Lori B. Duff's Blog
February 15, 2015
Brand New Website!
You are cordially invited to my virtual home: the home of my blogs, the home of my books, the home where Lori Duff Writes. It’s a website home – the kind that I wish could live in the real world. The kind where books and belly laughs reign supreme and there are never any dishes to do or toilets to clean. Explore the website www.loriduffwrites.com Sign up for email updates. Get book recommendations. Read something funny. And most importantly, let me, Lori Duff, write for you.
April 2, 2014
Stimulation Overload
I’m playing hooky from work today. I deserve it, I think. In addition to a very long work week which started out with an all day, hyper-dramatic trial, I was one of only two grownups who spent the entire weekend with a troop of Girl Scouts. Yup. Me, another brave Mom (June), eight girls, and a 48 hour slumber party.
It was as non-primitive as you can get and still call it camping, as it occurred in the yard of my house at Lake Oconee. Still, there was no wi-fi or television, we prohibited the use of iPods, and they slept all piled together in one large tent. So what if the potties were clean and flushable, and there was a real shower and a real coffee maker and an endless supply of clean dry towels, due to the endless running of the washing machine and dryer? We cooked over a grill (mostly) and spent all day out of doors and ate our collective weight in s’mores.
On the one hand, it was a fabulous thing to watch. Without the influence of boys or men, the girls were free to be themselves without preening and learn independence. Without screen time, they interacted and explored and played in a most old fashioned way. They spent about an hour throwing the anchor off the boat and hauling it up. Why that was fun for them, I will never know, but they were lining up for a turn playing “anchor girl.” The youngest girl (my daughter) was in fourth grade and ten years old, the eldest was in seventh grade and almost thirteen. June and I figured they were old enough that our job was merely supervision. They set up and took down their own tents, built several campfires, and cleaned up after themselves. More impressively, as far as I could tell, they all got along the entire time.
There is a downside to a gaggle of girls getting along, however, and that is the constant high pitched ‘yatatayatatayatata’ that increases in volume as time wears on. They’re excited, they’re shouting with joy, they’re talking over each other, and they are scaring off the wildlife and attracting domesticated dogs. (Seriously – one random dog, who we ultimately named “Bella” because she was annoying us, much like Bella in Twilight does, spent virtually the entire weekend with us wagging her tail, getting petted, and trying to eat our hot dogs. Everyone thought she was cute and friendly up until the point where she got into the tent and peed on one girl’s Pillow Pet. We packed her into the car and drove her home a few times, but she always managed to come back with an incredibly hopeful look on her little mutty face.)
But back to the noise – everything, it seems, is awfully noisy. The constant barrage of sound often feels like I’m caught in a hailstorm of glass shards, there are so many things banging off my skull trying to get in. Right now I am still at the lake, having managed to pawn of my daughter to another Mom to bring home so I could have a few moments of peace. All I can hear is the low tuned wind chimes we got as a housewarming present, the occasional slap of the water against the pontoons of the boat, and about 12 different birdcalls, none of which I can identify beyond “that tweety one” or “the one that sounds like a catcall” or “that screechy one I wish would quit.” I haven’t turned on the radio or watched a movie or even used my vocal chords in more than 12 hours. The Sounds of Silence. I love it. I never get it.
My house is usually noisy. The dishwasher is running. The washing machine and dryer are spinning. Someone always has the television set on. Someone is practicing the saxophone or oboe or recorder or piano. Someone is listening to the radio. Someone is playing a video game with a bleepybloopy soundtrack. Someone is always talking. Someone is always singing or humming or whistling. Usually all at once. Any one of these things, in and of itself, would be ok, but the combination is an aural assault that the older I get the less I can tolerate. I’ve tried instituting a “one source of noise in one room at a time” rule, but I haven’t been terribly successful, as even my husband won’t comply. If you want to talk, turn off the tv. If you want to watch tv, don’t noodle around on the piano. My brain is easily scrambled and confused.
