Switching Places by Bonnie Le Hamilton

 

Last week Konnie wrote about us switching places, and she said we never tried it in junior high or high school, which isn’t quite accurate.

Yes, we never tried switching places on April Fool’s Day, but we did switch once. During the first week of seventh grade, ergo, not as a prank. In fact, the only person we intended to fool was Konnie’s assigned locker partner, who was being an unmitigated brat.

To put it simply, at one point this cretin got a new lock for their shared locker but absolutely refused to give Konnie the new combo. She was going as far as to block Konnie’s view while she opened it!

Konnie tried everything she could think of, including complaining to their homeroom teacher who told Konnie she couldn’t do anything about it and to work out a compromise.

What kind of compromise can you work out with someone who refuses to budge?

Konnie was at her wits end, so I turned to my best friend, my assigned locker partner, and told her Konnie and I were switching places for homeroom only. I did tell her why and she was all for it.

I think a few of our other friends from the previous school year recognized we’d switched places, but none of our friends from the previous year was in Konnie’s homeroom, so no trouble.

When it came time to get into our lockers I used as much force as I could muster to get her to let me see the combo. She was stronger than she looked. So, knowing Konnie’s teacher would be no help, I took off to the front office to air my grievance about this brat.

The school secretary had the same attitude as the teacher.

I admit it, I lost my temper, and back then I had quite a potty mouth, which got me scolded and threatened with expulsion from the secretary and the principal. All of which increased my tirade.

Our big sister’s best friend was only in ninth grade, so not in high school like our big sister, and she heard me yelling so she came to find out what was wrong.

She pointed out that the school staff did not want to deal with our mother, who taught me the potty mouth, and was also a journalism student at the local university. She basically said, “Mistreat her daughters and you’re going to be in the news.”

She also insisted that Konnie could share her locker, since she didn’t have a locker partner.

Konnie moved lockers.

The brat got what she wanted all along, but I’m not sure she enjoyed it.

Before week two of that year was over, the whole school knew why a little seventh grader had a locker in the nineth grade hall. And they knew who caused that change.

I don’t know if she learned her lesson or not, but I do know she didn’t make a whole lot of friends that year, and I saw her get hazed more than once. Actually, I saw her get hazed repeatedly.

And if you are wondering, Konnie and I did not get hazed at all that year due to the threat our big sister had issued at the end of the previous year, just before she advanced to high school. She promised that anyone who dared to haze her baby sisters would get it twice as bad when they got to high school.

The high school in question was notorious back then for horrendous hazing and there was no way any of us could have known then that by the following school year we would be living in a different city altogether.

The threat worked.

Actually, once my best friend and I were walking away from the school when a guy came up behind us. I think he had skates on, I can’t remember for sure, but he dove between my friend’s legs and smeared red lipstick down the inside of both her legs. When he jumped to his feet and actually looked at us, his expression turned to horror and he yelled, “That’s Jacki’s kid sister!”

I turned to find another guy stop dead in the middle of an attack run on me, also horrified.

I took advantage of their terror and yelled at both of them, “Touch my best friend again and you’ll regret it!”

There was another incident that year where a guy got a towel and was flicking the girls in the gym. The other girls ran; I turned and faced him, asking his name.

He asked me why and I said, “Well, I need your name to tell Jacki. You know Jacki Westover, my big sister.”

He hightailed it out of there so fast the other girls cracked up.

But anyway, we did once trade places in seventh grade.

Happy writing everyone.

Of Switching Places and April Fool’s by Konnie Enos

 

Last night Bonnie called me to remind me it was my turn to do the post which I honestly hadn’t been thinking about because well, I am sick yet again. But I did promise her I’d get something up. So here I am at way too early in the morning typing well, something.

You see, which is usually the case, I had no idea what to write about. This had me spending the next hour or so after she called trying to generate an idea. Not coming up with one, I felt getting some sleep and working on it this morning might help.

It was as I was preparing to get into bed that a thought occurred to me. You see I had just been updating my planner, so it was prepared to handle this new month. I realized that today is April 1^st. In other words, April Fool’s Day.

Now I have never been into playing pranks on people. In fact, the inane antics of the males in our family when I was a teenager turned me completely off the whole thing. Generally, I just ignore that it’s April Fool’s Day.

However, being an identical twin Bonnie and I did try switching places. The only two times I can think of was when we were about 9 and I do not remember which one we did first, but I’ll start with Momma.

We were in the living room of our home and for some reason decided to convince our mother that she had us mixed up. It was way easier than it should have been. And far harder to convince her that we’d been pulling a prank on her. But then she was never able to completely tell us apart anyway. When we called her, as adults, the two of us would have to specifically tell her which one we were, each and every time. (For that matter, our dad was just as bad.)

