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Saturday March 3
Dear Diary,
I’ve always wanted my own diary. My brother Mike has a 4-year one I peek at
sometimes. But it’s stupid stuff. Cars, and girls and junk. Mom likes to write too, so
she got me this for my birthday. She gave it to me this morning at breakfast. It was
sitting right there next to my box of Krunchie Berries and the milk on the kitchen
table. Usually, I have to get that stuff out myself while Mom’s getting ready for work.
Mom’s a copy reader at the local newspaper. That means she reads and rewrites
stuff other people write for the paper. She should actually be writing it, cuz she’s way
better than those guys. Sometimes she gets to write obits (That’s a nice way of
saying, “These people are dead.”). I asked her the other day if that’s not a bummer,
and she said, “Remember, the first three letters in ‘funeral’ spell ‘fun.’” That’s Mom
for you. I don’t know how she stays happy all the time, especially seein’ as how
everyone is always stompin’ all over her. More on that another time.
Anyhoo … Regina, Teresa and Darcy are coming over tonight for my birthday
slumber party. That means more presents! Regina said she’d bring one of her dad’s
empty beer cans. We’re gonna fill it with water from the faucet when Teresa’s not
looking, then Regina’s gonna start drinking it like it’s nothing. I hope she lets out a
good burp. That’s the good thing about having the whole basement to ourselves. As
long as we’re quiet and not laughing too loud, Mom and Dad don’t seem to give a
crap what we’re doing.
Well, I’ve gotta go tidy up the rec room downstairs before they start getting here and
help Mom lay out the munchies.
Love, Nic
Dear Diary,
I’ve always wanted my own diary. My brother Mike has a 4-year one I peek at
sometimes. But it’s stupid stuff. Cars, and girls and junk. Mom likes to write too, so
she got me this for my birthday. She gave it to me this morning at breakfast. It was
sitting right there next to my box of Krunchie Berries and the milk on the kitchen
table. Usually, I have to get that stuff out myself while Mom’s getting ready for work.
Mom’s a copy reader at the local newspaper. That means she reads and rewrites
stuff other people write for the paper. She should actually be writing it, cuz she’s way
better than those guys. Sometimes she gets to write obits (That’s a nice way of
saying, “These people are dead.”). I asked her the other day if that’s not a bummer,
and she said, “Remember, the first three letters in ‘funeral’ spell ‘fun.’” That’s Mom
for you. I don’t know how she stays happy all the time, especially seein’ as how
everyone is always stompin’ all over her. More on that another time.
Anyhoo … Regina, Teresa and Darcy are coming over tonight for my birthday
slumber party. That means more presents! Regina said she’d bring one of her dad’s
empty beer cans. We’re gonna fill it with water from the faucet when Teresa’s not
looking, then Regina’s gonna start drinking it like it’s nothing. I hope she lets out a
good burp. That’s the good thing about having the whole basement to ourselves. As
long as we’re quiet and not laughing too loud, Mom and Dad don’t seem to give a
crap what we’re doing.
Well, I’ve gotta go tidy up the rec room downstairs before they start getting here and
help Mom lay out the munchies.
Love, Nic
| A bit of the children's book I'm working on: "Dear Nicole," Editor's Note: This book is aimed at pre-teens, probably girls. It's an age group I've always enjoyed reading, with a couple of my faves being Beverly Cleary and Judy Blume (banned in Peoria). Nicole, or Nick if you really get to know her, is pretty much exactly the middle-schooler I was. She lives in the midwest, goes to a very small neighborhood school, still has both of her parents in the home, has two big brothers and a variety of kooky friends. Let me know what you think. |
Sunday March 4
Dear Diary,
Wow. That didn’t turn out like I thought it would.
When I saw Regina and Teresa pull up together in Teresa’s mom’s car, I was worried
maybe we wouldn’t be able to pull off the fake beer thing. THEN, when Teresa was in
the bathroom, Regina whupped IT out of her floweredy sleeping bag. She’d produced a
beer can, all right. But, it was cold and UNOPENED. Oh my gosh! What is she? Nuts?
I told Regina to put that thing right back in her sleeping bag, and she barely got it
stuffed in there before Teresa came trippin’ like Daffy Duck down the stairs (she’s even
klutzier than me), and Darcy was with her, also wearing her green and white Mossville
Warriors T-shirt as we had planned. I guess Mom let Darcy in while Teresa was going to
the bathroom or something. Darcy had an arm full of sodie and our favorite taco-
flavored nacho chips (the ones that make you fart real loud), and a present that I could
tell was something I was wanting.