I guess I’m alone in this, since the world seems dead set on increasing the amount of input we get at any given moment. You can’t even watch the weather without three different scroll lines below giving you information you can’t possibly process. I can’t shop for anything without a store having “background” music so loud I have to shout to be heard. Seriously – what does crappy auto-tuned electronic pop music about going out to party have to do with my choice of blenders? Why does anyone think it will make me want to buy more stuff? It makes me want to high tail it out of the store as quickly as I can.
I picture my head blowing up like a balloon with all the input. Like all these different bits of information and sounds coming in my ears have mass and are filling up my brain faster than I can mentally digest them. I’m afraid that one day we will all overload, and there will be an explosion. When the shrapnel settles, there will be a lot of headless bodies standing next to clothing racks and holding price tags.
I guess that’s not the worst thing that could happen – with no head, there is no way anyone could turn me into a zombie when the time comes. Ah yes. There’s always a silver lining if you look for it.
Lori B. Duff is the author of the Amazon ‘Hot New Release’ Mismatched Shoes and Upside Down Pizza, a collection of autobiographical humor essays. You can follow her on Twitter at @LoriBDuff and on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/loribduffauthor
It was as non-primitive as you can get and still call it camping, as it occurred in the yard of my house at Lake Oconee. Still, there was no wi-fi or television, we prohibited the use of iPods, and they slept all piled together in one large tent. So what if the potties were clean and flushable, and there was a real shower and a real coffee maker and an endless supply of clean dry towels, due to the endless running of the washing machine and dryer? We cooked over a grill (mostly) and spent all day out of doors and ate our collective weight in s’mores.
On the one hand, it was a fabulous thing to watch. Without the influence of boys or men, the girls were free to be themselves without preening and learn independence. Without screen time, they interacted and explored and played in a most old fashioned way. They spent about an hour throwing the anchor off the boat and hauling it up. Why that was fun for them, I will never know, but they were lining up for a turn playing “anchor girl.” The youngest girl (my daughter) was in fourth grade and ten years old, the eldest was in seventh grade and almost thirteen. June and I figured they were old enough that our job was merely supervision. They set up and took down their own tents, built several campfires, and cleaned up after themselves. More impressively, as far as I could tell, they all got along the entire time.
There is a downside to a gaggle of girls getting along, however, and that is the constant high pitched ‘yatatayatatayatata’ that increases in volume as time wears on. They’re excited, they’re shouting with joy, they’re talking over each other, and they are scaring off the wildlife and attracting domesticated dogs. (Seriously – one random dog, who we ultimately named “Bella” because she was annoying us, much like Bella in Twilight does, spent virtually the entire weekend with us wagging her tail, getting petted, and trying to eat our hot dogs. Everyone thought she was cute and friendly up until the point where she got into the tent and peed on one girl’s Pillow Pet. We packed her into the car and drove her home a few times, but she always managed to come back with an incredibly hopeful look on her little mutty face.)
But back to the noise – everything, it seems, is awfully noisy. The constant barrage of sound often feels like I’m caught in a hailstorm of glass shards, there are so many things banging off my skull trying to get in. Right now I am still at the lake, having managed to pawn of my daughter to another Mom to bring home so I could have a few moments of peace. All I can hear is the low tuned wind chimes we got as a housewarming present, the occasional slap of the water against the pontoons of the boat, and about 12 different birdcalls, none of which I can identify beyond “that tweety one” or “the one that sounds like a catcall” or “that screechy one I wish would quit.” I haven’t turned on the radio or watched a movie or even used my vocal chords in more than 12 hours. The Sounds of Silence. I love it. I never get it.
My house is usually noisy. The dishwasher is running. The washing machine and dryer are spinning. Someone always has the television set on. Someone is practicing the saxophone or oboe or recorder or piano. Someone is listening to the radio. Someone is playing a video game with a bleepybloopy soundtrack. Someone is always talking. Someone is always singing or humming or whistling. Usually all at once. Any one of these things, in and of itself, would be ok, but the combination is an aural assault that the older I get the less I can tolerate. I’ve tried instituting a “one source of noise in one room at a time” rule, but I haven’t been terribly successful, as even my husband won’t comply. If you want to talk, turn off the tv. If you want to watch tv, don’t noodle around on the piano. My brain is easily scrambled and confused.
