Have you ever wondered if inanimate objects may possibly be sentient? Ever since I saw Disney’s The Love Bug in which Herbie the Volkswagen Beetle exhibits sentience, I’ve been a believer. I treat my MacBook Pro like a member of my household rather than as a piece of equipment. I talk sweetly to it and never cuss at it should something go wrong. I know it’s not my Mac’s fault. It’s usually my fault, Apple’s fault, or our Internet Provider’s fault. MG on the other hand frequently cusses out his MacBook Pro, his iPad, and his iPhone. They all despise him and give him a ration of grief on a regular basis. As MG’s resident tech support, I have to fix everything and convince them all to forgive him.
Not the stop doing that cut that out. I mean cut something out of something. In this case, a manuscript with too many pages. Way too many pages. OMG, too many pages.
One of my works in progress is a science fiction romance entitled The Star Tripper. [Think Xena, Warrior Princess meets Star Trek meets Pirates of the Caribbean.] I aimed for 400 pages worth of manuscript. Star Tripper topped out at 598. Whoa. Talk about verbose. Apparently, I write the way I speak—too much and too long. ::sigh::
Spring Break time came around and we got the usual call. Would MG and I pet sit Buddy the Golden Doodle for two weeks while our Second Son and his family went to Florida? Sure we would. We’re dog people, and Buddy is adorable. We love having him visit Grandma’s Pet Camp.
Then we got the text. Not a call, a text. Would we also be willing to critter sit Oliver, the Princess’s cute little pet hamster?
Oh. Um. Critter sit a little, uh, rodent? In our nice, clean, vermin-free house? Oh, boy. Well now, how could we possibly refuse to take care of our elder granddaughter’s cute little hamster? So, okay, sure. We’d. Love. To.
Taking care of Oliver fell to me, of course. Why was I not surprised at that?
Second Son arrived with both pets on Palm Sunday after church. When we opened the door, Buddy rushed in first, tail wagging, obviously excited and happy to see us. After running around the house to check everything out, he proceeded to chew on his toy pork chop. He hadn’t yet figured out he wasn’t going to sunny Florida with the family. Soon he would realize he was staying in frigid Michigan with Grandma and Grandpa where he would be spoiled rotten. As the grandpuppy, being spoiled rotten was his natural right.
Each time we return home from visiting my Baby Sis in Florida, we drive by the Huntsville, Alabama, exit on I-65 and talk about visiting the Rocket City’s US Space and Rocket Center (USSRC), the home of Space Camp. We figured it had to be an exciting place. Maybe we’ll visit it someday. When we’re not in a rush to get home, which we always were.
This year, February 15th became someday.
I suppose it was inevitable that I would become a NASA buff. I’ve been a science fiction fan since I checked Robert A. Heinlein’s Red Planet out of the library to read for a fourth grade book report. [It was a science fiction juvenile novel actually written for boys, but why couldn’t a girl read it? Aren’t we all taught to share?]