Dear Kid,

Sunday is an interesting day.

It’s either the first day of the week or the last day of the week depending on how you count these things. For some people it is a day of rest, for some it is a day of work, for some it is a day of football (at least this time of year), and for some it is a day of catching up and cooking.

No century (if you are following the Gregorian calendar) starts on a Sunday. Rosh Hashana never falls on a Sunday.

Today (for me) has turned into a day of grocery shopping (did you know that when you buy $200 worth of groceries you can’t really go through the Express Lane unless the lane you were going to go through is staffed by someone who REALLY wants to go on break?), baking, cooking, soup making, and football watching (although I didn’t turn on the Bengals game in time and missed the safety. Dang!). I am really hoping some elves show up to help clean in the kitchen but so far no sign of them.

You may be wondering where the name Sunday came from. Turns out there are a lot of etymological explanations. Unfortunately, all those explanations involve a LOT of words which I don’t have time to read (what with being the only one home to do any cleaning up in the kitchen).

Who Dey!

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

Today is Hercules’ birthday!

Do you know how I know? Because My Friend the Internet told me so. MFI may or may not be right, but that’s beside the point. Hercules isn’t around to offer cake, but neither is he around to debate his actual natal day, so I say let’s go for it.

Happy Birthday, Hercules!

And so, to a bit about Hercules.

Hercules was a man and a god which made it difficult to decide which department to shop in when buying clothes. His lineage was a bit complicated, but basically he’s his own uncle and his own grandfather. It’s possible he’s also his own niece but there is very little evidence to back that up.

Hercules (or Heracles if you prefer) was quite a ladies man, and he clearly had not read any of the latest college campus materials because he left a lot of baby Herculeses running around. And by “a lot” I mean no one can count that high.

Hercules was by no means dumb, but he did one extraordinarily stoooopid thing in his life—he got Hera mad.

Now, when Greek or Roman gods got mad, they tended to throw a lightning bolt or smote the offender. Quick, easy, done.

Goddess tended to go for the long, drawn out, endless torture. (You may recall that Athena held a grudge or two.) In this case, Hera decided to punish Hercules by sending him to work for King Eurystheys. It was a bit (and by “a bit” I mean waaaaay) more complicated than that, but in the end that’s what it amounted to.

So Hercules went off to do whatever Eurystheys wanted.

What Eurystheys wanted was to make Hercules work (and suffer).

Enter Treachery (stage right), Suffering (stage left), and a bunch of crazy creatures (from all directions).

Eurystheys came up with a bunch of chores for Hercules. These weren’t ordinary please-take-out-the-garbage chores. They were Herculean (as it were).

There are conflicts about which task was first (MFI wasn’t around then to document things precisely), but basically Hercules went around slaying and capturing big, bad, terrifying, mythical (or perhaps not) creatures with an occasional break for cleaning out the stables and stealing things that didn’t belong to him.

One of the creatures he captured was Cerberus, the three-headed dog. This is important because Cerberus shows up (in disguise) in Harry Potter. Remember his pseudonym?

After Hercules had completed 12 of his 10 tasks (it got a little complicated what with Eurystheys saying Hercules couldn’t have help and Hercules needing help for some of the tasks), our hero went on more adventures because that’s basically the job description of a man-god.

He was also one of the first male supermodels and almost always insisted on posing nude while he flexed his muscles. You might see proof of this in your Art History class. When he got tired of posing he became a film star.

Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday Dear Hercules, Happy Birthday to You!

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

It’s March, and for many of us Spring Cleaning is in the air (and by Spring Cleaning is in the Air I mean I am sneezing up a storm as evict Dust Dragons that have been in the house as long as we have).

I know that you guys do a reasonable job of keeping your room hygienic (and by Hygienic I mean the health squad hasn’t condemned the place), but I’m going to go out on a limb here and take a wild guess that none of your electronic devices have been cleaned. Ever.

Fortunately for you, Real Simple magazine had an article about this very subject. Even more fortunately for you, I not only read the article, I have consolidated the important points into this blog. You’re welcome.

Technology Spring Clean Up

Cell Phone

Let’s deal with the most disgusting part first. Your cell phone probably has fecal matter on it. Ewww. How? you ask. Many people take their cell phone into the potty with them. According to scientific data which I just made up, college students are 10 times more likely than their parents to take their cell phones into the bathroom with them. Once in the bathroom, you (eventually) flush which causes gazillions of contaminated droplets to spew out of the toilet, into the air, and go searching for somewhere nice to land. Like your hands and your phone.

Wash your hands.

If your phone happens to claim it’s waterproof and you feel up to testing that theory, wash your phone.

If not, use wipes made for wireless devices. Frequently.