I guess I’m alone in this, since the world seems dead set on increasing the amount of input we get at any given moment. You can’t even watch the weather without three different scroll lines below giving you information you can’t possibly process. I can’t shop for anything without a store having “background” music so loud I have to shout to be heard. Seriously – what does crappy auto-tuned electronic pop music about going out to party have to do with my choice of blenders? Why does anyone think it will make me want to buy more stuff? It makes me want to high tail it out of the store as quickly as I can.
I picture my head blowing up like a balloon with all the input. Like all these different bits of information and sounds coming in my ears have mass and are filling up my brain faster than I can mentally digest them. I’m afraid that one day we will all overload, and there will be an explosion. When the shrapnel settles, there will be a lot of headless bodies standing next to clothing racks and holding price tags.
I guess that’s not the worst thing that could happen – with no head, there is no way anyone could turn me into a zombie when the time comes. Ah yes. There’s always a silver lining if you look for it.
Lori B. Duff is the author of the Amazon ‘Hot New Release’ Mismatched Shoes and Upside Down Pizza, a collection of autobiographical humor essays. You can follow her on Twitter at @LoriBDuff and on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/loribduffauthor
March 10, 2014
Important Information
Proving that occasionally I write something with actual information in it, I bring you the following column from the Monroe Local, which details the drivers license requirements under the Federal Real ID act of 2005. Make sure you're a star-bellied sneetch! http://monroelocal.org/2014/03/09/leg...
February 24, 2014
Next Step on the Blog Hop
Last week I talked about my friend, Colleen Walsh Fong (among others) in my Blog Hop Post. This week, she talks about me in ways that make me blush. http://peachtreecorners.patch.com/gro...
February 17, 2014
Blog Hop
I've had the privilege of taking part in a Blog Hop in which a female author (Carol Fragale Brill) introduced me to her readers, and I introduce others (and Carol) to you. So, in this post I introduce you to Carol, Carole Townsend, and Colleen Walsh Fong, and talk a little bit about why I write this nonsense that I write and how. http://loganville.patch.com/groups/lo...
February 11, 2014
Mall of Torture
A few weeks ago I had the exhausting experience of taking three tweenage girls on an 8 hour trip to the Mall of Georgia. I was the only grownup in our crowd of four, and lived to tell the tale. If you want details, click here: http://monroelocal.org/2014/02/11/mal...
February 8, 2014
Paperback edition now available!
Mismatched Shoes and Upside Down Pizza is now available as a paperback on Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Mismatched-Shoe...
It can also be purchased from here: https://www.createspace.com/4570952
Help me climb the bestseller lists!!
It can also be purchased from here: https://www.createspace.com/4570952
Help me climb the bestseller lists!!
February 7, 2014
Thermostat Wars
Yesterday, my Thermostat Wars blog post was one of the top ten posts in the nation on the Patch -- that includes news stories and weather reports and everything, not just blog posts. I cannot say how excited I am and how thankful I am to the Patch Powers that Be that promoted it nationally.
http://loganville.patch.com/groups/lo...
http://loganville.patch.com/groups/lo...
Print Edition Available
I am pleased to announce (actually, I am all squeally and ridiculously excited to announce, but I thought I'd at least start out professionally) that my book, Mismatched Shoes and Upside Down Pizza is now available in a print edition: https://www.createspace.com/4570952
Buy now! Tell your friends! Write reviews! More self-promotional stuff!
Buy now! Tell your friends! Write reviews! More self-promotional stuff!
January 31, 2014
Welcome
I'm new to Goodreads, so I'm still figuring out what I can do: bear with me. (And read my book to pass the time :-) You can also find me on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/loribduffauthor
I welcome comments and constructive criticism.
I welcome comments and constructive criticism.
