tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2157502052698015022024-03-05T13:46:24.844-06:00The Life and Times of Poopwa FoleyBecause life with a funny nickname is just...better.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger97125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-215750205269801502.post-1459969784430325362018-01-22T10:06:00.002-06:002018-01-22T10:33:49.811-06:00The Nose Knows Nothing<br />
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">I had to wait a while before I could write about our New
Year’s Eve celebration. Not because I drank so much that I was still hung over.
Not because I had so much fun that I am only now sending out thank you notes
and finishing up my photo books.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">No, it’s so I could get a solid hold on what reality I was
living that weekend and when I told you, I wanted to get it exactly right.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">My husband had a nosebleed in the middle of December. He
suffered in silence, as it started in the middle of the night and all evidence
of it was gone by the morning. It was no more than a footnote over our morning
coffee. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">That weekend he had another. I raise an eyebrow and wash a load of towels.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Still, only two nosebleeds. Not a huge deal but certainly
strange because I haven’t seen a nosebleed from him since <a href="http://poopwafoley.blogspot.com/2013/02/the-nose-knows.html">his sinus surgery five years ago, which will live on in infamy.</a> Because I will never forget what
a nightmare it was and I want to ensure he doesn’t either.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Christmas Eve comes, and my husband’s schnozzle decides it
has had enough of its quiet lifestyle and erupts like a volcano. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">This one has my attention</i>. It’s
everywhere, it’s never-ending, and most importantly, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">it’s getting our clean, ready-for-company house all dirty. </i>Time to
deploy the big girl panties.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">We finish cleaning for the party and I wash my hands eleven
times (get it? Eleven? Nosebleeds?) and our Christmas Eve celebration
continues.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">That night, we agree he probably should talk to the doctor
after the holidays about the nosebleeds. Someone who drives almost 3000 miles a
month for work does NOT want to get that type of nosebleed while driving.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">During the week, I boil water and run a vaporizer until our
walls are dripping so I can put moisture in the air. He not only has been
dealing with the nosebleeds but also got the same illness I had and has been
coughing up a lung for the past two nights. It’s the dreaded man cold and I
mentally gird my loins.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">The moist air doesn’t help. That Saturday I hear him
skittering down the hall to the bathroom and just know it’s happening again. A
half hour doesn’t seem like a very long time but when it looks like he’s losing
what looks like a gallon of blood, it’s an eternity. We’re getting to be
experts at managing them but definitely not happy about it. Plans to call the doctor
have been moved out of “maybe” into talks of Immediate Care instead, but it
stops and doesn’t come back so the talks stall.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">New Years’ Eve dawns and over morning coffee, Joe decides to
celebrate early by having a party in his nose, with lots of streamers. It’s
made worse because he’s coughing so much but finally this one stops too. I
suggest a quick care visit but it’s vetoed. The nosebleed stops…</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">…only to start up again around seven that night and this
time, we don’t even need to discuss it before piling into the car to go to the
ER. We can’t get it stopped. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">They put a sexy plastic ring on his nose that pinches his
nostrils shut but that doesn’t work. He graduates to level two; a nurse
fashions another one out of two tongue depressors which does the trick but
pinches his nose so tightly that he feels like he’s choking. He is, actually,
because since he can’t breathe through his nose, he’s got to breathe through
his mouth but guess what’s starting to clog his airway? Our friend, the helpful
blood clot, trying valiantly to stop the nosebleed.</span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7-yimn9lgJJkpzaop49X9YjJXLajgs_abyl9ODx-BA_qs2RMep4ZRYERoA6_o_1qbuOTi1GcC4uTPwbw6axoz1pbf1NeAxpNZFMgioWFseEOEEkUX2r5LLY5PRn0behe05DvZOlgGsok/s1600/IMG_20171231_204851872.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="957" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7-yimn9lgJJkpzaop49X9YjJXLajgs_abyl9ODx-BA_qs2RMep4ZRYERoA6_o_1qbuOTi1GcC4uTPwbw6axoz1pbf1NeAxpNZFMgioWFseEOEEkUX2r5LLY5PRn0behe05DvZOlgGsok/s320/IMG_20171231_204851872.jpg" width="191" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Joe, being NOT HAPPY</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">I’m going to pause here to confide that Joe doesn’t do well
with swallowing vitamins in the morning. One multivitamin and he’s choking and
gagging on it and can barely get it down. The sounds he makes are unlike
anything heard in nature, and they’re coupled with his bare foot pounding the
kitchen floor as if that will help. I’m pretty sure our neighbors hear this
morning routine. It cracks me up because I’m evil like that.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">There are four ER nurses in the room with us now, all
telling my darling Pookie Pants to stay calm but when Joe feels the gigantic choking
blob in the back of his throat, despite the instructions, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">he most certainly does not stay
calm</i></b>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">To my untrained eye, it appears our room has become the site
of a horrible butchering but boy howdy, does that get us ushered immediately
and with all due haste into an exam room. I realize that I’m going to have to
burn my clothes and Joe’s, but at least I know where all the antibacterial gel
is in the emergency room. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Long story short, we were there four hours. For three of
those hours, Joe’s nose was pinched shut and he still felt as if he were
suffocating. He paced. He griped. He paced. He fretted. He bled. However, all
his blood work is fine and the doctor finally comes in and numbs his offending nostril
so she can insert this long <s>tampon</s> cigarette-looking thing into his
nose. Once inserted, she is able to pump air into it and it conforms into the
shape of his nose voila, end of nosebleed. He’s much happier and we get to
leave. However, by this time it’s 10:30 p.m. and I don’t feel like cooking but
we stop at two different places and nothing’s open. Because it’s New Year’s
Eve.</span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOQMkYgpFExH2rI7iOFYmTCQw3bicsFPaXHDOEXFkYTwA6Lpm4FjtF7J96FLIMUZr4C0bhW1z1P5A8zst3gaUK5hx7ldcXrGBQ3ddW6tCepOd17sj2n07Q9wZHFJ0ko4dW-25Ivd7UvX4/s1600/IMG_20171231_224703012.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1065" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOQMkYgpFExH2rI7iOFYmTCQw3bicsFPaXHDOEXFkYTwA6Lpm4FjtF7J96FLIMUZr4C0bhW1z1P5A8zst3gaUK5hx7ldcXrGBQ3ddW6tCepOd17sj2n07Q9wZHFJ0ko4dW-25Ivd7UvX4/s320/IMG_20171231_224703012.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">He's such a good sport that he let me use this picture. That's TRUE LOVE, folks.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">I am so crabby. Sulky. I’m starving and at 10:45 p.m. I heat
up beef for sandwiches. We eat in relative silence and stonily clink glasses at
midnight. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">The next day is January 1, which is the day <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">my</i></b>
side of the family celebrates Christmas. Joe has, up until now, said he was
going to go (even with that…<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">thing</i> in
his nose) but now he has changed his mind because he’s not “breathing” right.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">This brings back horrid memories and PTSD flashbacks of his
<a href="http://poopwafoley.blogspot.com/2013/02/the-nose-knows.html">deviated septum surgery</a>. It was a truly dark week in history in the Cacciatore
household.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Still, I go through the motions of preparing for the ninety
minute trek into town. I make the jambalaya I am supposed to bring. I have all
the presents I’m supposed to bring all wrapped and organized, so I go take a
long bath while having a hot cup of tea. But I know what’s coming.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Joe is still not feeling well. He isn't going and he doesn’t want <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">me</i> to go. He
looks like a deer caught in the headlights at the thought of me leaving for the
day.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">I will refrain from comment here because sometimes time does
not heal all wounds, and I was super upset because <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">CHRISTMAS WITH MY FAMILY</b> and I’m missing it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">However, I know a panic attack when I see one, and Joe is
having a big one. The look in my poor honey’s eyes when I say I’m leaving him
all day long is pure terror. I wouldn’t do this to an enemy; I certainly
wouldn’t do it to my husband. Whom I love. It’s a three hour round trip and my
husband, my true love, is convinced that he doesn’t have enough air.</span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">NOTE:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>HE DOES. HE DOES HAVE ENOUGH AIR. HE REALLY,
REALLY DOES.</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">He just <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">thinks</i> he
doesn’t because we can’t take out the packing from his right nostril, and his
left is congested. For all of the soothing, understanding sounds I make, I
don’t get why he can’t OPEN HIS MOUTH AND BREATHE THAT WAY LIKE EVERYONE ELSE
DOES WHEN THEY HAVE A COLD. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">However, see:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>panic
attack. I get it. I stay home.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">I also pout and cry that day. I am miserable because I work
so hard to get just the perfect gifts, the funniest things, the most thoughtful;
and I have to send my jambalaya and my gifts into Joliet with my girls.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">I miss seeing my brother open his “favorite child” pin, and
don’t get to see his kids open presents that were on their Toys r Us wish list.
I miss my sister and her kids opening carefully chosen silly mugs. I miss
sitting and joking around with my other five siblings because I just don’t see
them nearly enough and I like to be snarky in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">person</i>, not just on Facebook.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">But I do what any good wife would do. I take my husband’s
concerns seriously and hold his hand while we sit on the reclining loveseat so
he can relax enough to sleep because did I forget to mention? It’s Monday
afternoon, and Joe has not slept in about five days between his terrible cough
and the inability to breath. He hasn’t slept, like, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">at all</i></b>. He can’t fall
asleep because he’s certain that the second he does, he’s going to stop
breathing altogether. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">I think of all the soothing things I can do to calm the
panic attack he’s having. I give him ONE of my TWO XANAX which as anyone knows
is a terrible second only to missing Christmas. I pour him a lavender scented
bath and put on soothing music which helps for approximately seven seconds.
He’s back to panic mode before he’s even dried off and has his jammies on.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">I find my blog on his deviated septum surgery, reread it,
and cannot believe the similarities between then and now. Folks, this is a
nightmare.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">EXCEPT IT GETS SO
MUCH WORSE.</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Monday at bedtime, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">the most horrible night of all</i></b>, I
put on an ocean waves soundtrack, hoping that it will soothe his panic and
allow him (and me) to sleep. Joe sleeps for ten minutes at a time, waking up in
a panic every single time. He’s convinced that the ocean waves are <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">sending him subliminal messages</i> so I
have to turn that off. I <s>warn </s>caution him that I have to work on Tuesday
and that if he doesn’t let me sleep, I won’t be able to function. I make him
swear he’s going to let me sleep. He goes out onto the couch.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">I get two hours of sleep before he
shakes me awake. “I’m not sure how I should be breathing.” It’s 1:30 a.m. and
we’re both exhausted and one of us is very angry. He won’t take a shot of
liquor to help him sleep. The Xanax has done nothing and he’s pacing like a
caged animal so I wrestle him down and force feed him a double dose of Nyquil,
which has absolutely no effect and as a matter of fact, seems to wind him up
even more.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">The only thing keeping us going is the fact that we’re
going to the doctor’s in the morning so that he can take the packing out. The
rest of the night is ghastly. We’re both hallucinating from lack of sleep.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">Tuesday morning, after a refreshing three hour rest, I dress
for work, (I think?) shove him in the car and drive to his doctor’s office
where we park our butts.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">When the doctor finally is able to see him, they chat, Joe
is prescribed some cough syrup with codeine for the cough, and
then—blessedly—Doctor takes out the packing. (look away if you’re squeamish,
but gawd, I didn’t think he’d EVER finish pulling that thing out of Joe’s nose.
It was about the size of a rolling pin and about as big around.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">The effect on my husband is galvanizing. It’s as if someone
literally has flipped a switch. His color comes back almost immediately and
he’s showing more clarity than I’ve seen in a week. I take him back home to
drop him off because although he’s going to take a sick day so that he can
sleep, I myself cannot call in sick. Despite trying to keep a brave face, I’m
so tired I can barely see
straight. I mainline coffee on the way to work.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Five hours later, I’m uneasy because I haven’t heard from
him despite a few texts and a quick voicemail. Has he had another nosebleed? Is
he even now face down, head in a towel, in the hallway? DID HE GET BLOOD ON OUR
NEW COUCH?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">The last one spurs me into action and I call him again. A
different man answers the phone. He sounds—dare I say—perky. Happy. “Boy, I
feel so much better,” he crows. “I was able to sleep.” I repress the urge to
tell him he’s had more sleep in the past few hours than I got <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">all night</i>. Good thing I’m at work
because I’m rolling my eyes. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">“I don’t feel like I’m gasping for air anymore,” he
continues happily. “Of course, the doctor did say my airway was probably
compromised because of my cough." Of course he did, I think. His doctor is a
<em>man</em> so he is a little more likely to empathize with the man <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">cold</i>. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">But here’s what matters; there’s no more panic in his voice.
While still hoarse, his voice sounds hopeful, like there’s an end to the past
couple weeks of wheezing, coughing, phlegm, and let’s not forget, nosebleeds.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">His optimistic tone buoys me, much to my surprise. Sounds
like sleep is on the horizon for me too. My eyes well up in gratitude. I tell Joe to
try to get another nap in and turn on that ocean waves soundtrack—maybe it will
tell him to sweep the floor and do the dishes before I get home from work.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: x-small;">*not a man cold, though. No one can be as sick as a man.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: x-small;">PPS...also published on<a href="https://wordpress.com/view/lovelustandlaptops.wordpress.com"> Love, Lust and Laptops</a> today.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #111111; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">About the author:</span></div>
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<span style="color: #111111; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Christine Cacciatore is a multi-published author who lives—and loves—to
write. Together with her sister, Jennifer Starkman, she has published the
magical novels </span><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Baylyn-Bewitched-Whitfield-Witch-Book-ebook/dp/B00D0JO71G/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8"><span style="color: #c00000; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; text-decoration: none;">Baylyn, Bewitched</span></a><span style="color: #111111; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> and </span><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Cat-Charmed-Whitfield-Witch-Book-ebook/dp/B00JD03I8Y/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8"><span style="color: #c00000; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; text-decoration: none;">Cat, Charmed</span><span style="color: #e53b55; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; text-decoration: none;">,</span></a><span style="color: #111111; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> with the third book Elise, Evermore coming out soon. On her own, she
has written </span><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Noah-Canes-Candy-Christine-Cacciatore-ebook/dp/B019AD7PW8/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8"><span style="color: #c00000; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; text-decoration: none;">Noah Cane’s Candy</span></a><span style="color: #e53b55; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">, </span><span style="color: #111111; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">a sassy holiday short romance and</span><span style="color: #c00000; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01J6M5566"><span style="color: #c00000; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Knew You’d Come</span></a><span style="color: #111111; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">, a spicy
paranormal romance novella. Also, Chris ventured into the Kindle Worlds Mary
O’Reilly paranormal series and has written </span><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Mary-OReilly-Paranormal-Mysteries-Trouble-ebook/dp/B01HQXH7EA/ref=la_B00LA9OJ0C_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1494347391&sr=1-1"><span style="color: #c00000; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; text-decoration: none;">Trouble Lake</span></a><span style="color: #c00000; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">and<span style="color: #c00000;"> </span></span><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Mary-OReilly-Paranormal-Mysteries-Novella-ebook/dp/B072HW1LK8/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8"><span style="color: #c00000; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt; text-decoration: none;">Grave Injury</span></a><span style="color: #c00000; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">. </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">They’re the perfect books to curl up with any time
of year but especially Halloween…because they’re chock full of ghosts!<span style="color: #c00000;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #111111; font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"> Chris is a member of the In Print Professional Writer’s Group in
Rockford, IL and the Chicago Writer’s Association. In her spare time, Chris
enjoys writing, reading, and coloring in her grandchildren’s coloring books
with the <i>good</i> crayons. Chris is married to a devastatingly handsome man
she met on eHarmony, has three children and a gigantic black dog who helps her
pack lunches in the morning. She also has four of the most beautiful,
intelligent grandchildren in the world, and their antics keep her in stitches.</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-215750205269801502.post-7325305802172624142018-01-19T12:21:00.000-06:002018-01-19T13:04:00.512-06:00Salem Sweethearts...a sample from Weird, Wicked Tales<br />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">SALEM
SWEETHEARTS<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNDGPJQnYqZ2ge9w7JGDFNUSPUMx77XJr1i39XF2xtzru-H25oTkxg4MHT-5JQI5GcjlKptLo4BjsK9gTfGoiI4Z31Hd1weLmy5FTcRI1H2UHX0PDN2X0vOClgvsgS3wvy0dtTlWX0dDA/s1600/wand.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Silhouette Sorceress by Sattva/freedigitalphotos.net" border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="260" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNDGPJQnYqZ2ge9w7JGDFNUSPUMx77XJr1i39XF2xtzru-H25oTkxg4MHT-5JQI5GcjlKptLo4BjsK9gTfGoiI4Z31Hd1weLmy5FTcRI1H2UHX0PDN2X0vOClgvsgS3wvy0dtTlWX0dDA/s320/wand.jpg" title="" width="208" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">
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</span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">“Don’t
you think we ought to take her to the shrink or something?” Dan leaned on the
kitchen counter and watched his wife chop vegetables for pasta salad.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Sue
glanced at him; then looked back down at her cutting board and sharp knife. Wouldn’t
do to lose concentration and bleed all over the veggies before they even made
it into the salad.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">“Well,
no.” She kept chopping, avoiding eye contact. “I mean, she’s just got the imagination
of a four year old. It’s probably something she heard on TV. Just relax.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Dan
leaned over, snagged a chunk of green pepper, and popped it in his mouth. “When
you were at the store the other day, our daughter pretended to have a baby on
the living room floor. For something she ‘saw on TV’, the words—the
actions—well, let’s just say she’s got a pretty damn good imagination AND vocabulary.
I wish I had recorded her.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Sue
sighed. “I wish you had too. I’d see what exactly you were talking about. I’ve
never seen her do anything like that.” She tilted the cutting board and the
vegetables slid down into the bowl. “Hand me the Italian dressing,” she
ordered. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Quit standing around watching
me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s creepy.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">He
shook the salad dressing, twisted the cap off, and handed it to his wife. “You
weren’t here. You didn’t see what I saw or hear what I heard. Unless you’ve
been watching one episode after another of “I Didn’t Know I Was Pregnant” or
“You Gave Birth Where?” your daughter has picked up this information somewhere.
And why has she started to wear a witch hat all the time? It’s summertime.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">“Can
you please hand me the pasta now?” <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">If
you’re going to be in my kitchen while I’m trying to make dinner, at least make
yourself useful, jackass.</i> She poured the dressing on top of the chopped
veggies, diced pepperoni, and tiny cubes of cheese, and looked at him
expectantly. She didn’t address the hat.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">He
was holding the drained pasta hostage. “Are you listening to me? You’re talking
about a kid who still has a little bit of a baby lisp. It takes her five tries
to say the word ‘dictionary’, for crying out loud. Yet there she was, lying on
her back on the living room floor, screaming that the contractions were coming
every three minutes. And another thing—she should be watching Dora, not asking
to watch “Hocus Pocus” all the time.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Sue
leaned forward, grabbed the colander of pasta, and dumped it into the bowl.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She laughed. “Don’t you remember her
preschool teacher just came back from maternity leave? I’m sure she heard her
talking to one of the other teachers about the birth.” She sighed and stirred
the assembled ingredients. “And Hocus Pocus is an adorable children’s movie.
