Tag Archives: blogger

It’s Time

26 Mar

Soooooo hard to believe how fast time flies these days. Although the sinus infection from Hades has slowed it down a bit for the past two weeks….doctor visit anyone? I really don’t want to go. Body, heal thyself.

Zach is gardening in the drizzly, cloudy weather we are experiencing today. The drizzly, cloudy stuff has become a common theme…and the temperature is dropping. We must keep our hopes up that warm weather and swimming will soon be upon us.

In the meantime, we await the new roof and the tree-trimming that has to precede it. Oh dear, home repair is expensive! We’ll also be shopping for a new hot water heater. I can’t wait to move to an on-demand version, energy-efficient and won’t crash through the floor!  The floor in that spot has a joist problem. Poor old house. Love it, but it is the money pit.

I’m taking my stoppered head to a place of comfort for a spell. Have a great day. Smell a few roses along the way.

Pins, Profits, and Getting Started

17 Mar

Today, I began the adventure…well actually the adventure started a very long time ago. Lots of preparation and a split in the space-time continuum and here I am,  finally making the first photo display board post to my Etsy shop.

There will be more!

Not above using my gorgeous granddaughter to sell product!

Not above using my gorgeous granddaughter to sell product!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Oh yeah, ain't she cute?

Oh yeah, ain’t she cute?

 

 

 

 

 

 

A little detail!

A little detail!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And a little more!

And a little more!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Since I am currently unemployed (again!), this seems a good use of time and energy. I must remember to use a mask in the barn however, for once again I am also suffering a sinus infection. A week of it has almost done for me.

Reminds me of Wally Lamb’s novel, She Has Come Undone. Great book. Consider it for your next read.

And so onto tomorrow. It is another day and another board. Here’s hoping for one a day. That’s imposing for one such as myself.

But who knows?

If you know someone who loves the rustic, sorta shabby look and looks kindly upon recycling endeavors, please send them my way. I’m here!

Manic Monday Just in Time

16 Sep

There’s a grumpy old teddy bear I interact with a few days a week. I think I love him. He amuses me greatly. Admittedly, he brightens my day with constant complaints and deprecations of his formidable talents. He’s in his 70’s. He’s so cute.

Last Tuesday night Falon and I attended the taping of Tales of the South at the Starving Artist’s Cafe in North Little Rock. Wow. It’s a popular show and it is heard world-wide. We were treated to a reading by Lela Davidson about her experience in Vegas with Stripping 101. We’ve agreed we must go back. Dinner was great, the foccacia divine, the flan was so good I moaned, and a good time was had by all.

What have I learned today?

I learned that 13 school districts in Arkansas are likely to allow teachers and staff to carry guns in school for the next 2 years. The state regulatory board reversed its decision. However the attorney general maintains that it is not legal. Next I will probably learn that a student has been shot by one of those teachers or staff. I would pull my children out of those schools with nary a blink of the eye. I much prefer my kids uneducated and alive. What are we teaching our kids?

I learned that ‘tired’ and ‘sleepy’ are my middle names. Fighting both at my desk and losing the battle. Yup…and that’s after over-sleeping the alarm this morning by 30 minutes. I was so bad. In spite of it I made it to work on time. I think I may have turned over a new leaf. I’ve been late for everything since 18 ought 6. Well…not that long ago, but nearly. I’ve only been late once since April 15.

I’m on a roll.

It’s a friggin’ miracle.

Last week I was fortunate to try a local creamery ice cream, Loblolly Ice Cream flavor strawberry buttermilk. OMG. It’s a food orgasm. “Delicious” doesn’t come close to describing this cold, creamy, fruity, sweet confection of an ice cream. I’m dreaming that tomorrow I may get more. I could skip the four blocks to the market in sheer anticipation.

There appears to be a certain theme running through this gig. Yeah, it’s all about the donuts.

Griswold came to visit the day before ‘Tales’. I saw him leaving the neighbor’s yard headed toward my house. Griz is a golden doodle. He lives about half a mile from us. He’s is an escape artist extraordinaire. And he loves to visit. We’re not sure how or why he found us, but he did. He experienced a sleep-over a few weeks back.

Griz first showed up in the drive when Zach was home alone. Zach dutifully checked his collar and took him home.

A couple of days later, he showed up in the yard again. Bob thought Griz was the bomb. The owner wasn’t around so ‘the bomb’ hung out with us. He and the girls had a great time. Bob showed him the doggie door and Griz was happy. So were we. A Griz accident would not be pretty.

So Bob let him in and Griz spent the day with the girls again. We find it rather endearing that he never tries to leave our fence. Perhaps he’s just lonely being an only child. Bob called me. I wasn’t going to be home in time for Griz to be retrieved from his play date. It worked out that his pet-parent was available to pick him up before Bob left for work. That’s good.  Bob would keep him in a heartbeat.

This afternoon I got a text from Bob. He heard a loud knock at the side door on the porch off our bedroom. He got up, went to the door. Griswold had knocked to be let in. He stayed until retrieved by his owner again.

Damn dog knocks.

 

 

 

 

 

Burning Pork Chops

4 Sep

Yesterday was a loooooonnnngg day. Made even longer by a mother-son disagreement. I find there are no winners in those things,  just tears and remorse and worry and wonder. Zach is a master at battling semantics. I often feel unarmed.

And so today I’m reaching for understanding and patience and unconditional love.

Today I have been informed of new research on printing pizza. Yes folks, take your 3D printer into space and print yourself a pizza. I wonder if you’ll be required to scratch for a sniff of it., I want one for the house so I can eliminate the prep and/or pickup time. I’m all in for this one. Now, I need one to print pork chops like my mama used to make. Well, not exactly like she made. Often as not Mama burned her damn pork chops. She was a great cook…except for the pork chop burning, we had no complaints. Go figure.

