There Is Something Wrong With Your Hearing

My family has been saying that a lot lately.

When my husband answered my question, "What protein should I give Megan this morning; she has a swim meet today?" He said, "Give her a grenade." 
Wait!...
What?

I think it was the pillow earmuffs that I use in the morning to quiet the getting-ready-for-work noise my husband makes.  Or maybe it was the make-a-cave-with-two-pillows technique I use sometimes (Yes, I can breathe.  That's what the cave opening is for. My husband thinks I need a snorkel).  Not being a morning person, that extra half-hour of shut-eye is priceless. 
After I emerged from my cozy, earmuff pillow cave, I did realize that I heard incorrectly and gathered that he had actually said, "Make her an egg."

My kids have been commenting about how poor my hearing is too, but they tend to converse with me while being several rooms away and mutter their words or while they have a mouthful of food or while my mind is on something else.  So, I think it's understandable that I'm not hearing them correctly.

It does, however, remind me of the time that I thought George Michaels words in one of his songs were, "Would you like me to introduce you?" When what is actually said is, "Would you like me to seduce you?" One can chalk that up as a common mistake.  Lots of people mess up words to songs.

My son just thinks I'm old.  Especially when I mention people like George Michaels, "Who?"

I can hear the kids just fine when they're fighting or drinking out of the milk carton or rifling through the pantry too close to dinnertime even when my mind is on something else.  I can even tell you who it is that's doing those things just by the way it sounds.

My hearing is positively bionic when it comes to some things. 
Really, my hearing is fine and always has been...except for that George Michaels song. 

I'm just trying my hardest to be good at everything I do every day as a wife, mom, and artist.



It's more likely that my hearing has gotten selective after raising kids for all these years.

Now, if they accused me of being forgetful or absent-minded.  They would be correct.





I can find my car in a parking lot and am really good at directions and know which way is North,
South, West, or East, but sometimes forget why I enter a room.

(Where can I get one of these?)

That GPS thing for busy moms would come in handy.  So would a cloning device.

My excuse for any memory loss, besides needing to eat more blueberries, is that I have way too much on my mind. 

After all, besides the wife and mother job, I'm trying to make an art business successful.

The latest doozie of memory loss was during my studio tour.  There were so many people at one point that I lost track of who I had already introduced myself to and re-introduced myself to the same lady three times.  The third time around she was laughing and said, "Well, hello, again.  Nice to meet you too." 

My response was, "Well, I'm triple blessed to meet you...again."

I'm not very good with names, but I am usually really good with faces (except for that lady I met three times.); however, if you come into my studio wearing transitional lenses, I probably won't recognize you when they turn from shades to glasses (Don't turn your back. Those things work really fast).  And if I introduce myself twice or three times to you, that could be why.

I guess this is as good of time as any to formally apologize, "To the lovely lady with the transitional lenses,  I sincerely apologize for thinking you were two different people.  I swear I'm not insane just a little distracted sometimes." ...
Speaking of ... I know there's something I'm suppose to be doing right now...

...Oh, shoot!  I forgot.  I'm suppose to pick up my daughter early today...

...time to switch back to my "raising kids" head.



More art stories:
Don't Ever Do This
Mission Impossible-Almost
A Lesson In Fashion Turns Into A Funny Tattoo Story
Curiosity And Other Artistic Traits
Demo Is A Four Letter Word

See my artwork on My Website
Follow me of Facebook
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Don't Ever Do This!

My brain seems to never stop problem solving. My head is constantly full of ideas.  Many of them are successful.  Some are really great.  Some not so much.

My studio tour, the first one I'd ever done, was coming up and I had a last minute idea. It was a brilliant idea (or so I thought). My idea was to pass out 100 flyers to 100 of my closest neighbors.

Why hadn't anyone else on the tour thought of this?

My neighborhood is pretty spread out and is a fairly rural area. All the properties are separated by a green belt. Because of this I barely even know my closest neighbors. I felt it was a perfect opportunity, a perfect excuse, to market myself. After all, the whole goal of me doing the tour this year was to share with my community what I do and, hopefully, to gain more followers. So, I made up a simple flyer.

The first line said in large letters, "Did You Know That Your Neighbor Is An Artist?" Followed by, "Come visit her studio and see her latest works of art." The rest of the info briefly stated the date of the tour, and my address, and my website address.

After printing 100 copies, folding the flyer so the eye-catching lines were above the fold, I stapled a business card to the flyer.

A great and cheap marketing idea, right? Now, how does one go about distributing this information?

Here comes the part that you should never do. My "Lucille Ball" moment.

(see any resemblance?)

It was about 3:00 pm and I was very selective about which neighbors mailboxes would receive my flyers.

The ones I liked the best were those that were in tight rows.

It made the distribution more efficient.

Houses that looked disheveled or mysterious or had lots of worn out cars parked outside didn't receive a flyer. Surely, they would have no interest in art or me for that matter.





This type of marketing turned out to not be the most brilliant of my ideas.

Turns out that it is a federal offense to open someone's mailbox even if you aren't removing their mail and giving them exciting-happy-neighborhood-event type of mail. 

It makes sense. 

I get it...now.

(Far Side cartoon by Gary Larson)

           

Thankfully, I only got one irate phone call. Her timing was perfect. She called me a 1/2 hour before the tour was about to start and left this message, "Don't ever put a flyer in my mailbox again! That's a federal offense!"

Hearing that made me feel like I'd been punched in the stomach. Already nervous about the success of the tour, I now was very worried that I would get reported and fined a billion dollars...

or worse...be put in jail. That would not be cool.  Even if I do look good in orange.

"Lucy!  You've got some 'splainin' to do!"

In the words of what Lucille Ball might say, "WAAA! All I wanted to do was be neighborly, invite them to visit and to meet them in a very positive environment. WAAA!"

So far, no phone calls or subpoena (or whatever they give you) from the post master, no retaliation of any sort and no police officer at my door.

Whew!

Btw, one of the receivers of my mailbox flyer is a police officer. Yeesh! 

He did not come to my studio.  Only a few of my neighbors came.  The tour was still a success.  People came from all over and I had 130 visitors and had a few sales.  Not bad for my first tour.

Next time, though, I'll inform my neighbors in a legal way.

More art stories:
Mission Impossible-Almost
A Lesson In Fashion Turns Into A Funny Tattoo Story
Curiosity And Other Artistic Traits
Demo Is A Four Letter Word

See my artwork on My Website
Follow me of Facebook
Follow me on Twitter