Honestly, Dan, what’s the problem?” She shot him a pointed look. “Is the grill
ready?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">He
brandished the package of hot dogs at her. “It’s just freaky, is all. Our
daughter used the words ‘contraction’ and ‘pushing.’ But yeah, you’re right.
Probably something she overheard.” He shook his head in disgust as stepped out
on the patio and slammed the sliding door.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Sue
covered the pasta salad with foil and put it in the fridge. “Bethany, can you
come in here please?” The little girl’s blue eyes met hers from in the living
room and she nodded obediently. She took off her earphones and placed them on
top of her iPad, hopped off the couch and trotted into the kitchen.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">“Mommy,
I’m hungry.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">“Dinner’s
almost ready. Can I talk to you about something?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">“I’m
really hungry though, Mommy.” The little girl spun around in a circle on her
heel. Her black hair spun out behind her, under her black pointy hat.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">“Bethany,
look at me.” The little girl obeyed immediately. “Daddy said the other day that
you were pretending to have a baby on the living room floor. Do you remember
that?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The little girl nodded.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">“Remember
what Mommy said, though? That if you were to remember something important and
grown up that you were supposed to tell Mommy, not Daddy?” Sue watched as her
daughter processed this information.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">“So
when I remember stuff about the place we used to live, I just tell you, right,
Mommy?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Sue
gave her a genuine smile. “That’s right.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>That’s my angel. You’re remembering more and more every single day, I
can tell! Just remember that Daddy doesn’t understand. Only share with Mommy.
He’s bothered that you pretended to have a baby.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">“I
wasn’t pretending. I was remembering when I had Rose. Mommy, do you remember
her?” Bethany clapped her hands, eyes shining.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">“Of
course I remember Rose, sweetie. She was your beautiful daughter.” The original
Rose had been born in Salem 325 years ago to the day that Bethany “birthed” her
baby in the living room. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Pretty Rose. My
granddaughter.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Sue
watched her daughter absorb the long ago memories. Bethany’s blue eyes now
shone with intelligence beyond her years and she stood a little taller. Sue
observed proudly as wisdom, knowledge, and thoughts of revenge settled on her
young daughter’s shoulders. It had begun. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">“Mama,
where’s Rose now?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bethany’s hand
reached for hers.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">“Rose
will be joining us again in a few months, darling.” Sue smoothed her palm over
her expanding baby bump. “Then you, me and Rose…we’ll be together again, like
before.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">“Like
our Salem coven?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">“Exactly.
And when it’s time, we will finally take our revenge on the judge who sentenced
us to burn at the stake so long ago.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Bethany
turned to look out the patio door. Her eyes gleamed. “Does Daddy remember that’s
who he was?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">They
watched Dan turn the hot dogs on the grill.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.3in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">“No,
sweetie.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But he will.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</span><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">The End</span>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;">Want <em><strong>more</strong></em> stories like this one? Get yourself a copy of <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B076X98QPT">Weird, Wicked Tales: Creepy Short Stories for All Hallow's Eve!</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12pt;"></span> </div>
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-215750205269801502.post-39863668444104682992018-01-09T09:33:00.000-06:002018-01-09T09:33:40.242-06:00Pregnant Women Just Gotta Deal
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">A local father-to-be is honored for the hard work he did
around the house on Saturday, while his wife “just puked all day”.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Jon Rhett goes on to say, “I mean, the dishes weren’t going
to do themselves, right? Some of the bowls had cereal stuck on them so they
were very hard to wash. I learned you have to let those soak because I cut
myself on a sharp Frosted Flake that had adhered to the side of the bowl.” He
then held up his middle finger which was indeed bandaged.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It wasn’t just the dishes that he helped with, though. Jon
also vacuumed the living room (“I ate the cereal in there; I dropped a couple
pieces”) and also used a hand towel to wipe off the sink in the bathroom.
“After I did that, I threw it on the bathroom floor and did a little foot
mopping. My wife spends almost three hours a day, every day, in here doing the
Technicolor yawn. You’d think she would have gotten all of the ick off the
floor, at least. But no, there was still a spot or two behind the toilet. Or
maybe just a misfire from the old piss-cannon. Either way, our bathroom hasn’t
looked this good in months,” he said. “I just threw the hand towel I used on
the floor back up on the rack. Didn’t want to make extra laundry.” </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The two are expecting their first child in a few months. Jon
said his wife, Sega, claims to be suffering from “hyperemesis gravitadarum” almost
since the day she got pregnant. “Oh, sure I Googled it,” he relates. “And of
course some pregnant ladies throw up a lot. But that’s usually only for the
first couple of months. My wife seems to really be drawing this out—I’m
starting to think it’s intentional so she can get out of housework. I mean, I
get it, though. Sometimes my stomach is a little upset. Every single Saturday
morning, I feel exactly the same way. I’m hungover after Friday nights with my
bros. But as you can clearly see, I was still able to do some housework even
though I didn’t feel well. It really is just mind over matter. Take some Pepto,
am I right? Some preggos run marathons clear up until their ninth month, I read
somewhere. We all just gotta deal.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">When asked if he attends obstetrician appointments with his
wife, Jon laughingly shook his head. “The last time we went together, we took
my new pickup. Do you know how hard it is to clean puke out of floor mats? She had
to buy me new ones because even though she used toothpicks on the grooves, some
things just don’t come out. It still smells in there.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">One of Jon’s bros, Charlie Pratt, submitted his name and a
small story describing his momentous aid and personal sacrifice to an online
contest on “Everyday Husbands”, a small Facebook group of newly married men.
When the admins of Everyday Husbands called Jon to let him know he won the prize
(limo service to a local steakhouse and $100 gift card to the restaurant), no
one was more surprised than his wife.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Jon said, “It’s almost as if she wasn’t excited that I won
something.” When asked when he planned on using the winning limo ride and dinner
prize with her, he told our reporter, “You know, I’m not really sure she’s
going to be up for going out to dinner anytime soon. I’ll probably invite my
friend Charlie from the group; his wife is expecting triplets and I imagine
he’s probably going stir crazy,” he chuckled. “We could both use a night out
from our respective ball-and-chains. Besides, this is a treat for my wife too.
Now she won’t have to make me dinner whatever night Charlie and I decide to go.
Plus she’d probably throw it up anyway. And now she won’t have to do dishes
that night either.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We tried to reach Jon’s wife for comment on his prize, but
our calls were not returned.</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-215750205269801502.post-73490325283734502732017-05-26T17:04:00.000-05:002017-05-26T17:04:08.823-05:00Poopwa Foley's Series of Unfortunate Hangry Injuries<br />
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">I blame the enormous bruise on my arm on a coworker.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">I listened to him when he suggested getting a full body examination
at the dermatologist. There are three good reasons I should. One, I had never
had one in the past. Two, I have extremely fair Irish skin. Three, I have had a
mole on my back for years that needs to be checked, and a pink dot on my temple
that had been burned off in the past.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">I called to make the appointment for the full body scan but
they had nothing available because they were booked for the next six months for
the full body scan. I start to make the appointment for just checking the one,
then, when she interrupted, “Hey, wait a minute! Here’s a full body scan
appointment for two days from now because someone cancelled. Do you want that?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">It’s a sign. I took the appointment.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">At the dermatologists, she thoroughly looked all over my
body, up and down unshaven legs and pale arms. She looked like a giant bug with
her lit up magnifying monocle. <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikzEWxYkpsVed_QXP1cTr62WTe9Gz90D6Vrv_sIOW8FyUy_2ZJnfWKCEU8C7F757L782PiqQGzKVt9GyxcPMSE_H5XPiOL9q5ZqDmvecEzAHBWXovqpi1rP2j2h0chRMfe2FWYZWmMDFg/s1600/Snapchat-847428332.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikzEWxYkpsVed_QXP1cTr62WTe9Gz90D6Vrv_sIOW8FyUy_2ZJnfWKCEU8C7F757L782PiqQGzKVt9GyxcPMSE_H5XPiOL9q5ZqDmvecEzAHBWXovqpi1rP2j2h0chRMfe2FWYZWmMDFg/s320/Snapchat-847428332.jpg" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">who doesn't love snapchat?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">I have moles of every shape, size, and color on my back, and
I’m concerned about every one of them. She looked at them carefully but
pronounced them all ok. However, that pink dot on my temple? She numbed it for
a biopsy. “I don’t like this one. Don’t get worried, I’m not saying it’s basal
cell carcinoma…,” she trails off. She and the assistant then took turns
explaining to me that if caught quick enough basal cell carcinoma is not deadly.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Long story not made shorter, it <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">was</i> basal cell carcinoma. A week later, I found myself flat on a
table getting that sucker cut out. (editor’s note: there are clear margins and
it’s ok now.)</span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuo0Qt_JIrW8Hi8z5Ylj-OOBuk_UOBcfg2oJ-la_mzOi6zmFVmAuWJbKvxjGcrTjpprQPRMqvrrEJV2sZ9tPb6b7nvff5XIep4qSokrkWIaCq81TqSnVfzrX6yn5npTnd1gaHj4wrNXwA/s1600/IMG_20170516_140914841.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="792" data-original-width="971" height="261" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuo0Qt_JIrW8Hi8z5Ylj-OOBuk_UOBcfg2oJ-la_mzOi6zmFVmAuWJbKvxjGcrTjpprQPRMqvrrEJV2sZ9tPb6b7nvff5XIep4qSokrkWIaCq81TqSnVfzrX6yn5npTnd1gaHj4wrNXwA/s320/IMG_20170516_140914841.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I stayed at work even though I looked like this and no one even said anything.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">At home that night, I have a ton of groceries in the house
but plan on milking the painful stitches in my face for every bit of
non-cooking pity I can get. Joe fell neatly into my trap and agreed, then said
the words every woman longs to hear. “Why don’t you call Portillo’s?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Why don’t I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">indeed?</i>
I couldn’t call fast enough and Joe left to pick it up.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Question: If you’re picking up an order to bring home, don’t
you normally look in the bag prior to leaving the restaurant? Answer: Yes, you
do. Every time. Apparently my romper wearing husband didn’t get that memo.
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcd7cPntiqCQt2nzapcziqF6Sy4xfvj4XEf8ikehyphenhyphenRfwqJ6OBfRKzXhKCrVqORpbWD6wHyCshQV0eGq8dE-ExExLp3Fuqijtzag69IIsnCruUsW1hwcwCzqATesh9Yx4LBEzCtUWQrLEQ/s1600/FB_IMG_1495303395900.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="877" data-original-width="748" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcd7cPntiqCQt2nzapcziqF6Sy4xfvj4XEf8ikehyphenhyphenRfwqJ6OBfRKzXhKCrVqORpbWD6wHyCshQV0eGq8dE-ExExLp3Fuqijtzag69IIsnCruUsW1hwcwCzqATesh9Yx4LBEzCtUWQrLEQ/s320/FB_IMG_1495303395900.jpg" width="272" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">he's all mine.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Through my pain, I managed to athletically leap off the
chair and open the bag when he gets home. At the bottom of the bag, there are
two beef sandwiches and two tiny fries. Not bags of fries. Not <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">orders</i> of fries. Just two short
individual fries.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">I looked at Joe. “This is not what I meant when I ordered
two small fries.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">He looked in the bag too, and says, “Well, that’s okay. We
don’t really need them, do we?” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">We’ve been married for ten years and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">he doesn’t even know me</i>.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">“Well, no, we don’t <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">need</i>
them,” I said. “But I want them. We paid for them.” I NEED them. I seethed
internally<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">. I just had surgery for crying
out loud</i> and deserve some poor poor baby fries.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">“But we had a $5 coupon,” he said. “It’s not like we paid
for them, not really.” There’s no fight in his eyes, though. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">The voice that issued from my throat sounds only vaguely
like mine. “I’m calling the manager and going back to get the fries.” Joe knows
he has been beaten. He’s crestfallen because he’s not going to get to eat that
sandwich until we have the complete meal we paid for. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">I spoke to a lovely manager who was suitably upset that we
didn’t get our order and if we came back she’d have the fries ready.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Joe offered to go back, but I told him I’d go. I didn’t want
to admit I didn’t want him to go because what if he didn’t check the bag AGAIN
and I end up with no post-surgery fries? Again?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">A guy at Portillo’s opened the door for me, then a second
door, and I thanked him and rushed through. Fries, I think. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Fries</i>.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">It was then I cracked my left arm on the handle of the
second door.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">In my rush to get my promised fries, it did not really register
how bad I hit my arm. I was so excited about the fact that the manager threw in
two free pieces of chocolate cake that the pain barely registered. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">I got home and we wolfed down every morsel.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Although my arm had a little lump on it, it wasn’t really
red. A few minutes later, though, my arm started throbbing. The tempo matched
the throbbing in the stitches in my left temple and the toothache on the right.
(whole separate story.)</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">The next day, and several subsequent days, the bruise started
to look like a paint sample card from Menards.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidczH2g4-nD0GUBh0QJ3o_-E67W1sTqMuxmDCaXlDeN3mVJyWGvTUgxYFknpKbq8HMkZHAKq9DtckLc6XIxipTSWs0m9v1ZTQugq1QolSVEI0uXUK1kvAGA8BEoogbosIUhM5KsMGjZxw/s1600/IMG_20170524_145556752_HDR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1553" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidczH2g4-nD0GUBh0QJ3o_-E67W1sTqMuxmDCaXlDeN3mVJyWGvTUgxYFknpKbq8HMkZHAKq9DtckLc6XIxipTSWs0m9v1ZTQugq1QolSVEI0uXUK1kvAGA8BEoogbosIUhM5KsMGjZxw/s320/IMG_20170524_145556752_HDR.jpg" width="310" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">ow. ow. ow. this pic doesn't do it justice.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">It reminded me of last October, when I submitted an order
for pizza at a local pizza place and when I got there, they didn’t have my
order and claimed I submitted it to our Janesville location. “But if you want
to wait for twenty minutes, I’ll get a new order ready for you.” *</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">I was hungry, and I was angry, and when I got into the car,
I slammed my fingers in the car door. The fingers on my left hand. I’m still not
sure how I did that, because if I am driving, I shut the door with my left
hand.</span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhErum0IlnWlsXgi4hlN2cWzrUU9cGDHipqgQIsUU6T3k8Kxj4xu5Ejv5VHONXxvvNsRf0fG9AVnGlRQx30rnueBXqFbo2C15nodQL0VPS0d-Ys4tRxythzfFoFndq1gEDEYb7gpdL_gC0/s1600/Capture.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="565" data-original-width="598" height="302" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhErum0IlnWlsXgi4hlN2cWzrUU9cGDHipqgQIsUU6T3k8Kxj4xu5Ejv5VHONXxvvNsRf0fG9AVnGlRQx30rnueBXqFbo2C15nodQL0VPS0d-Ys4tRxythzfFoFndq1gEDEYb7gpdL_gC0/s320/Capture.PNG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">ow. part 2.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">So twice now, this is what happened when I was hungry, in a
hurry, and our food order was messed up. This is what happens when you’re
hangry. **</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Angry plus hungry. Hangry. As far as I’m concerned, hangry
equals injury. My left arm and fingers told me so. </span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQyo6Ua0-BTqrJX_Q64pJ0USGm_hiOP65kJf5lRv8xJu8x6rdoHAJAHiVspo5L_xspYUob6yPzvg5GPT7bKBmu7sCtk_Wo_5HQoSNiyNzfszNC-dHFB8InRhyphenhyphen3ySdoIaTz5kTCc_F1hP4/s1600/IMG_20170524_091529174_BURST001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="682" data-original-width="530" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQyo6Ua0-BTqrJX_Q64pJ0USGm_hiOP65kJf5lRv8xJu8x6rdoHAJAHiVspo5L_xspYUob6yPzvg5GPT7bKBmu7sCtk_Wo_5HQoSNiyNzfszNC-dHFB8InRhyphenhyphen3ySdoIaTz5kTCc_F1hP4/s320/IMG_20170524_091529174_BURST001.jpg" width="248" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">my little scar. it looks much better now.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">*the manager called me back and said that the kid behind the
counter lied. He comped me the entire meal.</span> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: xx-small;">**I'm aware this might be a symptom of a weight problem.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: "calibri";"> </span></o:p></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-215750205269801502.post-90945613075392264132017-05-18T19:58:00.000-05:002017-05-18T20:05:04.047-05:00What is Kindle Worlds, anyway?<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">My writing group, the In Print Professional Writer’s
Group, had a guest speaker named </span><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Terri-Reid/e/B004S8D0R0/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_3?qid=1495120802&sr=1-3"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="color: #0563c1;">Terri Reid</span></span></a><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">
in the Spring of 2011.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">She spoke to our group about her foray into self-publishing
with the release of her first e-book, </span><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Loose-Ends-Mary-OReilly-Book-ebook/dp/B003Y5H8IK/ref=la_B004S8D0R0_1_9?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1495141933&sr=1-9"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="color: #0563c1;">Loose Ends, a Mary O’Reilly
Paranormal Mystery</span></span></i></a><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">. When we had secured her as a guest
speaker, her book had been downloaded over 40,000 times. By the time she came
to speak to our group, it had been downloaded 80,000 times.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Six years later, Terri is a best-selling author and
not only has finished Book 19 of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that</i>
series; she’s also written several other series and has fans around the world.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Because her books were selling so well, Amazon
approached Terri with the idea to create a Mary O’Reilly Paranormal Mystery
World. She needed to assemble several authors for her end of June 2016 launch.</span></div>
<div class="aolmailmsonormal" style="margin: 1em 0in;">
Here’s her email to me, in part: “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I’ve been approached by Amazon to create a
Mary O’Reilly Kindle Worlds – it’s like an Amazon fanfiction arena, but writers
actually get paid for what they write. You write a story within the Mary
O’Reilly World using the Mary characters and any other characters you want to
create. You can write in any genre you want – as long as you use the main
idea of the Mary O’Reilly World. </i></div>
<div class="aolmailmsonormal" style="margin: 1em 0in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“The other cool
thing about this is that if an author has an established character in their own
series – they can “visit” the Mary O’Reilly World and interact with Mary – but
get publicity for their own character and book.”</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">To be honest with you, I could not say yes FAST
ENOUGH.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><strong>WHAT IS KINDLE WORLDS?</strong></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Best-Sellers-Kindle-Store-Worlds/zgbs/digital-text/6118587011/ref=zg_bs_unv_kstore_2_6305072011_1"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="color: #0563c1;">Kindle
Worlds</span></span></a><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"> is Amazon’s answer to fan fiction. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Directly from their website:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Welcome to Kindle Worlds, a place for you to publish
fan fiction inspired by popular books, shows, movies, comics, music, and games.
