Ask the Internets
When I was a kid, we asked our parents. One of my earliest memories is showing my mom the little cuts on the bottoms of my toes, and her telling me it was from running barefoot on the grass. I should wear my shoes.
whatever
I Tried!!
I tried to blog, honest! It said it hated me. Okay, so what it actually said was some damn thing about a runtime error, but that’s just computer language for “I hate you and I wish you would go away.” So I did. For one day. And I sent flowers and chocolates and now my
Flock Reality
It’s not life I hate, it’s reality. Can’t it all just go away? Work sucks. Bigtime. And it just gets worse. Coming home is getting worse. Today it’s a notice in my mailbox about animal waste on the property. Considering I have one small dog who goes outside, and neighbor in the trailer has–last time
Speak for Yourself
You know. If you can. Quoting from this site: “I’ll be glad to talk about ranching, but I haven’t seen the movie. I’ve heard about it. I hope you go–you know– I hope you go back to the ranch and the farm is what I’m about to say.” —George W. Bush, after being asked whether
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The True Meaning of Fractured
I wonder if the person who came up with the term fractured personality was, or knew, a writer. An intuitive writer, which apparently is what I am. I certainly feel fractured today! I’m giving up for the night, in the middle of chapter 16. I’m having a *bleep* of a time keeping my characters straight
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