape the dreaded towel.
However, because she was wet, she slipped on the tile and plowed into the wall.
Yeah, I laughed.
That’s what she gets for trying to shirk her responsibilities.
I’m starting a blog.
Facebook is easy.
We’re already friends.
I don’t have to explain myself.
I write my goofy stories.
And everyone knows what I’m talking about.
I don’t have to explain a thing.
Blogging is different.
People don’t know me.
I have to explain.
But explaining ruins the rhythm of the story.
It’s kind of like explaining a joke.
If you have to explain it, it’s not funny.
So I will write this first post to introduce myself.
After that, I’ll just write.
I am a mom and an empty nester.
I have two grown sons.
Both of my children are diabetic.
Diabetes is a nightmare.
But it is also our completely new-normal status.
I have a wonderful husband.
Who fixes things around the house and generally makes himself useful.
And is occasionally the subject of some hilarious stories.
I have a dog.
She is lazy but very cute and cuddly.
I often remind my family that the dog is my favorite child.
I teach English as a Second Language to adults, on line, around the world.
I am a Toastmaster.
A Distinguished Toastmaster.
Being a Toastmaster has definitely made me a better English teacher.
And a better script reader which is my second gig.
I love to write.
I’ve been reading and writing as long as I can remember.
My favorite toys, when I was a kid, were my books, a spiral notebook and a pencil.
A pencil, not a pen.
I’ve always preferred a pencil.
I was born and raised in Southern California.
We recently moved halfway across the country to Texas.
This move was not nearly as traumatic as I anticipated.
I have made lots of new friends in Texas.
I am keeping touch with my old friends through social media.
I plan on making lots of new friends through blogging.
Why am I starting this blog?
Because I’m tired of Facebook.
I’m tired of all of the ads.
I’m tired of all of the political wrangling.
I’m tired of the algorhythms that may or may not be connecting me with the people I want to be connected with.
I want to control my own platform.
I want to control my own intellectual property.
Although I use the term “intellectual” loosely.
Why do I write?
Because, to quote someone whose name I can’t recall, but I don’t want to be accused of plagiarism, “I write because I can’t not write.”