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 |   Nadanother blog...sheesh, I guess I DO blog. Completed. |
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I've had a rich past, yet am making a new one with plenty of life's experiences to draw from! I invite you to come along and see what trouble I get into. I'll blog about my life, present, past... whatever comes to mind at the time. I'll try not to be too serious most of the time, heck we get enough of that just living. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Happy New Year! For the mirroring blog series we do on Saturdays:
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| I rarely have the blog-peeker activated, because it only entices me to enter new blogs, or it discourages me from entering into others. I'd rather be surprised for the most part, because we don't always have great opening lines. GUILTY! I was speaking with a friend of mine who wondered if they had been able to see 20 years down the road if they would have still made the same choices. Hmmmm. OMG! Of course the first thing I thought of was what if ...we had LIFE PEEKERS? Of course I am not smart enough to figure out how much of our lives we would need to peek at to know what choices to make or not make. Just for the sake of mulling this over let’s say you could peek at your future. Would you want to rush ahead? Or would you be content to live each day, knowing whatever the future does bring you will be prepared by whatever experiences you are experiencing now? For me, I’ve been taking this look back over my shoulder, both through my blogs, but also as I dig through old photos. The premise of doing a year’s blog guided by memories of a song chosen from the top 100 for that year is a valid one. The thing is, it makes me remember some place in time, whereas the sum total of the year’s experience can only be achieved by thumbing through old photo albums (or bags and boxes of photos). My past life is in a shambles. Metaphorically speaking of course. I suppose the years of me moving around, apartment-to-apartment, state to state...kept my few possessions, like photos, in a permanent state of disarray. My philosophy of possessions was if it would not fit into a cardboard box in the back seat of my VW, I didn’t really need it. So it happens that I have hardly anything left over from my youth, save some yellowed, stained photographs. I should not complain though, some people do not even have that. To answer my own question, I don’t think I would have wanted a life peeker, because I’m absolutely sure if I did peek...oh, say a year ahead at a time, I know I would not have made the same decisions based on the glimpse only a year ahead. My life, though seemingly full of heartaches and adventure, certainly could not have turned out much better. I know for certain it certainly would not have been half as interesting. Of course if I had peeked really far ahead I would seen that today, our 25th wedding anniversary, would arrive...and in that case, I know dang well I would have been a little nicer over the years, maybe. Of course if hubby could have peeked he would have known I charged a new dress to wear to dinner tonight...on his credit card, and it was a designer label!  So I suppose, in a way, these little windows I open into my past are my version of a life peeker, in reverse. Through this silly blog I share bits of it with you. I’m really glad I do. |
| Yes indeed you about to stumble upon a rant. If you are not in the mood to hear read one, even if it is about writing, now is your perfect opportunity to slip quietly out and nobody will be the wiser. There are some days when I think, "Yep, I feel like writing something different." Where do I go? I head over to the trusty WDC link to the Item Jumps and click on it, looking for the link to....Contest Links. I'm kind of a choosy contest person. I'll bet you never would have imagined that now would you? Well, I am. I like to do a variety of styles of writing, so I eagerly anticipate what kinds of contests I will find. I click on various types, go to the rules and read them, because first of all I want need to know if I am confident I can abide by them. Secondly, I want to see if they are written clearly enough for me to understand. If you will remember, I am entering the second childhood phase of my life, so I like rules to be fairly simple and straightforward. Things like: 1. Please make this story 18 and under. 2. All stories must be new. 3. Keep the word count under 1,000. 4. You will be judged on spelling and grammar. 5. You will be judged on how well you incorporated the prompt. These are easily followed, even I get it. I know the contests I will not bother to find out about, because though I am a writer, I need to be interested in the genre. For instance, if it is a contest about: 1. Vampires. 2. Druids. 3. Werewolves. 4. Witches. 