With Kindle Worlds, you can write new stories based on featured Worlds, engage
an audience of readers, and earn royalties.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Before we started on our books, Terri sent us a
character bible, describing the characters in her books that we could use. We
were also told that if we wanted to, we could bring a character or two from one
of our own books into the Mary O’Reilly Kindle World book that we were writing.
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The nuts and bolts of it? Write a book over 10,000
words set in the Mary O’Reilly world. Add much or as little of Terri’s character
(s) as you wish. Your book should be properly edited, proofread, and formatted.
You will also need a cover for your book using the Kindle Worlds template found
on their website. Kindle Worlds also puts a copyright page in for you, and prices
your book, generally $1.99. Then writers use the self-publishing tool on Kindle
World’s website and upload it. It’s extremely user friendly. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">For the launch of the Mary O’Reilly Kindle Worlds, we
all had to have our books ready and submitted to Kindle Worlds so they could go
live on June 30 of 2016.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The day for the launch came. It was so thrilling. Six
authors had brand new Mary O’Reilly World books to bring forth—a world where
fans of the series were practically salivating to get their hands on books that
featured her characters.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The following are links to the Mary O’Reilly Kindle
Worlds books. Click on the name to be taken to their Amazon author page!</span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirF5nD5bls1NtHNLhlWHqECkpEXKVXFeGroUrQN-z3W02zyjdE_l8BSTYH7-DIrjHEv6j7Rna98NiP-isijZeo2PvKFyVsnJxzSujmi81rKQp5HMGfhpk6ydZ7Wn6J8KMiu6mVoi1oAR4/s1600/GI+Final+Image.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirF5nD5bls1NtHNLhlWHqECkpEXKVXFeGroUrQN-z3W02zyjdE_l8BSTYH7-DIrjHEv6j7Rna98NiP-isijZeo2PvKFyVsnJxzSujmi81rKQp5HMGfhpk6ydZ7Wn6J8KMiu6mVoi1oAR4/s320/GI+Final+Image.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I get a picture because it's my blog. lol</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Christine-Cacciatore/e/B00LA9OJ0C/ref=pd_sim_351_bl_1?_encoding=UTF8&refRID=Y0775E6FP8P3C9CACG7C"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="color: #0563c1;">Chris
Cacciatore</span></span></a><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"> wrote </span><a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B01HQXH7EA/ref=series_rw_dp_sw"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="color: #0563c1;">Trouble
Lake</span></span></a><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">
in 2016 and </span><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Mary-OReilly-Paranormal-Mysteries-Novella-ebook/dp/B072HW1LK8/ref=pd_sim_351_4?_encoding=UTF8&psc=1&refRID=62EJME8NCD4BF1FJH5KV"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="color: #0563c1;">Grave
Injury</span></span></a><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"> in 2017, released this past month. I believe that
writing for the Mary O’Reilly Kindle World has been a boon for my writing
career. For instance, in Trouble Lake I brought in two of my characters, Baylyn
and Cat, from </span><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Baylyn-Bewitched-Whitfield-Witch-Book-ebook/dp/B00D0JO71G/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="color: #0563c1;">Baylyn,
Bewitched</span></span></a><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">. In Grave Injury, I wrote bought in a character from </span><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Knew-Youd-Come-Haunting-Story-ebook/dp/B01J6M5566/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="color: #0563c1;">Knew
You’d Come</span></span></a><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<a href="https://www.amazon.com/s/ref=dp_byline_sr_ebooks_1?ie=UTF8&text=Vicky+Holt&search-alias=digital-text&field-author=Vicky+Holt&sort=relevancerank"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="color: #0563c1;">Vicky
Holt</span></span></a><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">
wrote </span><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Mary-OReilly-Paranormal-Mysteries-Measures-ebook/dp/B01HQXH77C/ref=sr_1_2?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1495119798&sr=1-2&keywords=VICKY+HOLT"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="color: #0563c1;">Safety
Measures</span></span></a><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"> in 2016 and </span><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Mary-OReilly-Paranormal-Mysteries-Missing-ebook/dp/B07192VGHL/ref=pd_sim_351_7?_encoding=UTF8&psc=1&refRID=CNTW74GG3GAXRD9GVC7R"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="color: #0563c1;">Missing
Links</span></span></a><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"> in 2017, last month. Vicky says, “For the process of
writing for it, that part is easy. Simple to upload and quick review process.
It's nice to see my work getting more exposure than it would, thanks to Terri's
awesome success. That's probably the biggest perk.” Vicky also points out, “As
far as I can tell, no extra marketing going on. I even find it difficult to
find Kindle Worlds in a basic search. “</span></div>
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<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Jan-Hinds/e/B00AVFLGCU/ref=dp_byline_cont_ebooks_1"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="color: #0563c1;">Jan
Hinds</span></span></a><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"> wrote </span><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Mary-OReilly-Paranormal-Mysteries-Otherwise-ebook/dp/B01HQXH754/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="color: #0563c1;">Widow
Maker, (Otherwise Engaged Book 3</span></span></a><span class="MsoHyperlink"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><u><span style="color: #0563c1;">)</span></u></span></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">
in 2016. Jan writes, “It was a wonderful experience and I took the opportunity
to overlap some of my characters with Terri's. I have gained several new
readers in the process and am thrilled to meet all of you. Having been a fan of
the Mary O'Reilly series I thoroughly enjoyed working with her characters. I
can't say enough about how grateful I am to Terri for enabling me to join this
group and let my imagination mingle with Mary and her friends.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Ophelia-Julien/e/B009MQ5UOY/ref=dp_byline_cont_ebooks_1"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="color: #0563c1;">Ophelia
Julien</span></span></a><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"> wrote </span><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Mary-OReilly-Paranormal-Mysteries-Scattering-ebook/dp/B01HQXH79U/ref=sr_1_3?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1495119960&sr=1-3&keywords=ophelia+julien"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="color: #0563c1;">A
Scattering of Bones</span></span></a><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"> in 2016. Ophelia writes, “Writing a story
based on Terri's characters and then having it go up for sale was an amazing
experience. I loved being a part of it, and also meeting all of you in the
process!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think there needs to be a lot
of clarification on exactly what KW is. I have a review on mine that complains
about me writing a story using someone else's characters, and notes that if I
have a story to tell, I should just write my own work and stop using someone
else's. Terri very nicely got on and addressed this, explaining in detail
exactly what KW was and why all these people were suddenly writing Mary
O'Reilly stories, and with her permission. But there are still folks who seem
to have a problem with the concept and don't quite seem to grasp the underlying
intent of a KW story.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Donnie-Light/e/B002YPF22U/ref=dp_byline_cont_ebooks_1"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="color: #0563c1;">Donnie
Light</span></span></a><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"> wrote </span><a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B01HQXH768/ref=series_rw_dp_sw"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="color: #0563c1;">Tangled
Trail</span></span></a><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"> in 2016 and </span><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Mary-OReilly-Paranormal-Mysteries-Novella-ebook/dp/B01N5H6PUF/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="color: #0563c1;">True
Song</span></span></a><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">
in December 2016. Donnie’s books are doing very well, and although I did reach
out to him for a comment, I don’t think he’s on Facebook a great deal—probably busy
writing!</span></div>
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<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Maureen-Tan/e/B000APGX8S/ref=dp_byline_cont_ebooks_1"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="color: #0563c1;">Maureen
Tan</span></span></a><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">
wrote </span><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Mary-OReilly-Paranormal-Mysteries-Princess-ebook/dp/B01HQXH7AY/ref=sr_1_3?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1495120058&sr=1-3&keywords=MAUREEN+TAN"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="color: #0563c1;">Hair
of the Dog</span></span></a><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"> in 2016. Maureen says, “I'd say my overall experience
was good...fairly straightforward paperwork, publishing interface, and prompt
payment of royalties.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh, and I got to
meet all of you, which was FABULOUS! Zero support, as far as I can tell, from
Amazon on publicizing the books, so that was a little disappointing, mostly
because it seemed like they were going to be more aggressive about it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I guess my biggest frustration with it was
readers who didn't understand the concept of Worlds--back to Amazon/Kindle
Worlds maybe needing to do a better job promoting/explaining the concept.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Mary-Lamphere/e/B072HPZB1R/ref=dp_byline_cont_ebooks_1"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="color: #0563c1;">Mary
Lamphere</span></span></a><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"> released </span><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Mary-OReilly-Paranormal-Mysteries-Novella-ebook/dp/B06ZYL9D2W/ref=pd_sim_351_4?_encoding=UTF8&psc=1&refRID=19XB7GT1AKZ1GJZRJQY2"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="color: #0563c1;">Kinder
Garden</span></span></a><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"> last month. She is one of the newest writers of a
Mary O’Reilly Kindle World story. Mary says, “I find a lot of people I talk to
want to dismiss it as "fanfic". There's a lot of terrific fan fiction
out there, but the ONE people know is 50 Shades and that seems to be what they
want to compare my work to. I figure those people will be disappointed either
way, right?! My experience with KW has been fine. It's still early for me, so
not much to report. I definitely plan on writing more in the Kindle Worlds!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">So, what does a Kindle Worlds writer make as a result
of writing a KW book? That $1.99 is divided into three parts—a third for the
author, a third for Amazon, and a third for the owner of the World you’re
writing in.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Terri’s fans are some of the most loyal in existence,
and the sales for the first few months our books were out in KW were
astounding. Fans of our <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">own</i> writing
were buying our books, and fans of Terri Reid’s Mary O’Reilly series were
thrilled to have books about her character to hold them over until Terri’s next
book came out. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">That’s the special thing about Terri’s fans—they are
absolutely in love with Mary O’Reilly and her now husband, Bradley Alden. They
can’t get enough of Mary’s close friends, Stanley and Rosie, and the ghost
named Mike, who is their daughter Clarissa’s guardian angel. Her fans read them
voraciously the day they are live on Amazon.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">My advice to you if you’re a writer looking to gain
readership? Go to </span><a href="https://kindleworlds.amazon.com/worlds"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="color: #0563c1;">Kindle
Worlds</span></span></a><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">, browse through all the worlds they have to offer,
and pick one that interests you. Then get to writing! You have nothing to lose,
and only readers to gain.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">If you’re a reader? Click on this Kindle Worlds </span><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Best-Sellers-Kindle-Store-Worlds/zgbs/digital-text/6118587011/ref=zg_bs_unv_kstore_2_6305072011_1"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="color: #0563c1;">link</span></span></a><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">
and immerse yourselves in quality writing in worlds you love. You won’t be
sorry, and you’ll meet some superb new authors!</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-215750205269801502.post-26931974956425161132016-12-19T20:53:00.001-06:002018-01-18T10:15:04.733-06:00UncommonGoods for Uncommon Shoppers<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Living in the Midwest, I'm rather used to winter. As a matter of fact, when I have ventured outdoors this week, I
have done so looking like Randy from A Christmas Story. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: "calibri";"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3QgZYGDGlGDFdGeIqGJFdUGwZKmGCkYQa3l8-gupALlSkMzvgimNhdVoaI0WG_-8wN_z-K159UR8Cbk_6qCugsTTK-JspGtPD5BNUpffXQKjvMRoBFF7lsrVb5p2qkMwfUJGJKMb0s5c/s1600/tumblr_mfjm0uxMt21qke7z9o1_500.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3QgZYGDGlGDFdGeIqGJFdUGwZKmGCkYQa3l8-gupALlSkMzvgimNhdVoaI0WG_-8wN_z-K159UR8Cbk_6qCugsTTK-JspGtPD5BNUpffXQKjvMRoBFF7lsrVb5p2qkMwfUJGJKMb0s5c/s320/tumblr_mfjm0uxMt21qke7z9o1_500.gif" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Poor Randy.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">I’m so bundled up that
if you knocked me over, I’d fall down and be forced into snow angel servitude.
And no, I can’t put my arms down either.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">You can imagine how I feel, then, about going out to shop
for Christmas in this type of weather. The thought of having to leave my warm home (or office) and
foray out into the freezing cold does not appeal. Neither does standing in line,
overheating in my too-hot coat. I'm in the throes of menopause, dammit. I don't have time for this. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">That's why I have turned to shopping online. H</span><span style="font-family: "calibri";">owever, I have found that even having the entire world at my fingertips via my trusty laptop, I tend to get bored with the same old offerings from department stores and discount stores. In my search for something different, I ended up finding something amazing--<a href="http://www.uncommongoods.com/gifts?view=all" rel="nofollow">UncommonGoods</a>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">What? you may cry. Why should I click on <em>that</em> link when I can find the tried and true at Wally World? </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">I'm telling you why. Because you're going to find the most unusual items as you browse through their interesting website. Guys, having a problem finding something for your lady? Try this<a href="http://www.uncommongoods.com/gifts/by-recipient/gifts-for-women" rel="nofollow"> link</a> for a plethora of gifts for women...933 of them, to be exact.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "calibri";"></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">For instance, for the woman in your life who enjoys reading--or writing--here's a scarf that I think would be perfect.</span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXhoSJK5aMO7RNYp5tJVE6bs0uHZkonG1HV5b9Ktp8_Oz3Kn4XWJxbT5GW4xi_OBrOzry5o8Y0tKKzl2oRlccXjylEy-qtxZIWRUBsXgqWov18gGpZ-ZirZNtZhzErbWmbwv2fGjKobkA/s1600/writer+scarf.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXhoSJK5aMO7RNYp5tJVE6bs0uHZkonG1HV5b9Ktp8_Oz3Kn4XWJxbT5GW4xi_OBrOzry5o8Y0tKKzl2oRlccXjylEy-qtxZIWRUBsXgqWov18gGpZ-ZirZNtZhzErbWmbwv2fGjKobkA/s200/writer+scarf.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">For your writer lady.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">You think that's cool? For women (like me) who think owl mugs are cool (also like me) you can also find these little beauties:</span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimYyJ7zCjKTK9gHJOBTcc4rjslC373EOfJ44zW6X34mPNhFwKHWLJxP4JiLWIXDojjb-iHzT1cBxL51CHpXAfs3gYvu1f-dG6MLYCCjZAe8CWPRsrVcIswvsnkfjYPDhRo_j70CZk1yc0/s1600/owl+mugs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimYyJ7zCjKTK9gHJOBTcc4rjslC373EOfJ44zW6X34mPNhFwKHWLJxP4JiLWIXDojjb-iHzT1cBxL51CHpXAfs3gYvu1f-dG6MLYCCjZAe8CWPRsrVcIswvsnkfjYPDhRo_j70CZk1yc0/s200/owl+mugs.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I want ALL of the owls.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">I know, right? </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">I can hear what you're saying, though. "Chris, <em>Poopwa</em>, may I just say that I don't have a special lady in my life. I'd just like to find something that's Uncommon. And Good." Well, here's what I have to say to that: I give you the fire escape shelf, found in <a href="http://www.uncommongoods.com/home-garden/home-decor" rel="nofollow">Home Decor</a>. This is different, but in a good way, not in a I'm-just-trying-to-be-diplomatic way.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";"> </span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-ThJIEIN02TDerxAHrK-_s8DUxRzYmIls4i8hCnnecKcPjWoXIJ4f9rYut9RRO4HxO1brH5U8R2rWaQs8l3gOupl9OhZ8sP_7q6NggLVnZYiZ2aPbu_ojTGqj8fahyphenhyphenRrQqeVPYogVm7A/s1600/fire+escape+shelf.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-ThJIEIN02TDerxAHrK-_s8DUxRzYmIls4i8hCnnecKcPjWoXIJ4f9rYut9RRO4HxO1brH5U8R2rWaQs8l3gOupl9OhZ8sP_7q6NggLVnZYiZ2aPbu_ojTGqj8fahyphenhyphenRrQqeVPYogVm7A/s200/fire+escape+shelf.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Now you just need a tiny criminal escaping the good guy.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";"> </span></div>
</div>
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Not into fire escapes, or plants? Everyone likes candles, though. Check out these beauties.</span> </span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggYn0GGr4Ctws96f44h1hpspE6fu_Sn1Q3FIyjcvoZBJr_sSAvmsglK1FLFJHfKWDpPQTiG82-vN4qLPQI5OM9yL5YvoJ2JyCtrxyo7e3ObyrczLE6y4915spA8PAE-m4d8S4rwqTtU6U/s1600/candles.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggYn0GGr4Ctws96f44h1hpspE6fu_Sn1Q3FIyjcvoZBJr_sSAvmsglK1FLFJHfKWDpPQTiG82-vN4qLPQI5OM9yL5YvoJ2JyCtrxyo7e3ObyrczLE6y4915spA8PAE-m4d8S4rwqTtU6U/s200/candles.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">and my favorite color, too.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Personally, I don't know how people can go through life without having at least one candle lit during the day. I love candles and this set has both the beautifully cut glass and the color I like. Take notes, people. In case you're looking for gift ideas for me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: x-small;">Speaking of gift ideas, recently I celebrated a big birthday...the big 5-0. I'd like to point out that this is something I would have liked:</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUhVDzZrx-D8yaWZpSNJ5ycAfMKbrzxhVcy8HmewpYzo5IH4W5IPGbJCTXQK4aJDIGH5ktoleQn-OG0Il0OAuaOWS1Hz09EyW78P5UAV2HYuo2ThsArB5us6YqBqFMcFsdiDrLzo93NUM/s1600/fairy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUhVDzZrx-D8yaWZpSNJ5ycAfMKbrzxhVcy8HmewpYzo5IH4W5IPGbJCTXQK4aJDIGH5ktoleQn-OG0Il0OAuaOWS1Hz09EyW78P5UAV2HYuo2ThsArB5us6YqBqFMcFsdiDrLzo93NUM/s200/fairy.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">She's beautiful. She's petite. She's beautifully crafted and hangs outside in your garden, where she hopefully will attract more fairies. If not, though, you haven't lost out because she's still a wonderful addition to your outdoor space. You can find more unique birthday gifts <a href="http://www.uncommongoods.com/gifts/birthday-gifts" rel="nofollow">here</a>. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: x-small;">The best part of the whole website, though? The people at <a href="http://www.uncommongoods.com/gifts?view=all" rel="nofollow">UncommonGoods</a> have worked since 1999 to bring only the best artisans together in one space. Their work is showcased on an easy to navigate site. I have spent many a lunch hour paging through their website, finding item after beautiful item. Anything you could purchase from them would be unique and well made.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: x-small;">Now, what I need is an UncommonCheckbook with a hefty balance so that I can buy every single thing I want from this company. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: x-small;">Find UncommonGoods on <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/UncommonGoods/44340057816" rel="nofollow">Facebook</a>, <a href="https://twitter.com/uncommongoods" rel="nofollow">Twitter</a>, and that site no one can ever leave: <a href="https://www.pinterest.com/uncommongoods/" rel="nofollow">Pinterest</a>. Tell them Poopwa Foley sent you. <em>They know me there</em>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: x-small;">Happy shopping!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana"; font-size: x-small;">Note: This post is sponsored by <a href="http://www.uncommongoods.com/gifts?view=all" rel="nofollow">UncommonGoods</a>. However, all comments and opinions are mine. </span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-215750205269801502.post-67743621561061877632016-09-12T17:46:00.000-05:002016-09-12T22:17:49.611-05:00My teeth are stressed out<br />
<h2 class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
My teeth are stressed out</h2>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">“Do you grind your teeth?” My dentist sat back in her chair,
small mirror in one hand and a dental pick in the other. I felt my teeth with
my tongue. There’s a tiny crack off the back of my top front tooth and one on
the back of my bottom front tooth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
thought I just needed to floss out a piece of celery.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Such is not the case.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Forty nine is such a fun age.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">“I think I do, maybe.” There’s no <em>maybe</em> about it. Of course
I do. I always have. I have a spectacular case of TMJ to show for it, as well
as a nerve in the back of my head/neck/cheek that flares from time to time if I
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">really</i> go at it. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">“Your bruxism—that’s grinding—is causing your teeth to
develop little chips. In effect, you’re breaking them off.” I’m
grinding my teeth hard enough to crack them. The stress
I am conscious of during the day is carrying over to nighttime, when I should
be relaxing.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">“I ordered a mouth guard off eBay and used that,” I tell
her. “But I would wake up in the middle of the night with it pinching the
insides of my cheeks. Because I’m grinding my teeth. Not to mention the fact
that a) they smell b) they’re unsexy as hell and c) my dog will chew them up
any time he can because see a).” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t
mention these points to her, no matter now salient they might be. I’m a little
annoyed by the fact that she thought she had to explain bruxism to me. I also don't mention that I ordered cheek retractors like the one Melissa McCarthy wears in Boss to bring to the next family gathering for fun times.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">“You need to find a better night guard, then,” she says. “Have
you had any stress in your life that would cause you to grind your teeth?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri";">And then we both laughed and laughed.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">“I’m not sure where to begin,” I tell her, my chin wobbling.