Regina gave me some socks with toes in them, like gloves. They’re all rainbow colored
and really cool. Good thing I have long skinny toes, or they’d just be floppin’ around
down there. Teresa gave me a new charm for my charm bracelet. It’s a little silver cat.
We’re all pretty cat crazy. (At least we’re not like those “horsey” girls. They’re the ones
all into horses. They read all the Black Beauty-like books and gallop around at recess.
Duh.) I REALLY wanted the little gold saxophone, but oh well.
See, we’re all in band. I play second E-flat alto sax in the fifth- and sixth-grade concert
band, but Mr. Clooney asked me to play the baritone saxophone in the junior high
marching and jazz bands. It’s fun ’cept for the marchin’ thang. I guess Mr. Clooney
picked me because I’m the tallest sax player there is (always a bummer cuz that
includes the boys).
Just because I’m tall doesn’t mean I have big guns. I hate lugging that stupid thing
around, and during parades, I ALWAYS get behind the horses and step in the doo doo.
Either that, or my music holder thingy falls off and everyone stomps on it, and I have to
go back and get it after the parade, and usually by that time, another horse has
pooped all over it. And the bari sax reed is bigger than my tongue almost, and it tastes
like a 40-year-old used popsicle stick. Oh -- Teresa and Regina both play clarinet.
Useless instrument. Sounds like it’s got an old tube sock stuck up in it. And, Darcy plays
coronet, much more admirable.
But I'm gettin' off track. Back to the presents. So Darcy saved the best for last. By the
shape of the square, flat package, wrapped in paper with cartoon cats on it (duh), it
looked like the CD I was wanting! I ripped it open in point 7 seconds, flat. Sure enough!
There it was. There THEY were. Smiling out at me, tight Levi’s and all. The Knight
Brothers. Sigh. In concert. Live. Complete with special 3D glasses to watch the bonus
DVD (see inside).
I’m not the touchy feely sort. But, I must admit, I threw my arms around that girl’s neck
so fast it made Teresa and Regina’s heads spin. Then, of course, I struggled with the
plastic and ran to the stereo to crank it up. We all made like our hairbrushes were
microphones and compared our Knight Brothers dance moves.
All of us but Darcy like Tommy best of the three. But Darcy likes the oldest one, Frank.
Frank? That’s a grandpa name, and for cryin’ out loud, he HAS A MUSTACHE!! Eew.
And chest hairs. Double eew. Whatever. None of us care about Joey. He’s the youngest
one. And he has freckles and buck teeth. We call him “the anti-Frank.”
We followed that up with darts while Mom threw the pizza in the oven. As is the usual
custom, we had all brought our favorite teen idol magazines so we could rip, shred,
trade and, best of all, pick the next victim to tape to the dart board.
I voted for Frank, and that ticked Darcy off for awhile, so she didn’t talk to me for, like, a
whole 10 minutes. Big whoop. Like I even care. So, since Frank was taken off the table,
we decided on Nathan, that squirrelly blonde kid all the horsey girls like. He’s what? 9?
That’s not a REAL man. Better yet, he has this stupid dimple right in the middle of his
chin. If you hit that, you get a hundred extra points. I’m pretty good at darts, so guess
who pulled a Robin Hood on that cartoony nerd’s chin butt? Yeah. That’s right. I’m bad.
Later, when we were all sittin’ on the bean bags in front of the cardboard fireplace, our
bellies all full of pepperoni and our butts fartin’ taco scent, Gina casually takes out that
Milwaukee’s Worst. I thought Teresa’s eyes were gonna pop right the heck out of her
skull and squish against her sodie-bottle bottom glasses!!!!!! I might as well have fired
up a cancer stick. No, a big ol’ DOOBIE! Ha, ha.
T’s all like, “WHAT is THAT?!!” And Gina goes, “What’s what?” and takes a huge gulp.
At that point, I had to look at Regina instead of Teresa to see the look on Gina’s face.
And Darcy was egging her on, going like “OOOH, OOOH” and stuff. Regina can always
keep her cool, tho. She swallowed big, smiled, wiped her mouth on the shoulder of her
T-shirt and simply said, “Ahhhhhh ….”
Unbelievable. I think I was in shock, and Teresa was getting up to go somewhere. Next
thing I knew, me, Darcy and Regina all decided we’d like to have a go. But first, I told
Regina to set it down while I snuck up the stairs to have a listen.
