Archive for the 'writing' Category

Veteran’s Day – It’s only a holiday if you make it one (or if you work for the gov’t)

Ahhhhhhh. 

That’s the sound of relaxation.  It was indeed a nice and fairly relaxing weekend, and I enjoyed it so much I decided to take a personal day today, too.   Plus I got to thinking “Observant, today is Veteran’s Day and who’s a veteran???   YOU are!   And who is more entitled to take the day off than you?  NOBODY!”

OK, I guess if you’re sick or something it’d be OK to take off work, but for sure all Veterans should be given the day off.  No – we should be forced to take the day off. 

“Go ahead, Veterans.  We know you worked hard to protect and serve our fair country.  Don’t even think of getting up to go to work today.  You stay home and celebrate YOU!” 

This is what I imagined every American was thinking today, and Americans I heard your pleas!

So I called work and told them I was taking care of personal business – which is true since I’m sitting here blogging.  Then I think I’ll pat myself on the back a few times for being a Vet.  Oh, and there will probably be a nap squeezed in sometime today.   Gotta stay productive.

PS – No, I did not smoke this weekend.  I wanted to, but I didn’t because I have willpower of steel – all veterans do, don’t ya know?

http://www.barefootsworld.net/graphics/iwomtsurubachi.jpg

I’m the one on the far right.   Nice ass, yes?

Splendid!

 Maureen at the Nook came up with the idea of doing a rolling post. Each person who has volunteered to participate gets to add 3-4 sentences as their contribution. The participants are:

Moe
Red
Goinglikesixty
Cris
Poseidons Muse
Writerchick
Karen
Evyl
Reg
Michael
Cowgalutah
and our newest convert:   P fuzzbox

MsMum
The curtains were drawn against the chill of an early winters evening. The only sound to be heard was a sigh as she poured over one of her interminable lists, this being for the coming weekends dinner party.

She was concerned how she would keep them apart after the recent unpleasantness.
It was unthinkable she not invite them both, but in doing the right thing by them, had created a problem for herself…..

Poseidon’s Muse
Drawing a soothing draught of red wine from her glass, she looked up from her list and stared across the room. A distant memory, like the transient flash of ‘his’ handsome smile, spurned her inner turmoil. She had developed feelings for Steven during her initial tenure at the University. Their first encounter seemed almost cliche. A fateful walk across an autumn campus, a stack of books falling upon golden autumn leaves, polite words spoken, lucid eyes meeting hungrily. Butterflies.

What had begun as an innocent friendship between colleagues (for Amy would later be introduced to Steven as a contemporary) later spurned into a brief, but torrid, romantic affair. When the couple resuscitated themselves from their grey moral vortex, they realised that they would make better friends than bed-fellows and had decided to remain in each other’s lives. Now, Amy had the task of playing chancellor and counsellor to her friend, as he struggled for a sense of equilibrium in his failing marriage. Once again, she sensed the butterflies.

Writer Chick
Amy sealed both invitations, one for Steven and one for Margo, his estranged wife, and adhered a lovely tiffany art stamp to each. “I hope to God, they aren’t still arguing over custody of the dog or the chimp – helluva a dinner topic that will make.” She put the invitations aside for the post office run she would do in the morning and pondered the menu for the party. “Now what dish would both please Steven and compliment his lovely golden curls by candlelight – of course, curry!”

Michael
Amy sat on the couch contemplating the difficult intricacies of the seating arrangement when the phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Ms. Neidelson, thank God you’re home. This is Dr. Shotzendach. I hope I’m not catching you at a bad time.”

“No, doctor. I’m just sitting . . . Is everything okay?”

“Well, I do believe we’ve found the source of your equilibrium problem and I’m glad you’re sitting down. You’re two months pregnant. And here’s the best part: You’re having twins! Congratulations! Ms. Neidelson?”

“Uh . . . I don’t understand doctor . . . I mean, I understand but . . . how do you . . .”