5. Mythical Creatures You probably definitely are not going to find me clicking on them to see the rules, even if I love the creator of the contest because I know them from blogging. The fact that it had to be about one of those five things is quite enough of a limiting rule to know it just is not going to be inspirational to me. Hey, we all have our peccadilloes. If I am going to use some of my precious writing time on something other than the things I am already juggling, I want it to be somewhat, if not entirely, enjoyable. Okay, so am I ever going to get to the point? Yes. I just want to say if you are going to go to the effort and imagination to create some kind of writing contest, can we at least agree on something? CHECK YOUR DANG SPELLING on your contest description. I am utterly shocked that people writers who want to hold a writing contest cannot even check over their announcement for proper spelling. And I do not care if it is a typo, it is still a mistake. If you still do not know the difference between; your and you’re, too, to and two, or their and there, hear and here, then and than, well... “Houston, we have a problem.” Look, anyone can get confused, or make a typo...heck I’m queen of typos, ask anyone who has gotten an IM or text message from me. But if you list a contest for writing just do yourself a favor, do me a favor, have someone else take a look at it, or you go to the listings a few hours later and look at it...then fix it! Please. |
Okay, if me talking about pubic hairs is going to make you barf or something, keep rolling your blog peeker!  That’s what they are for you know, a preview.Speaking of sneak previews, is there anything sexier than looking “down there” and seeing a gray hair show up? Yeah, I didn’t think so either. Maybe for the first twenty-five times or so you get so frustrated you take out some tweezers and pluck the dang thing. Of course doing that obviously will entail looking around for a bullet or stick to chomp down on, because you sure as hell know it’s going to hurt. For women who dye their hair because they want to (yeah right)...okay, because they are trying to hang on to some vestige of an illusion of youth, this whole thing is a source of irritation. Not only does their carpet not match their rug, but now we have to contend with a Cruella DeVille pubic area. I think we all just had a group moment as we figured out how that Disney™ character got her hairstyle/color. That is not going to be matching any kind of streaks we implore our hairdresser to add. Okay, so we women have made an uneasy peace with a blonde, brunette, red or black head of hair, but we still are not happy with the “other” gray ones. We go to the next move, waxing. You remove as much as you dare, or can stand being ripped out of your flesh, albeit more quickly and many more at a time. But my gawd, there is a limit. First cramps, then childbirth and now waxing. At first it is a little from each side, a bikini wax. Before you know it you have encroached even further to get rid of the errant grays, and you have what’s known as a landing strip. LANDING STRIP? Who invented that quaint little name for the little patch of hair left, one of those drunken pilots? Then of course they try to get you to make adorable little designs...an arrow, a heart, lips...ewwww, which may make you think the whole thing is weird, but at this point what’s left? *Chuckle * I’ll tell you what, the so-called Brazillian. Yep, kinda like denuding the forest, if you get my gist. What the heck? You want me to put hot wax where? Sure, you don’t have to do it yourself, which the mere thought of has me scared spitless, but the thought of some woman at a salon slathering warm/hot wax all over my most private of areas, AND paying her to do it...well, not going to happen. So, that’s when I mentioned this whole conundrum to a very good girlfriend and she told me I should ...ahem...I mean “whomever” should just dye it. Gawd, the thought of spending even 45 minutes with that hair coloring on my their poor innocent gray hairs...well, of course I jumped on it and googled “pubic hair dye.” Voila, “Betty™, color for hair down there.™” It was genius! I guess Betty is code for the V-word or something, I felt so out of it. Anyway, apparently women in Europe were hip to it long before Americans, because the product has only been available since 2006. Here’s some things I found out: A.) The colors are NOT tested on animals. Well, duh...and besides, human experimentation is so much safer. B.)It’s a no-drip formula. Whew! I mean walking around dripping hair dye on the carpet is not very discreet. C.) It comes in the fun color pink! D.) It also comes in Bridal Blue, Now wouldn’t that shock the new hubby on your honeymoon night? And lastly we can’t forget, E.)Men can use it on facial or chest hair! Don’t you love a product that is unisex? But of course they didn’t mention male pubic hair usage. Don’t men think we notice? Of course not, just like we don’t notice....well, let’s just say SO MANY other things. I hope everyone can sleep better now, knowing we could have gotten rich if we had thought of this a few years back. |
** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** “I Made Up This Emotion” “Ain't Nothing Like The Real Thing” Sung by Marvin Gaye-1968 When I finished with my entry (#11) for yesterday's blog, for the "I Second That Emotion" series I'm doing with Scarlett   , both of us commented how boring that year had been for us. Thus we decided it was time to re-write our personal histories for today's entry! We had a blast doing it, please forgive our indulgences of today, but we needed some laughs! It's a total fantasy year! *I know, this is very long, but hey....The flight from San Francisco was an overnighter, landing in London on New Year’s Day. Being the jetsetter I am, I had a slight champagne hangover. The other passengers in First Class had all banded together with me to form our little party in the sky, first-rate music, food, champagne and willing participants. Life was very good. What better to fix a hangover than to stop into the first airport bar I could find and have a Bloody Mary? I adjusted my mini-skirt and entered the pub. Gawd, I love Pubs, all smoky and the sound of darts gliding into the corkboards. Through the smoky grey haze I see the back of a big, blonde beehive, very well done too. Having achieved international fame for inventing the Slice, a hairdo (I modestly say) that had taken the world by storm, I always appreciated a well done do. (I did think to myself I needed to speak to her about getting a newer style though.) Making my way over I smile and ask the lovely woman, “Is this seat taken?” She gave me the once over (probably noticing I was no competition in the “boob” department) and gestured for me to sit down. She actually smiled back as she inhaled from her fag. “Mind if I have a light?” I had whipped out a cigarette, but seemed to have misplaced my lighter somewhere in last night’s reverie. She flicked her solid gold lighter with an expertly manicured hand. I inhaled deeply, “Thank you. I’m Nada.” I ordered a Bloody Mary, “You care for one?” “Blimey...you’re not THE NADA?” Her gaze intensified, obviously searching her mind for a match to the photo that had appeared on the front page of the London Times last week, the one announcing my intentions to open a worldwide chain of salons. (It was not a coincidence it showed me standing next to a tuxedo wearing Sean Connery as we attended yet another film opening.) She also looked familiar to me, now that I could study her face, but I would have to find out why. “Yes,” I laughed, “I take it you have heard of me.” She related to me the story of how her chambermaid, Beatrice, had gotten her hair cut into the Slice, because of her fascination with the former Bond girl, Shirley Eaton who sported my famous cut. “Your chambermaid...I’m impressed.” “Oh don’t be, I’m Lady Scarlett in name only.” She smiled wickedly. Over the next few hours we talked non-stop, finding out we had much in common, especially traveling. She had only gotten in this morning from an exotic trip to Marrakesh, Morrocco with some besotted Viscount, Sir Lawrence somebody or other, who had stayed behind because he was too hung over from the opium he had indulged in. Her stories made me laugh, and we excitedly rushed from one topic to another, finally settling on our mutual desire to bed Paul McCartney. We came up with the perfect plan, about our fourth Bloody Mary... just as a Welshman was pointing out the finer points of dart tossing. We humored him, but only because he knew Tom Jones. The next thing we knew, her driver, Harry, was taking us to 7 Cavendish Avenue, St Johns Wood, London, Paul’s home of two years. (It seems Beatrice and his housekeeper knew each other.) Once there, Mrs. Kelly (the housekeeper) opened the door and looked very surprised to see her friend’s boss standing there with an American, me. “Mrs. Kelly, we’ve come to speak with Paul, is he in?” “Oh yes mum...I’m sure he would be honored to receive you both. I’ll just bring you a spot of tea in the music room, follow me.” She led us up to the top floor, to the room which overlooked the courtyard and beckoned us to have a seat. We giggled as powdered our noses and put on a fresh coat of pale pink lipstick. A piano stood there, in the middle of the music room. McCartney had the design team of Binder, Edwards and Vaughan to paint the piano in psychedelic colors, as I remembered reading. Just then Paul showed up, with Mrs. Kelly following close behind with a tray, laden with tea, biscuits and some other “goodies”. He looked us up then down. “You two are stunners,” he muttered. He sat down at the piano and began to serenade us, “All You Need is Love.....” We were in Scarlett’s car again, headed back to the airport and Paris...we couldn’t risk staying in London after last night. The Daily Mirror screamed the story, “Fiancé Jane Asher returned unexpectedly to from Bristol to find McCartney in bed with another girl.” We never understood which one of us they were talking about, but who