Obviously, fooling our mother worked so we decided to switch places at school one day. This was one of those schools who had multiple classrooms for our grade and was among those idiotic schools who also felt separating twins was a requirement. We were in different classrooms.

That morning, I went to her class and sat in her seat participating in the lesson with her classmates. We were only a few minutes into the lesson when my teacher came to the classroom with Bonnie and switched us back. Of all the people we interacted with that morning, my teacher was the first one to figure it out.

We honestly never attempted to switch places again. And no, I don’t think either of those efforts happened on April Fool’s Day. (Don’t quote me on this because that was long enough ago that I seriously can’t remember dates.)

But this post is about April Fool’s Day, so I also remembered one event that did happen on that day.

About three years after the aforementioned events, we were at a different school (not a newsflash, we were always at a different school back then). At this school the principle understood twins and refused to place them in different classes.

Now this teacher, for whatever reason, could easily tell us apart. She simply had no issues with mixing us up, unlike our classmates who were always mixing us up.

Now the morning of April Fool’s Day we were walking to school with a friend who lived on the same block we did, and she brought up the fact it was April Fool’s Day. Neither Bonnie nor I had even remembered that fact. We had not made any efforts to switch places and didn’t think it would work anyway because our teacher could tell us apart.

That particular day must have been a switch day anyway because, other than our friend who knew we weren’t switched, every single one of our classmates had no issues getting us by the correct name that day. And our teacher? Well, she was absolutely convinced we’d switched places. I know she told us to get into our correct assigned seat at least once when we were already in our correct seats.

The one time we didn’t make any attempts to switch, everyone around us assumed we had.

Once we hit junior high school, we knew the possibility of switching at school was impossible. Mostly because our classes were different. But that’s also when other students, mostly of the male persuasion, started assuming there was only one of us. And they were constantly mad at her because I didn’t say hi to them in the hallways.

What can I say. I’m the shy one. I wasn’t about to talk to guys I didn’t know.

Smile. Make the day a brighter day.

About Knowing the Difference by Bonnie Le Hamilton

 

 

Okay, fair warning, I’m about to go on a rant; blame my OCD, but here it is:

There is a huge difference between crochet and knitting, even though they both use yarn and thread.

And it seems quite a few people don’t seem to know the difference.

How do I know this? Well, it started a while back when I came across a post online about what something handknit actually costs. It was a nice post, well-written and very valid; the problem was that the picture attached to the post was that of a crochet hook sticking out of a ball of yarn.

I repeat, the post was about knitting.

I know I can be a little too nitpicky since I do have mild OCD, so I really tried to ignore that mistake, I promise, but then I started playing an online game called Word Solitaire. The premise of this game is that you have a set of cards, some have pictures, others have words, some of the word ones are a different color, meaning they are the “category” all the other cards have to match.

Simple.

I found it to be a fun and relaxing game, until I came across a card picturing a crochet hook with a bit of yarn. Ok, I hadn’t seen a category for crochet yet, but that’s okay, I haven’t seen all the cards. There was, however, already the category of knitting.

But, in my mind, it can’t go there because it is not knitting.

When I was down to just that card, the only spot left was the knitting pile.

Cue me muttering under my breath over the stupidity of it all.

And that would be the end of it, but well, I play that game every day, and I’ve come across that same picture a couple more times; once it was knitting again, and another time it went in “needles.”

Here is my rant:

It’s bad enough when people confuse crochet with knitting, but since when is "A hook" needles?

Let me point this out with the pictures above: one shows a bunch of crochet hooks, and the other shows two sets of knitting needles. This is because knitting requires a SET of needles to work while crochet utilizes just one hook.

And I might also point out the “hook” on the end of the crochet hooks and the sharp points on the end of the needles. These are the two big differences between crochet and knitting.

There are others, mostly to do with stitches and forming rows. So, while they are two crafts using the same textiles, they are not the same craft.

In fact, lumping crocheting with knitting is like lumping beading with sewing. They both use needles, but the needles are different.

Beading can be more closely associated with embroidery; in fact, you can do them together on the same piece. I have. The needles are still slightly different, but they still have big eyes, unlike sewing needles.

And admittedly, you can embroider on hand-sewn projects, but the skills are different.

Honestly, not everybody who can crochet can knit, and not everybody who can knit can crochet; the same goes for embroidery, sewing, and beading.

Please forget that I do all of these crafts. I am a creative person, and, as I can’t draw worth beans, I have to create somehow.

The needles and hooks pictured above are my own, and I could picture beading, embroidery, and sewing needles as well.

