I Don't Like the Tone I'm Seeing!

As a writer, it is important to me that people are able to understand the meaning of what I write. Sometime for this to happen, you need to help the reader understand the tone it is written in. Some written forms allow this to happen rather easily by allowing the writer to use tools such as italics, bold, caps, etc. One medium that lacks these options is text messaging.
I'll explain.
While it is indeed possible to use all caps in a text message, it requires pushing numerous buttons. I personally have no idea how to italicize in texting. You can underline, but again with the button pushing. In addition, the very nature of text messages is to be short, sweet and to the point. No one wants to read a dissertation on their phone.
Plus, there is always the hindrance of "text talk." brb, LOL, ttyl, BMA (Okay the last one is my own personal text talk and it is only for those of you who know me well enough to be able to figure out what it means. Hint: The first word is Bite)
I love texting, but can't really bring myself to use text talk. It goes against everything I believe in to not use proper punctuation and spellings of words. I am waiting for the first time I read an application and it has text talk instead of real words because the person no longer knows how to spell real words.
Anyway, before I continue this rant, recently my sisters and I were talking about the tones of our texts. Three out of four of us frequently correspond through texts. (The fourth is not technicalogically advanced enough to do texting.) The interesting part is that because she doesn't receive the texts, she hears about them verbally. That is how we came to hear about the perceived tones in each other's texts.
Text: Come to the cabin this weekend. It will be fun.
Response: Maybe I will have to see.
Text:Well sister 2 and sister 1 and me and mom are all going to the cabin.
All sound innocent enough, right. Now add tone with 'tude.
Text: Come to the cabin this weekend. It will be fun. Read: Come to the cabin this weekend. It will be fun.
Response: Maybe. I will have to see. Read: (With total disinterest and probable negagtivity) Maybe. I'l have to see. (Read: If nothing better comes up, I'll consider it.)
Text: Well (Read: Well!! [Add chicken head movement here]) Text:Sister 2 and sister 1 and me amd mom are going to the cabin. (Read: We are all going and will have fun with or without you. It will be your loss, not ours.)
Of course we only hear about these interpretations later after hearing the texts through the non-texting sister.
Apparently, another form of writing which doesn't allow for italics, bold, etc. is right here. I don't have any tools with whch to italicize or bold. Bummer. You'll just have to guess my tone.

The Truth About My Mom

This past weekend, I spent a day and evening at the cabin with my mom and sisters. There were a couple of friends there as well, so we couldn't help but regale our audience with tales of our past, whether distant past or recent past.
My mom said we always tell her she won't be remembered for cooking, but what can she do? I have actually been giving that a lot of thought. And the answer is EVERYTHING!
When we were growing up, my mom was a full time teacher and still managed to raise four little girls, three of which were born one right after another, one a year for three years. (Yes, it's true. I am the good child, waiting four years before making my appearance!) Not only did she do the grocery shopping, cooking, laundry, rolling up four heads in pink curlers every Saturday night so our hair would look nice for church, but she also built us Barbie furniture, made clothes, fixed our bikes and even managed to create a few inventions of her own, like the bicycle built for two. It may not have ever turned out the way she wanted it, but her persistence is the lesson that stuck.
I think back on my childhood and the biggest thing I remember is humor. That's probably why I put such stock in a good sense of humor. My mom has always told me (especially in the past few years) that I am exactly like my daddy. While I consider that a huge compliment, there is one thing I believe I got from Mom. My sense of humor.
When I remember the funny parts of my childhood, my mom was always a part of it. I think my daddy had a deep appreciation for "the funny," but I don't think he himself was all that funny. I really can't think of any funny things involving him except his reaction to my mom's antics.
I remember the look on his face as my mom "balleted" while cooking dinner. I remember his disbelief when the neighbor told him about her doing cartwheels in the front yard after tucking her dress into her pantyhose. The look of astonishment as she zoomed past him on a skateboard in K-Mart. I guess if the truth be told, I may be 90% like my daddy, but the other 10% is pure mom. She still makes me laugh and even puts up with being the butt of the joke (or the uvula as the case may be)!
So Mom, while I hate dedicating an entire blog to you :-) I love you and thank you from the bottom of my funny bone!

New Year

Ah, the new year is upon us and as usual, people all around me are talking about their new year's resolutions. Not me. I figure, I never get around to accomplishing my new year's resolution, so why bother. It just decreases my self esteem when I feel like a loser for not accomplishing what I set out to do. I mean, if you can't even keep a promise to yourself, what does that say about you? Better to set the bar very low and have zero expectations so you don't disappoiunt yourself once again.
On the other hand, I have already accomplished a great deal this year. Here it is, only the fifth day of the new year and I have already cleaned out two rooms. I actually mean CLEANED OUT two rooms. Yes, it's true. You know it's way past due when the clothes in the closet you are cleaning out must be thrown away because A) they are so old they are hopelessly out of style (yes, I threw away three shirt dresses from the 80s as well as a plethora of denim skirts I haven't been able to squish my arse in for a decade.) or B) They are yellowed with age. (Okay. some of those clothes survived the clean out. I mean how do you throw away your baby's Baptism outfit or your First Communion dress?) Yes, my wedding dress is among those items as well, as is another wedding dress??? I can only assume belongs to my sister-in-law. (Hanging with that dress was a pepto pink brides maid dress I looked horrid in.)
I must credit my mother with providing the motivation to clean out these rooms and I also credit my husband for loaning me an excavator to remove all the crap from my house!!My mom was a big help in making me realize it was time to chuck stuff. (It seems I need to be held accountable if I am ever to actually accomplish anything.)
In that respect, I was doing well with my lifestyle change of changing my eating habits to a healthier, more fit program. The holidays came and all the pounds I shed prior were replaced, as well as about five more. Now five pounds doesn't sound like much if you weigh 95 to begin with. When you have to start weighing at a grain elevator however, it is time to take a little more care.
To that end, my daughter and I have decided to get back on a healthier track. She will be my watch dog and I will have to answer to her if gain more weight or if I stray too far off the healthy bandwagon.
Okay, that is sounding a lot like a resolution, so I better stop while I'm behind. See what I mean?? I can't even keep my promise to myself not to make promises to myself! I suck.