Commercials Have a Purpose.

  

Commercials can be grating and are usually important for bathroom breaks and snacks with regular snack argument. But, what if?

GEICO is crazy creative. Their clever commercials make me stop when searching for Fig Newtons and/or Twinkies with a cheap Pinot Noir.

My favorite this year I have chosen "The Aunts" for First Place. 

                                    With Second Place, Captain Ahab sails.

Third Place, with the squirrels and the spy! I love

this lady.

"The Squirrel" Third place

So, you can head out to the larder/pantry. Questions may require some thought.

Fig Newtons or Girl Scout Thin Mints?

Cold Stone or Ben & Jerry's (ice cream)?

Nachos or Frito Lay?...

So many options. So many commercials. 

#03984 is the winning number.

Oh, yeah. 03984

Rick answered the door bell with no expectations at all.  But when he saw the uniform he fought the urge to run, but this one wasn’t blue with a badge---just a postal worker holding out a UPS letter. 

Rick was told that this was a classified letter, First Class and it needed his signature on the green card to verify letter had been received. With shaking hands, Rick signed his name, taking the envelope.

Falling onto the stained couch, Rick cleared the beer cans and mirrors off the table in one sweep.  This is one serious letter, man.  Serious stinkin' serious.  Tearing the tab across cardboard, Rick pulled out a regular envelope.  Lookit!  My name typed ‘n everything!   

Return address was a local Ford Dealer.
  

Then the letter…a real honest letter, with stuff about an award, with his personal number—03984…honored to win his very own 2016 Mustang…Holy crap!  This is real….

My own Mustang?...Rick dropped his head between his knees, contemplating throwing up or passing out.  

Directions indicated prize winners… Winners?...were to check in by 2 pm today…Today?...to allow recipients time to tour the car lot filled with Mustangs of all colors.  

The drawing would be…Today?  Rick stripped off stained torn clothes, found the cleanest spread over the floor, and raced out to his ‘cylce. With a roar, off went Rick, off to pick out his own Mustang.

About twenty men toured around the car lot filled with sharp cool fast Mustangs.  Rick joined them, each reverently touching cars from end to 
end, roof to undercarriage.  Hot sun baked each man, no one cared. After all! Mustangs!

American style

When a bald man, gut-hanging over his belt, called numbers, checking them off.  Nodding abruptly, he explained, “You guys!  Lissen up!  Your number called, you come up with your letter, and we’ll get outta this damn heat.  Inside we’ll make sure you’re who you say you are.” Nodding again, he called the first number.  “O4669?”

Gut guy and 04669 disappeared inside.  Minutes passed, Gut emerged, called out 06322, and the process went on until only Rick was left, clutching his letter, 03984, precious 03984. Letitbemeletitbeme…

Finally, 03984 was called.  His heart pounded in his chest, Here!  It’s my number.  The door opened into the showroom, and Rick’s mouth all but dropped.  Lincolns, Mustangs…I could make big bucks lifting these…

But then, Rick was taken to another room, where a ring of badges anticipated his arrival.  One grabbed Rick, cuffed him, and read the Miranda Rights. 

A big white bus awaited him, filled with all the other award winners, grumbling and shocked.  Just like him. Mustangs grew small as the bus drove away.  I coulda won the cool black one, with the racing stripe.  Yup, I woulda picked that one.

The underlined words were provided by Delores in Wednesday Words in 2015. Rewrites followed and then this is what you read.

This has actually happened several times, where ex-convicts had broken their paroles. But hope springs eternal when it comes to Mustangs.

Treasure Chest Treasures

Classroom Management

The Treasure Chest was finally full, bursting from its cardboard seams.  Parents had pulled through, had donated to the treasure hoard, according to a list of requests from Ms. Wallace, First Grade teacher in Room 31. Some parents donated even more. 

When the new first graders streamed through the classroom door, pencils had been sharpened and books stacked. The classroom rules and rewards were posted on the wall, along with bright alphabet letters and numbers lined up in a row. First day was thrilling for all.

Life in First Grade

At the end of the day, three lucky students who had shown exemplary behavior reached sweaty and dirty hands into the treasure box, pulling out their own special prize. School bell rang, students from Room 31 poured out onto the playground to see what those treasures were.