“Oh, wait. I’ll just save it all for my therapist.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">“You probably should, but good news—identifying the stress
might help manage it.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Oh, right. Manage the stress. In the past year I’ve lost my
grandparents, who had been married 75 years. We lost my husband’s mother in
June of this year. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Stressful. Heartbreaking.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">On the other side of the age spectrum, my daughters both had
babies this year. My youngest daughter had baby Sophia at the end of January,
and middle daughter had baby Shawn in the middle of July. </span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9zmgiFjNZuAYc8HFBTkm8bwEF0ID-oTJRJFfsJIHfkRjti3Ba1fmFX2cOZlebITtgWqKp9FTkeVWYmRuU82wNCpQt_BsmLUBjNfHKjIecbyHacJiJYT7LYrZeNJxOoRxmIS9w3rMEyqA/s1600/14045570_1100806529955209_3002083725604851354_n+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9zmgiFjNZuAYc8HFBTkm8bwEF0ID-oTJRJFfsJIHfkRjti3Ba1fmFX2cOZlebITtgWqKp9FTkeVWYmRuU82wNCpQt_BsmLUBjNfHKjIecbyHacJiJYT7LYrZeNJxOoRxmIS9w3rMEyqA/s200/14045570_1100806529955209_3002083725604851354_n+%25282%2529.jpg" width="140" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sophia</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIbSBJ7XezdBdta4LZP8AfArdog4lXKi1BvTAaidQdtfaB2HEbzfz3lqM4E0L2pn0jYFA8sTTlfN4JxnkTadj7MrDSnX6L8xIeWbb6FrO2Na_r2dKC25G9qyGLICQDpM4_e8TFTQQLSJ4/s1600/14317624_10153779849016603_8687713706569669775_n+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="191" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIbSBJ7XezdBdta4LZP8AfArdog4lXKi1BvTAaidQdtfaB2HEbzfz3lqM4E0L2pn0jYFA8sTTlfN4JxnkTadj7MrDSnX6L8xIeWbb6FrO2Na_r2dKC25G9qyGLICQDpM4_e8TFTQQLSJ4/s200/14317624_10153779849016603_8687713706569669775_n+%25282%2529.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shawn</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Stressful? You bet. Modern medicine is a wonder but
sometimes births don’t go exactly as planned, either for the baby or the
mother. Watching your daughter in labor, knowing exactly how they feel, is one
of the hardest things ever. I was there for the births, patiently waiting with
the prospective parents, coloring masterpieces in a coloring book that <a href="http://www.jenniferjohansson.com/blog">my niece</a>
makes. Because as everyone knows, coloring is supposed to be stress relieving.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">I have published two books so far this year, <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01HQXH7EA">Trouble Lake</a>
and <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Knew-Youd-Come-Haunting-Story-ebook/dp/B01J6M5566/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1473716232&sr=8-1&keywords=knew+you%27d+come">Knew You’d Come</a>. I’m about 12000 words into my second Kindle Worlds Mary
O’Reilly paranormal mystery called Grave Injury, and I hope to have that out by
the middle of October. When I’m <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">on break</i>,
I’m editing the final draft of Elise, Evermore so that the third and final book
in the <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Christine-Cacciatore/e/B00LA9OJ0C/ref=dp_byline_cont_ebooks_1">Whitfield Witch</a> trilogy will be complete. I hope to have that out by
Halloween.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Stressful? Yes, even though I have great fun writing them.
Ask any author—it’s very hard to rewrite, edit, secure a cover, proofread, and
format a Kindle eBook, and even more difficult to format for Createspace. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">The dentist clears her throat and pokes at my teeth a little
more, then leans back to talk to me again.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">“You’re not crunching ice, are you?” I don’t need to think
hard about this, because yes, virtually every single night I have a glass of
something (not always liquor, but mostly) that has ice in it and if that wasn’t
enough, we have a spare glass full of ice to crunch and/or add to the glass. I
crunch more ice in my teeth than three or four people combined. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">“Sometimes, I think,” I lie through chipped teeth.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">“You’re not supposed to do that. Don’t do that anymore.” I
nod but I know that since I quit smoking 17 years ago, this has been my one and
only vice. I lie again, of course. “I will try not to.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">I hadn’t been to the dentist since November of 2014, which
the hygienist points out several times. I feel guilty but I was busy, dammit.
She points out that I’m wearing a Pierce shirt and that our office is literally
in the back of the building where my dentist is. I’m well aware. “I’m here now,
though,” I say, but to make us all feel better I go ahead and schedule my six
month visit for March of next year.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">“For not being here for two years, however, your teeth are
looking very good,” she digs in. “I’m seeing teeny little infection underneath
one of your crowns, though.” The dentist has her assistant write me a referral
for an endodontic specialist who’s almost an hour away. “Basically, you need to
have a root canal on your root canal. You’ll need to call them. They’ll saw the
top of your crown off, yank stuff out, put stuff in, and then put everything
back right. I trust them.” She may have been a bit more technical but I didn’t
hear that because I was already thinking of the Xanax I’ll have to take before
those procedures.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">How exciting. A “teeny little” infection in my tooth. A
tooth that already has a root canal and a crown (and probably a crack in it.)
That explains why I rocketed up out of my chair when I bit down wrong on a
sesame seed.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">Stress?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yup. I’ll
internalize it, as usual. But in the back of my mind, I’ll be thinking about
that exciting upcoming endodontic visit. I’ll probably grind my teeth in my
sleep harder than ever. They may even snap off while I sleep and I’ll wake up
and resemble Tow Mater from Cars.</span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBeZ3MUbwmGtzGTpfLhQ0J7t8TTPnwFyZVIFIYNI_5pu6hZUzQv_GdJBPuDPTZfmYPu5iqdkyxm02Ln4ALtJUPJ3NN1cDkIq7vzPVpoDsov2jhen5tMygfrEy5VwARYUhr1gq6cmfyqBw/s1600/MaterCars.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mater_(Cars)" border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBeZ3MUbwmGtzGTpfLhQ0J7t8TTPnwFyZVIFIYNI_5pu6hZUzQv_GdJBPuDPTZfmYPu5iqdkyxm02Ln4ALtJUPJ3NN1cDkIq7vzPVpoDsov2jhen5tMygfrEy5VwARYUhr1gq6cmfyqBw/s320/MaterCars.jpg" title="Tow Mater" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Good Ol Tow Mater</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">I guess there could be worse things. Unlike Tow Mater, I
have dental insurance. One thing I won’t have to worry about.</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-215750205269801502.post-84212106239476150502016-08-01T20:32:00.000-05:002016-08-01T20:32:45.800-05:00Babies and Books<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Babies and Books</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span> </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">
To say it was a busy year would be putting it mildly. My
youngest daughter got married to her fiancé Steven, and had her second baby,
Sophia Iris, at the end of January. I got to be there when she was born. Alyssa, three, is now a big sister! </span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivnNz817NHeWpynpPCgZOtXDXjvPYmkYGUg1oIyvISFVR-70qJw7BBVD0W0to9qO2VluoRog2pwS9FRxEIS3MpbGT6PdARXdYKrC-C9sc0MNW6lJgz_NrmyqZvzCNAaWSqysCsZWUaDDs/s1600/IMG_20160610_163351.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivnNz817NHeWpynpPCgZOtXDXjvPYmkYGUg1oIyvISFVR-70qJw7BBVD0W0to9qO2VluoRog2pwS9FRxEIS3MpbGT6PdARXdYKrC-C9sc0MNW6lJgz_NrmyqZvzCNAaWSqysCsZWUaDDs/s320/IMG_20160610_163351.jpg" width="168" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">the newlyweds.<br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="height: 256px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center; width: 226px;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQXkTD4ykYjd125AmisuBnuzcVHhkLgibIDRnTfOQSl9x5C_CzGlJuR8FADuz0XW7gvn5y_nTx3Sm0LZgLbLPTeTFD83iEyEpCP7dLTsvmegJsffzivmRKjnhzheZo2Acx8peGbfylTMg/s1600/13138825_10153498202576603_7594909147705229278_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="194" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQXkTD4ykYjd125AmisuBnuzcVHhkLgibIDRnTfOQSl9x5C_CzGlJuR8FADuz0XW7gvn5y_nTx3Sm0LZgLbLPTeTFD83iEyEpCP7dLTsvmegJsffzivmRKjnhzheZo2Acx8peGbfylTMg/s200/13138825_10153498202576603_7594909147705229278_n.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sophia & Alyssa</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">If
that wasn’t enough, my middle daughter <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">also</i>
had a baby! I got to see Shawn Michael make his red-face, squalling way into
the world as well, on July 10. I went from one granddaughter at the beginning
of the year to spoiling three grandchildren by the middle of July. Ask anyone; it’s my
absolute favorite thing in the world, being a grandma. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhopOmD9HXW_JngGFOLg7evfs9Kb6-s20E_HoNNYvLYFIDAcD5DMZaPnfJwN_1-HhhBw2VtvLM-xwQCmARxxkDtiA__XU0GdjGCzflMetazZ3vT6865BDvk3UTxTaX_WiVPcxVIiouqYAY/s1600/13600259_10153638892571603_2463610061500613451_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhopOmD9HXW_JngGFOLg7evfs9Kb6-s20E_HoNNYvLYFIDAcD5DMZaPnfJwN_1-HhhBw2VtvLM-xwQCmARxxkDtiA__XU0GdjGCzflMetazZ3vT6865BDvk3UTxTaX_WiVPcxVIiouqYAY/s320/13600259_10153638892571603_2463610061500613451_n.jpg" width="161" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Daddy Tristan, Annie, & baby Shawn</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">One of my other favorite things, however, is writing. I
finished writing <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Knew You’d Come</i> back
in October. However, I edited and changed, reworked and fine-tuned, and sent it
to my sister Jenny for her valuable input and editing suggestions. She can be
brutal but most of the time she’s right. After I input those changes, it was
sent to several beta readers for their input, then we changed even <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">more</i> things. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times;"></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Knew-Youd-Come-Haunting-Story-ebook/dp/B01J6M5566/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1470100615&sr=1-1&keywords=knew+you%27d+come">Knew You’d Come</a></i> is
an erotic romance. It’s the story of Tansy Reynolds, a paranormal investigator,
who gets way more than she bargains for when she does a paranormal investigation of an old saloon
under renovation. Whip Daniels has been waiting for her for a hundred years, and only has
three days to show her that they belong together.</span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="https://www.amazon.com/Knew-Youd-Come-Haunting-Story-ebook/dp/B01J6M5566?ie=UTF8&*Version*=1&*entries*=0" border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5NMi_vKixqfAsqCz594vNYVnVphCLcbBK8HLdjH4zrveTxNO6oIfYLPepnBptKYzEtXgelXmgaVmweenz5EDQ7Pq-cHID9scvX7z3yhppSyYRkMuOP-28lJTGxCL_0-TWeEb3GS5SMKU/s320/Know+You%2527d+Come+716.jpg" width="200" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My newest baby.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Before I could get it formatted to put on Amazon, I was
asked to be a contributor to the <a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B01HU35KHC/ref=series_rw_dp_sw">Kindle Worlds Mary O’Reilly Paranormal Mysteries. </a>I set aside <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Knew You’d Come</i>
in order to be a part of her Mary O’Reilly World launch. It was a challenge to
write a novella in six weeks; it included editing, formatting, and finding
someone to do a cover in a hurry.** It all worked, though, and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Trouble Lake</i> was born. I so enjoyed
being a part of that launch, including the Facebook launch party, where I met
so many new friends and readers. I enjoyed that so much.</span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Mary-OReilly-Paranormal-Mysteries-Trouble-ebook/dp/B01HQXH7EA?ie=UTF8&*Version*=1&*entries*=0" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Trouble Lake" border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOCVKwzHMIZOfmT7u1zZGrJai5R9jqvOdEaAzIei6HuFq5rg92OwF4OxjA44eyMrQrYD06ksS1bisT2Nazmh7a1x4IvqwG_cRL8FxUlUjXzQff-EI8FDlEa2XD9BELipVpRg84xwNK8jE/s320/TL+3.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Spooky, funny, mysterious ghost story.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Trouble Lake</i> was great
fun to write. I hate when people say “this book practically wrote itself”, but
I swear, I actually had characters talk to me and tell me what was happening in
their world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was awesome (and a
little scary, because dude, I was hearing VOICES) but it went so smoothly. I
decided I will be contributing more novellas to this particular Kindle World
because Mary O’Reilly’s playground is a great place to play! Plus, it would be
a perfect time to recount more of my character Holly Martin’s adventures. Does
she continue with her faux psychic practice? Does she continue seeing ghosts?
What other escapades will she drag Mary O’Reilly into? Poor Mary. I don’t know
that she’s going to get any rest. No wonder <a href="http://terrireid.com/">Terri Reid</a> loves to write about
her!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Right now, I’m promoting <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Knew
You’d Come</i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Trouble Lake</i>. It’s
fun to see some of the people who purchase these two books are also purchasing
the books from our Whitfield Witch series; <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Baylyn-Bewitched-Whitfield-Witch-Book-ebook/dp/B00D0JO71G/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8">Baylyn,Bewitched</a></i> and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Cat-Charmed-Whitfield-Witch-Book-ebook/dp/B00JD03I8Y/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1470100520&sr=1-1&keywords=cat%2C+charmed">Cat, Charmed</a></i>. I
wrote another erotic romance novella last year (largely in the Meg’s Coffee
Shop in Rockford, across from six elderly women who were playing some card
game…if they only knew!) and will have that edited and formatted for
distribution later this year. I have it tentatively titled <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Halloween in Handcuffs. </i>Right now<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i>it’s a working title; however, it should give you some sort of
idea what it’s about. (wiggles eyebrows) Also, there will be a companion story
to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Knew You’d Come</i> called <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Handyman for Hire. </i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">If that wasn’t enough, we have the third book in the
Whitfield Witch series, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Elise, Evermore</i>,
almost completed! So many people have asked and we so appreciate the interest.
Even I want to know how it ends! I have to admit that although I love writing
the saucy romances, I will really enjoy giving Elise Travers the happy ending
she deserves. Elise recently learned that her husband Charles, who had been
presumed dead for thirty years might be alive after all, but trapped in another
century. Making things a little more difficult, someone from his past has cast
a spell on him to make him forget all about Elise. We’ll document her successes—and
failures—along the way. Who knows what she might get into; after all, she’s
Baylyn’s mother! </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Although it seems like we are going to be releasing a lot of
books within the next year—and we are—keep in mind that most of these stories
have been sitting idle, completed. However, due to our combined six kids, and
grandchildren, and pets, and spouses, and oh, let’s not forget, both of us working
full time…sometimes things get written, and sit patiently, waiting to be published.
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Maybe the literary fiscal year starts in July. I’m going to
go with that. It’s going to be a good year!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></o:p><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">**Here’s where I’d like to give a shout out to <a href="http://nblockdesign.wixsite.com/portfolio">Nick Block</a>, who
did a great job on the cover for <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Trouble
Lake.</i> If you ever need someone to do a great cover for your ebook, please
seek him out. His website is<a href="http://nblockdesign.wixsite.com/portfolio"> here</a>. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-215750205269801502.post-11192529895777615492016-04-06T15:30:00.000-05:002016-04-06T15:30:00.198-05:00Well, I'll be! (a winner, that is!)
