But mom, they're only eight dollars

My entry for the 100 words for $100 blogfest is here

When my eight year old daughter announced that she'd love to get a hermit crab, I smiled and nodded. Like most childhood yearnings, I figured the love would pass if I gave it a little time. After all, we already have a dog and fish, and she has her own aquarium full of fish in her already cramped room.

Then, this year, she ended up getting her first grade teacher, the one that had introduced her to hermit crabs, as her third grade teacher. While this teacher no longer has the hermit crabs, I was persuaded to inquire as to the care and expense of those little shelled beasties. I was told it was easy, they were cheap and didn't smell. "Don't smell" almost sold me. However, I knew from my son's yearning for an anole (now dearly departed) at the same age, that I'd be the one that very likely ended up taking care of the new creature. I really didn't need more creatures to care for.

We wandered into pet stores over the months to pick up dog and fish supplies. Each time, I'd find her peering into the hermit crab tank.

"But mom, they're only eight dollars. I have eight dollars. Can I get one? Please, please, please?"

"No."

For her birthday, she asked for a hermit crab. She didn't get one. Months passed. For Christmas, she asked for a hermit crab. Oh, fine. After all, we already had a vacant ten gallon aquarium and greenery left from our anole adventure. How much more could an eight dollar hermit crab need?

December found me on covert missions to the pet store to price out supplies. I cleaned out our tank and santized it. I cleaned the greenery, climbing log, spray bottle and requiste, shallow stone bowl that had been up in the attic. I purchased a pre-boxed hermit crab kit for $24. Awesome. We're done.

I put everything in the tank, wrap it up all pretty and hide it in my bedroom.

Two days later, it occurs to me that this preboxed kit doesn't include the dirt all the care sheets say they need. I go back to the pet store. Hermit crab soil, $3. Oh, and they need a salt water bowl too, $8. And the sand included in the pre-boxed kit is sized for a tiny plastic tank. I'll need more, $8. They like coconut houses to hide under, $6. That's gotta be all I need. Right?

I sneak all my new stuff in the house, discreetly open the wrapping paper, put the new purchases inside and hide it in the bedroom.

Four days before Christmas it occurs to me that opening an empty tank isn't all that exciting and pet stores will be closed on Christmas. Then I envision getting to the pet store only to find they are sold out of the hermit crabs and my daughter crying. I should really get a hermit crab right now. I sigh, go back to pet store and get the $8 hermit crab. As I'm standing in line, I realize that I don't have anything for top of the tank. Duh. $12 for a screen top.

I creep back into the house, sneak into the attic to get our former cricket keeper container and run to my bedroom. I again open the wrapping paper, put the new top on the tank and close it up. Then I figure out that I'll need the dirt now for the crab to live in while we wait for Christmas. And the food. I bite back a scream, open the wrapping paper again, locate the required items and then hide the crab behind some stuff on my dresser and the tank with the other hidden presents.

Christmas morning finally comes. Squeals of delight fill the house as my daughter opens her hermit crab tank, and then box containing the crab which is soon named 'Shelly'. The tank is gleefully set up. Shelly is released. Hooray!

The next morning I am informed that, "Shelly is lonely. The care instructions say they like friends. I still have $8, can we go pick out a friend?"

At this point, everything is set up and she's got the $8. I shrug. The pet store people about know me by name now. "Sure, why not?"

The pet store only has two crabs left to choose from. She picks a rainbow shelled crab, soon to be named, 'Wiggly'.

I notice that the tank we get the crab from is nice and warm. I remember reading that humidity is important and our house is incredibly dry. If we want healthy, happy crabs, we'll need a heater. The ten gallon sized heater is $24. I bow my head and take a deep breath.

"Mom, look! We need to get a pretty shell in case they want to change shells."

Of course we do. Spare shell, $3.

"Mom, do we have salt water? The ones in the tank do."

I'd remembered to buy the bowl for the salt water, but not the solution to make it. Yet another smack the forehead moment. Bottle of salt water, $4.

"I don't think they like the powder food we have. Shelly didn't touch it."

Shelly hadn't touched it in five days. I had to agree. Bottle of pellet hermit crab food, $5. The misting bottle we had was also missing its spring and no longer sprayed. New misting bottle, $5.

$110 later, I have two happy hermit crabs, one ecstatic daughter, and I am duly reminded that nothing ever costs "only eight dollars."

100 words for $100

All this month, Elena over at Your Write. Except when your Rong, is holding contest wherein you must write a 100 word sentence in the hopes of winning $100. The amount of the prize depends on the number of participants, so write your monster sentence and join in!

And so, without further ado, I offer you my effort at a remotely coherent one hundred word sentence. Take a deep breath. Go.