I stood on the top basement step, cupped my hand on the door and put my left ear
against my hand. By this time, Dad had come in from doing some yard work, and I could
hear Mom banging around in the kitchen and the evening news going on the TV in the
living room. Cool.
That was the most terrible tasting stuff I’ve ever drank. I kid you not. Wow. How do
people do that? I thought I was gonna barf. We got ’er down, though. Then, we had to
try to figure out what to do with the empty can. Evidence, if you will. That made me think
of my oldest brother, Bob.
Mom and Dad were always finding empty beer cans where they didn’t belong, and they
all belonged to Bob. Ah ha! Bob’s 17, and his bedroom is in the basement. It’s a really
cool place, but it’s off limits. It’s got dark wood paneling on the walls, and Bob’s got a
black light in there and all kinds of weird velvet posters. His drumset doesn’t fit in there,
so he keeps it over by the pool table. We’re not allowed to touch it.
Sometimes, on Friday nights, he, Mike and I gather in the kitchen at 10:30 to whip up
some instant mashed potatoes and get ready for the Acree Creature Feature on
Channel 19 on the little black and white set down in Bob’s room.
Now, I’ve hardly met a potato I didn’t like. But, I HATE instant. I want them the way Dad
mashes them -- with a lump here and there, and with REAL milk, and peeled by Mom’s
hands. However, my brother Bob makes a mean Hungry Jack. To heck with the
instructions on the box. Bob uses his own formula. When you can stand a fork upright
in the middle of the mound, it’s ready.
But wait, there’s more! You have to add at least a fourth of a stick of butter to your
serving and let it melt in the paths you carve down the sides of your mashed potato
volcano. The trick is to eat it all before the paper plate falls apart.
Oops. Getting off track again. So, I told my friends we could plant it in Bob’s bedroom.
There was a lot of mumbling then. It was voted that I dispose of the can in Bob’s room. I
opened his door, held my breath and pinched my nose (it stinks in there), and tossed
the can in. It made a pretty loud racket when it hit the floor and skipped on the cement
under his bed. Done and done.
By this time, we decided we wanted to shoot some pool. Mom and Dad had gone on to
bed. I challenged Darcy to the first game, and Regina was the peanut gallery and the
chick who goes to get sodies and stuff. I let Darcy go first in a game of 8 ball. I stink at
pool, and Mike always beats me. Just like ANY game I play with Mike.
When Darcy broke, the balls flew all over the place. I guess she never played on a
cheap table. It’s not like the ones at the bowling alley that you have to pay to play. The
balls bounced on the concrete and the walls, and the cue ball even hit one of the metal
duct thingies.
That was it. That woke up Dad. Oh man!!!! Dad pounded on the floor from him and
Mom’s room. We all hunkered down and knew that means we’d better chill. That’s when
we noticed Teresa was missing. From above, we heard the hall toilet flush and
footsteps coming our way.
I looked at Darcy, and she was all balled up over there on the other side of the pool
table by the mural of that woman Mom painted on the wall. Then, we heard the dripping.
We all looked up and saw water coming through the floor boards. Teresa was trying to
be quiet coming down the stairs. The water was creeping up on us. We heard my Dad’s
voice loud. There was a bunch of racket from the bathroom and I knew Dad was using
the plunger. Pretty quick the basement door slammed open and Dad yelled, “WHO PUT
WHAT DOWN THE TOILET??!!!”
All our socks were wet and we all looked at Teresa. The upstairs door closed and we
went back to our sleeping bags to lay down. I turned out the lights and the tales of
horror began. Darcy told about the guy with the hook for a hand who likes to kill kids
who just wanna make out.
Then someone snored. It was Teresa. It was our duty. She was the first to fall asleep.
She must be punished.
I won’t go into detail. But I will say it is not nice to wake up with peanut butter stuck
between your toes and your training bra all frozen in the chest freezer.
So. Tomarrow I gotta go back to school. It was a good birthday weekend. Mom is
making pot roast and taters and Mike and Bob are gonna be here for supper too.
Love,
Nic
Dear Diary,
Wow. That didn’t turn out like I thought it would.
When I saw Regina and Teresa pull up together in Teresa’s mom’s car, I was worried
maybe we wouldn’t be able to pull off the fake beer thing. THEN, when Teresa was in
the bathroom, Regina whupped IT out of her floweredy sleeping bag. She’d produced a
beer can, all right. But, it was cold and UNOPENED. Oh my gosh! What is she? Nuts?