“Your lab results and the CAT scan images told us all we needed to know. Ms. Neidelson? Ms. Neidelson, are you still there?!”

Amy began to laugh hysterically. A bit too hysterically . . .

Mr.Evyl
The phone slipped from her spasming hand and crashed against the glass of wine. Her laughter morphed to sobs as she sat mesmerized by the bits of broken glass and the spread of the crimson stain against the polished hard wood floor. Bitterly she asked herself, how could she have come to this pass. She had been so careful all her life and yet one afternoon of unbridled passion had sent her whole world reeling.

For as long as she could remember, Amy had vowed not to conceive. She had worked her entire life to not only conceal but to expunge the story of her childhood. She had spent her early years raised in a traveling circus but not the romanticized life. Her father was not the Lion Tamer and her mother was not the Beautiful Lady on the Flying Trapeze. No that was only in her dreams. Her father was Wee Willy Winky, The Smallest Man in Northern America, and her mother was Woolly Wanda, The Bearded Woman. Tears ran down Amys’ face as she wondered if this life would be exposed if she was to give birth to two small bearded goat girls.

She berated herself but she knew that it could have been no different. She had not the power or the will to avoid succumbing to the charms of the Parcel Delivery Man. She had been in a high state of anticipation over the delivery of her lavender shower curtains when Dan rang her doorbell. One look at his glittering smile, the first glance at the sunlight shimmering off his baseball cap, and her heart and her loins melted.

But what now? How could she put on a brave face for the dinner party this weekend with her entire life in turmoil.

Red

After wiping away warm tears, Amy smoothed out invisible wrinkles from her dress and stood to look out the window. Her sniffles and tears subsided as mascara had run down her cheeks, staining her fair skin. As she watched from the foyer’s window, she noticed a few children playing in the snowdrifts across the street. This saddened the woman as she knew that she would never have normal looking children that didn’t need a daily shave at the age of four, but at least they’d stay warm during the chilly winter season.

Amy’s thoughts went to the Parcel Delivery Man and his wooly, sweater-like back hair. What a lovely sight, she remembers. It reminded her of her dear, late Mother. A heavy sigh escaped her as she shook her head, cursing herself at the thought of the dinner party, and the details that still needed to be finalized. “Woman, you must pull yourself together, if only for the weekend!”

She pondered the guest list and thought of him, Steven.

CowGalUtah
As she went to the closest for the broom and dustpan she remembered the first night she spent in Steven’s arms…dinner and dancing till dawn at the officer’s club. He had looked so stunning in his military regalia. At their initial meeting as colleagues he had invited her to attend his official retirement from the Marine Corps to enjoy his teaching position full time. The butterflies increased but the evening had followed with the most intense love making that Amy had ever enjoyed and had since to be repeated. Even the afternoon spent with Dan was no match. If only she would have been as careful with her birth-control methods then.

She swept up the shattered wine glass and reflected on the fact that she had been drinking while her unborn children inhabit her womb. What type of life was she bringing them in to? Were her bearded babies lives to be hampered with an addiction to alcohol like hers had been? The circus life had been hard…sometimes the only thing her father would bring home from the store was alcohol to drown away the lonely life the family lead.

Poseiden’s Muse
With her dinner list complete, and the turmoil of the evening settling in her mind, Amy retired to bed for the evening.  Her dreams were fitful and she tossed and turned violently in her sleep.  She awoke the next morning with a vivid recollection of those troubling nocturnal thoughts.  “Bearded children, military uniforms and broken glass” she murmured to herself as the first rays of dawn struck her face.  “I need a strong cup of coffee,” she grumbled to herself as she rose out of bed and headed for the kitchen.  As Amy stood waiting for the coffee to percolate, an agitated knocking sound rattled her awake.  Thinking it was a dream, Amy ignored the sound and began pouring herself a strong elixir.  “Bang, Bang, Bang!” this time the noise was penetrating, and very real.  Amy nearly jumped out of her skin.  Who would be calling at this hour?” she grimaced to herself angrily, stomping as she made her way to the front entrance.  “I’m coming…” she yelled at the closed door, “please give me a second.”  As Amy opened the door, she was surprised to find herself face to face with a furry humanoid face.   EEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeekkk!” Amy shrieked and slammed the door suddenly. 
“What in the world?” she exclaimed to herself as she pressed her back against the door. 

