Rerun Time
Friday, May 21, 2010

I'm a bit frustrated today. I've got things to do and places to be and my Hubby is hogging the big computer where all of our photos are stored. And I need some pictures from there that are crucial to my story. And he's being an ass because he claims he can't get off the computer for even the slightest of seconds because he's working on some super important, time-is-of-the-essence case, so he can keep food on the table and pretty shoes on the Mamma's feet.  

And he's also complaining about not having any clean black socks, again.  Dude, if you turn them inside out, it's just like they're clean.

Doesn't he see that I'm writing? Doesn't he understand it is crucial that I blog!!!


I don't have time to write up a brand spanking new post. So for today, I hope you don't mind too much if you sit through a rerun. 

This came from my early, early archives, from the days where I was only writing to the black, empty space of Internet air. Me and my words and no one listening, except of course my sister. She's always there. 

I picked this post because I was filled with the bright, shiny dreams of publication at the time. I still have those dreams. They just got a little dusty waiting on the shelf to be brought out to the light. 

I'm dusting those dreams back off and so this post, means more to me today than it did back then, in the days when no one but my sister heard my dreams. 

For today, I give you, "Don't Be No Checkun".

But before I start the show, I'd like to ask a favor. 

I have this friend, Noelle. She is such a nice girl. In fact, she is waaaaay nicer than me. She has a 
blog called, Because Nice Matters. See how nice she is? She is lovely and a newlywed girl whose husband travels a lot. I'm not sure what he does. He could be a spy or something. All I know is he 
has to leave his bride quite often and when he does, she posts these letters to her husband that are 
just the loveliest things and it reminds me of how sweet those days were, those days of being new 
to each other and hopelessly in love. Not that I'm not hopelessly in love now. It's just that I get 
yelled at about the socks, sometimes. 

Noelle is trying to get to the big 200 followers. Can you help her? I promise you this—if you stop 
by her blog, it is like opening the door to a burst of sunshine and the heady smell of lilacs and birds twittering and, and just go there and become her follower so that newlywed girl can hit her 200 mark 
and not miss her husband so much. Please?  

Okay, now settle in and get ready for the rerun. Oh, and yes, the Blogger agitators are at it again. Ignore all the crazy fonts and spaces. You win again, Blogger. 

It's entitled, Don't Be No Checkun.

For the Thanksgiving holiday, we went off to the mountains. A lovely time was had by all . . . well, except for the two trips to the E.R. thanks to raging fevers and raw throats that turned out to be bronchitis for two of the ladies. 

I'm not sure why, but there were no walk-in clinics up there in the mountains. Perhaps modern medicine is still looked on with some suspicion by the mountain folk and so clinics don't thrive up there. Maybe they're still patching up their broken parts and ailments with pastes made from roots plucked off the mountainside. 

Hey, I'm all for that. The worst sinus infection I've ever had was flushed out by some little black pills a Chinese herbalist gave me in San Francisco. We communicated through sign language. Me, pointing at my forehead, moaning, "Pain. Pain."  She nodding confidently as she handed me a mysterious jar of pills that smelled like fish flakes and black licorice.  

I know, Yum.

Without going into any stomach-churning details, suffice to say my sinus passages were free and clear within two days. Herbalists have been practicing their healing arts long before Western Medicine decided they were the experts. I believe in their power to cure.

In between illnesses, we managed to scramble up some fun. We ventured into the city where the sidewalks were swollen with other Thanksgiving pilgrims hunting for souvenirs, a little Putt-Putt, and the World's Best Fudge. As we were strolling, we witnessed an awful but car-crash-captivating sight. I'm not sure how well it'll translate on paper, but I'll give it my best shot.

At the foot of the ski lift, an older woman was imitating what I thought to be a mighty good chicken imitation, flapping her bended arms and crowing, "BAAK-BAAK-BAAK!"  A boy, around twelve, was standing there, inexplicably whirling around in a circle and crying. His, what I assumed to be mother, was standing there yelling and I mean YELLING, "DON'T BE CALLIN' HIM NO CHECKUN, MAMMA! HE'S JUST AFEARD OF HEIGHTS, THAS' ALL!"

I stopped in my tracks, once again, stunned at the vast and colorful degrees of child-rearing methods in the world. 

My family, being not the most politically correct and or appropriate group of human beings, found this scene HYSTERICAL! The retelling of it makes them double over in laughter every time. I will admit, they say my spin on the accents and my chicken imitation are the best, so do not think I am above them in any way. I only hope that little guy was not scarred for life. I worry that he will develop an inordinate fear of ski lifts or perhaps even worse, his checkun-squawking grandma. But, even at this poor boy's expense, this has become my family's new catch phrase.  

"Don't be callin' me no checkun, Mamma!"

And as I begin this journey, I find myself really feeling this phrase. Because, to be honest, I'm scared, deep to the bone scared. 

I have always been a safe girl. 

I buckle when driving. I do not chance roller coasters that make me feel I will go flying into the sky. I wear a really dorky helmet when I bike ride or roller blade. And I will never, ever take a helicopter tour of anything.

And now I feel like I'm stepping off a cliff. 

Writing a novel was exhilarating, challenging, frustrating, fantastical, and safe. Now, to put my words out there for anyone to read, I am shaking in my high-heeled boots.  

I am now a risk taker and I say those wise mountain words over and over again to reassure myself, "Don't be callin' me no checkun, Mamma!"

