A War of Wills

Hello Chirruns.

I know I promised a twofer last time, and I began on the second post, only to have it whither and die as I fell asleep. Do not despair- here's another in its stead.

So, I'm on vocal rest. For those not in the know, that means I'm not allowed to utter a sound for the duration of the rest. Ideally, I'd like to take a month off from speaking, but in the real world, I have possible auditions scheduled for mid-November. Add to that a wedding which Maven and I are attending together, and I'll be flying by the seat of my pants, vocally, but, whatever. More on the vocal side of this issue later. But now...

Have y'all ever lost your voice, or been on vocal rest before? There's a weird phenomenon whereby in interactions with speech-abled folk, they will stop using their own voice without realizing it. It's unnecessary, unhelpful, and hilarious. For instance, I had to go to the Post Office today to mail off yet another application. I came prepared with a Stickie pad, and pen, ready to communicate my ass off with my PO clerks. I had already prepared a stock-greeting note, explaining that I was without voice, and would be writing instead. (I also had to go to the bank, but the prospect of passing a note to the teller made me reconsider. I went to the ATM instead.) When I arrived at the Post Office, there was actually a clerk there with larngitis, and I kind of hoped she would be the one to help me, so we could giggle at the coincidence. It didn't work out that way, though, so I went to available clerk, and showed her the note. Immediately, she resorted to lip synching and oversized gestures while gathering information from me and processing my transaction. I'm pretty sure my eyes rolled involuntarily. When she was almost finished, she paused and said, "Wait- why am I whispering?" and laughed at herself. I would have laughed, but I'm on vocal rest, so I nodded instead. Fun times at the PO.

So this morning, there was an incident that will forever live in humorous infamy in my heart. On school days, I help my brother and SIL get the kids ready for school, as they both start work pretty early. Poe is twelve, and self-sufficient, as long as I wake her lazy ass up. Every morning is the same with her. I knock gently on the door- no answer. I knock louder- no answer. I call her name- no answer. I go in the room and bounce the bed- no answer. I turn on the lights- LEAVE ME ALOOOOOOOOONE!!!!!!! I immediately crack up, because she has this high-pitched cat/baby voice that she uses when she's exasperated, and it delights me to no end.

Anyway, I digest. (I totally stole that from someone else.) Pappy is really the one who needs a bit more guidance in the morning. He showers and dresses himself, with frequent reminders of all the steps involved in a real shower. He usually makes himself breakfast, too, if it's something that can be safely accomplished. His specialty is a cheese quesadilla prepared in the toaster oven. The kid lives for those things. Anyway, Pappy's bus comes late enough in the morning that usually we have anywhere from a half hour to an hour to burn. Left to his own devices, Pappy would play Spore on the computer, or watch TV, but SIL puts the kabosh on that, with a quickness. So instead, I have him read to me, or we practice math until the bus comes. Good times.

So this morning, Pappy comes down after showering and dressing. He enters the kitchen and spies a granola bar sitting on the counter- one of those tiny Quaker ones, filled with chocolate and marshmallows.

"Can I have this for breakfast?"

I wave my finger "no".

"But I want it!"

More finger waving.

"But why?"

I pull out the pad and pen, and write something like, "Because that's a snack, not breakfast. Eat a quesadilla."

"There's no tortillas. I'll make toast instead."

Mission accomplished.

So it's peanut butter toast with grapes on top. I think I kind of rocked his world when he first witnessed me putting fruit on my peanut butter toast. However, I stick with the usual suspects- bananas and apples. Who knows- maybe grapes on peanut butter toast are righteous?

After breakfast, Pappy came to me and asked, " Can I watch TV now?"

Finger waving.

I then made the universal sign for 'book'- you know you hold your palms together and then unfold them all booklike. He caught it, but wanted to argue, as usual. I gave him my oft-used "Yourassisdangerouslyclosetotimeout" Look, and he wandered off to find a book, I assumed. My assumption was proved wrong. This stubborn kid sat down and was about to start playing video games. Nuh-uh. Poundpapi ain't having it! I pulled out the pad and wrote in my best loud script:


I was pretty sure I had gotten my point across, so I returned to fiddling with the printer so I could finish printing another application while he selected the morning's reading material.

Pappy returns a couple minutes later and hands me the following note:



My spine lost all rigidity at that moment, my torso splayed across the desk in complete surrender to the hilarity of the moment. I mean, how many different ways are there to laugh about this?

1. This kid wants a fuckin snack, pronto!!!
2. This kid does NOT want to read!!!
3. He felt the need to write it to me, instead of talking. Maybe he figured the written word would carry more weight?
4. Once the granola bar was classified as a 'snack' he was only too happy to stick with that nomenclature.
5. This note reminds me of that Chick-Fil-A ad campaign where cows paint billboards urging people to "Eat Mor Chiken". Not that Pappy misspelled anything, but his script has always been cow-like, I guess, lolz.

And such is life with Pappy.

P.S. Do you understand how hard it is to watch The Office without phonating?!?!?! UGH!!!!