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">So a super
fun thing happened Monday night.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">I had entered
a sportsy thing at work involving brackets and teams playing basketball and
guess what, guess what, I came in second place!</span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://media1.giphy.com/media/l2QZVCLfYuMoijMUE/200.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="http://giphy.com/stacerizz" border="0" src="https://media1.giphy.com/media/l2QZVCLfYuMoijMUE/200.gif" title="excited" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">pretty much.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">When our
office runs a contest such as March Madness, I’m almost always asked to help
draw names.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think it’s mostly because
I know nothing about what seed a team might be, or which team has the best
chance of “taking it all”. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">We drew names
at work, with two people on a conference call reading off the name, then me and
my supervisor pulling a team out of a hat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>(Okay, fine, it was an envelope.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Work with me.)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My four teams were Dayton, Miami Florida,
Oklahoma, and North Carolina. I took an unusual amount of ribbing because “you
picked the names and you just RANDOMLY got those teams?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If it wasn’t for my supervisor standing
directly behind me the entire time, witnessing me pull names randomly, no one
would ever believe it was a fair drawing.* </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">When I got
home and told my husband who I had, he was REALLY excited for some reason.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">An Excel
chart was then created and slowly, as March progressed, more and more teams
were out but I still had Oklahoma and North Carolina in the Final Four.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By then, even I understood they were really
good teams.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I may not understand how
they “seed” the teams but hey, I won some jellybeans, didn’t I?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Most of the time when I participate in these
things I tend to donate far more than I win.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">It was nice
to be on the other side of that for once. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">The final
game was Monday night and although I abhor watching basketball, I did watch the
game between Villanova and North Carolina.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Thanks to them I have no fingernails left because I gnawed them all off
watching the game, which I have to admit was really exciting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I mean, REALLY.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://media0.giphy.com/media/3o7abKGM3Xa70I7jCU/200.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="http://giphy.com/gifs/3o7abKGM3Xa70I7jCU" border="0" height="200" src="https://media0.giphy.com/media/3o7abKGM3Xa70I7jCU/200.gif" title="excited capt obvious" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I screamed a little too.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">And even though my team lost (losing me fifty
jellybeans, so thanks, Villanova) watching a college kid hit a 3 pointer at the
buzzer is exciting, no matter who you are.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Even if it’s
a non sportser like me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">*mostly because when it was all over, OUR TWO TEAMS
played each other in the championship game.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He had Villanova.</span></span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-215750205269801502.post-85739126456379846982016-04-04T15:00:00.000-05:002016-04-06T09:43:39.581-05:00A big career change for me (or is it?)<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: x-small;"><em>I am in charge of putting out our newsletter at work. Sometimes we have a little extra space in the newsletter, as was the case this month. My boss knows I love to write and often will let me submit a piece for filler...and for fun. This was my latest submission for the newsletter that went out on April 1, aka April Fool's Day.</em></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "calibri";">It reads as follows:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Those who are used to calling the corporate office and talking to Chris Cacciatore will have to do without her for the next several months, as she is taking an extended leave of absence to fulfill a dream she has had since she was young—to be a WWE wrestler.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“I grew up with a brother and several uncles, who were more like older brothers. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My formative years were spent fighting off offers of ‘Hertz Donuts’ and twisty Indian burns, among other things.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I also learned that the suggestion of ‘let’s see who can hit the softest’ was <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">clearly</i> not to see, in fact, who hit the softest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Brother Joe, I'm looking at you.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“I grew tired of being pummeled.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I began working out in the gym and eventually honed my body into a fighting machine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Soon, a trainer approached me about getting into the ring to do some professional wrestling and I thought, why not?”</span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYwZJPU6dozLChwK28njJDYJO5yG2G2f3oDhA8X_A_5nwcz_ItrHzMupUlTns5HUZSyyTqj2OS5BoS_nlVaAPYD_1z0J-irv_bGEQrEOYr4BVh21jfy7XnRVx98ydcTqJb0mezR4-vrhg/s1600/Chris_and_Jen_%2540_1974_001+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYwZJPU6dozLChwK28njJDYJO5yG2G2f3oDhA8X_A_5nwcz_ItrHzMupUlTns5HUZSyyTqj2OS5BoS_nlVaAPYD_1z0J-irv_bGEQrEOYr4BVh21jfy7XnRVx98ydcTqJb0mezR4-vrhg/s320/Chris_and_Jen_%2540_1974_001+%25282%2529.jpg" width="261" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Squishing little sister Jen, in preparation for later domination in the ring. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Chris spent ten years in the wrestling circuit, learning famous moves such as the “Tombstone”, the “Flying Headbutt”, and perfecting “the People’s Eyebrow”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“I stole that last one from The Rock after I beat him in a cage match,” Chris snickered.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I also have a new move that I plan on debuting later:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“The Reverse Dog Lay”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s adapted from the “Downward Facing Dog” pose used in yoga.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It lulls your opponent into a false sense of security before you steamroll them completely.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Chris’ husband, Joe, supports her sabbatical completely.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I pretty much have to,” he confided, watching for her over his shoulder.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You don’t want to mess with her.”</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "calibri";"> </span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-215750205269801502.post-76703953792502686452015-05-07T15:08:00.001-05:002015-05-07T15:08:18.873-05:00Lucky Juror Number 13<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBYf-SStMzGaXQTui6zv5WUep7Yiz_nvQ6rgzaJMuf-s3GbmYof7uolx6e5sm8HDDWPU_WB0gRrWoLUsD7okYdCAOfb4j7xKMYGAlSbA0dDW2Fappy4QNXAiWjIAeVqwY0MjIG2zF6-qU/s1600/gavel_52.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Salvatore Vuono freedigitalphotos.net" border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBYf-SStMzGaXQTui6zv5WUep7Yiz_nvQ6rgzaJMuf-s3GbmYof7uolx6e5sm8HDDWPU_WB0gRrWoLUsD7okYdCAOfb4j7xKMYGAlSbA0dDW2Fappy4QNXAiWjIAeVqwY0MjIG2zF6-qU/s400/gavel_52.jpg" title="Gavel" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jury Duty! How Fun!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
Recently, I was able to see our legal system at work. And I’m not talking about having to write a big fat check for a speeding ticket from Wisconsin. <a href="http://poopwafoley.blogspot.com/2011/09/raise-flagits-ruby.html" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Not that I have ever had one</a>. <br />
<br />
No, I got a juror questionnaire in the mail. Hot damn! I filled it out immediately, sent it in, and waited anxiously. Approximately 4 seconds later, the county called me for jury duty. <em> So fast!</em> I marveled. All the other juror prospects must be either rearranging their sock drawers or washing their hair. Well, they wouldn’t know what they were missing. I felt so lucky and excited and chosen. My husband just gave me funny looks.<br />
<br />
The day of my new legal career dawned bright and sunny. I had a whole extra half hour that morning, so that was exciting. I dallied around the house, petting the dog, drinking extra coffee to get my brain ready for all the legal puzzles I would surely be solving, and lining up an extra word find book in case I finished the first one, what with all that delicious <em>free time</em>. <br />
<br />
After I reached the downtown area, I realized a much <em>smarter</em> way of using that half hour would have been to spend it looking for a parking spot, as it seemed every citizen in town--and a couple hundred from out of town--had business down at the courthouse. <br />
<br />
If the parking deck was any indication, I estimated that there must have been approximately 700 people who had been called for jury duty that same Tuesday who actually showed up. I ended up parking somewhere in south Detroit. <br />
<br />
We were all crammed into a area the size of a fitting room at a department store, except it was a little smaller and didn’t have mirrors. There were, however, some televisions, and we got to watch a stimulating movie about the justice system. I took meticulous notes until I saw I was the only nerd doing so. <br />
<br />
However, I was excited because a) there was free coffee, b) I knew that I would get a big whopping check for $13 and daydreamed of how I would spend it and c) I got to do some serious people watching. Not to put too fine a point on it, but I got in enough people watching to last me a very long time, which means that I wouldn’t have to travel to Wal-Mart to get my fix. <br />
<br />
After a couple of hours of swilling free coffee and getting lost find the ladies’, my name was called and I was taken with about 50 other people into a courtroom for possible inclusion as a juror in a criminal case. Name after name was called and once they had questioned and accepted 12 jurors, I was smugly packing up my books and magazines, cerain that I would be excused. I would go home to go online and spend my $13 on Amazon. <br />
<br />
It was not to be. Would that I had this sort of luck in the lottery! In a room with approximately 35 other prospective jurors, guess whose name got called next. As an ALTERNATE. Not even a real juror, but an ALTERNATE, lucky juror number 13. <br />
<br />
The jury questioning was very interesting. Here’s a sample of what they asked the REAL jurors: <br />
<br />
Lawyer: <em>What is your name? Where do you live? What’s the biggest problem facing this area? Are you related to any law enforcement people? Do you have pets? Are you a citizen of the United Sates? Can you breathe on your own? Are you human?</em><br />
<br />
Here’s a sample of what they asked ME: <br />
<br />
Lawyer: <em>What is your name?</em> <em>How many hours do you sleep at night? Ever had a charley horse? Do you believe in aliens? Ever flush a goldfish? Are you regular? Do you suffer from tennis elbow? What is your favorite color? </em><br />
<em> </em><br />
Of course, I drew the line at that last one. Even I have my dignity and the whole color issue…well, that was just WAY too personal.<br />
<br />
For those of you who don’t know, the alternate juror is like the pale, skinny kid in gym class who gets picked last for basketball or softball. It’s the <em>punishment</em> juror. You are forced to stay in the courtroom all day long, listen to all the same testimony as the actual jurors, take the same breaks and yawning the same yawns, but when the state and the defense have both rested and if the jury of twelve is ready, willing, and able to go into the jury room and begin the REAL jury work, YOU would go home. <br />
<br />
Today, the 12 real jurors <em>were</em> all ready, willing, and able to deliberate. To make matters worse, now after listening to all that testimony and forming opinions, I was not even able to find out who they were going to vote off the island, because I was DISMISSED. Like an attorney’s used Kleenex or a judge’s broken shoelace. <br />
<br />
At any rate, after being thanked profusely by the court, I was excused and free to go. I was given two days’ worth of jury pay, minus the cost of the paper used to print the check. <br />
<br />
However, I was gifted with a lovely certificate, suitable for framing, congratulating me on serving. My eyes filled with tears as I swear I heard the song <em>God Bless America.</em> I was so <em>honored</em> that it took some of the sting out of the fact that I wasn’t even able to find out if the defendant was guilty or not guilty. <br />
<br />
Never one to let things go, however, I found out through some tricky internet sleuthing that the jury ended up voting exactly the way I would have…not guilty. <br />
<br />
John Grisham would have been proud.<br />
<br />
(originally printed here: <a href="http://www.examiner.com/article/lucky-juror-number-13">http://www.examiner.com/article/lucky-juror-number-13</a>)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-215750205269801502.post-26618203619404334422015-02-16T12:02:00.000-06:002015-02-16T12:02:13.625-06:00Cold Sores and Dry Shampoo
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
It began innocently enough.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>A minor itch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A slight twinge.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A little tingle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I started to fret.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But maybe it wouldn’t happen this time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After all, I had gotten through other bouts
of illness without developing one—maybe this would be one of those times.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
Dream on. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
It was not to be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At
work, I felt the no-mistaking-it tingle heralding the new arrival, and a look
in my compact mirror confirmed what I already knew:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was witnessing the birth of the world’s
worst cold sore.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
Fever Blister.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Herpes
simplex.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It all sounds different to the
ear but in the end, they are all the same—a gigantic cootie cluster on my lower
lip, half an inch from dead center.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
Maybe it wasn’t so much a birth as a coming home, however. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After all, the only place I ever, ever get
cold sores is in that very same spot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Same lip.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What skeeves me out even more is the fact
that despite my OCD antibacterial hand gel application efforts, despite wiping
every touchable hard surface at home and at work with antibacterial wipes, despite
bathing in Lysol and gargling with bleach, I got one anyway.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
Remembering backward, I realized that I had seen a coworker
sporting a fever blister a week or two before.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The "ewww" factor has been racketed up a notch.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
Typically, the day before the spot actually makes its debut
there is also quite a bit of pain, especially on the Chris Cacciatore unique
pain scale.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I'm not saying I'm a big
baby but even a hangnail will wake me up at night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Throw a cold sore at me and it’s grounds for
calling in sick.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
The last time I got a massive cold sore was during a…you
guessed it…cold.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My defenses were down; I
should have seen it coming.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had felt
crappy all day at work, and suddenly, my entire bottom lip looked as if a
chorus line of bees had stung it in unison.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>That night at home, the pain was so intense that I was forced to start
my obituary.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
The next morning, surprised to find myself still alive, I
realized that due to all the tossing and turning I did the night during the
world’s worst night’s sleep, I had overslept.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
For those who have no time for a quick shower, it’s dry
shampoo to the rescue.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or so I thought.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
I had picked it up on a whim, this Tresemme dry shampoo.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had overheard a conversation while sitting
at McDonald's writing one afternoon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It's
normally a great place to write because you can tune everything out except this
time, when two young women were talking about their hair, it caught my
attention, mostly because they were actually pronouncing it "her".<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That word was accompanied by lots of patting
of said "her".<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
conversation was animated as they discussed hair products but came to a
standstill when one told the other she washed her hair daily.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
The other said back, "You'll dry your "her"
out!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Don't do that, girl.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Use some o' that dry shampoo.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You won’t believe how it perks up your
hairstyle on days when you are skipping a day, or maybe you're just too lazy to
wash your hair.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
What?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A new way to be
stylish while still allowing me to be lazy?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Sign me up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I actually found some
at the store on the way home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now, normally,
I don't take much advice from people sitting in McDonald's but due to the above
referenced illness, I’m game...and since I overslept, what better time to try it?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
Getting ready for work that morning, squinting through the cloud
of agony my lip was causing, I read the directions and applied the dry shampoo to
my own "her" accordingly, then brushed it out as instructed.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
This is a product that I will never, ever buy again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have a dreadful feeling it had been moved
from the Halloween section of Wal-Mart into the hair section, as it obviously
was meant to be used to make white stripes in my hair for a Bride of
Frankenstein costume.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Despite vigorous
brushing, I couldn't brush the white out and ended up with not only white hair
but a very pink scalp.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcLRrEh_TvNZdbuWCYKvrhIgLET9dBtAAItqADYwfo0IDdHFXo4dLmwJoUHKfBaXbj3i0Z7kL6C2UZcYUIT9GUOO1llO3wOTkQsFIC-9hwvG405KJ9cVhICphW1Icawl-McnXupVAOhHo/s1600/frankenstein.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="bandrat/freedigitalphotos.net" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcLRrEh_TvNZdbuWCYKvrhIgLET9dBtAAItqADYwfo0IDdHFXo4dLmwJoUHKfBaXbj3i0Z7kL6C2UZcYUIT9GUOO1llO3wOTkQsFIC-9hwvG405KJ9cVhICphW1Icawl-McnXupVAOhHo/s1600/frankenstein.jpg" height="320" title="Frankenstein" width="264" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">not so fast, Romeo. This chick is taken.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
Thanks, random strangers at McDonald's.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Moms always said don't eavesdrop and I should have listened.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
It worked out in the end, however, because coworkers were
too busy trying not to stare at my white streaks to even notice I had a cold
sore.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-215750205269801502.post-14604376649321852722015-02-04T09:19:00.000-06:002015-02-04T09:19:01.187-06:00Consequences<h3>
...wrote this on September 18, 2012, for Prompt Club. Still effective.</h3>
<br />
The alarm clock disturbed her dream.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She groaned.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Why did the best dreams always occur in the six minutes between snooze
buttons?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>McSteamy had just bent his
head down to hers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His breath was warm on
her face and his lips were <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">almost</i>
touching hers when the buzzing alarm intruded.<o:p> </o:p><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
Crap.<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
She barely had her eyes open as she made her side of the bed
and shuffled down the stairs to where her pitiful slice of heaven existed; the
coffee pot and the pack of Salem Slim Light 100’s she left in front of the
coffee pot the night before.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She stroked
the pack of cigarettes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Hello,
darlings.” She let out a dry, sad chuckle at her own joke.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She shouldn’t feel this crappy in the
mornings at just 50 years old.<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
Joan poured the coffee that had automatically made itself
sometime between the second and third snooze buttons, added cream and then
grabbed the ashtray off the counter.<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
She sat down with her two vices and lit the first of many
cigarettes for the day and inhaled deeply, the acrid smoke nestling into her
lungs and making her cough up what her husband would have referred to as lung
butter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She got up and spat it into the
garbage can, careful not to look at the sputum.<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
She missed her husband.<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
Of course, if she wanted to see him again, all she had to do
was quit smoking.<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
**<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
Months earlier, they both had been sitting at this very