Her thoughts were brought back to last night’s dreams; the beards, the bearded baby faces.  Her heart was pounding furiously.  Again, another set of three knocks, and the sound of a human voice.  Upon recognising the voice, Amy opened the door cautiously.  This time, she was greeted by Steven.  “Uhm, hello Steven!” blustered Amy as she opened the door, “I’m sorry for my bizarre reaction, but I thought I actually saw a furry child on the front step when I first opened the door, and he/she startled the heck out of me!” 

“Actually Amy, I know that it is rather early and the party doesn’t start until 6 pm, but I needed to ask you a favour,” chided Steven.  His eyes were sparkling and his wry smile told Amy that he was either having nostalgic thoughts, or he was truly up to something devious.

“Sure Steven, what is it?” Amy queried, noticing the leash in his left hand, then added sardonically, “Don’t tell me you have a freaky bearded baby attached to that leash.”

Steven looked down and from behind his legs the leash slackened as a tiny chimpanzee padded her way to the threshold of her door.  The chimpanzee looked up at Amy with deep, dark eyes.  She had the cutest face.  A bearded baby face.  “It seems as though Margo and I are having a custody battle over Lola” lamented Steven, “and Margo is now threatening for sole custody of our dear little chimpanzee girl, so I was wondering if you would be able to help us out?” 

With that question, Amy just stood there, scratching her head, as the chimpanzee reached across her furry backside in search of a “smelly preparation”, should her new “stepmom” fail to receive her with open and loving arms….

And here I go folks:

“What do you mean, ‘help you out’, Steven?”

“Well, could Lola stay with you for a few days?  You see, the judge decreed that Lola must stay with a neutral third party while he deliberates his decision regarding Lola’s custody.  And since you’re a friend to both of us, you seemed like the logical choice.” 

While Steven was explaining himself, Amy stood transfixed by the wee little monkey face before her.  Such a sweet, hairy little creature!  Lola’s facial features so resembled Amy’s dear, departed mother it was uncanny.  Why, it was almost like looking into the past.   

“Well?” Steven said.  “What do you think?”

Amy thrust out her arms to take Lola.  “Oh Steven, I’d love to” she said.  Then she stopped abruptly, arms in mid-air.  “But the dinner party!  I have hours and hours of food preparation ahead of me.  Who will look after Lola?”

“Oh, I think you’ll find Lola quite helpful in the kitchen” Steven said with a glint in his eye.  “Yes, veeeery helpful.”   “By the way, are you still preparing Indian food for tonight?”

“Curry” Amy replied, once again holding her arms out to take Lola.  She cradled the little primate in her arms, her body swaying back and forth rhythmically. 

“Did you hear that, Lola?  Curry!”  Steven grinned at Lola, who in turn exposed a mouth full of teeth at Steven in typical money-grin fashion and nodded her head up and down rapidly while screeching monkey sounds back at Steven.    “Lola gets rather excited about cooking.” Steven explained.

“Okay, I guess it will work out.” Amy said.   Oh this monkey reminded her so much of her dear mother!!  Right down to the hand clapping and teeth exposure!

“Thanks” said Steven.  “You’re a real lifesaver.”  He gazed into Amy’s eyes meaningfully, and took a step closer.  His blonde curls glinted radiently in the sunlight, momentarily blinding Amy.   “I hope I can thank you properly later” he said softly. 

