Flying Wheelchairs

My children never cease to amaze me. This past Sunday my oldest, Seth, lay across my bed reading a book while I worked furiously on a manuscript in my "office" corner of the bedroom. Even though I'm working on a manuscript, I keep the bedroom door open. I want my children to feel they are always welcome around me. My children do know though--even the toddler--that when I have "the look" on my face, not to bother me unless it's an emergency. When I have "the look", I'm wrapped up in the story I'm writing, or I'm in the editing phase.

That day I was grimly struggling with the word count so it met an editor's requirements. Darn it! I was 300 words over the limit. Where in the blazes can I cut out 300 words? Every single one of them are important to the story. Even though I love writing, I would rather stick a fork in my eye than spend a weekend afternoon pouring over a manuscript fifty times looking for unnecessary words. Though I gripe, the end results are good; the newly revised copy always pleases me better than the original.

I was so absorbed in editing, unknown to me, Seth had stopped reading and was watching me instead. ""Umm, Mommy," he ventured.

"What?!" I barked.

"Are you in pain?" I sighed and turned to face him. I need a break anyway, I thought.

"No. Why do you ask?"

"Because you keep frowning and moaning like you're in pain." I never realized what a performance I had been putting on.

"I'm just editing my story," I laughed.

"Oh." Seth stared at me thoughtfully. "If it won't hurt your feelings, I-I don't think I want to be a writer."

"Why?"

"Well, if it's that stressful, I don't want to do it. I'd rather be an architect"

And that's not stressful? I thought. Instead, I smiled and said, "Of course I'm not hurt. You can be anything you want to be." Seth looked visibly relieved.

"Hey Mom, know what I'm gonna do after I retire from being an architect? I'm gonna invent flying wheelchairs for the elderly. Has anyone invented that yet?" I had a mental image of elderly people, decked out in aviator garb, zipping through the air. My laughter turned into a coughing fit when I saw the seriousness in his eyes.

"Not that I know of," I gasped.

"Great! Wanna know who I'm gonna use to test them?"

"Who?"

"You!" he announced proudly. I had another mental image. This time I was in my 80's and hurtling through the air in a wheelchair at "G-force" speed, my wrinkled skin blowing straight back, and my dentures flying out of my mouth. Sounds like a fun ride. Anyone want to take a walk on the wild side and come along?

On an unrelated note------------------------------------------

I am way to amused with my book, Amazing Kitchen Cures. They have a lot of interesting facts. For example, in ancient Rome, people with dark hair were thought to be "upper class." Hmm. Maybe should stop trying to change my hair color. Like my dark hair would get me really far in life ; )!

The book also says the men in ancient Rome would wear a concoction of herbs and earthworms to bed in order to keep their hair from turning gray.

Like I said, the book has some interesting facts and cures. I don't know how much faith I could put in a book that suggests using Tampax Tampons as earplugs. I guarantee, if I put those in my ears, and went out to mow the lawn, hubby would have me committed before I could say "Jack Robinson."