The power of the pen is an amazing thing.

My family is boycotting providing ammunition for my column. I guess I’ve scared my kids straight. They are coming home and doing their homework, doing their chores, and in general, walking the line. My son hasn’t taken the wheels off anything in a month. Who knew?

My husband has been a virtual weedeating, hay hauling, and over-all yard-maintenance machine, and I haven’t seen a sock stuffed into the recliner in nearly a week. The suitcase, however, is still in the middle of the floor, so I’m thinking his days of anonymity are numbered.

The animals are all staying where they’re supposed to, and, except for the occasional uninformed scorpion in the bathtub and the tangible skunk smell on the puppy, the wildlife has been all but invisible.

It’s been almost boring. Almost.

I do get a kick out of responses to my columns. Sometimes it’s a funny kick, and sometimes it’s a kick in the pants, but you have to take the bad with the good.

After the column listing all the things I’m supposed to have learned by now came out, I got a mysterious email telling me I’ll have a notebook full of them before too long. I responded that I was afraid of that. Problem is, I already do. By the way, one that I forgot is that if you go out to feed in your shorts, boots and blinding white legs, at least two of the three people you know will randomly appear in your driveway.

The same reader sent me a “bucket list,” a few days later. You know, things to do before you kick the bucket? Holy cow, how old does he think I am?

My husband emailed the car column to a friend of his. This is the friend who helped him duct-tape-and-chewing-gum the Moped back together on multiple occasions, oversaw the passing of the hat at various meetings to raise funds for when the duct tape and chewing gum didn’t stick, pushed it across several parking lots, and then finally hauled the thing off so we could shoot it.

“How come she didn’t mention me? I spent more time with that car than you guys did.”

Sorry.

A few people have recognized He Who Shall Remain Nameless For the Time Being, and they respond to him.

“How come your wife isn’t that funny in person?”

I’ll try to do better, but you know, I’m wittier when I have a few days to think about things.

Snappy comebacks lose their snap when you have to call someone three days later to deliver them.

I got a semi new haircut a while back. A friend of mine with somewhat less hair than I have didn’t miss a beat when he saw me.

“What happened to your head?”

Quicker than usual, two days later, I called him up.

“Nothin’. What happened to yours?” I cleverly shouted when he answered. Now, why didn’t he know what I was talking about?

People are starting to become a little leary. My circle of friends appears to be shrinking. Nobody wants to be the next victim. I try to protect them.

Another friend was randomly rambling about a recent vacation and various ways he dealt with talkative family members on a 12 hour drive. As a professional courtesy, I shushed him to remind him of my new job. The material was too good, so I had to avoid temptation. I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to do that.

That’s okay, though, because people are really starting to watch what they say in my presence, and some just avoid me all together. That’s probably wise. Besides, I don’t have much trouble providing my own material and not being smart enough to keep it to myself has served me quite well in the past.

I was a high school English teacher when we moved here. I tended to start classes with a joke, because, well, English isn’t EVERYONE’s favorite, but you have to have something to look forward to. I never quite knew how to take it when a kid would come in and say,

“I heard the dumbest joke ever this morning, and I thought of you, Mrs. Carter!”

Awesome.

My first class of seniors was a great group. I thought a lot of them and got along with them as well as anyone can get along with seniors. When I did something stupid that I knew they would get a charge out of, I shared.

“It’s no fun to give her a hard time,” one of them muttered one day. “She makes fun of herself before I get a chance to.” Ha!

I’ve also gotten some calls, notes and emails from those of you who can relate to my ... adventures, I guess you could call them. I love to hear from you, but you people should be afraid. If you can relate to more than two, seek help. It’s too late for me.

When the snake column came out, a friend from Tulsa read it on-line.

“That’s hilarious,” she said. “But when are you going to write about the time you fell on a bucket and broke a rib?”

See? I’ve got a million of ‘em.

Mandy Carter is a staff writer for the McAlester News-Capital. Contact her at mcarter@mcalesternews.com.