Today's Definite Download: Patty Griffin's "Heavenly Day." Dang, I love that Patty Girl. This song is so lush and gorgeous it will guarantee you a heavenly day. It epitomizes this Saturday here in central Florida. The sky is crystalline blue. It's 70 degrees. We've got soccer games and then later, dinner with good friends, good wine and guaranteed laughter. Heavenly Day. 

Oh heavenly day, all the clouds blew away
Got no trouble today with anyone . . . 

No one at my shoulder bringing me fears
Got no clouds up above me bringing me tears
Got nothing to tell you, I've got nothing much to say
Only I'm glad to be here with you,
On this heavenly, heavenly, heavenly heavenly
heavenly day.


SurferWife said...

Funny. My husband just complained of no clean socks last night. I will use the turn them inside out line, and hopefully I gain an additional two weeks, before i have to wash them!!

Anonymous said...

Come on over to the wild side, Joann. Us Checkuns is havin' loadsafun. I feel so sorry for that little boy, though. 12 is such a tough boy age. Your still pretty little but you are aware of how tough you are supposed to be. I loved my son's twelfth year. Well, I love them all, but that one was bittersweet. We used to read together every night and that year he was trying to let that go because he didn't think boys his age should be read to, but it was hard for him because he had a baby brother that was small enough to require most of our attention. And I didn't make it easy, because I was trying so hard to reassure him that he was still important even though there was this usurper in our midst...Yep. Time sure flies. He turns 15 next week.

duffylou said...

That's why you let them do their own laundry. When they don't have any clean socks, it's their own fault.

Joann? Did you hear Bono had emergency surgery yesterday? Saw it on MSN this morning.

Cheeseboy said...

Funny, your introduction to the rerun post is longer than many of my posts.

Glad you reran this one, it was fantastic!

Anonymous said...

That photo had to be taken in TN, no? LOVE it there!

I'm gonna go visit your friend. Mrs. Spy's She sounds so nice writing love letters for her man. maybe I should do that more often? Hmmm.

pieters said...

can i just say that i big fat heart you? i told someone last night about your blog...wait...yesterday afternoon...crap my brain isn't working. my point, i told her i read two blogs from people who WRITE. not tell funny stories about their adoption process or ranching with cattle on a bazillion dollars but WRITE.

girlfriend you can write. you inspire me. you had me at hello.

crap my brain isn't working.


Katie's Dailies said...

I just want you to know that I've got your back on everything you do. You have been a loyal friend these past couple months since I discovered you and I KNOW you'll wow the New York's Bestseller's list when your book comes out.

Are you sure you weren't in Arkansas for that vacation in the mountains, cuz that sounds like a lot of people around here, you know! ; )

Off to visit Mrs. Spy!

liz said...

is it bad that i need to say those words out loud to get the full effect?? :) i know you are spelling them in a way to show how she was speaking, but apparently i can't "hear" that in my head without saying it out loud.

Anonymous said...

"Dude, if you turn them inside out, it's just like they're clean."

Priceless... just priceless!

Gigi said...

Snort. Isn't it the women who are supposed to complain about dirty clothes all over? The men are supposed to not notice.

And for what it's worth, I am going to dance the happy dance when you are published and will be running out to buy the book on Day 1. You got IT.

Which mountains were those Checkuns in?

One Photo said...

You know you can do it, just strap those wings on your back Joann and just fly. I'm just looking forward to getting my advance copy of your very first publication.

Anonymous said...

I love the bonding between Noelle and you! It's beautiful!

I was thinking about it yesterday, when i first got onto your blog. Whenever this book comes out, you've got to tell us. We would LOVE to read it. Your writing is fabulous! You ain't no checkun! ;)

Rae said...

Something went haywire on my computer and your blog went into a rash of code and HTML words and all kinds of foreign tech language! I thought, "What the heck did her husband do to her computer???" But I refreshed the page and all is good.
I'm checking out your friends website. Because I agree. Nice matters. Have a great weekend!And don't spend it washing socks!!!

The Furry Godmother said...

Book? WHEN? What in the heck is it about?

Natalie said...

Why don't they tell you before they're out of socks that they're almost out of socks??!

I had to say the words out loud, too.

Nanny Goats In Panties said...

Well now just hang on a minute. Why don't you each have your own computers? Or was it just that the pictures you wanted were on HIS computer? And seriously 2 seconds to transfer some pics to a thumb drive or something? He can have the computer OR clean socks, but not both, I say.


Noelle said...

Ahhh...the things I have to look forward to!!! :)

Thanks Joann for the 'help'... several of your friends are now my friends...I love that about blogging...we're all just one big happy family!

Have a great weekend!

Lula Lola said...

Poor kid, what kind of grandma did he get stuck with? Who makes fun of their grandkids? I do love a crazy scene myself!
I will be first in line when you're signing books here in SC! Can't wait to read what you've written!

jayayceeblog said...

Checkuns don't write the way that you do! I love your blog and am passing on to you the Happy 101 award. It's a good thing. Pop by my place to pick it up ...

Related Posts with Thumbnails

Tweet Me Subscribe Follow on Facebook 

Subscribe via email

Enter your email address:

Delivered by FeedBurner

Subscribe Now

Grab My Button!

Laundry  Hurts My Feelings

Following Me Into The Madness


Blogs I Love

All content (C) 2010 Laundry Hurts My Feelings