kitchen table, having the age old fight over smoking.<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
Bert had seethed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“What is it going to take to get you to quit smoking?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do you have any idea what you’re doing to
your body?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I quit twenty years ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If I can quit, anyone can.”<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
Joan rolled her eyes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“Don’t be so friggin dramatic, Bert.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I’ll quit when I quit.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She
avoided his eyes, remembering a few days ago when she had coughed blood.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It had actually scared her into not smoking
for <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">almost a whole hour.</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
Bert rolled his eyes and spoke as if to a child.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Yes, but I quit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But you seem to want to smoke every single cigarette ever made.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When do WE matter?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At that, Bert had reached over and covered
her little dainty hand with his burly one while he looked into her eyes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
“Joan, I married you for a reason.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And that was to spend my life with you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t want to see it cut short by these
damn things.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He shook his head
sadly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Will you at least try to quit?”<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
Joan sighed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After 20
years of marriage, she knew her Bert and he wasn’t going to drop it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
“Fine.” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">It’ll never happen.</i><o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
He slapped his hands together and hooted, then skipped over
to his coat, withdrawing a brochure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He
waved it at her as he approached.<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
“This.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is going
to be the answer for you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One of the
guys at work talked about it; how great this program was for him.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
The slick brochure was colorful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It showed healthy people cavorting around
soccer fields, the obvious message being “look, we’re not short of
breath!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It made vague promises about
helping kick the habit for good.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Curiously, only couples could apply.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
“I’ll make the appointment!” chirped Bert, as he ran down
the hall to his office.<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
**<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
The doctor took her weight, height, looked down her throat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Snapped a chest x-ray and muttered to himself
right in front of her as he read it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
Joan couldn’t take the silence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Well?”<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
The young, solemn looking doctor patted her knee.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You can do this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">have</i>
to do this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You have the lungs of a 70
year old woman.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you want to make it
another 40 years, you will quit today.”<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Geez, don’t beat
around the bush, Doctor.</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She avoided
her husband’s eyes. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><o:p> </o:p></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
“What do I have to do?” Joan asked.<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
The doctor reached over and plucked the pack of cigarettes
out of her purse.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“First off, you’re
going to leave those with me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Second,
you are not going to smoke again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ever.”<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
Joan laughed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Really</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Just like that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You wouldn’t know
if I smoked, anyway.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She waved a
careless hand in his direction.<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
Suddenly, the young, solemn looking doctor leaned forward
and grabbed her chin in a cruel vise grip.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“Joan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Listen to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Your husband has just paid me an exorbitant
amount of money to help you quit smoking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>You <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">will </i>quit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And if you smoke even <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">one</i> cigarette, we will know, and there will be <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">consequences.</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do you
understand me?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Holy crap.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was serious.</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“What consequences?” she squeaked out.<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Consequences</i>.”<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
**<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
That first night went well, with ghastly cravings from time
to time, but she put on a brave face.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I got this.</i><o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
The next morning, she got up with her husband, made the bed,
and packed his lunch for the workday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>As she handed it to him, he gave her a gentle smile as he tucked a piece
of hair behind her ear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I’m so proud of
you.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
She ran upstairs the second his car pulled out of the
driveway.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Did he think she didn’t have a
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">spare pack</i>?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Shaking her head, a smile curved her
lips.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Knowing she had a forbidden pack
of cigarettes was almost orgasmic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She
stood in the bathroom and inhaled deeply, exhaling out the window.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Just
this one</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The nicotine coursing
through her system made her feel faint.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
The phone rang.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She
gave a guilty start and threw the cigarette in the toilet.<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
She recognized the doctor’s voice immediately.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His message was short and sweet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Joan, we know.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The phone went dead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p> </o:p></div>
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Joan’s heart was in her throat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gee, he sounded awfully <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">sinister.</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p> </o:p></div>
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She threw away the rest of the pack and debated telling her
husband about her slipup<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ll decide when he gets home.</i> </div>
<br />
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Several hours later, right about the time she expected him
home, she received a blocked, concise text message.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“You smoked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We have your husband.”<o:p> </o:p></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Consequences.</i><o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
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She drove as fast as she could back to the smoking cessation
clinic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The sign had been taken down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No lights were on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She pressed up against the window and felt
fear as she saw the interior was completely empty of furniture.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She banged on the window anyway.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p> </o:p></div>
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“Please. It was only half. I threw the rest away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bert!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Bert</i>!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She slid to the ground, sobbing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p> </o:p></div>
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She huddled all night long near the window, ignoring the
stares of passers by, only going home, alone, when dawn tinted the sky a light,
smoky gray, heralding a new day.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-ihSK2QRaOFmb3s2VCBYaCSFYqBR2hF4yDJwr57-ygCfHaK227QG15pDfGZbu9ppDUYbYwTgr0v5OBeFUFSExf7ecGbhox9B4c_Ad5jzHUNpFdWcg6kgmZD8FBl9HdzBE921osxHgOZ8/s1600/tombstoneanddrinks.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-ihSK2QRaOFmb3s2VCBYaCSFYqBR2hF4yDJwr57-ygCfHaK227QG15pDfGZbu9ppDUYbYwTgr0v5OBeFUFSExf7ecGbhox9B4c_Ad5jzHUNpFdWcg6kgmZD8FBl9HdzBE921osxHgOZ8/s1600/tombstoneanddrinks.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-215750205269801502.post-75887592076161860502014-12-15T10:08:00.000-06:002014-12-15T10:12:25.483-06:00Naughty or Nice? Read all about the Writing Wenches here...<br />
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Naughty AND Nice, those Wenches.<o:p> </o:p></h3>
<br />
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On December 1, a group of women (and one man they
affectionately call “the barkeep”) who call themselves the Writing Wenches
pulled off a pretty major accomplishment. They released an anthology collection
of twenty-one holiday themed short romance stories, in a single volume, called
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00P72UUGK/ref=cm_sw_r_tw_awdm_K32zub19JEJQR">Unwrapping Love.<o:p> </o:p></a> It became available for sale on Cyber Monday of this year!</div>
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<o:p>The book is huge. It's got 738 pages. I was one of several proofreaders and take it from me, there is some serious talent in this group of 21 authors. I am extremely proud to be a part of this anthology. </o:p></div>
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The book couldn't have been completed without the help and
guidance of <a href="http://www.pagecurl.net/">PageCurl Publishing</a> and Promotions. <a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00P72UUGK/ref=cm_sw_r_tw_awdm_K32zub19JEJQR">Unwrapping Love</a> was published
under their imprint, and they provided editing, formatting, marketing, and
cover design services.<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
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The following Writing Wenches are hosting a blog hop. Each
of them is hosting a giveaway, and telling you a bit about her part in
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00P72UUGK/ref=cm_sw_r_tw_awdm_K32zub19JEJQR">Unwrapping Love</a>! You can stop by each website to learn more about the anthology
and enter each individual giveaway, which will be posting over the next several
days.<o:p> </o:p></div>
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<a href="http://www.authorkayblake.wordpress.com/"><strong>Kay Blake</strong></a> contributed Winter's Gift. </div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj90oDPyeyLXOkYhq0IYdy5X8YuQBluhOa2kOwDgVdG_H23KQzevEdhtmnDVnuZprXZxf9S4NxK8fcQcmY_F2X6Jj-GUAyNuuctxAxNq1gFdnFjlOAZvaZpnUCduElluLxYgMEt7O-Lod8/s1600/Kay_Blake_Headshot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj90oDPyeyLXOkYhq0IYdy5X8YuQBluhOa2kOwDgVdG_H23KQzevEdhtmnDVnuZprXZxf9S4NxK8fcQcmY_F2X6Jj-GUAyNuuctxAxNq1gFdnFjlOAZvaZpnUCduElluLxYgMEt7O-Lod8/s1600/Kay_Blake_Headshot.jpg" height="320" width="216" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kay Blake</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt424RZKvQZIZXqpqYuBJ1ikR2BZLkd6my_IQ5QtuER7jqdyiwUZ3NITpovS88clw2rNLGRLujBo0g-PLaJVh9m0HUrSkqWBCU92HvwuQFpISAXWabaBggpw8gPm93Q_BS_C4wj4eKC-Y/s1600/Winter's_Gift_Cover_Kay_Blake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt424RZKvQZIZXqpqYuBJ1ikR2BZLkd6my_IQ5QtuER7jqdyiwUZ3NITpovS88clw2rNLGRLujBo0g-PLaJVh9m0HUrSkqWBCU92HvwuQFpISAXWabaBggpw8gPm93Q_BS_C4wj4eKC-Y/s1600/Winter's_Gift_Cover_Kay_Blake.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kay's cover!! so cute!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<strong>Christine Cacciatore</strong>...that's me!! wrote Noah Cane's Candy. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhisDPdWa4W3Hx9_tk7L-wnTaQMXqqAdiCcU5yvr-loL2l5Dhvh_no0WJ6BsxXixBd5UuHy-Maj0VNkhaJti9-L_mVfKs76UkeXRUxrYNvGx8P_a9x1zxiiwwpb_q1uyceaOhrQRnJg-zg/s1600/Copy+of+me+after+laughing+at+Joe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhisDPdWa4W3Hx9_tk7L-wnTaQMXqqAdiCcU5yvr-loL2l5Dhvh_no0WJ6BsxXixBd5UuHy-Maj0VNkhaJti9-L_mVfKs76UkeXRUxrYNvGx8P_a9x1zxiiwwpb_q1uyceaOhrQRnJg-zg/s1600/Copy+of+me+after+laughing+at+Joe.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj1O_PGtSmPGiGCZwS7qj8VI4Y1GAAzj7tXuKfqkC0YinMfeidtAokHwsdr3XlQMFmivyaB701Yqq0GVBixTSGj_PDZgiBkS1XQIiqv9wdjtcEsUpvU4PNYx9XYFSUQNZbOyDp-4tqdzY/s1600/NoahCane.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj1O_PGtSmPGiGCZwS7qj8VI4Y1GAAzj7tXuKfqkC0YinMfeidtAokHwsdr3XlQMFmivyaB701Yqq0GVBixTSGj_PDZgiBkS1XQIiqv9wdjtcEsUpvU4PNYx9XYFSUQNZbOyDp-4tqdzY/s1600/NoahCane.png" height="400" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">here's my cover...can't wait!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<a href="http://www.pdeddy.com/holiday-blog-hop."><strong>Patricia D. Eddy</strong></a> wrote On The Eve of Love. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEsbo_Ga0pqgfgP7CgE-IBvJOAcfbQzo_nUkWjHovTaCrJlipStOt4Sbu4TScKKY4NMSWjt5pwxq4QtbWYCUSF1GwOe9itxspN-IGsLNxxsjwIoyDStVbxr8-NH7mzBndMr3dFprVdYuo/s1600/Patricia_D_Eddy_Headshot1_sq.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEsbo_Ga0pqgfgP7CgE-IBvJOAcfbQzo_nUkWjHovTaCrJlipStOt4Sbu4TScKKY4NMSWjt5pwxq4QtbWYCUSF1GwOe9itxspN-IGsLNxxsjwIoyDStVbxr8-NH7mzBndMr3dFprVdYuo/s1600/Patricia_D_Eddy_Headshot1_sq.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Patricia Eddy</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0d3c9BYxMAAbLwxJTvn1L3oaTQGmnFiqjb9b1mIzJ7iqqEy83jtfi3dLJe0fQKlwDsC9hIz7C04xHWOuuDZE_7T4U_gvgUU18580ITBiaaG2GtmrIlc4lqpInmjvpjJ2T5wZ3KYAtvj8/s1600/Mistletoe_and_Mochas_Patricia_Eddy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0d3c9BYxMAAbLwxJTvn1L3oaTQGmnFiqjb9b1mIzJ7iqqEy83jtfi3dLJe0fQKlwDsC9hIz7C04xHWOuuDZE_7T4U_gvgUU18580ITBiaaG2GtmrIlc4lqpInmjvpjJ2T5wZ3KYAtvj8/s1600/Mistletoe_and_Mochas_Patricia_Eddy.jpg" height="320" width="221" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here's another Christmas short from Patricia, available now on Amazon</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<strong>C. S. Kendall</strong> is the author of Second Chance Girl. She would
love it if you would visit her at her <a href="http://www.cskendall.net/">website</a>. </div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZXXCZmJeYxQcpeCHY5MDD1cwoNGa1qj71FOHT-DhrrWUistRtyAhEDwCrNIeCNgWfMsgV5pNP__vIDXsTHdCkjMWeRARh08gDKqYivKubAqG049x4o0_kvXk1PY6czJteYH6_vMg5I_4/s1600/CK_Profile_pic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZXXCZmJeYxQcpeCHY5MDD1cwoNGa1qj71FOHT-DhrrWUistRtyAhEDwCrNIeCNgWfMsgV5pNP__vIDXsTHdCkjMWeRARh08gDKqYivKubAqG049x4o0_kvXk1PY6czJteYH6_vMg5I_4/s1600/CK_Profile_pic.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">CS Kendall</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUdc9OuV_qUaCijaeT26jnbaLY4VUSwOxPYVrXqpYc6UkbjHJ27cogFGXhQ6yv_UfkubLkkkHKrqwYBYhn0XH9pq3Png3h6-88hyqgB-4J_UeQQnZb2fqabpQgRzQIQmrcXGjENDzwxv4/s1600/Second_Chance_Girl_CK.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUdc9OuV_qUaCijaeT26jnbaLY4VUSwOxPYVrXqpYc6UkbjHJ27cogFGXhQ6yv_UfkubLkkkHKrqwYBYhn0XH9pq3Png3h6-88hyqgB-4J_UeQQnZb2fqabpQgRzQIQmrcXGjENDzwxv4/s1600/Second_Chance_Girl_CK.jpg" height="320" width="207" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">here's her cover!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<strong>Tami Lund</strong> is the author of The Perfect Christmas. </div>
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You can
find her <a href="http://tamilund.com/?page_id=91">here</a>
.<o:p> </o:p></div>
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<strong>Misti Murphy</strong> contributed Christmas Candy, and you can find her <a href="http://mistimurphy.weebly.com/">here</a>.</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGn9XIWp6QDXrPSqLahN99Z7EqSdnqH5L63saCbhDeWpxqXXPiYNQQ5Baj-xc9pZO2y-DOJ6tPHXlDpBulRmJUD_fHsuwSwf8C7TIQ7z6Iw5yN1ZqIgwaLEhJf0pWv3_G8O0gjN0Xf9R8/s1600/Misti_Murphy_Bio_pic.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGn9XIWp6QDXrPSqLahN99Z7EqSdnqH5L63saCbhDeWpxqXXPiYNQQ5Baj-xc9pZO2y-DOJ6tPHXlDpBulRmJUD_fHsuwSwf8C7TIQ7z6Iw5yN1ZqIgwaLEhJf0pWv3_G8O0gjN0Xf9R8/s1600/Misti_Murphy_Bio_pic.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Misti Murphy</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<strong>Quenby Olson</strong> wrote First Position, and you can visit her <a href="http://quenbyolson.wordpress.com/">here</a>. </div>
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<strong>Keisha K. Page</strong> contributed Rhythm of Love, and you can visit her <a href="http://thewordmistress.blogspot.com/">here</a>.</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTUfySWSjzageuY7etHgtoTfQYsGfRIYwPtklCzGvJoleKakrgtBmNFiIh8RrmxS_zfP7OshGkF7IOKuMA1gNKLFQyZXOX1_tL1Z7cozjl04MOqKr64XDv_lvf3_6olHbBpt60wcn39P0/s1600/m.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTUfySWSjzageuY7etHgtoTfQYsGfRIYwPtklCzGvJoleKakrgtBmNFiIh8RrmxS_zfP7OshGkF7IOKuMA1gNKLFQyZXOX1_tL1Z7cozjl04MOqKr64XDv_lvf3_6olHbBpt60wcn39P0/s1600/m.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here's Keisha!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<strong>Grace Ravel</strong> wrote Shut Up and Kiss Me, and you can visit her <a href="http://www.graceravel.com/">here</a>. <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9xgXOrLS9kRDj3F8s1mK3ERZzW_bgD_azjBKlymTa7AADH2bSUSGHwil8Plz_nMmhZfTMyXoAQFCG3G_iAY9dom-hR8RWt8Gk7J4_KeVbq-Sj9msdX_orAny6b22978Zj2ldRVPnc88s/s1600/Grace_Ravel_Twitter_Profile_Pic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9xgXOrLS9kRDj3F8s1mK3ERZzW_bgD_azjBKlymTa7AADH2bSUSGHwil8Plz_nMmhZfTMyXoAQFCG3G_iAY9dom-hR8RWt8Gk7J4_KeVbq-Sj9msdX_orAny6b22978Zj2ldRVPnc88s/s1600/Grace_Ravel_Twitter_Profile_Pic.jpg" height="320" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grace Ravel</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3PDwR0TruNNhN8FykYKSzHMAGiNK2K4qlEkbInyj8WKiq_5uImiRZkg4h6XTEEX4x5qV3470mCqRJnmV7whUYH6AZRuKpXrCBVUPrlm6Jf4H01Th4j-DkphKPUhs8J_u_Dbh0A3uzTBY/s1600/CoverShutUp&KissMe_Grace_Ravel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3PDwR0TruNNhN8FykYKSzHMAGiNK2K4qlEkbInyj8WKiq_5uImiRZkg4h6XTEEX4x5qV3470mCqRJnmV7whUYH6AZRuKpXrCBVUPrlm6Jf4H01Th4j-DkphKPUhs8J_u_Dbh0A3uzTBY/s1600/CoverShutUp&KissMe_Grace_Ravel.jpg" height="320" width="224" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grace's cover</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<strong>Jennifer Ray</strong> wrote Declan's Special. Visit her <a href="http://www.adventuresinjentopia.wordpress.com/">here</a>! </div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlfgPmUk7Io8d6e6EwfCOn26Dq8JoabcyvZBKUGwiiTF7qERDWvcrKJ7uPAlDWPQ3LAGLpF7lKhSN9vr1a4lNJjjyED5Pp9xnu5IwCnFHRSKrSY-ALHd2o93fyfwGt38pU5qSuWPJlqvw/s1600/Headshot_J_Ray.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlfgPmUk7Io8d6e6EwfCOn26Dq8JoabcyvZBKUGwiiTF7qERDWvcrKJ7uPAlDWPQ3LAGLpF7lKhSN9vr1a4lNJjjyED5Pp9xnu5IwCnFHRSKrSY-ALHd2o93fyfwGt38pU5qSuWPJlqvw/s1600/Headshot_J_Ray.jpg" height="320" width="223" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jennifer Ray</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrFRZS0rl0ifsb2aM2zF61tjvG3gqUOm_c9z4tYJc935lBrJT6dy7RgFVBtqjGa2qiNs5TAAzd574VxWGUbL6SluvlA-3XwqVbvyW1bwZsXYxD8oXANpExTTmc1vBi24U_ADLdbn61EqM/s1600/Declan's_Special_J_Ray.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrFRZS0rl0ifsb2aM2zF61tjvG3gqUOm_c9z4tYJc935lBrJT6dy7RgFVBtqjGa2qiNs5TAAzd574VxWGUbL6SluvlA-3XwqVbvyW1bwZsXYxD8oXANpExTTmc1vBi24U_ADLdbn61EqM/s1600/Declan's_Special_J_Ray.jpg" height="320" width="221" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here's Jennifer's Christmasy cover!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<o:p></o:p><br />
<strong>Jennifer Senhaji</strong> is the author of Angels in Disguise. Visit her <a href="http://jennifersenhaji.blogspot.com/">here</a>!<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9vBwphj5fj_5G4ms7e5I2nRMPNd_XZgUTkieRLoS0n1pYOEsleFKBi4TyCuhW1oqT8x2yjaNBq-RB_NY0JicAenwxCNBlu9ghmwHIhyCuTXNJ0PuNg5_geFgfHsptggwRjxEG0-UNHNQ/s1600/Sweet_Dreams-Ebook_Cover_Final_Jennifer_Senhaji.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9vBwphj5fj_5G4ms7e5I2nRMPNd_XZgUTkieRLoS0n1pYOEsleFKBi4TyCuhW1oqT8x2yjaNBq-RB_NY0JicAenwxCNBlu9ghmwHIhyCuTXNJ0PuNg5_geFgfHsptggwRjxEG0-UNHNQ/s1600/Sweet_Dreams-Ebook_Cover_Final_Jennifer_Senhaji.jpg" height="320" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jennifer's cover for Sweet Dreams</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<strong>A.E. Snow</strong> contributed Miles and Mae, and you can visit her <a href="http://www.aesnowauthor.blogspot.com/">here</a>.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHFmzw9qdVhI59f_7jenRZAOzaw5GxxsehE9U3bPZ4kKE9WGWLVGpoNywkfzzh0wAmdBKiToXIr9VBk-sPxc9wrFT-59RvdvFYu7rvFNG5XwdhUjdgEN0wu3wyDXMKuGBUilys2dawVSU/s1600/AE_Snow_authorphoto.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHFmzw9qdVhI59f_7jenRZAOzaw5GxxsehE9U3bPZ4kKE9WGWLVGpoNywkfzzh0wAmdBKiToXIr9VBk-sPxc9wrFT-59RvdvFYu7rvFNG5XwdhUjdgEN0wu3wyDXMKuGBUilys2dawVSU/s1600/AE_Snow_authorphoto.jpg" height="228" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">AE Snow</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir3tYqUY3RcUSHBvzUSPfIl11oioTFiIO3v__ii8QI3QKnPLKhDv6v3fMIKRVDJCZfuK4UTpCJ_lioJgKXO-ivIIO29zrx5Xu_nqW53Tv4Xzyylc_rOqTZTtARSwtffl7QDeFFGQ_2D6A/s1600/Miles_&_Mae_(2)_AESnow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir3tYqUY3RcUSHBvzUSPfIl11oioTFiIO3v__ii8QI3QKnPLKhDv6v3fMIKRVDJCZfuK4UTpCJ_lioJgKXO-ivIIO29zrx5Xu_nqW53Tv4Xzyylc_rOqTZTtARSwtffl7QDeFFGQ_2D6A/s1600/Miles_&_Mae_(2)_AESnow.jpg" height="320" width="221" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">cover for Miles and Mae!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