I know my way around handicrafts, and I do use that knowledge in my writing. And believe me, I would get terribly upset if I ever found a book where the author didn’t know what they were talking about!

Can you imagine an author talking about their character doing embroidery, but doesn’t mention the embroidery hoop? Or using beading as an activity for their character, but doesn’t know why beaders have a little round of wax in their kit, and what the wax is for!

By the way, that wax works in embroidery too, especially if you are using metallic thread. Speaking from experience.

Or an author writing a character crocheting, but goes on to describe using needles?

Yeah, that doesn’t work either.

Of course, we are supposed to write what we know, and so far, I haven’t found a book using these handicrafts where the author didn’t know these crafts.

Though I might point out that it is possible to know enough about handicrafts to put them in a story. I’ve done it, but not with a lot of detail, where I have no or little experience with the craft. And it’s only the one story, where my characters do way more handicrafts than I do.

At least I could name them!

Anyway, happy writing, everyone.

Of Last-Minute Panics and Quick Solutions by Konnie Enos

One recent morning, my husband came up to me and asked if we had paid to renew our tags this year. Well, not that I remembered, but being our age, consulting records to confirm things was in order.

I quickly pulled out my computer, logged on and opened Quicken. After a couple of quick searches, I was able to undeniably confirm we indeed had not paid to renew our tags. We hadn’t even done the required smog test yet. We also searched for the card, or email, we would have gotten to remind us.

I did not have it.

Big problem. According to my husband, they were due THAT DAY.

Mild panic.

Now pre-pandemic you either had to take in the paper the smog test people gave you or wait 24 to 48-hours for the information to reach the DMV. If you aren’t waiting that means a trip to the DMV, with all necessary proof and paperwork, then waiting hours to do a few minutes transaction. For us, one of those proofs had to be processed in person. Their kiosks wouldn’t even accept it. (I know this because we tried once.)

Post-pandemic our DMV started doing appointments, but they do allow walk-ins if it’s not too busy. Which is fine in the smaller cities, but Las Vegas isn’t small. Our local offices are packed, even with appointments only. Oh, and appointments are 60 to 90 days out. Obviously, we can’t wait that long. They also have online solutions for getting licenses and tags renewed, and wonderful news, it takes all our proofs online. Though obviously, you can’t renew tags online if the tags have expired.

Since the tags expired that day, I assumed this option was not available to us, but I knew about trip permits. For $1 you could get a 10-day trip permit. This would buy us 10 days to figure out getting the smog done and the fastest way to get the tags renewed. Which probably isn’t the DMV, but perhaps one of their kiosks. I mean if online can take all our proofs, I would assume the kiosk now could too.

I quickly got online and searched for the option to get a trip permit. This required the driver’s license number of a registered owner of the vehicle. I am not one of the registered owners of our car. That would be my husband and daughter since they drive it the most.

I ask my husband for his driver’s license, but he tells me he is in the middle of something and can’t hand it to me at the moment.

Considering he is a major worrywart and would refuse to drive our car anywhere without up-to-date tags, I assumed he was even more panicked than I was.

So, what was he doing?

He was on the DMV site himself looking for the quickest possible solution. In the end he does not give me his license number.

What does he do?

Well, one, he found and showed to me that our tags were still active, as in not expired yet, though the last day was, as expected, that very day. Clearly we needed to act fast.

That’s exactly what he did. He grabbed a super quick shower, got dressed and ran out the door. He drove to the nearest smog testing site. Got it done and hurried back home.

Then he quickly pulled up the DMV site again and navigated back to the portal for renewing our tags.  One thing of note, post-pandemic, the smog test is now immediately transmitted to the DMV. My husband did everything but enter our payment options, which he had me do.  

Once we had the payment confirmation he printed everything up and gave all our proof to our daughter, who needed the car.

Done!

In roughly an hour we went from full panic to completely taken care of.

Again, pre-pandemic this would have taken an entire day minimum. Probably several days, considering the extreme amount of time a trip to the DMV consumes in and of itself, assuming we wouldn’t also have to wait for an appointment that was 60 to 90 days out.

We can say a lot of things about what we went through during the pandemic, but had we not had to deal with all those restrictions, the powers that be might not have worked out ways to help us avoid in-person transactions.

I mean now we can order groceries for pick-up or delivery. Pre-pandemic our neighborhood was in a blanket “do not deliver” zone. Not even the literal closest pizza place a couple minutes’ drive from here, would deliver in this neighborhood. Now we can get stuff delivered anytime we want. Yes, it costs, and isn’t exactly cheap, but it's a convenience we didn’t used to have.

Smile. Make the day a brighter day.