Letter to my grandchild; just when I thought I had nothing to write about

Letter to my granddaughter:

Dearest Beloved, 9-1-06 (the longest day of my life)

It seems like a very long time since last I saw you. My goodness, how it seems so long ago that I saw you. How old were you then? Are you married yet?

I surely do wish I had something great to tell you. I so wish that I weren’t always work— work—working. I tell you it is a lonely hard job…this writing stuff.

You can’t imagine how it is to be typing on my computer. It goes something like this:
I sit at the computer and stare into the screen.
I move around to make sure my posture is pretty good.
I place my fingers over the correct keys.
I take my fingers off of the keys because my neck hurts.
I rub my neck.
I place my fingers over the correct keys.
I take my fingers off of the keys so I can scoot my chair up a little, not too much, though.
I place my fingers over the correct keys.
I stare into the monitor.
I look around the room.
I look at the keys.
I take my fingers off of the keys so I can scoot my chair back a little, not too much though.
I place my fingers over the correct keys.
I stare into the monitor.
I look at my printer, my mouse (I love this mouse. I wish it were a real mouse, HEY! I wish my monitor were a real Moniter lizard!), but …probably…they’re not.
I look at my pencils.
I sharpen one pencil.
I test it.
I sharpen it again.
My pencil breaks. I wish my real mouse were here to chew on my pencils. That would keep them sharp, and then I wouldn’t have to spend so much time sharpening them.
I sharpen another pencil.
I test it.
It breaks.
I sharpen it again. I can’t believe how much I have sharpened today.
I wish my Moniter Lizard would chew my pencils nice and sharp for me so I wouldn’t have to spend so much time sharpening them. Gosh, it’s not like I have nothing to do!
I place my fingers over the correct keys.
I stare into my monitor, not the Moniter Lizard. He’s goofing off, as always. I can’t get that guy to show up. Just sharpen my pencils. That’s all I ask. But NOOO. He has to go off and eat small mammals. He has to go out and bask in the sun. That lazy, good for nothing lizard! He may as well be a Geico, or gecko, or whatever that lazy thing on TV is.
I type… I.
I take my fingers off the keys because my neck hurts. Nobody knows how hard this job is. Nobody even cares. I just sit at this darned typewriter all day long, slaving over these letters, and NOBODY, NOBODY even notices.
I place my fingers over the correct keys.
I delete…I.
I look at my scanner.
I look at my pencils.
I look at my mouse. I realize that if this were a real mouse, he would probably eat not only my pencils, but also my papers. This worries me.
I take my fingers off the keys.
I open my desk drawer to make sure my papers are in the drawer nice and neat…and safe.
I place my fingers over the correct keys.
I now remember that a mouse will eat pencils, paper, plastic and everything on this planet. Nothing is safe from a mouse. He can chew himself out of any trap. ANY TRAP! ANY TRAP MADE OUT OF ANYTHING! What am I doing with a creature like that on my desk? I must be crazy! I can’t believe I have to have a threatening creature like that on my desk, driving me absolutely mad! How can I think? How can I get any work done with a dreadful creature lurking about in my office, just waiting to pounce on me when I least expect it? Doesn’t anybody care about what I have to go through? Doesn’t anybody even care that I have to sit here at this desk, day in and day out, slaving over this computer, trying my best to pump out a BOOK!
I hate this mouse!
I place my fingers over the correct keys.
I stare at the monitor, but not the lizard, the monitor.
I type… I…
I realize that my neck is hurting so bad that I need to go take some Tylenol. I have to eat something with it: Can’t take Tylenol on an empty stomach.
I delete…I…
I get up and go into the kitchen. It’s a good thing I work at home so I can get something to eat when I have to take a Tylenol. I fix a toasted bagel with peanut butter and jelly. I fix a glass of milk. I eat it and look out the window. I see the bird feeder. I go out and restock the bird feed, the hummingbird feed, and the cat food. I remember those hungry creatures in my office and I look around for something to take to them. I just darned sure can’t get any work done with those hungry creatures staring at me and my stuff. These chocolate covered graham crackers will do just fine. I bring along a glass of milk…just in case…
I place my fingers over the correct keys.
I stare at the monitor, not the lizard.
I stare at the mouse.
I stare at the scanner.
The scanner. The scanner is an awesome thing. It can probably scan radioactive waves into my brain…and alter my thoughts. It can probably change my personality and people wouldn’t even know why I’m acting differently. THE SCANNER! Why didn’t I notice that thing before…How it just sits there…looking so …simple. Why didn’t I notice how dangerous this scanner is? I have been hornswoggled! I have been duped! I have been a victim of this scanner for a long time and nobody even knew it…not even me! Oh why doesn’t anybody even care about what I have to go through to write this book?
I think about how I could scan a newly sharpened pencil in my scanner and how it would look really cool on a page in my book.
I look at the scanner.
I look at the pencil.
I look at the scanner.
I look at the mouse.
I look at the monitor, not the lizard.
I stretch my neck.
I place my fingers over the correct keys.
I realize that writing is an exhausting job.
I take my fingers off the keys.
I eat my chocolate covered graham crackers. because that darned monitor, not the computer, and that darned mouse just ain’t gonna eat this stuff.
I drink my milk.
I now understand why I can’t write.
I have been too selfish.
All I think about is me.
I realize I have to think about others.
I realize I have to think about other creatures and animals and just others in this world.
I go out and look at the birds.
I appreciate these little animals.
I know deep down inside my heart that being a little bird is a hard life.
I put some extra bird seed in the bird feeder.
I put some extra hummingbird feed in the hummingbird feeder.
I put some extra cat food in the cat dish.
I make another toasted bagel with peanut butter and jelly.
I pour another glass of milk.
I eat them because I wouldn’t want to go back into my office and get hungry, just when I start typing really good stuff.
I take some extra chocolate covered graham crackers…and milk…for…well…just in case…of something.
I feel good.
I sit down at my desk and I feel good. Really good. I know deep down in my heart that I am going to finish this book because I am capable of thinking of others in this world. And God rewards those who think of others.
I place my fingers over the correct keys.
I stare at the monitor, not the lizard.
I type…You…

It might be a long, long time before this book gets done.

Love, and thinking of you in between every peanut butter and jelly bagel,
Curly Grandma

Who is Curly Grandma? She is a real grandma with seven grandchildren.  Her name came from her first grandchild, Megan, who learned to distinguish her two grannies with “adjectives”. Visit Curly Grandma at her website www.curlygrandma.com and learn all about writing letters to grandchildren. You can even buy her book Curly Grandma’s Letters: Writing to Kids and Capturing Your Autobiography (Tate Publishing). This blog may not be copied or reproduced without permission from Anita Bryce.

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