I told Regina to put that thing right back in her sleeping bag, and she barely got it
stuffed in there before Teresa came trippin’ like Daffy Duck down the stairs (she’s even
klutzier than me), and Darcy was with her, also wearing her green and white Mossville
Warriors T-shirt as we had planned. I guess Mom let Darcy in while Teresa was going to
the bathroom or something. Darcy had an arm full of sodie and our favorite taco-
flavored nacho chips (the ones that make you fart real loud), and a present that I could
tell was something I was wanting.
Regina gave me some socks with toes in them, like gloves. They’re all rainbow colored
and really cool. Good thing I have long skinny toes, or they’d just be floppin’ around
down there. Teresa gave me a new charm for my charm bracelet. It’s a little silver cat.
We’re all pretty cat crazy. (At least we’re not like those “horsey” girls. They’re the ones
all into horses. They read all the Black Beauty-like books and gallop around at recess.
Duh.) I REALLY wanted the little gold saxophone, but oh well.
See, we’re all in band. I play second E-flat alto sax in the fifth- and sixth-grade concert
band, but Mr. Clooney asked me to play the baritone saxophone in the junior high
marching and jazz bands. It’s fun ’cept for the marchin’ thang. I guess Mr. Clooney
picked me because I’m the tallest sax player there is (always a bummer cuz that
includes the boys).
Just because I’m tall doesn’t mean I have big guns. I hate lugging that stupid thing
around, and during parades, I ALWAYS get behind the horses and step in the doo doo.
Either that, or my music holder thingy falls off and everyone stomps on it, and I have to
go back and get it after the parade, and usually by that time, another horse has
pooped all over it. And the bari sax reed is bigger than my tongue almost, and it tastes
like a 40-year-old used popsicle stick. Oh -- Teresa and Regina both play clarinet.
Useless instrument. Sounds like it’s got an old tube sock stuck up in it. And, Darcy plays
coronet, much more admirable.
But I'm gettin' off track. Back to the presents. So Darcy saved the best for last. By the
shape of the square, flat package, wrapped in paper with cartoon cats on it (duh), it
looked like the CD I was wanting! I ripped it open in point 7 seconds, flat. Sure enough!
There it was. There THEY were. Smiling out at me, tight Levi’s and all. The Knight
Brothers. Sigh. In concert. Live. Complete with special 3D glasses to watch the bonus
DVD (see inside).
I’m not the touchy feely sort. But, I must admit, I threw my arms around that girl’s neck
so fast it made Teresa and Regina’s heads spin. Then, of course, I struggled with the
plastic and ran to the stereo to crank it up. We all made like our hairbrushes were
microphones and compared our Knight Brothers dance moves.
All of us but Darcy like Tommy best of the three. But Darcy likes the oldest one, Frank.
Frank? That’s a grandpa name, and for cryin’ out loud, he HAS A MUSTACHE!! Eew.
And chest hairs. Double eew. Whatever. None of us care about Joey. He’s the youngest
one. And he has freckles and buck teeth. We call him “the anti-Frank.”
We followed that up with darts while Mom threw the pizza in the oven. As is the usual
custom, we had all brought our favorite teen idol magazines so we could rip, shred,
trade and, best of all, pick the next victim to tape to the dart board.
I voted for Frank, and that ticked Darcy off for awhile, so she didn’t talk to me for, like, a
whole 10 minutes. Big whoop. Like I even care. So, since Frank was taken off the table,
we decided on Nathan, that squirrelly blonde kid all the horsey girls like. He’s what? 9?
That’s not a REAL man. Better yet, he has this stupid dimple right in the middle of his
chin. If you hit that, you get a hundred extra points. I’m pretty good at darts, so guess
who pulled a Robin Hood on that cartoony nerd’s chin butt? Yeah. That’s right. I’m bad.
Later, when we were all sittin’ on the bean bags in front of the cardboard fireplace, our
bellies all full of pepperoni and our butts fartin’ taco scent, Gina casually takes out that
Milwaukee’s Worst. I thought Teresa’s eyes were gonna pop right the heck out of her
skull and squish against her sodie-bottle bottom glasses!!!!!! I might as well have fired
up a cancer stick. No, a big ol’ DOOBIE! Ha, ha.
T’s all like, “WHAT is THAT?!!” And Gina goes, “What’s what?” and takes a huge gulp.
At that point, I had to look at Regina instead of Teresa to see the look on Gina’s face.