“Oh” said Amy, trying to blink the spots out of her eye.  “Oh yes, Steven.”  She suddenly felt overheated and dizzy, then noticed that Lola had wrapped herself around Amy like a baby possum clinging to its mother.

“Here’s Lola’s diaper bag and some assorted toys.  And at two o’clock she likes to listen to her CD of organ-grinder music.  Helps her relax for her nap.   She’s a great help in the kitchen; just give her things to mix up.  She’s a whiz at mixing, aren’t you Lola-Ebola?” Steven chucked Lola under the chin, then turned to go.    Amy and Lola waved goodbye to Steven until his car turned the corner.

“OK, my little Lola-Ebola,” Amy crooned, using Steven’s special term of endearment.  “Let’s go cook!”  Dropping Lola’s bag in the foyer, Amy took Lola by the hand and they walked into the kitchen.  As Amy gathered ingredients from the refrigerator and cabinets, she didn’t notice Lola scurry out of the kitchen and back to the foyer, where she began rummaging through her bag.  Removing the small packet of tumeric from her bag, Lola slipped it into her diaper and returned to the kitchen, her favorite organ grinder tune playing happily in her head…

And now I’m passing this literary masterpiece off to my main woman, Reg. 

These guys ain’t got nothin’ on us, people!

Mama is pissed!  Fastest Growing WordPress.com Blogs.  People, you cannot be fucking serious…

#1 on the hit parade is Coco Cream’s Craft Closet.    Tagline:  My crafts, my life, my thoughts…and a few photos, too!   
Observant sez:  Crafts = BORING.  Pictures of crafts = EXTREMELY BORING.
Average comments per last 5 posts:  1.6

#2.  Blog of Too Many Things. Tagline:  From the trenches for geeks.
Observant sez:  You’re a TOR geek and your ProtoGoth icon match is Herman Munster.  And this means???    As far as I’m concerned, this is already two too many things to know about you. 
Average comments per last 5 posts:  3

#3: Mark on WordPress.  Tagline: WordPress puts food on my table.
Observant sez:  And we’re surprised you’re on this list because???
Comment average:  3

#4.  Dry Fly Politics.  Tagline:  None, although he has a Mitt Romney for President badge on his site. 
Observant sez:   All Mitt Romney all the time = BORING
Average comments:  0.2!!!!!! 

#5.  Spices in Life.  Tagline:  Cooking for the senses
Observant sez:  Finally, a site with something to say.  These are, I believe (and correct me if I’m wrong), Indian recipes – complete with nice pics.  Looks like a new site, with only 1155 hits so far. 
Comment average:  7.4  

#6.  Fighting it out.  Tagline: The alternate existence
Observant sez:  This is a site dedicated to dissecting soccer matches and talking politics.   This is not only BORING, but the soccer and politics is NOT an alternate existence. 
Comment average:  1.25

#7.   Golf Ace.  Tagline:  Musings of a golf addict
Observant sez:   OK, everybody now     –   BORING! BORING! BORING!
Comment average:  0.2

Let’s sum up, shall we? 

  1. The fastest growing WordPress.com blogs are generally sports and/or politic related rehashings of stuff one reads online every day. 
  2. With the exception of the recipe blog, they are BORING. 
  3. With the exception of Spices in Life, it appears their millions of readers are mostly silent lurkers.  Who knows if these people are actually being read and not just passed by? 
  4. If one wants to really be entertained and/or educated, read any blog on my roll!
  5. Everyone on MY blogroll is actually read and updated on an almost daily basis.
  6. Our blogging community is THE BEST.  These guys might get an honorable mention on the site dashboard, but baby we’re the real deal (and we have a hell of a LOT more fun!)
  7. The absense of any sexual content or naughty language in the Top 7 leads me to believe these are actually the fastest growing G-rated WordPress.com sites, otherwise… 
  8. We’d be rocking the Fastest Growing list like a motherfucker!

