10 Things: Mailbox Cushion

I noticed it the other day. Other family members insist that it’s been there for a few weeks. I struggled to come up with a reasonable explanation. What does it MEAN?! And then I pulled out a pen and made up a list of 10 Things that could explain this scenario. But that’s not enough. I want to hear your 10 Things too. So get your writing tools, number 1 through 10, and when you see the photo, write down the first 10 Things you think of to explain why, WHY?! there is a plush, velvety, red cushion tied to the top of this mailbox with a blue cord.

Ready? My 10 Things will follow below. Click to embiggen the photo if you like.

GO!

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The mailbox of one of my neighbors

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My 10 Things: 

1. The cushion adds directional stability to keep the mailbox from falling off its post.

2. The cushion protects the sensitive mailbox from falling branches or acorns.

3. The cushion provides a place for the mail carrier to lean out of his truck to rest his head.

4. Once a week the neighborhood cats gather around the mailbox with the king or queen cat perched on the cushion throne.

5. The red cushion with blue straps is an alternative to tree streamers for demonstrating school pride. Go blue red!

6. The cushion is a teleporter. The mail carrier places packages upon the cushion and they are instantly zapped into the house. (This one courtesy of Sonar X11)

7. The cushion is the signal for a secret underground network, or perhaps the sign of the meeting place of a secret organization. (If cushion is red we meet at the library. If cushion is blue we meet at the Dairy Queen.)

8. Enclosed within the cushion is surveillance equipment that monitors traffic speeds or tries to catch kids who get stoned in the arroyo across the street.

9. This cushion is part of a new trend in front yard decor. Soon all the mailboxes will have plush adornments.

10. This is a showcase cushion. Periodically the homeowner displays his prize __________ to passersby.

Don’t forget to put your speculation, wild or otherwise, into the comments for all of us to enjoy. 

You Can Change My NaNoWriMo Novel, or Watch Me Be Irrational About My Writing

My total word count as of yesterday is 20,028. I wrote almost 4,000 words yesterday.  Which was great for yesterday, but my brain has turned to mush today.  

Last night I had the urge to take this piece of Mainstream Fiction and drop in a fraternal alien-twin for one main character and a liberal sprinkling of the word ‘ovipositor.’  Is this my subconscious telling me I want to write science fiction?  Or is 4,000 words too many for one brain in one day?

I was disappointed to receive absolutely no additional suggestions to yesterday’s 10 Things You Can Drop Into Your NaNo Novel post.  Giddy, I suppose, and unmotivated to write according to the plot I scratched out on this sheet of graph paper in front of me, I’ve decided to shake things up a bit.  

Here is the really boring short synopsis of my novel:

Jill and Carlos work at the same busy video store. They’re friends, but only at work. They don’t get married, or date, or even like each other That Way. But sometimes they talk to each other about the important stuff.

I’ll admit it, my original suggestions yesterday for things to drop into your NaNo were pretty tame.  In the spirit of generating creative absurdity, I will consider all suggestions for throwing wrenches into a NaNoWriMo novel from now until the weekend.  Whichever one I think is the most outrageous will go into MY NaNo.  I have no prizes to offer.  If I choose your outrageous suggestions, you’ll have the satisfaction of know you have f—ahem, um, TINKERED with my creative process.  

Only Rule: No Brutality.

Do your weirdest.

Dragonflies

I walked through clouds of dragonflies today.  They hover a few feet above the ground on all the grassy fields and yards in the neighborhood this morning.  From a distance they all look the same dark color. Just big black bugs swarming over the dry grass.  They did not seem to mind me, parting slightly to let me pass then falling back into their ordered randomness.  Their transparent wings propellered through each dodge and weave.  Up close they reveal bodies of gold, chocolate, bronze, copper.  The neighborhood is quiet, but there is just enough noise from (happy for dragonfly breakfast) frogs and distant cars to mask the sound of the dragonflies.  

I imagine their noise, not as a buzz, but as a light metallic shimmer, winding from their wings like invisible ribbons.  

Packing

We are about to pack ourselves and our children into the Eurovan and drive 900 miles through the desert.  I would not necessarily say it is the bleakest drive in the world (that stretch along the border through El Paso is pretty bleak, but we’re not going that way this year), not is it the most monotonous (SharpSticks wins that one for her drive through the wheat fields of, hm, Alberta was it?), but it does have a certain featurelessness that is typical of much desert driving.  

Just to make things interesting, we’re taking a hard right at Fort Stockton, Texas, detouring from the Interstate this year and going through Carlsbad and Roswell in New Mexico.  

For those of you unfamiliar with NM geography, Carlsbad has what are among the most famous caverns in the world situated nearby.  Aptly titled, Carlsbad Caverns National Monument.  (I love that web address.  The simplicity.)  And Roswell has made itself famous for association with extra-terrestrial life.  Our terminal point in this grand tour is Albuquerque, city of my childhood.  We are still deluding ourselves that we will make it there in one day.  

We are two drivers, and the drive from here to there is 14 hours, not counting pee breaks, leg stretching, dinner, and stops to appreciate the cultural/ educational/ social/ geographical/ historical/ silent and/or childless significance of any given place.

So today we are deciding what to pack into the van with us and the three Sonars.  So far we have packed two audio books and a bucket of car-appropriate crafty/fiddly things.  Oh, and need I say there will be a bucket of legos and a kilo of stickers?

Perhaps clothes and sunscreen would be wise additions?  And of course, some knitting.  I can’t decide between a very weird sock (I tried to link directly, but it was weird… it’s the Conservative sock, which will be decidedly unconservative in some actual colors) or a sweater for Partner (The Hacky Sack Hoodie from Son of Stitch and Bitch—though I tried to talk him into the totally hot Messenger sweater with the skull on the shoulder).  Go ahead and laugh.  Oh yeah, sure, ‘take the sweater,’ you might say, wiping away a tear of hilarity, ‘to knit in the 100+ degree (Fahrenheit) New Mexico desert.   Good plan.’  But I will need some knitting to wile away the hours, knitting that isn’t too challenging, so that I can follow the pattern over the wailing and gnashing of teeth (‘My butt hurts’ or ‘I know we just stopped ten miles ago, but I will not pee in a cup!’).  

So, what must you have with you when you go on a trip?  Sedatives?  A travel guide?  A nanny?  Earplugs? 

Stupid Mango Tricks, or Things to Entertain and Amaze Your Kids

Half a ripe mango, scored inside and then turned inside out

Sonar X4: “It looks like hair!”
Sonar X7: “Can I put it on my head?”
Sonar X3: “It’s Mango Hair!”

Later, to facilitate the fair-sharing of a pint of Ben and Jerry’s “Fossil Fuel”, I cut the ice cream, carton and all, into four pieces with a big knife. That was also met with delight by all three Sonars.

Teaching them to scoop small bites, suck the ice cream off the fudge dinosaurs, and spit them into their hands for species identification: Probably not such a good idea.