Stranger Than Fiction

BREAKING NEWS: "A stretch of I-10 East of Pomona has been shut down due to a report that a school bus full of teenagers is being hijacked."

This is what I heard as I walked by my television on a sunny Saturday afternoon about 10 or 15 years ago. I remember thinking, "What's this world coming to? Hijacking a bus full of innocent kids. I hope they get this guy. Wait a minute. My husband is on a bus with a bunch of kids. I think they are on the I-10. OHMYGOD! OK, calm down. Breathe. What are the chances that your husband is on a bus that is being hijacked?"

Fast forward about 8 hours.

Mr. Distortion: "I am SO glad to be home."

Terri B.: "So, how did the outing go?"

Mr. Distortion:

Terri B.: "So, how did the outing go?"

Mr. Distortion: "The audience seemed to like the music ... and the kids had a great time at the festival. [pause] Santos got a little crazy today though."

Terri B.: "Did he do that balancing along the edge of the balcony while playing guitar thing again?? Someday he's gonna fall and break his neck. Don't let him use one of your guitars if he's still doing that."

Mr. Distortion: "No. Actually, this was on the bus."

Terri B.: [sinking feeling in pit of stomach] "On the bus?"

Mr. Distortion: "Yeah. He was entertaining the kids."

Terri B.: [intense stare]

Mr. Distortion: "He was messing around with a toy gun up at the front of the bus."

Terri B.: [still staring]

Mr. Distortion: "The kids played along. They raised their hands in the air."

Terri B.: "You didn't happen to be traveling on the I-10 did you?"

Mr. Distortion: "Yeah. Funny thing too --"

Terri B.: "You had the freeway to yourselves for awhile didn't you."

Mr. Distortion: "Yeah. I guess someone on the freeway thought --"

Terri B.: " -- Santos was hijacking the bus?"

Mr. Distortion: "And called 9-1-1 on their cell phone. You've never seen such a deserted freeway."

Terri B.: "Actually, I have. You were on TV this afternoon."

Thanks to Momish for posting How the Mind Races and reminding me of this one time that my neurotic mind wanderings actually came true -- sort of.

Get Fuzzy With It

I felt a strange sense of deja vu when I read the "Get Fuzzy" comic on November 15th:

Robert (the human) to Bucky (the cat): "I don't know if I want you writing another book ... You get strange when you write."

Mr. Distortion (the husband) to Terri B. (the writer): "Are you blogging again? You get strange when you write."

Bucky to Robert: "Robert, depriving the American public of my talent is letting the terrorists win."

Terri B. to Mr. D.: "Strange? Strange is when I don't write. Besides, people are expecting a new post. I can't let them down."

Bucky to Robert: "... Of course, nothing truly epic and world-changing can be accomplished alone. Even Michelangelo employed idiots to mix his paints. I, too, will require a mindless drone to do my chores and free up my genius to write."

Terri B. to Mr. D.: "Hon, would you mind washing the dishes and taking out the trash so I can get this post written?"

Tribute of Tears

The tears rolled silently down her cheeks where they fell onto the front of her black sweater. They did not soak into the fabric as you would expect. Instead, they floated atop the silk fibers and glittered like diamonds in the candlelight ... a most unusual necklace. The tears, so like those hard-pressed and precious jewels, were a testimony of the love she still felt for the man who had cherished her from the day she was born. In a whisper that could be heard all the way to Heaven, she said, "I miss you Dad."

In Loving Memory
Jack R. Burdo, Jr.
June 21, 1936 - November 10, 2003

Dear Diary

Adolescent diaries. Oh the agony and the ... hilarity. Have you ever tried reading your own teenage writings? You might have a difficult time deciding whether to die of embarrassment or bust a gut laughing. Maybe I shouldn't project too much. Some of you might have been writing prodigies. Needless to say, I was not one of those prodigies and have a difficult time facing my younger self in print. I choose to laugh rather than weep because, after all, I'm nothing like that young thing anymore. Smile.

Let me demonstrate how different I am from that young writer:

"Dear Diary" had entries about the cute boy in my [insert name of class] class, but "Dear Blog" has much more sophisticated (ahem) entries about the cute husband I live with ...

Instead of whining in print about having to stand in a stooopid line at lunch, I whine in print about sitting in stooopid traffic on the freeway ...

Gone are the descriptions of a field trip to look at "cool old stuff," to be replaced by an attempt to convey in words the emotional impact of an old bronze sculpture seen during a trip to a museum ...

And early morning band practice is no longer the topic du jour, but is appropriately replaced by commentary on the late night schedule of living with a musician.

Apparently the topics haven't changed much. Dear Diary was a receptacle for "thoughts and things" (I-kid-you-not, that was the statement of purpose noted January 1st, 197x ... "thoughts and things"). Now I blog, and I talk about the iceberg being a great metaphor for my life, and understand and utilize sarcasm to express myself ... but is that really so different than Dear Diary? Thoughts and things? I can only hope that my perceptions and presentation are more interesting.

I look forward to reading these posts in another 20 years. Wonder if I'll turn beet red with embarrassment and mumble: "What WAS I thinking when I put these things out there in public"??
________________________

Postscript

At Bub and Pie's request, I will now completely humiliate myself by adding some excerpts from Dear Diary. Names have been deleted to protect the innocent:

Sept. 24 I was so bored today. Going to algebra sucks. Mrs. X thinks we should all be excited about math like her [apparently I thought Mrs. X was math??]. American history is cool though. Theres this really cute guy that sits across the isle [wow, we had islands in our American History classroom]. I can't tell if he likes me. [Ouch! Evidently the interest a class held for me had a direct correlate to the presence of cute guys.]

Oct. 15 The lunch line was too long today. Yesterday too. Lines are dumb. [Well, this entry is helpful. At least I knew that the proper spelling is "too" and not "to."]

Feb. 20 My art class took a field trip to the museum downtown. There was some pretty cool old stuff. [And?? Which museum was this? What was the cool old stuff? Did I have a good time? Maybe there was a cute guy on the field trip?]

November 14 I can't wait til marching season is over. I can't believe how early we half [was only half of me present?] to be there. Its always all cold and the grass is wet. Only one more month. [Apparently I forgot all about my entry on this topic from August when it was "too hot" and I couldn't wait until "like October or something when it would be cooler."]

Yes, now you know. I was officially an adolescent at one time.

Fervent Cupcake

"FERVENT CUPCAKE" IS:

1. A teensy little cake that is just dying to be eaten
   
   
2. A passionate female
   
   
3. The subject line of some spam in my email box

You win if you answered "C." Treat yourself to a teensy little cake.