cares, we were going shoe shopping on the Avenue des Champs-Élysées, or one of those French streets, then off to Interlaken for skiing the rest of the month. While sitting in a quaint après ski bar, my leg elevated on the firepit, in a cast (but still looking every bit the ski bunny) Scarlett spotted Jéan Paul Belmondo looking for a place to sit. She stood up and guided him our way, batting her eyelashes and whispering something French in his ear. It worked, of course. He sat down between us, mesmerized by our casual elegance and easy laughter. Soon we were invited to stay in his chateau for as long as we desired. We desired, for sure. Come February my ruse of a broken leg had grown tired, and we were so ready to move on. We needed some sun, the pale skin was not flattering, besides, we wanted... adventure. It was settled then, we were off to Rio for Carnival! Another long plane ride and we were there! The first thing we needed to do was learn the Samba, as we fully intended to party with the natives. The Bossa Nova was our music, and the Samba was our dance. During Carnival we partied with Antonio Carlos Jobim, the man who wrote “The Girl From Ipanema”, and his entourage. Weeks flew by, and before we knew it, we were tired of the Brazillian decadence and decided to move somewhere we could rest, choosing to go to a health spa in Switzerland for March to recharge and get rid of the alcohol in our veins. We could not have chosen a more beautiful spot than the Dolder Grand. Castle-like, set in the middle of a lush, green forest with walking trails. A house car would take us into Zurich, for breaks in nature, and on occassion we enjoyed our meals in the beautiful restaurant, then headed to fabulous piano bar where the other beautiful people hung out. Having room service kept us being good girls, the whole month passing more like an extended slumber party. But after countless massages, facials, manicures and pedicures, shots of sheep cell this-and-that promising us everlasting youth, we finally were rejuvenated sufficiently to move on to the month of April. We both decided now our bodies were refreshed, our minds definitely needed cleansing, so Rome it would be next, more specifically, to the Vatican to have an audience with Pope Paul XI, hopefully for Easter. We knew come May we would be going on to Cannes for the film festival to participate in more debauchery. Scarlett and I stayed at a convent. I must say, the grounds were beautiful, but the beds were really hard, and the lack of talking had us leaving after two nights. It was then we also knew there would be no way we could keep a straight face with the Pope, so we nixed that idea and drove to Florence for some serious designer shopping. and we celebrated Easter in the Italian manner at our hotel, the five-star Hotel Villa La Vedetta. It was perfect since we were seeking opulence and comfort within a short distance from the town center. It was within easy reach of the city's many galleries, churches and shops. We even shopped for jewelry, the fine work of Italian gold on the famous bridge, the Ponte Vecchio. When May came around, we were somewhat happy and saddened, happy to be leaving the pinching of the Italian men, but sad to be leaving the fast cars, pasta and wonderful scenery. Still, Cannes called out to us, and we boarded the yacht of the racing champion and Grad Prix winner, Johnny Servoz-Gavin. The trip over was incredible, the weather lovely and with a stop in Monte Carlo to play we decided to get off there, Nice was just a few hours drive, and in the rented convertible, Scarlett and I attracted many looks. Alas, in our partying atmosphere we had not been paying attention to the news, and arrived in Cannes only to find that the film festival had been cancelled! Yes, The Cultural Minster of France, Andre Malraux, made an attempt to fire a very popular member of the Cinemateque Francaise and co-founder, Henri Langois. This caused quite a stir, as many of the people who were involved in the festival were upset over this firing. The protests that came out from this event led to the cancellation. We found Henri and his Cinema friends, as well as Roman Polanski, and Norman Jewison drowning their sorrows out on the Hotel Carleton bar’s terrace, infamous for the celebrity clientele during the festival. It was as though everyone had shown up for a party ...one that was only in our minds. Unable to stand the atmosphere which permeated the town and the surroundings, once we sobered up, Scarlett and I said, “Au Revoir” to France and climbed aboard an airplane in Nicé, bound for Hong Kong. A Rolls Royce, the house car of the Peninsula Hotel, whisked us from the airport to our incredible room. The hospitality of the hotel was unmatched so far, our every whim taken care of before we could barely think of it. Shopping in Hong Kong was unbelieveable! Wanting to make the next legs of our trip memorable, we were told about the tailors of Hong Kong, and we decided, then and there, to have an