Writing a book is hard business. Every morning I get to it, often just tapping out one or two sentences before closing the file. Then, days like today, I can go off on dozens of forgotten tangents before deciding to get back to what make some more immediate money.
It’s like reaching out through a giant hamster ball. I can say this with confidence rather than rely on imagination because I was actually inside of a hamster ball. Look, here, I’ll prove it.
I am an over user of Pronoun I and have jud
Hello. I have missed you. So many events are back there it feels too difficult to organize them into a neat summary right now. I am relearning some important things that I lost like reading and writing. It is going well, well enough that I intend to practice more here.
I have been going through old posts and tagging them before republishing them. I was told that this would be a good “brain exercise,” and it is! I can tell by the way it tires out my head in a fuzzy way.
Within that project, I am placing all the spits of land called “pages” back into one place. Somehow I went on
How to get a cup of coffee when you lost your brakes so you have no car and your coffee machine broke.
Prepare the cash you need to purchase cup of coffee and place it, folded in your pants pocket. Also prepare your route so you are free to balance your coffee cup after mounting said bicycle.
Search the sky for any ominous cloud formations and don appropriate Gortex if needed.
Following your purchase, take several large gulps of coffee to decrease the liquid volume by 30%. DO NOT place cup in water holder or balance on seat of two-wheeler.
The sopping, swollen wind is a constant drive today, heated from the friction of its own movement. Although it does not belong in the seasonal cold, I am grateful for its balmy feel, and then reminded of months to come when it will bite notches from my skin, unless I escape, migrate or beam up.
For those of you who are already yoga aficionados like my friend Kelly, this will seem like a trivial waste of space. This is commonly called “the wheel,” or the urdhva-dhanurasana. If you say it fast enough and don’t really know how to pronounce it, spit out an odd number of ‘asa’ noises and you will sound impressive.
I suggest attempting this posture without a spotter, with absolutely nobody at home, even your dogs. They might stare at you while you attempt this feat.
First, place your gripper gloves in front of you, by your bare feet. Attempt
I got one of those giant group emails recently. It was a story I heard in the past many times over. I think it might be in one of the Chicken Soup books.
When I received it I was told that it was ‘National Friendship Week,’ and that the writer believes “God puts people in our lives for many reasons but especially for friendship.” And “Friends are angels bluh bluh bluh…
Hello. My name is Lucy. Lucy Wightman. Not Whiteman. Wightman. My real name is Louise. My original last name is Johnson. I am 51 years old last I checked, and for now I live in Hull, Massachusetts. I was many things.
This may be the only thing I write, or not. A blog is supposed to have some purpose, niche or focus. I can’t find one, yet. That is why I have so many pages on this site, pieces of someone I called me. After a while, the
“BlogHer.” That is catchy. My mind immediately jumps to “FlogHer,” “LogHer,” and “BangHer.”
Today in AdAge there was a report on the BlogHer Conference in New York.
Billed for the “tech-savvy” woman, it had “record attendance.”
I Googled “kicked out of Mensa,” and found little. One sight was a malware loading site, ready to tantalize me with anti-spyware protection.
It appears that either no one has been tossed from Mensa, or, given my compromised state; I cannot find the incidents on an Internet search.
So yeah, I emailed Mark Morris today. He is a choreographer I briefly knew before he became famous. He composes based on the music. “Music,” he says, “is more direct than words.” He is authentic, and it seems always in that “no bullshit-mode.” (per Maria) While he made noises back about being interested in an idea I had, and agreed to meet me after one of his Boston shows, it was ethers. Back in the day, I gave him what he wanted though.
After spending time with my extended family in the most
Where Were You When the Earthquake Happened?
Thinking we are impervious to the tectonic shifts and ruptures that hold the lives of West Coasters hostage is only a matter of education. On Wednesday, June 23rd, a 5.0 magnitude earthquake emanating from the Ontario/Quebec borderlands was felt as far away as Ohio
Not knowing the difference between a male and female house sparrow is yet another acceptable predicament I find myself in. Therefore, I call all sparrows within a 20-foot radius, ‘Chester.’
One sparrow found protection from the winter winds on the eaves of the porch. I learned how sparrows roost in streetlights to stay warm, and mate for life. Imagine
Saturday on Memorial Day weekend is a busy time. People become bumper cars in garden centers and hardware stores. I appreciate holidays where stores are open and I can avoid the obvious holiday gaps.
Since working my ass off all week as a “landscaper’s assistant” (no license required – yet), it was time to pick off the tics and get to my own garden. I planned a free-floating time after blogging about homophobia on Pastor Will Green’s site and the obligatory hoof to Lowe’s for those yearly throwaway porch shades. But wait! I still needed Crocs, and there was a CVS.
I have spent some time cleaning out a garage. Nothing like a boatload of spiders hiding under their individual leaves. As long as there are no damn centipedes. At least spiders make a failry predictable path, unlike the centipede, whose movements are like the Queen on a chess board, only in quadruple fast forward speed.
Centipedes look different at night. See that stout, cigar shaped lint over there? Boo! It is really a centipede