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<strong>Sheri Williams</strong> wrote Numb. </div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvIVaRUd1-ZQGxvkPo29bsKg6JR1oNQlrMt5KUkD86eBt7pgr_Fy_E9mk9ghh5-oWk2Jqhm7z_lKtRECvOZaYBCZNTCoXd9F5VkFLqWQbIYpKUfKqE4oYb4GsCwHzdOOiJPnKEhWylKhQ/s1600/Sheri_Williams_Headshot_PicsArt_1411957395990.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvIVaRUd1-ZQGxvkPo29bsKg6JR1oNQlrMt5KUkD86eBt7pgr_Fy_E9mk9ghh5-oWk2Jqhm7z_lKtRECvOZaYBCZNTCoXd9F5VkFLqWQbIYpKUfKqE4oYb4GsCwHzdOOiJPnKEhWylKhQ/s1600/Sheri_Williams_Headshot_PicsArt_1411957395990.jpg" height="320" width="275" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sheri Williams</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaIK6cxhL5y-owC-ec4wRCpxtlotCKW8eRoVGIjwmrUlR6mafNICBB9jRMMwOERGgurKQPztS_wxR8Oc_AbEB3CR4jl3tP-2UIBJp53tRE-a52gtMytPhMM5EZP5nw-inSUR3CIy-Kkno/s1600/Numb_Sheri_Williams.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaIK6cxhL5y-owC-ec4wRCpxtlotCKW8eRoVGIjwmrUlR6mafNICBB9jRMMwOERGgurKQPztS_wxR8Oc_AbEB3CR4jl3tP-2UIBJp53tRE-a52gtMytPhMM5EZP5nw-inSUR3CIy-Kkno/s1600/Numb_Sheri_Williams.jpg" height="320" width="221" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Numb (in Neon!)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
She is sharing the blog hop from
the Writing Wenches main website at <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Mangal; mso-bidi-language: HI; mso-fareast-font-family: "Arial Unicode MS"; mso-fareast-language: HI; mso-font-kerning: .5pt;"><a href="http://www.writingwenches.com/"><span style="color: navy;">www.writingwenches.com</span></a>.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<strong>S. K. Wills</strong> wrote Hanley's Secret, and you can find her website <a href="http://skwills.com/blog/">here</a>. </div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<strong>Allison Winfield</strong> is the author of Stay With Me. You can find her at <a href="http://alwinfield.com/"><span style="color: #1155cc; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">here</span></a>.</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkhI3D-GZXnfy-A7MzO4QN6AaEFaZbq3XGBNsgw1rbyCKPPfatFqGWl4_RIGDa3rgbhBSrL4NPUEOccrcEnroGOosNcEv2iY1fxFpB35Pz8ZPSvBM_TOpQNxhZRSESiX1ZupKH__UpN7A/s1600/Allison_Winfield_Head_Shot.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkhI3D-GZXnfy-A7MzO4QN6AaEFaZbq3XGBNsgw1rbyCKPPfatFqGWl4_RIGDa3rgbhBSrL4NPUEOccrcEnroGOosNcEv2iY1fxFpB35Pz8ZPSvBM_TOpQNxhZRSESiX1ZupKH__UpN7A/s1600/Allison_Winfield_Head_Shot.jpeg" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Allison Winfield</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkURNC197nH5qoqnNIS1NMnYJwCcVdZ-pbR7qOFB_JCQNXyfq5ywVA0X92UiV87rc4aYOqTJKqOum1CAWdktDU-OpAldhvOvBAyXcdAWC85h_drMV7IXgu_LbKe6UQrVOv7Z4QuNu5mKI/s1600/Allison_Winfield_Cover.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkURNC197nH5qoqnNIS1NMnYJwCcVdZ-pbR7qOFB_JCQNXyfq5ywVA0X92UiV87rc4aYOqTJKqOum1CAWdktDU-OpAldhvOvBAyXcdAWC85h_drMV7IXgu_LbKe6UQrVOv7Z4QuNu5mKI/s1600/Allison_Winfield_Cover.png" height="320" width="199" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">aw. Cute cover.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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</div>
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Other stories in Unwrapping Love were contributed by:<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<strong>Melody Barber<o:p></o:p></strong></div>
<strong>
</strong><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<strong>Sonja Frojendal<o:p></o:p></strong></div>
<strong>
</strong><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<strong>Melina Gillies<o:p></o:p></strong></div>
<strong>
</strong><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<strong>Michael Simko<o:p></o:p></strong></div>
<strong>
</strong><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<strong>Beth Stanley<o:p></o:p></strong></div>
<strong>
</strong><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<strong>K.R. Wilburn<o:p></o:p></strong></div>
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***As part of my blog today, leave a comment in the comments section about what your very, very favorite holiday movie is. I'll pick one at random and the winner will receive a $10 gift card from Amazon.com, where you can purchase Unwrapping Love, or any of the other books various Wenches have for sale! Including mine I wrote with my sister...<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Baylyn-Bewitched-Whitfield-Witch-Series-ebook/dp/B00D0JO71G/ref=pd_sim_kstore_1?ie=UTF8&refRID=04BT56BDNCHCNJ5C3NGX">Baylyn, Bewitched</a> and <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Cat-Charmed-Whitfield-Witch-Book-ebook/dp/B00JD03I8Y/ref=asap_B00LA9OJ0C?ie=UTF8">Cat, Charmed</a>!<br />
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Good luck!<br />
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<o:p> </o:p></div>
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<o:p> </o:p></div>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-215750205269801502.post-15760747676961451192014-12-06T17:14:00.000-06:002014-12-06T17:14:43.830-06:00Spoiler: It's not Maybelline<h2>
The Hair</h2>
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In October (which seems like a lifetime ago) Joe and I were in our garage, getting it all cleaned out for a party. We heard one snuffling, leaf rustling sound, then another. We paused in our sweeping to listen a little harder. The noise was just outside the garage, coming from the back yard. Like an animal was back there.<br />
<br />
I look at Joe in a panic, thinking our dog was loose. "Is Cooper out?"<br />
<br />
His eyebrows come together. "No, he's in the house."<br />
<br />
Amongst other things, Cooper is our black lab. He's definitely blog worthy. He's also a gigantic pain in our respective butts. <a href="http://poopwafoley.blogspot.com/2012/01/let-me-tell-you-tail.html">Read about it here.</a><br />
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The reason I asked if it was Cooper back there is because he's been known to take luxurious, albeit unauthorized, field trips around the neighborhood, usually in the early morning hours. Mostly when I have on only a t shirt and bad hair. (I have run braless down my street, throwing baloney and cheese at him to come back. Asshole dog.)<br />
<br />
But I digress. Our dog wasn't out there, but there were two new dogs running around in our back yard; smallish beagles, belonging to the neighbors across the street. We round them up, slap leashes on their collars, and deliver them back to their owners.<br />
<br />
Back at home, in preparation for costumes, we got out the bag o' wigs, one of which Joe slapped on his head and promptly forgot about. The wig was cut into a bob of longish red hair and looked like something <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt3322940/">Annabelle</a> might have worn in her movies.<br />
<br />
The Wigged One was happily grilling hot dogs for our guests when again the leaf rustling took up but this time, there was only a thin screen door between Cooper and the interlopers and our dog saw them and <em>desperately</em> wanted to play. Still in the garage, I turned to yell at Joe that the little beagles had once again escaped and were back in our yard, but he was one step ahead of me.<br />
<br />
Joe spied the two doggie trespassers and in full red-headed, wigged glory dramatically ran toward them in the back yard, while his hair flowed in the breeze. It was practically in slow motion. <em>But his hair</em>. Oh, my holy goodness. But it <em>wasn't</em> his hair, as he keeps it to a respectable 1/8" cut year round...it was the hair of this silly wig, which had slipped down and wasn't even on right.<br />
<br />
Watching him sprint heroically, grilling tongs waving in the air, to the back to rescue the two beagles, with his hair-not-his-hair flowing in the breeze, I could no longer keep my laughter in and I absolutely lost it. I dissolved. My knees went weak. I could not catch my breath for anything in the world and in fact, couldn't even walk up the back steps into the house because I was laughing so hard at the picture he made in the back yard. I think I peed my pants a little (who am I kidding, I had to run in and change) and the funniest part of all?<br />
<br />
<strong>Joe had no idea what I was laughing at</strong> because that wig on his head had somehow, in his mind, morphed into just a hat keeping his head warm. He wasn't even wearing a wig anymore, in his mind, just a toasty head warmer. He stood there, shaking his wigged head at me, like I was the one who was nuts.<br />
<br />
But I knew better.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA6U73RlAnCAUqYsGIHrNlcApoj98dN3s_7VED04NXfS5U0RG1uaBNz72EPqaVOpeZPJO1ns6eyPTuoGZ_FcyV9drA9BSt6U_NkaqJo-tFaKJr7ZZA3gmk19uYpEVaM05MqmGdsxLPolg/s1600/joewig.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA6U73RlAnCAUqYsGIHrNlcApoj98dN3s_7VED04NXfS5U0RG1uaBNz72EPqaVOpeZPJO1ns6eyPTuoGZ_FcyV9drA9BSt6U_NkaqJo-tFaKJr7ZZA3gmk19uYpEVaM05MqmGdsxLPolg/s1600/joewig.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My handsome Bear, in his "hat", and a sample bite of hot dog in his mouth<br />
<br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-215750205269801502.post-6705787892879019572014-08-03T18:24:00.000-05:002014-08-03T18:24:08.237-05:00Flying? I can't even.
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It’s not that I’m scared to fly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m just worried the plane will crash while
I’m on it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It was just a thought I had when my husband, daughter, and I
started our Florida vacation by flying from Milwaukee to Pensacola with a 2.5
hour layover in Hot-lanta.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That was bad
enough.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The fact that we had to drive
from Rockford to the Milwaukee airport, park, shuttle to airport, board,
deplane, layover, board, deplane, then rent a car and finish the drive to our
destination was what made it a little more challenging.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By challenging I mean we were tired, cranky,
and hungry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were barely recognizable
by the time we got to Grayton Beach, Florida.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">After just one spectacular, sunny day on the beach, however,
we forgot all about the previous day’s travel difficulties.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I forgot how much I hate to fly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">week</i>
of the beach (our friend Captain Morgan was there!) the trip down seemed like a
bad dream.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A blurry fog.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A mere memory!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Until the night before we have to leave, when we realize
it’s our last sleep in this beautiful beach house and worse, that the very next
day we have to repeat last week’s travel nightmare in order to get home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s ok, though, because the flights on the
way down were lovely, floaty things.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
almost wasn’t scared.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The next day, on the way back home, our second flight is the
Atlanta to Milwaukee part.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Despite
pleading with the gate agent she can’t seat us all together, so my husband is
back several rows.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I usually <s>break</s>
hold his hand while we fly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s 10:12
p.m. and I hope to sleep during the flight, but whee!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There’s a lightning storm our pilot tries unsuccessfully
to avoid and I feel like I’m in a bouncy house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>My stomach is in knots.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I shoot
six drinks in succession but remain stone cold sober.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It was then for some odd reason it feels as if the pilot has
hit the brakes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To say it is unsettling is an understatement,
as I would hope there wouldn’t be any red lights or stop signs this high up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We lurch forward in our seats.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Daughter latches on to my arm and says, “Why does it feel
like the plane’s slowing down?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I tell her, “Oh, that’s normal.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She’s unconvinced and gives me the side
eye.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I curl my lips up in my best
recollection of what a reassuring smile looks like but I’m afraid it’s more of
a grimace.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">After our plane endures another severe shaking, she says, “Are
you <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">sure</i> that’s normal?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I am in a cold sweat but still have the presence of mind to lie
to my child.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Yes, of course.” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s nowhere near normal, as far as I’m
concerned.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I’m not sure why we slow
down in midair either.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am convinced
we’ve been hit by lightning and we’re going down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All I can think about is our drink cart
hasn’t even come with the microscopic bags of pretzels and a meager cup of
juice, so I’m going to die on an empty stomach…something I vowed I’d never do. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m freaking out a little bit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Like, “there’s someone on the wing” freaking
out.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">However, I school my features into confident, soothing mom
mode and tell her as long as the flight attendants aren’t worried, we don’t
have to be worried either.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It was at that point the pilot makes an announcement over
the crackling loudspeaker.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“This is your
captain speaking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The plane is going
down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Please find your seats and buckle
up because stuff just got real.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">My husband tells me later that what he actually said was,
“Flight personnel, please find your seats because we’re about to encounter some
turbulence.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Between you and me, he
never hears things right.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">My daughter and I both watch, horrified, as the flight
attendant hurtles past us, drink cart rattling, rushing to secure the cart and
fasten her seat belt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This isn’t just turbulence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our plane ride has turned into a hayrack ride
on a country road of potholes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I don’t even want to look at my daughter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve let her down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I finally sneak a peek at her and—you know
how horses look when they get scared?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>You only see the whites of their gigantic eyes, their sides are heaving,
their nostrils flaring?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then you have a
pretty clear picture of what my daughter’s face looked like at that moment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Xanax she has washed down with rum does
not seem to be helping.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span> </div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtsymQ3jv2mfFUxRZxheI-lH33ywCarBeqdEb6njrlawnDnen69CmNrXTVYEl7LbwvXeXAdiOJSgHU89_fFaqm7u_sMH7_M0yShFe8KAY91qxQ3ujq_iq0JZYP6M0_exM7FkrwphHtXMU/s1600/horsey.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Tina Phillips, freedigitalphotos.net" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtsymQ3jv2mfFUxRZxheI-lH33ywCarBeqdEb6njrlawnDnen69CmNrXTVYEl7LbwvXeXAdiOJSgHU89_fFaqm7u_sMH7_M0yShFe8KAY91qxQ3ujq_iq0JZYP6M0_exM7FkrwphHtXMU/s1600/horsey.jpg" height="400" title="Horse laughing" width="265" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is where I would normally say, "Like this, except not this bad." Except it's pretty close to what I actually saw. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">But what an exciting ten minutes followed!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I believe that if the Guinness Book of World
Records had a category for speed-reciting the Lord’s Prayer, I’d be the record
holder.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Through the buzzing in my ears I
heard someone swearing like a sailor then realize it’s me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My daughter’s fingernails leave gouges in my
arm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Finally, the plane stops rattling.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She releases her death grip and pretends to
read a book.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am faking sleep and watch
her turn pages with shaky hands.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">My nerve endings are completely shot.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">At last we land safely.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I have <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">obviously</i> kept the plane
up in the air single handedly with my prayers, although the ungrateful rabble
we flew with doesn’t realize it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They
are rushing the door to leave like there’s a Black Friday sale on TVs at
Walmart and not waiting their turn so that I, their champion plane-keeper-upper,
might depart the plane.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am petulant
and crabby, naturally.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If Bruce Willis
had saved their plane, they’d be letting <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">him</i>
off first.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Finally, after what feels like forever, my exhausted family is
able to get off the plane, collect our luggage and we’re on our way back home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>None of us are looking forward to the two hour
drive home but we are on the ground and quite frankly, right now there’s nowhere
I’d rather be.</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-215750205269801502.post-33663793439305440512014-06-12T20:19:00.000-05:002014-06-12T20:19:29.077-05:00Rumpty Dumpty<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<h3>
It was inevitable that I would eventually write about
poop. </h3>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
After all, the word is part of the
name of my blog. I have written about periods
<a href="http://poopwafoley.blogspot.com/2012/10/fun-female-field-trip-not-really.html">here</a>, and surgery <a href="http://poopwafoley.blogspot.com/2013/02/the-nose-knows.html">here</a>, and gas <a href="http://poopwafoley.blogspot.com/2011/10/fit-of-vapors.html">here;</a> but only touched on the “poop” subject <a href="http://poopwafoley.blogspot.com/2013/06/whichever-one-is-number-two.html">here.</a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
However, this story rocketed to the top of my “stuff to blog
about” list when my husband called me at work with a tale that needed to be
told. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Apparently there’s a light out in the bathroom he normally
uses at work. He found that out when he
went to use the facilities and there was no response when he flicked the light
switch.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Since he had to go, however, and since he was already there
(and his bladder somehow recognized that he was near a toilet) he needed to use
THAT bathroom. Right then. Immediately. Thinking quickly, he
whipped out his trusty 3G Droid smart phone, upon which his thoughtful wife
(that’s me) had installed a flashlight app.
Thanks to the bright light of his phone screen, he was able to find the
toilet stall in the dark, locate the bowl, remember where everything was and
tidy up accordingly, all by holding the phone with its handy flashlight under
his chin.</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_SmoqJ861pnHKL5fIKpn7M-tjf5CJuynnbm63npsXV2d9xNT2rgYa74bHMjrPJ11vqcoh8bQFWBugHykLoMHihsvFOzXO2oZDxyPmx3SLR4POMDQVeO-iQox4WQXiJMLzTDQ8pFyg1Sg/s1600/ID-100179884.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="by Gualberto107, freedigitalphotos.net" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_SmoqJ861pnHKL5fIKpn7M-tjf5CJuynnbm63npsXV2d9xNT2rgYa74bHMjrPJ11vqcoh8bQFWBugHykLoMHihsvFOzXO2oZDxyPmx3SLR4POMDQVeO-iQox4WQXiJMLzTDQ8pFyg1Sg/s1600/ID-100179884.jpg" height="132" title="flashligh" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">like this. except on your phone.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
That day, we had a good laugh over this when he called me to
tell me the story and thank me for the app.</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Things deteriorated a few days later. Mr. Forgetful waited until it was almost too
late to make his frantic morning jog to the same bathroom referenced
above. This time, however, he was racing
against a couple cups of my strong coffee and his morning bran. He grabbed his phone almost as an
afterthought on the off chance he needed to make a phone call, text someone, check
the Cubs standings, or for the flashlight app if by some strange circumstance
the bathroom light was still out. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>That’s fine</i>, he
thinks, as he struggles to unbuckle and unzip quickly, as he ran in the general
direction of the stall door. <i>I have my fancy phone with the flashlight
app</i>.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
However, for some reason, despite repeated, desperate
attempts to pull up the flashlight app, the app has disappeared and due to
extreme gastrointestinal pressure, he gave up trying to get it to work and
attempted to go it alone, in the dark. In
all the fumbling with his smart phone trying to get the app to work, though, he
has waited a little bit, a <i>tiny</i> bit,
a <i>hair</i> <i>too late</i> to get his pants down fully.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It should be noted that on the best of days, he is not Mr. Technology. Under pressure, however, his
difficulty with smart phones is exponentially worse. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If this were a bad script, I would at this point write
“hilarity ensues” but in all actuality he didn't find this at all hilarious, as
he was forced to go to the bathroom in the dark, then <i>attempt</i> to clean up after himself in the dark. Between you and me, reader, he has a
difficult enough time when it’s his OWN bathroom, with sufficient lighting to
rival the sun and a brand new container of baby wipes. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In the dark, cold, empty bathroom at work, he does the best
he can under the third world circumstances.