entirely new wardrobe made to our specifications. We took the Star Ferry from Kowloon, across the river, rode in rickshaws, ate real Cantonese food at the finest restaurants, and I set about looking for a place to open a salon. It was decided this was a very civilized city in which to spend our summer. Scarlett, being of the idle rich, was left in charge of finding us a summer home, preferably near Victoria Peak, as it had the most wonderful view overlooking all of Hong Kong. We enjoyed ourselves, entertaining everyone who was anyone. Whether they lived there or were visiting, eventually they passed through my salon, now the most chic in all of Hong Kong, maybe in the world. Soon we grew restless, not of the beauty, but because we didn’t let grass grown beneath our feet, we decided we would leave in late September. For our next destination? Mexico City, in time for the summer Olympics. What a wonderful time to be in Mexico, the city was alive with excitement, and we were swept up in it. Unfortunately for us, we partied hard with many of the athletes, and in particular, Hans-Gunnar Liljenwall, a Swedish modern pentathlete, who had downed two beer with us (to calm his nerves) before the pistol shooting portion of the modern pentathlon. The Swedish team eventually had to return their bronze medals. The fear it put into other athletes, as well as our own remorse made us decide to go to New York, to spend a real Thanksgiving by going to the Macy’s Parade and then a dinner of turkey. Besides, I wanted to see America, to show Scarlett our Statue of Liberty. I think she loved it, and the snow that fell began to make her homesick. We were given a farewell party on Dec. 23rd by my dear friend Andy Warhol, who wanted to replace the onetime “it girl” Edie Segewick with Scarlett...but she refused as only my Brit born friend could do, by offering my services to cut his now infamous blonde bowl cut, as a parting gift. December 25, 1968. Scarlett had invited me to spend Christmas with her in Nottingham, the family home...though it looked to me more like a castle. Her sister Penny had just married and moved away, and her mother was thrilled to have two girls in the house to look after...okay more like party with. I enjoyed being there with her family, the great hall filled with a tall, beautifully decorated, old fashioned Christmas tree and oodles of pressies underneath. I gave her one of many yellow stuffed duckies to come, and she gave me my favorite English chocolates. Soon it was approaching a year since we had met and I insisted that I must go back home, so on New Year’s Eve Harry drove us to the airport and we went in for a farewell drink at the very same pub we had met in 364 days earlier. “Cheers my friend, I will never forget this year with you.” Tears rolled down our cheeks, and she lifted her glass to toast with me, “And to you my little friend, and all the days and nights we have shared. I wish they could go on.” With that we clinked our glasses and downed our Bloody Marys. I stood and threw my arms around her, hugging her, knowing full well we would meet again, somewhere in time. “Wub you....I’d best go.” As the foggy gray of the cigarette smoke enveloped me, I slipped out the door and I swear I heard her say, “Blimey, what a year!” |
”I Second that Emotion”-Part 11 ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** "Young Girl" 1968 Sung by Gary Puckett and the Union Gap Please follow the link to find this entry:
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| One would think as much experience as I have had with men over the course of my life, I’d pretty much have them figured out. HAH! So Hubby (who has been doing very well since his surgery) is now back to his once-a-week overnights in Los Angeles. I say “YIPEEEEE!” I love him dearly, but I also know how important it is to him...heck who am I kidding to ME and our marriage, that he does this. As long as he can still feel a shred of independence by staying in a hotel and meeting friends or a business associate for a drink or dinner I’m all for it. It also gives me a night where I need not worry about looking after his every need, or watching the tv flip channels just as I get engrossed in a Kitty Litter commercial. I tolerate the Lakers basketball finals, with commercial flips to the Dodgers, knowing that if they win he’ll be in good mood. If the basketball game is close the adrenaline rush will keep him up late, but I have learned to sleep past that. It’s his problem, not mine. I wouldn’t watch if it was a sleep problem for me...but hey, whatever floats his boat. So yesterday was his “day” in LA. I finally got him on his way and on the road around 10 am, a tad later than I like, since I wanted to get to the gym early, but I just went later in the morning. No biggie. He calls me around 3:30 pm, which is about half an hour sooner than normal, but it’s because he has to go to the airport to pick up someone arriving from Israel, then take him to dinner. Fine. He says he