And Darcy was egging her on, going like “OOOH, OOOH” and stuff. Regina can always
keep her cool, tho. She swallowed big, smiled, wiped her mouth on the shoulder of her
T-shirt and simply said, “Ahhhhhh ….”
Unbelievable. I think I was in shock, and Teresa was getting up to go somewhere. Next
thing I knew, me, Darcy and Regina all decided we’d like to have a go. But first, I told
Regina to set it down while I snuck up the stairs to have a listen.
I stood on the top basement step, cupped my hand on the door and put my left ear
against my hand. By this time, Dad had come in from doing some yard work, and I could
hear Mom banging around in the kitchen and the evening news going on the TV in the
living room. Cool.
That was the most terrible tasting stuff I’ve ever drank. I kid you not. Wow. How do
people do that? I thought I was gonna barf. We got ’er down, though. Then, we had to
try to figure out what to do with the empty can. Evidence, if you will. That made me think
of my oldest brother, Bob.
Mom and Dad were always finding empty beer cans where they didn’t belong, and they
all belonged to Bob. Ah ha! Bob’s 17, and his bedroom is in the basement. It’s a really
cool place, but it’s off limits. It’s got dark wood paneling on the walls, and Bob’s got a
black light in there and all kinds of weird velvet posters. His drumset doesn’t fit in there,
so he keeps it over by the pool table. We’re not allowed to touch it.
Sometimes, on Friday nights, he, Mike and I gather in the kitchen at 10:30 to whip up
some instant mashed potatoes and get ready for the Acree Creature Feature on
Channel 19 on the little black and white set down in Bob’s room.
Now, I’ve hardly met a potato I didn’t like. But, I HATE instant. I want them the way Dad
mashes them -- with a lump here and there, and with REAL milk, and peeled by Mom’s
hands. However, my brother Bob makes a mean Hungry Jack. To heck with the
instructions on the box. Bob uses his own formula. When you can stand a fork upright
in the middle of the mound, it’s ready.
But wait, there’s more! You have to add at least a fourth of a stick of butter to your
serving and let it melt in the paths you carve down the sides of your mashed potato
volcano. The trick is to eat it all before the paper plate falls apart.
Oops. Getting off track again. So, I told my friends we could plant it in Bob’s bedroom.
There was a lot of mumbling then. It was voted that I dispose of the can in Bob’s room. I
opened his door, held my breath and pinched my nose (it stinks in there), and tossed
the can in. It made a pretty loud racket when it hit the floor and skipped on the cement
under his bed. Done and done.
By this time, we decided we wanted to shoot some pool. Mom and Dad had gone on to
bed. I challenged Darcy to the first game, and Regina was the peanut gallery and the
chick who goes to get sodies and stuff. I let Darcy go first in a game of 8 ball. I stink at
pool, and Mike always beats me. Just like ANY game I play with Mike.
When Darcy broke, the balls flew all over the place. I guess she never played on a
cheap table. It’s not like the ones at the bowling alley that you have to pay to play. The
balls bounced on the concrete and the walls, and the cue ball even hit one of the metal
duct thingies.
That was it. That woke up Dad. Oh man!!!! Dad pounded on the floor from him and
Mom’s room. We all hunkered down and knew that means we’d better chill. That’s when
we noticed Teresa was missing. From above, we heard the hall toilet flush and
footsteps coming our way.
I looked at Darcy, and she was all balled up over there on the other side of the pool
table by the mural of that woman Mom painted on the wall. Then, we heard the dripping.
We all looked up and saw water coming through the floor boards. Teresa was trying to
be quiet coming down the stairs. The water was creeping up on us. We heard my Dad’s
voice loud. There was a bunch of racket from the bathroom and I knew Dad was using
the plunger. Pretty quick the basement door slammed open and Dad yelled, “WHO PUT
WHAT DOWN THE TOILET??!!!”
All our socks were wet and we all looked at Teresa. The upstairs door closed and we
went back to our sleeping bags to lay down. I turned out the lights and the tales of
horror began. Darcy told about the guy with the hook for a hand who likes to kill kids
who just wanna make out.
Then someone snored. It was Teresa. It was our duty. She was the first to fall asleep.
She must be punished.
I won’t go into detail. But I will say it is not nice to wake up with peanut butter stuck
between your toes and your training bra all frozen in the chest freezer.
So. Tomarrow I gotta go back to school. It was a good birthday weekend. Mom is
making pot roast and taters and Mike and Bob are gonna be here for supper too.
Love,
Nic