Happy hours

OK, the source of much anxiety and hand-wringing yesterday (I tend to overreact at times) was because I was attneding my first Kansas City Blogger’s Meetup. So imagine, if you will, shy little ol’ me walking into a group of people, some of whom actually get paid MONEY to write shit for a living. And here I do this little thing on the side for giggles.

Luckily, Venus also went so I had back-up, just in case I felt like crying like a baby. No really, it was fine. Newsflash: Bloggers are pretty damn nice! But we already knew that, didn’t we? I like to work a crowd real slow so I didn’t do much mingling, but that will change as I get to know people a little bit at a time.   Apparently these folks meet pretty regularly so now that I’m in, they’ll never get rid of me. (Whahahahahahaha….cueing the evil laughs of wickedness).

If you’re interested in checking out some of last night’s honored guests, here’s Spyder’s post.  {Blogger’s   a little screwed up today, (the site Blogger, not ME) so if you can’t get in, it should be back up later…}

Let’s hear it for the girls

Our little goddess communitylaussel_venus.jpg has inspired me more than I can say and I think I’m finally finding my spiritual path.  I’m feeling the power of the feminine rising in my soul, strangely at a time when my estrogen levels are ebbing away.  The world needs our wisdom and power now, more than ever.

I dreamed of our dear poseidonsmuse last night.  Although we’ve never met, she was there, the woman I see in my mind’s eye.  Her story about “That Place” kept spinning through my head last night, all the way into my dreams. 

The summer drifts on its lazy path here, while down under, Simonne is living our opposite season.  Is it very cold there?  Do you miss the summer?  Does it snow?  We need a geography lesson!  Answers please, our dear Aussie friend. 

WriterChick is suffering the summer blogging blues, but the real question is: What is that mystery melon growing in her garden?

Ruby keeps on keeping on and I don’t know how she does it.  Her spirit is incredibly strong and I believe it will take more than breast cancer to keep her down.  We love you, sweet Ruby!

Venus, my spirit cousin.  You have evolved into a magical women!  Your mother knew what she was doing when she named you, my dear.

Deb and Grace and all the other women I’m just now getting to know:  Your words and comments make me feel surrounded by friendship.  I need for you to know how important it is to me that you take the time to read my words.  Writing has been cathartic for me, but I can’t do it in a vacuum. 

Thank you all, you wonderful, beautiful, magical women! 

blogging on blogging

I’m an obsessive blog-stat checker. I’m always wondering how many people per day are reading me and what they’re interested in. The blogs I think are really really good generally don’t generate any comments whatsoever. Blogs that I write off the cuff seem to spark an interest. I don’t know why this is, but it can be a little frustrating especially when I think I’ve scored a great post.

Today my cousin emailed me an article from the Kansas City Star today profiling local bloggers. Granted I’ve spent my life in relative anonimity and purposely don’t get out there in the general public very often. When I do, I’m one of those people that others seem to look through or over or under. It’s totally my fault, I know – I’m kind of quiet unless intoxicated. But gosh darn it, I’ve been blogging for nigh on 2 years now. OK, so I’ve tended to hop from blog host to blog host, but come on – keep up people!

I guess I shouldn’t hold it against the KC Star people for overlooking me this year, but honestly, I’ve got to blame someone, right?

On a somewhat related topic: I’m probably feeling kind of sorry for myself this week because an essay I recently wrote for submission was rejected. Rejected as in “Wer’re going to pass this time.” Rejected as in not good enough – for an internet ‘zine. Yikes, how low can you get when you’re rejected by a publication that can’t even afford to pay for the submissions they publish? I’m going to try submitting it somewhere else though, because that essay was totally worthy, my friends. Totally worthy.

Anyway, I’ll be visiting my dentist today for my permanent crown and am looking forward to entering nitrous-world where I plan to envision myself as a celebrated, regionally famous blogger who gets an average of 46 comments per post. Oh, and gets published. Even if it’s by me, on my own blog.



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