Gentle blue waves lapped against Ciralia’s pale shoulders as she fluttered her long, slender arms around her in order to maintain her view of the great wooden ship with its crew of dirty, land-dwelling, dark-skinned men who were running to and fro with buckets on long ropes, throwing water on the bright orange fires that licked hungrily at the sun-drenched timbers, spreading and growing faster as if mocking their futile efforts, and she smiled knowing that their beautiful white bones would soon adorn her underwater kingdom far below the glittering surface that men foolishly claimed as part of their realm.

Holiday update

This week is all up in the air, kind of working, everyone home, trying to write, and trying to catch up on all the blogs and critiquing and writing I let go since pre-NaNo and the Christmas frenzy.

I've been percolating my 100 word sentence for Elena's 100 words for $100 contest. Yesterday I put my idea down and shaved my 109 word monster down to exactly 100 words. It will be revealed on or after the 1st as per the contest rules.

Christmas came to my house in a flurry of family, food and kids opening presents. My twelve year old son was ecstatic to recieve his very own laptop. Now I can use mine without finding myself logged into his facebook or gmail account. Yay for privacy for both of us.

My eight year old daughter was thrilled to get the hermit crab she'd been asking for. We have since added another hermit crab friend, so our family now contains crustaceans, Shelly and Wiggly. Both are a great source of amusement for her and obstacles the rest of us have to make sure we're not stepping on when she has them out of their home to play.

I don't have anything up for critique next week, so my time will be spent getting my next NaNo short edited and introduced here. Healer and Blue Warning both gathered a pile of critiques I need to go over and then I'll be sending the shorts out into submissionland.

My cold had finally subsided to a random cough here and there and I've been able to sleep in two days in a row. Even better yet, I've been able to sleep in bed (I spent the majority of a week on the couch so my husband could sleep) and through the entire night. It's been wonderful.

I hope you are all enjoying your post Christmas/pre New Year week!

In search of a day off

I've been sick, not horribly sick thankfully, but with one of those lingering colds that sends me into coughing fits and leaves me perpetually tired. Despite my best efforts to get well it just doesn't seem to be happening. This could be in due to that cursed, tattered, red superwoman cape.

I have tried to take the stupid thing off. The ties are stuck and they are impervious to all cutting items. Setting it on fire while its stuck on my person is probably not a good idea.

Now, since school is finally out for Christmas break, I thought I'd might catch a break with some down time. Alas, it has not been so.

Saturday: "Mom, when are we going to bake Christmas cookies? It's almost Christmas!" Oh crap. We made cookies and fudge, but I cut way back this year from all the goodies I normally bake. I make my son get out of the car and deliver the goodies to our usual list of recipients.

Sunday: I'd already made plans (and reservations) to spend the night with my friend and her kids at an indoor waterpark with an overnight winter cabin stay. This was our solution to not doing our usual gift exchange because no one really needed more 'stuff'. It was fun, but the chlorine filled air did little to help my angry sinuses. Running around to keep my little Ms. I-don't-like-the-waterpark-for-whatever-sudden-reason and the teen, Mr. I'd-rather-hang-with-my-Ipod, entertained while keeping an eye on our two water loving tweens was hardly restful.

Monday: Got home in the afternoon and had a pile of work to catch up on. Being self employed has its downfalls. There are no minions to take up the slack when you are sick or out of town (or both). Not to mention, people want everything right away, cause you know, it's almost Christmas and they didn't plan ahead for their gift items. Somehow, despite the fact that we are hit up with an xmas countdown sometime in July and are inundated with said countdown from November first onward, this winter holiday manages to sneak up on some folks like the stealthiest ninja. Then there's dinner to squeeze in before running off to play Boy Scout secretary for a rambling two hour committee meeting which makes me an hour late for the recorded tv show finale (that we missed due to being out of down) that my family is impatiently waiting to watch with me.

Tuesday: I'm going to take the day off darn it. Umm yeah. Until I get a call from the mother-in-law saying she needs groceries, and she needs them now because she's out of Coke. No one else is apparently capable of getting her the correct kind of Coke that she wants. Then I realize that instead of waiting until Christmas eve day, I could take care of it now. I usually get her an extra bag couple bags of groceries--filled with all the treats she wants but doesn't dare buy because they're not on sale--so I might as well drag my behind out in the twenty degree winter weather and go to the store. And while I'm at it, I better drop off the eight forty pound boxes of books at the UPS store from our NaNoWriMo Used Book Drive that have been sitting in my garage before we get a below freezing day and the bottom boxes get wet. Oh and there's more work to do that I also have to deliver.