From Australia

Day two, then day three, day four, and finally day five came about and three  little girls reached claw-like hands into the chest, pulling out matching Barbie-pink pencil cases. Squealing, all three dashed out with other Ms. Wallace students.  What is it?  Open it! Open it!

Out on the playground, each pulled out white tubes wrapped in white paper. Ooooh, look at that! What is that?  Excitement became confusion.

Each girl revealed a strange cylinder of compacted cotton with odd strings hanging out one end.  One girl pretended to put on makeup. Others experimented, which allowed students to take turns swinging one around.  But, novelty wore off, most first graders ran to waiting parents. Only the three girls remained, batting each other and giggling.

They raced around, swirling Tampons over their heads and then batting the tether ball pole.

Ms. Wallace thought she had seen it all in her years of teaching, but now she had watched the three girls chasing each other, swatting each other with Tampons. You missed me! No, I didn't! Here, take that!!  A sword fight using Tampons broke out. One Tampon was dropped into a puddle and magic happened as it absorbed the liquid.

You can carry this in your purse or backpack!

Ms. Wallace stepped backwards into a dark corner as the parents found them.

Hurrying inside, Ms. Wallace culled through the Treasure Chest, opening each Barbie-pink pencil case with a Tampon discreetly wrapped inside. Other donations were up to the list's standards and Tampons definitely were not on it. 

As she drove home, Ms. Wallace sighed. There'll be hell to pay tomorrow.



Part of this true: the Barbie pink containers did contain two Tampons, and only one girl chose it as her prize. She then did all of those activities (except the water bit) in the car with her younger sister. They had a good time.  It was a heck of a thing according to my daughter.

Surprises in a Treasure Chest

caption lost in publishing.  Pinterest site.

This is the second day of school for Bright Eyes.  Already, she and her little clutch of friends are striving for good behavior, and most importantly, “table points”.

products to purchase

Unless you are familiar with the discipline plans and rewards used in an elementary classroom, that means nothing to you. 

 “Table Points” are the points a cluster of six students called a ‘table group’ can earn by sitting up straight, paying attention, folding hands in front of them, and/or remaining silent when the world around them is wreaking wild havoc.

The table group who garners the most points throughout the whole week gets to choose prizes from the Treasure Chest.  

Lots of purchased stuff, not donated

“Oh. My. Goodness.  This is so big, like, you know, Grandma!  And, we were the first table group for the school year, too.”  Bright Eyes now sounds like every teeny girl in Disney™ television shows.  

It makes me sad, and a little cranky to be honest. Her young moral compass will be led by a Treasure Chest. When my daughter quietly informed me of this special day, it was impossible to squelch my reaction.

So, Bright Eyes hopped into the van, clutching her prize from the Treasure Chest.  It was a small zippered bag, like a girl would carry in her purse for lipstick and such. She had so much to tell about her day, and she had to buckle in before she could examine her treasured prize.

There was silence from Bright Eyes as my daughter drove, letting Sunshine fill in the news of her day.  Then, “Mommy, what is this?”

From the treasured prize, Bright Eyes pulled out three Tampons™, and held them up for her mother to view in the rear view mirror. She was told that they would talk about those things at home.  

But that was never enough for Bright Eyes, oh no. She knew a brush-off when she heard it. Bright Eyes tore them open, and speculated about their uses.  Not a flashlight…oh, look, here’s string…she swung the tampons around on their strings…No, this isn’t a telescope. Here, Sunshine!  You can play with this one…”

Both competed with fighting tampons, swinging in a white whirl.

This looks like a good book.

When they all arrived home and the front door closed, my daughter (God bless her.) gave Bright Eyes an abbreviated explanation; she took the Tampons away.  Then she called the teacher, who listened in silence.  The Teacher said, “Oh, dear.  I’d better called Bright Eyes’ best friend.  She picked the same thing.” 

Ahhh.  The joys of teaching. Joys of learning.

And joys of being a grandmother.

This is a re-post from August 17, 2011.

We are visiting family (two grandsons) in Switzerland, and blogging is highly unlikely.