I was also advised that Tom Cotton, the young Republican dumbass hawkish congressman from Arkansas, just can’t wait to go kill him some Syrians. He does, however, seem to have a real problem with aborting a fetus. Gee, folks, I can totally understand the difference there, can’t you? Oh,,,yeah, this is above my pay scale, so I don’t need to understand.

And in the course of my day, I was informed of a convicted sex-offender’s change of address. That one gave me pause.   Frankly, I don’t think it would be a bad idea to inform the public when any person convicted of a heinous crime moves. Personal letters to all his/her new neighbors from the Department of Corrections anyone?

Speaking of heinous crimes…why have we bred such a contemptible lot of humans? I guess that’s pretty much a rhetorical question.

I do think we need to legalize pot and stop the madness of spending police and investigative time on such a benign drug. I’m telling you..after years of bar tending, I’d much rather  hang out with a friend who’s stoned, than one who is drunk. They are safer, very benign, seldom violent…Really. Let’s face the facts; prohibition didn’t work. And if we stop taking pot smokers to jail, we’ll free up jail space for criminals and have way more time to stop speeders on the highway!

Win? Win!

Have you ever stopped to read a crime report? I find the redundancies rather amusing. Some will refer to a ‘marajuana joint’. I’m assuming that is as opposed to a ‘beer joint’ . It gives me a chuckle. All right, I’m easily amused.

Yes folks, I am treated on a daily basis to more information than I can digest. Sometimes it is so in contrast to my personal views that I seethe silently for some minutes, indulging myself in a great gnashing of teeth before recalling that all of us are just trying to make it the best way we can…well most of us anyway. Whatever allows one to sleep at night…makes one feel better as one hurtles through life toward its end…I suppose that’s okay…just don’t try to force feed the rest of us on an agenda we may not be willing to entertain…And for love, please don’t hurt anyone.

I still maintain we all need to repeat the Golden Rule a few times a day. I certainly need a minute by minute dose of it…remind me to be kind, to be loving…

Mind my manners, as my pork-chop burning Mama would have said.

 

A Bit of Funny and A Dream

2 Jul

I know this has happened before. I’ve probably shared the tale.

But the chuckle it induced is still a-ticklin’ my funny bone.

I was moving from my desk to another, carrying phone, and papers and certainly somewhat distracted by the task at hand.

My phone rang. I noted that it was my daughter so I hit ‘answer’ and blurted ‘what do you want’. She first mentioned mac and cheese. That’s an easy one, I replied. But then the want list moved into substantial sums of money, major house overhauls, and other assorted budget-busting acquisitions.

Finally we got to the real reason for the call.

By this time, I had made it to the next desk and dropped the papers I was reading. I had not become any less distracted.

She wanted to know where a cupcake shop could be found. I could only think of two and neither were well located for her. She asked about one downtown. Yes there is one. We thought it might be on Third Street. Would I look it up for her?

“The computer on this desk is shut down for the day, ’ I said as I began to shuffle the papers on the desk and search frantically.

“And I can’t find my phone. I have no idea where it is right now. I must have left it on the other desk.”

‘Mom, what did you just say.’

“I said I can’t find my phone.’

‘Really? Mom?

It must have been in a movie.

It really happens. And as hard as we both laughed, it must be funnier when it happens in life.

I have a story to write. There is a cast of characters in my head and my notes that desires a life of its own. Short pieces flow and feed my very limited attention span and the spare amount of time I’m left with at the end of a day. How does one juggle job and the infinite number of responsibilities that seem to be part and parcel of home and hearth?

There is a small leather zippered portfolio just under the edge of my desk. It contains my notes. They are brief, the story not fully developed by any stretch of the imagination. But the seeds are there. Perhaps I should begin to carry the portfolio, along with all the other bags I cart around and make an effort to write a sentence or two every day.

And snap a photo or two as well.

Discipline and desire could lead to completion. Good, bad, or indifferent, something accomplished.

I have begun so many times. Completion is on my bucket list. I may have to live forever at the rate I am progressing. Time to punch it up.

Wish me luck. And tell me what you think.

 

Hint Fiction Friday!

17 May

I was about to despair that I had nothing to write about!

Then it dawned Friday! Ohhhhhh yippepepepppeeeeeeee.

It couldn’t have come at a better time. Let’s see what’s lurking in my head today.

Brother Harlan had been preaching hellfire and damnation for nigh onto 50 years, having come to his calling at a young age and with a real focus on the sins of man. Now at 70, his preaching was taking on an almost mellow tone. This Sunday he’d been almost kind to the congregation. Why Denny Moore didn’t even comment on the state of his everlasting soul after the sermon, something he’d been doing for nigh on to 50 years. Denny did ask his wife if she thought the right Reverend was slipping a bit.
‘No’, she replied. ‘I think he’s just gotten old. Like us’.
Brother Harlan had gotten old and the past few months had surely threatened the state of his soul. Questioning himself and his steadfast belief that he was right about the afterlife had left him worn and withered of spirit. What if he was wrong? What if this was it? If this was the hell? He’d been torturing these poor tortured souls every Sunday for most of their lives with the threat of damnation and it looked liked most of ’em was already damned.
‘This life is messy,’ he thought. ‘Just plum messy. “
Harlan awoke on Monday with new purpose. The good people of  his flock would be loved and encouraged, given hope and shown the beauty in life. He would show them faith without failure. After all, no one would find the bodies he’d buried in the woods after all these years. Would they?

 

Happy Weekend!

 

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