Wednesday: Ok, I'm at least going to sleep in. Darn it. The dog sees a squirrel invading our bird feeder and whines right outside my door, then right next to my head in case I missed the signal that he wants to go outside. I take care of the dog and crawl back in bed. Just as I'm getting back to sleep, the phone rings. It's right next to my head and the kids are sleeping so letting it ring will only wake them up too. I sigh and answer it. Wouldn't I love to donate to Special Olympics? Great cause, but you people call me ever other freakin month. It's 8:30 am. Heck no. I fall back on the pillow and close my eyes. The phone rings again. Our investor--that we've been playing phone tag with for three weeks--calls to give me an update on our accounts. Then the business line is ringing... downstairs. Someone needs a last minute Christmas gift. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

Is one day with out being needed by someone, when I need a day for me, too much to ask?

Tyler attacks

Xander leans over to Ms. Wildstar and points down the row of paper. "Look, it's someone new."

A boy, maybe fourteen years old, wearing blue jeans and t-shirt ambles towards them.

"Hey, kid, what's your name?" Ms. Wildstar stands and pulls Xander up with her. She whispers, "Something about him doesn't look right. Get your slingshot."

"I don't have it." He eyes the boy. "November is over. You and Nekar said to stay armed all November. We're over halfway into December. I got sick of carrying that stupid rusty slingshot around."

"You idiot!" She glances up at the desk looming over them. "Haven't you heard her? She's resumed her regular writing sounds. She's here again, not toting her computer off to those write-in things she kept mumbling about. That means she's either cleaning up those stories or done with them."

Ms. Wildstar backs into the wall of paper. The thin edges of the sheets press into her back. "We've got to get out of here!"

Xander spins around. "What about your slingshot, Ms. Always Prepared?"

Ms. Wildstar checks her nametag and lets out a relieved sigh. "Hey, that's not my name. Thankfully. That would be horrible."

"I'm beginning to see why you got cut," he mutters. "Concentrate! Where is your slingshot?"

"I used it on a boy with a weird silver pinky finger a couple weeks ago."

"You never told me about that."

"What, are you jealous or something? I killed him, just like we're supposed to do."

"Of course not."

The boy is hunched over, reading a passage from on a crumpled paper.

"Is the slingshot a one time use sort of thing?"

She blushes "Not is used correctly."

"Why the hell are you blushing at at time like this?"

"It's what I do. Character flaw, or something." She crosses her arms over her chest and pouts.

"Seriously? Pouting now?"

"Oh shut up. I wasn't written at the same skill level as you, Mr. Smarty Pants."

Xander resists for a second but then glances at his name tag. "That would just be cruel." He shakes his head. "Really though, what are we going to do about that kid?"

"Hello there. My name is Tyler. Have you seen my story? I seem to have been seperated from it when I fell from the almighty desktop." He looks wistfully to the dark desktop high above them.

"Okay, that was creepy," Xander whispers. "He was over there, and suddenly he's right here."

"Victim of a story with missing scenes. He's able to jump ahead in time." She smiles at Tyler. "I think I saw your story over there. How about we help you find it?"

Tyler regards her with empty eyes. "That would be nice. Thank you."

Xander and Ms. Wildstar fall into step a few yards behind Tyler. "Why are you being nice to him?"

"I'm not. Go get Nekar."

"You'll be all right with Tyler alone?"

"I'll smile a lot at him. It's what I do best."

"Right." Xander lopes off though the paper lined paths.

"So, Tyler, what is your story called?"

"Sidewalking."

"I remember her talking about that. Bicycle on a sidewalk right?"

"Yes! You've read it?"

"Uh. Yeah. Of course. It's right here." She opens up a still bright white wad of discarded story. Go in and have a look."

He climbs up the crinkled side and into the opening at the top. "This is it! You found it!"

"I'll let you in on a little secret. The way to get back into your story is to read it a couple of times."

Tyler goes silent. Ms. Wildstar taps her foot. "Where are they?"

Xander comes runing down the path with Nekar, carrying a crate of adverbs, close behind. "Where is he?"

She nods to the paper wad. "In there."

"Good job," says Nekar. "I'll take it from here. You kids go on now. You don't what to be around for this."

"He's right." Ms. Wildstar takes Xander's hand and leads him away. Behind them they hear Nekar scale the paper wad with his crate in hand.

They both turned around for a moment. At the top, Neker pauses and draws out a handful of words. He hurls them at the boy inside. Sharply follows deadly and pointedly. "Take that you half-formed NaNo cast off."

Nekar pulls another handful of words from his crate. They turn away.

Xander cringed. "What's he going to do?"

"Haven't you ever read his character bio sheet?"

"No, why?"

She smiles. "He's an assassin."