may call me later if they aren’t late. Fine. Ten o’clock the phone rings. “Hello?” “What are you doing awake?” Hubby says. Why would he call if he thought I was sleeping? “Uhhh, watching CSI or something.” Gawd. Then he proceeds to tell me he has just gotten back in the room, whew, I was worried....NOT. But then in a small voice, “I fell.” “Are you hurt?” I just cringe to hear he fell. “Well, I think I sprained my ankle. I called down to the front desk and they brought me some ibuprophen.” “Did you get some ice on it?” “No. I can’t. I think I’m going to drive home.” That little voice again. “Honey, call down and ask them for an ice pack, they will deliver it.” “Ok.” “Why would you try driving home now...you are in a hotel, they will bring you an ice-pack...and by the time you got here it would be midnight? I think you should stay there and in the morning we will assess your pain. If need be I’ll have Mike and Cesar come and drive you and your car. You don’t need to worry about a shower in the morning.” “Yeah.” “Yeah what?” “Get a good night’s sleep, and let’s see how you feel in the morning.” He hass managed to work all day, calling me from some fancy restaurant he had a meeting at.  Okay, so this afternoon I’m taking to my jewelry supplier about it, and he stops me and says...”I had to get a blood test the other day. Even the sight of blood makes me faint.” Ohhh, I’ll remember this. He continues, “So I got the test, but I was so affected by it I couldn’t drive. I had to call my wife to come and pick me up.” What next, the UPS man has a hangnail? Gawd. Yikes, have our men gone...dare I say it, soft on us? Or are we just so used to keeping a calm head when everyone else has lost theirs? A woman’s work is never done. |
| It's official, you are going to have me to kick around for yet another year. Yep, I bit the bullet and renewed my membership in this elite club. I really did contemplate whether to renew my membership or not, but I do get quite a bit of joy here on the whole. Besides, it seems a good place for my writing to be kept. I'm glad you all enjoyed the blogging dolls (at least those of you who found it and commented). But something struck me as odd, and I have to say, it was a little disappointing. Now, it could be my fault...but out of all of the comments made only one person, Scarlett , mentioned anything about my mother to me. Was it really such a "throw away" paragraph? I guess I expected more people to acknowledge that I had gone to the trouble of doing this to honor my mother. In my grieving I chose to think about each of you. There is something ...a lesson I need to re-learn I guess. Quit having expectations of people, because when I expect them to do something and they do not, I get hurt. Standards I set, for myself, are not standards I can expect from anyone else. That is sad to me but something I need to remember. I aim high, but only because I have been low. I know what it is like to be thought of as the dregs of society, and on the other hand I know what it is like to sit and have a drink with royalty or celebrities. And it is exactly those things that make me appreciate the middle ground. I am no better than the next person who is living their life in accordance with the Golden Rule. I am no worse either. I am, in fact just another person trying to get by in this tough life. Maybe by giving of myself to you, I hoped to find some of me in you. Isn't that how it's supposed to work? |
| Today is the fifth anniversary of my mother’s death. In a past year’s blog, two years ago, I honored her sense of humor by making up some blogging dolls. Each one recited something when you pulled the string. In this spirit I decided to revive them this year. I noticed, while reviewing the list, many on the list are no longer blogging. At first I was sad, but I soon realized new ones have appeared. I hope nobody will take offense, it truly was done in the spirit of love. (If I have inadvertently left one of you out, please let me know and I'll get you in....or keep you out if you prefer! )David McClain  ’s—“Welcome to Blogville…have you heard the one about the fainting goat? No, I don’t mean CC, although...”partyof5 —“Is the snow ever going to melt?”Scarlett —“Do you think I could use GP's to escape my life?”shanelle ---“I dug in the couch hoping to find hot dog money, or a stale cigarette. Instead I found my sense of humor.”PlannerDan —“Max and I have found it efficient to blog while walking!”zwisis—“I am the kedi queen of Turkey! ” runningwolf04---“I got quit a job today!” vivacious —“Thomas smiles and the world is right.”Kåre Enga in Udon Thani  — “Kansas or Montana, VW bus or Greyhound bus?”gypsy4evermore --"I enjoy being a girl!"ccstring—“Blink-Blink. I’m just so dang proud of my wimmins. Tor you’re still a pank dress wearin’ weirdo though!” BeautyFromAshes ---”I made another milestone in sobriety!”Special Kay ---“What should I do, become a blackbelt or kill one?”Mavis Moog —“Sybil, Crispin, Roger...anyone else in need of a haircut?”cnoto—“So today we will be making apple dolls. No, you can’t eat them.” Ŧĥē Beŋ --"What’s wrong with time travel anyway?"Rainbowapple --"Bean...No-o-o-o, get the duck’s neck out of your hands!"AL ---“Beam me up, I want outta this world. Somebody knows something they are not telling me.”