Laptop

You’ve probably been using your hands to type on your laptop. Which would be fine if your hands weren’t covered in dirt and oil and germs, and if other people’s germs weren’t circling in space just waiting to land on your keyboard and spring onto your paws. When you think about it, the world is pretty germ-y.

Do not (repeat do NOT) use glass cleaner on your screen. Not now, not ever. You can use a specialty screen cleaner (if you are loaded with money and time) or a damp cloth (if you are not).

You’re supposed to use Sophisticated UV Wands to clean the keyboard. Since I do not own (or intend to own) such a device, I use a wipey-thing. But that is not Officially Approved so don’t blame me if it doesn’t work. Compressed air is also handy for getting crumbs out of keyboard cracks. Not that any of us would ever eat near our computer.

Remote Control

Another Top Spot on the Ick Patrol. Compressed air can be nifty here too. Then Swipe with a Wipe.

Earbuds

Wipe with a damp cloth that has a little soap on it. Follow up with a damp cloth that does not have soap on it. Dry. Do not even think about contemplating all the disgusting things on your earbuds.

Room Key

OK, it’s not electronic and Real Simple didn’t say a thing about it, but I feel pretty confident guessing it has never been cleaned and needs to be. Fortunately, you don’t have to worry about damaging its touch screen or shorting out its circuits, so just wash the darn thing with soap and water.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid Who Smells Like Short Hair,

Things have gone crazy here.

First of all, Mom and the Kid Who Smells Like Long Hair went to the groomers this morning. I’m really glad I just get my fur brushed and don’t have to get it cut, because it took a loooong time.

When they got home, Mom first helped Daddy stuff and seal A Lot of envelopes (I counted) which he had to mail for Ohio River Foundation. (I like Ohio River Foundation stuff. It smells like River and Mud which is fabulous. The envelopes didn’t smell like River or Mud. When I asked Daddy why he said it’s because they are asking people for money envelopes. I think they would be better if they smelled like River.)

Once that was done, Mom decided it was time to Make Some Progress. Do you know what it means to Make Some Progress? I do. First it mean moving a lot of dust around which made me sneeze. Twice. Then everyone had to help pull things out of closets. Mom went through all the things, found one or two items about which she could pronounce “We Don’t Need That,” and then everything else went back in the closets. That’s what it means to Make Some Progress.

I don’t want to be put in the “We Don’t Need That” pile or be put in a closet, so I’m hiding under the couch with my new chipmunk toy.

Mom says once she finishes this, it will be On to the Next Project. I’m hoping she forgets and decides to snuggle with me instead.

It snowed yesterday. I tried very hard to catch some snowflakes but they all disappeared. I don’t know how they do that and then reappear on the ground. It’s very confusing.

We’re supposed to get ice and freezing rain tomorrow. I don’t like ice so I think I might stay under the couch where it’s cozy. I’m also going to practice my pathetic look so someone will feel sorry for me and feed me treats. I love treats.

Hope someone is feeding you treats.

Love, Booker

Dear Kid,

I was in the mood to clean yesterday.

“In the Mood to Clean” is—in my world—sort of like cicadas: happens in odd cycles, is generally messy, impacts everyone in the vicinity, seems to go on forever but is in reality short lived, and in no time at all it’s as though it had never been.

I have always believed in having a neat and clean living area. While I have frequently achieved clean, I seem to be able to manage “neat” only intermittently. Fortunately, Auntie M explained that she and I inherited the Clutter Gene and therefore  can’t be held responsible for all the piles and accumulations. I continue to fight against my genetics (when the mood strikes) but I am not exactly winning the battle.

~~~

When I was in college, there were three times each semester when I did Outrageous Cleaning. The first was right before break. Like right before Thanksgiving. Because I couldn’t stand the idea of coming back to a crazy messy room. I’m pretty sure that is also genetic.

The second time I’d clean was during midterms and the third was during finals. There was something about studying (or procrastinating) that drove me to clean. Generally, I’d ask a friend to sit in my dorm room and entertain me (or I’d do the talking and entertaining) while I cleaned up. We’d drink Tab (the Coke Zero of the time), gossip, and I’d put things away. My process was to start in one corner of the room and work my way around. The only “rule” I imposed on myself was that I couldn’t put any mess in an area I’d already cleaned up. Once the room was neat, I’d study. Usually.

No matter how hard I tried, the neatness lasted approximately 27 seconds.

Then, the drawers would burst open, my books would rearrange themselves, and the piles would mysteriously repopulate my room.

~~~

So the Mood to Clean struck yesterday. Over the years, I’ve learned to go with it; it’s not something you can treat by lying down in a dark room and hoping it goes away. It would have been very useful to get this mood before your graduation, but it’s not something I can usually call at a whim. And we had the baby bird. I got the entire guest room cleaned and I emptied out the Dresser that Doesn’t Belong in the Hallway but is Living There Anyway.

And I did it without a Coke Zero.

Love, Mom