*Barbara Maria* ---“Butterbeans and Heinekens for all!! Love yous.”lethomson—“No really, I want to be J.K. Rowling.” chicochica —“Eric is only working another 5,674,081 hours this week!”Mr.Monk- GPs for the poor —“I’m going to hop on Baby Mia and just go...one of these days.”kelly1202—“I’m going to be a grandmother again!” SSTheWriter —“I just finished my second year of college, I hope I passed.”susanL —“Just when you feel a little frumpy and old and like perhaps you're just a mom something like THAT happens.”IdaLin ---“I went to Branson and there was NO Wayne Newton!”Erik Stark —“It’s HOT TUB night. Wahooo!.”dragonfly~guess who's back? ---“When is NaNo again?”Dave Gordon ---“The diagram I included of my meds is in invisible ink.”Mrs. Whatsit ---“I might blog, if I feel like it.”SouthernDiva ---“Y’all get your drool off of my blogger dude of the month!”Deelyte- Chillin' ---“Nada and I are too cousins, with a little karaoke whore singer on the side!”Carolina Blue ---“ On this date five years ago....”Mel aka Mrs Tor —“Love me, love my animals...and that includes Tor!”alfred booth, wanbli ska —“Please write a poem rhyming like this Cypsk Mgcx, xzyty jhwff and seventeen stanzas using the word gray.”emmyloo--"We rolled the dice and against all odds....I’m preggers! Gulp.” Kim Ashby —“He got those big old eyes from me.”lizco252---“Hardhats are definitely not as forgiving as baseball caps.” Debi Wharton —“My heart is overflowing with love for everyone. Want to come over for a barbeque and s’mores?”ShiShad ---“I smell feet, but then the septic is backed up.”sweett---“Well now, this IS a driveway!” Grifter ---“I’m going to name my house The Bachelor Pad.”Quill o' the Owl ---“Owlboy did something I would tell you, except I’m not at liberty to disclose it.”Wren —“When Bill and I fly we soar!”KimChi —“Have you signed up for the next “Survivor” series yet men?”galinago---“Going to let some steam off, paddling down the stream of consciousness.” The Literary Penguin ---“If you really want to score with the ladies, wear a pink shirt, at least while on Safari.”crackedbizkit---“Nosing around wine and computers gets you nowhere fast.” bugzy is baaaccck!! ---“Carrot diets make you orange. Oh well, deal with it.”Voxxylady ---“The bassist fell for the cute blonde on the steps, but it was just a rehearsal.” Thomas ---“Okay, so sometimes I do talk out of both sides of my mouth. I’m a ventriloquist dummy!”spun2sugar---“Can’t buy me love!” Auntynae —“Beavus and Schnuffles love Mr. Weazel, when they can find him.”Acme ---“I get girly on my birthday, according to the Vicar.”ShellySunshine —“Hello my sunny friends.”sultry--"Morton and I will not make room for mice!" Nada —“I’ve been hired to write technical how-to manuals!”*No harm was intended in this blog. These blogging dolls come with no guarantee of accuracy. |
”I Second that Emotion”-Part 10 ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** "Hello, Goodbye" 1967 Sung by The Beatles Please follow the link to find this entry:
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| When I first arrived on the blog scene in February of 2004, I never expected I would still be doing it in 2008, and closing in on 1,000 entries. I see where I have grown both in my writing as well as how I view many things. Having said that, I feel this tug-of-war within me, beckoning to me to quit spending so much of my time here, and get the book I'm writing finished. Soon I'll be 60 and still not have completed my book, nor gotten an agent. Shame on me. I've been basking in the little world of Blogville, handing out advice, listening to people praise my writing and doing nothing about it. Oh sure, I am writing nearly every day, but is it bringing me any closer to getting this published? No. Maybe if I had been blogging on a more...um-m...noticeable site, but hey, that takes away all of I have gotten from WDC, my writing home. Lately I find myself stretching, trying new forms of writing, but isn't that something I can do when I have exhausted all avenues for my one dream? Isn't it something I can do as a reward for having done what I should be doing? Of course it is, and I will. Doing this series with Scarlett is great, it is helping me to find my footing for the revisions. I love doing them, and I fully plan on continuing the series. But something has to give, and as much as I enjoy lifting people up, it is time I lift myself up...nobody else is going to get my book finished. So if I am seemingly scarce, it is not that I have not forgotten you; it is that I am trying not to forget me. Yep, that means another NOT blue month. |
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I just reminded myself of the time you did jury duty!