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He is forced to make the drive of shame home and change
pants, losing yet another pair of undershorts to such an ordeal which, praise
God, seldom occurs.</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLbPZyCJVEQeV9MsEdh_NJIyeUTjkqDcGChp0SOo7rOvudgyvvSOepvWyml05Rp7O3xCLupBUTqry6qwHHK01gRq8coBTMaia1IiGSU_DlXfC464far95WNaMfKTsUDZSbTZsMJ093180/s1600/ID-100256933+(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="anakkml on freedigitalphotos.net" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLbPZyCJVEQeV9MsEdh_NJIyeUTjkqDcGChp0SOo7rOvudgyvvSOepvWyml05Rp7O3xCLupBUTqry6qwHHK01gRq8coBTMaia1IiGSU_DlXfC464far95WNaMfKTsUDZSbTZsMJ093180/s1600/ID-100256933+(1).jpg" height="211" title="male underpants" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kids, need a gift idea for Dad for Father's Day?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Luckily, the badly mutilated underwear in question went directly
into the garbage because otherwise if yours truly was sorting the white clothes
I would have assumed he came face to face with a Yeti.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5WBElw-cGuzXmSqBtVrkcXH4p8YDSpJe6BiBDaewhf-0sRmxVgHEt_0zxQ5GXqaUdSROq-0Kr-xKB-2sfWEepdYAQcXH8ZK9jYnXu0yZ90xpAgN_0UnVbJiTUcw9PWAg2uQorrb80RYw/s1600/yeti.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="collider.com (I hold NO RIGHTS to this photo)" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5WBElw-cGuzXmSqBtVrkcXH4p8YDSpJe6BiBDaewhf-0sRmxVgHEt_0zxQ5GXqaUdSROq-0Kr-xKB-2sfWEepdYAQcXH8ZK9jYnXu0yZ90xpAgN_0UnVbJiTUcw9PWAg2uQorrb80RYw/s1600/yeti.jpg" title="movie: Yeti" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">sort of like this one, which would make ANYONE crap their pants.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
Later, he also told me that the majority of the bathroom accident
from hell occurred because of two things:
a) the fact that he fucked around so long trying to get his flashlight
app to work that he almost lost control right then and there on the floor and b) because of
the low lighting from his cell phone screen he sat down on the bowl at the
wrong angle and needless to say, not all the “kids” got dropped off at the
pool.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He showered four or five times that night, just to make
sure.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A few days ago, he visited the same washroom, which now has a working light and Joe was not only able to seat himself
comfortably at the correct angle, but also have sufficient light with which to
cleanse himself afterward.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Lucky for him and his underwear drawer. (and me, and probably the Yeti too.)</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-215750205269801502.post-53541698437860728522014-05-22T16:14:00.000-05:002014-05-22T16:14:48.388-05:00She's learning. And it's amazing.<h2>
The smartest grandchild in the world</h2>
The grandchild came over to spend some time on Sunday and again last night. I get her approximately once a week for about a half day, and watching her grow is <em>the most amazing thing I've ever seen.</em> <br />
<br />
I think back to when I was a young woman and my children were small and I wish I could have all that time back. I see Alyssa, my 13 month old granddaughter, doing these grownup things and I think, "when did my kids do that?" And I DON'T REMEMBER. It makes me sad. I'm sure it was amazing at the time, and I bet I called my mom or my sister and told them what Child A B or C did, but I just don't remember anymore. And those of you thinking, "look it up in their baby book"? Well, I only did a few pages of each child's baby book, but lost all of them in the flood of 1996, when we were living in the Joliet area and the water in the basement crept up to almost the third stair from the upstairs.<br />
<br />
Good times. Lost in that flood were pictures, favorite toys, favorite blankets, ultrasound pictures, and all of my faith in storm drains.<br />
<br />
While at my house, Alyssa left the living room to wander down the hallway toward the bedrooms. Most of the doors are closed off to her because she certainly doesn't need to be in the bathroom (she throws everything she can find into the tub, and would play in the toity I'm sure if she got the chance) and there's nothing in the other bedrooms or closets she would be allowed to play with. (besides <strike>our</strike> my husband's Sing-a-ma-jig, but she spilled coffee on it and Joe took it back.) <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp0LePjslj20QIwLXDPGA5ThMIdxF6X3kzwBRIiTfGGxzFQmanM3NgSFVUuyHfOghBzoDrSbU5pXcjoXzyGSPqJjTxkYOjLfjy8eN6mK4raha2yAcaTlA7YWtiW8djJIeDLxCLiXn_U7w/s1600/smj.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp0LePjslj20QIwLXDPGA5ThMIdxF6X3kzwBRIiTfGGxzFQmanM3NgSFVUuyHfOghBzoDrSbU5pXcjoXzyGSPqJjTxkYOjLfjy8eN6mK4raha2yAcaTlA7YWtiW8djJIeDLxCLiXn_U7w/s1600/smj.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alyssa, Grandpa is keeping this all for himself. Sorry.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I called for her and could hear her voice in "her" room, where we have her books, toys, and a rocking chair. I came around the corner and she came running at me with her favorite Usborne book, smiling with anticipation, then ran back to the rocking chair and patted it with her tiny fingers, her book in the other hand.<br />
<br />
<em>She wanted me to sit down so I could read her a book.</em> She <em>communicated </em>with me. Grandma, I would like you to read to me.<br />
<br />
Ermehgerd. Alyssa has realized where we go to rock and read books. She knows that Grandma loves to read to her.<br />
<br />
My mother pointed out that Alyssa first communicated the second she opened her mouth and cried for the first time. That is true, but <strong>this</strong> time she had purpose.<br />
<h2>
At what point do they eat people food? </h2>
I did daycare for 11 years and took care of a lot of children. (ah, those were the days.) I can remember moms coming in while their children were in the high chairs and hearing them say happily, "hey, I didn't know they could eat that yet!" to cereal bars, or cut up bananas, or yogurt. Last night Alyssa was at the house for dinner and I smashed up the corn, chicken, and potatoes from a can of Progresso Chicken Corn Chowder. Smashed fine enough, it made the perfect dinner, with an accompaniment of a graham cracker and applesauce and a fine house juice.<br />
<br />
When my oldest was 1, I had some friends over for dinner, and they noticed me feeding my son in a high chair. I distinctly remember my friend's husband asking, "when do they start eating people food?" It's been 25 years but I still remember that like it was yesterday because it was so funny to me. <br />
<h2>
Grandma, I can reach up high now. Watch out.</h2>
A lesson I learned last night, because I must learn everything the hard way, is that Alyssa is not only walking around (and has for three months now) but she can reach. She stands up on her tippy toes in her pink sandals and her adorable painted toes, and reaches up onto the counter and table for everything she can get. She also likes to open my drawers in the kitchen to get out items specifically not meant for children of her or any age...baggies and steak knives among them. Looks like I have to do some baby proofing, I believe. (she said, as she writes down outlet covers on her grocery list)<br />
<h2>
I'm not as young as I used to be.</h2>
After having her for only three hours last night, I was exhausted. I harken back to the long, ten hour daycare days and now I realize why I was so tired at night. I was licensed for 8 children, most 6 and under, and all day I ran after them, swept and mopped the floor a kajillion times, pushed on swings, played in the sandbox, cleaned off counters, faces and hineys all day long. (not at the same time, thankfully.) It was a lot of work. <br />
<br />
This is just one child and I was as tired as if I had taken care of 6. It's why I work in an office now, and don't run a daycare. <br />
<br />
At my age, I have to save my energy for just the one child. Because she sure is saving it up for me.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnPtFDbKXi4tkEjJA7ihPhcoAC6Y8o1qgUtcVXrdWSiH0HaXLNs8V_m4krPEmLpzjNPe0i7FjhM_RMNW7JA31kojkU3VUoc37I7MTj_DSElMh8t_IQqwZ02UQ7f-KzdLLA9KvWaWFf1qo/s1600/aly2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnPtFDbKXi4tkEjJA7ihPhcoAC6Y8o1qgUtcVXrdWSiH0HaXLNs8V_m4krPEmLpzjNPe0i7FjhM_RMNW7JA31kojkU3VUoc37I7MTj_DSElMh8t_IQqwZ02UQ7f-KzdLLA9KvWaWFf1qo/s1600/aly2.JPG" height="400" width="263" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">shall I talk on the phone, or bang my drum? Or BOTH??? Let's do both.<br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-215750205269801502.post-73612379437137324262014-05-18T21:29:00.000-05:002014-05-18T21:30:15.428-05:00Black Balloon Publishing. No coincidence.<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">To town</span><o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">A few
weeks ago, my daughter Annie and I went into Plainfield/Channahon for a
visit. We talked about everything and
nothing, and as we drove into Plainfield and saw the “Welcome to Plainfield: Mike Collins, Mayor” sign. We joked about how surreal it was to see my
dad’s name on the sign.<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="_GoBack"></a><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">First to
my mother’s house, where we admired her garden and visited with her and dad
John and relaxed. Then it was on to my
brother’s new house in Channahon to visit with his kids and fur babies and my
sister and her nieces. It was
unrushed. We don’t often get to have
visits like that one so we treasured every second.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">Back to
mom’s, where we had an amazing dinner of shishkabobs, all while having a
watchful eye on the weather because it was going to pour later.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">It was
still light out when we departed for the 90 minute drive back to Rockford. We headed back down route 126 heading to 47.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">There are no coincidences.<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">As we’re
driving, Annie looks out the window to her right and there is a solitary black
helium balloon with a string floating across the field that will eventually
cross 126. If balloons could have
intentions, I would say this one was determined to be seen. As we passed it, we looked at each other,
shocked. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">How random</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">, Annie says. <i>What
the eff was that all about? What kind of
sign was that supposed to be? <o:p></o:p></i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Relax</span></i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">, I tell her. <i>It’s
not a sign at all, just a balloon that escaped from someone’s Over the Hill
party and happened to be blowing across the field right while we were driving.</i><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">But I can’t
stop thinking about it on the way home.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">Once
there, I feed the husband and pet the dog; or was that feed the dog and pet the
husband? Either way, once I open my
laptop, that black balloon is at the forefront of my brain and I immediately
look up the term on Google. It tells me
there’s a song called Black Balloon, by the Goo Goo dolls. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">No,
never heard of that song and I don’t like the Goo Goo dolls. Next.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">If I
were dreaming, a black balloon would mean I’m depressed. That’s not it either.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">But then…guess what I came
across.<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://blackballoonpublishing.com/">Black Balloon Publishing</a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">. I click on it and the first thing I see is their motto: “We Champion the Weird, the Unwieldy, and the
Unclassifiable”. In other words, stuff
that I would write. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">I don’t
believe in coincidence, but I do believe in jumping to conclusions, and in this
situation, I jumped higher than I ever have.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">Immediately
I “liked” their Facebook page and then went over to Twitter, where I began
following them. Unable to resist telling
them how I found them, I sent a message.
What follows is pure magic.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNqgGCiV5Ypcg0haF2riU6bVL6K-VpnaaLRgQqEuXMfmonRlFfU0LyXWqd8ae7-9JWt9bZ4PMJL1gFNFWOYBcNDgQcAtNXSmL3P8b4ZVo9Q8S4XWRp9_Ek2KTzgJqKzOzZAzCUcDzrVLE/s1600/bbpub.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNqgGCiV5Ypcg0haF2riU6bVL6K-VpnaaLRgQqEuXMfmonRlFfU0LyXWqd8ae7-9JWt9bZ4PMJL1gFNFWOYBcNDgQcAtNXSmL3P8b4ZVo9Q8S4XWRp9_Ek2KTzgJqKzOzZAzCUcDzrVLE/s1600/bbpub.jpg" height="400" width="225" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">swoon.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">And to
rachet up the squee factor a little bit more, when you click on the YouTube
video they sent me, it’s Mariah Carey’s song “</span><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0habxsuXW4g"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">We Belong Together</span></a><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;">.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">Like I
said, there are no such things as coincidences.</span></span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-215750205269801502.post-28252534725294608582014-03-25T19:48:00.002-05:002014-03-25T19:48:28.091-05:00Blackhawks and blinders. How much fun can a human possibly have?A while back, my stepsister Michelle asked my husband and I if we'd like to accompany her and her boyfriend Guy to a Blackhawks game.<br />
<br />
Not just any Blackhawks game, though...this one was in a suite. A penthouse suite.<br />
Yeah, we're that cool. Well, at least we know someone who's that cool.<br />
<br />
We drove in from Rockford to pick both of them up, leaving our car in Willowbrook and proceeding into the big city.<br />
<br />
Our first stop was at <a href="http://frankschicagoshrimp.com/">Frank's</a>. For those of you who don't know what that is, it's a shrimp house. While in the car, our hosts decided that one pound of the fried shrimp would be adequate, especially if there would be food in the suite. Joe and Guy went in while Michelle and I chatted in the car, and soon they were back with an enormous sack each of the biggest, best fried shrimp I have ever eaten<strong> in my entire life.</strong><br />
<br />
Thanks, you two, for ruining any other fried shrimp for me. <em>Forever</em>.<br />
<br />
After that, Michelle and I were instructed to close our eyes and keep them that way for the duration of the trip. Why? <em>To protect us from the trauma that is his driving. </em>We heard several times on the way to the United Center, "Don't look. Don't look." When I dared to look I realized we were driving a six foot wide car down a five foot wide path. How we managed to avoid knocking off our side mirrors or the side mirrors of other drivers, I'll never know. <em> Because I wasn't looking.</em><br />
<br />
Once at the United Center, with our too-cool-for-school parking pass, we accepted the free Blackhawks binder given to us via binder night. We then took the elevator up to the penthouse suites, found ours, and OH MY GOSH.<br />
<br />
It was the most amazing thing. Michelle greeted our host, while we all stared goggle eyed at the scene before us.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNQBrRzrP6MjTL52pZXhoOTPB28UjhaiDbDNF6XdEUwIEldcOrrgo4krykzwdQI6awfpxab15hhC8nyij6l5L1IG77fX77h54ISho_KsmWiu4yAA5PZU9NWCBwP7s_D8aZRmX_9YWIUNA/s1600/014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNQBrRzrP6MjTL52pZXhoOTPB28UjhaiDbDNF6XdEUwIEldcOrrgo4krykzwdQI6awfpxab15hhC8nyij6l5L1IG77fX77h54ISho_KsmWiu4yAA5PZU9NWCBwP7s_D8aZRmX_9YWIUNA/s1600/014.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We're not in Kansas anymore. We're much higher than that.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
And food? There was a hot dog station, a nacho station, an Italian beef station, and all the beer you could drink. Mixed drinks. And don't even get me started on the dessert cart, but I'll just say this...I had a turtle the size of a hamburger patty. And it was delicious.<br />
Going to the railing overlooking the rink was a little off putting for me, as I have some weird type of reaction to heights, i.e. I feel as if I'm being pulled off my seat by my crotch for a quick trip off the railing headfirst. A quick consult with the sister found that she had the same problem. I'm glad I'm not alone.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPUuoQizz1R16aD5oulHGAOuTQLSljlnxQVNvkryQsi0Xrlk31sE-f1MsSiY9xALEJsYZhDQNYQdneJsM0nt_Jjr8mcxd2P4sPTc14DQLCpjfWmRcI1SADzIhzCi-vzSnTQBci6Ji-KLw/s1600/011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPUuoQizz1R16aD5oulHGAOuTQLSljlnxQVNvkryQsi0Xrlk31sE-f1MsSiY9xALEJsYZhDQNYQdneJsM0nt_Jjr8mcxd2P4sPTc14DQLCpjfWmRcI1SADzIhzCi-vzSnTQBci6Ji-KLw/s1600/011.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I couldn't actually take a picture looking straight down without gagging. This is as close as you're going to get.</td></tr>
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<br />
The Blackhawks won, of course. <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYlFD2WKgz72Y0Ldg6kc6ssq2JbN0RLvFeNUT-qCScpONgjsxdxv4PsXXLS7j3P-FddZ_Y1r9aHYvBymztcvDqtBRIqIrsyKEL6J88jO2uWIJKXKy-8CqXesQOMHHRmDxcll9IoFRz1uE/s1600/026.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYlFD2WKgz72Y0Ldg6kc6ssq2JbN0RLvFeNUT-qCScpONgjsxdxv4PsXXLS7j3P-FddZ_Y1r9aHYvBymztcvDqtBRIqIrsyKEL6J88jO2uWIJKXKy-8CqXesQOMHHRmDxcll9IoFRz1uE/s1600/026.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">actual proof.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The game was amazing. The company awesome. The food delish. <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4Ym5gFi1KZ52r-8OGk-nkxLabrfZ6C6CUnAKayyFTxqdidDEVtLS7_f1Sssu4n4FyxVbdxiNcpvKo00PgxqiFZc-TiOQruK66kOwS-JLJ5vG74iNqPmczt6otx-XMYjL3aFVpLaFZKX4/s1600/020.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4Ym5gFi1KZ52r-8OGk-nkxLabrfZ6C6CUnAKayyFTxqdidDEVtLS7_f1Sssu4n4FyxVbdxiNcpvKo00PgxqiFZc-TiOQruK66kOwS-JLJ5vG74iNqPmczt6otx-XMYjL3aFVpLaFZKX4/s1600/020.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">actual hockey players, although from our vantage point, they looked like black ants as opposed to Blackhawks.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The only fly in the ointment was sitting in the parking lot after the game waiting for it to clear, watching a carload of white trash punks pick a fight with someone who was not only probably 20 years older than them, but also an <em>off duty police officer.</em> Who didn't need duct tape to hold up his car windows like the youngsters.<br />
<br />
In this day and age of concealed carry, do you really want to pick a fight with a stranger? I vote no. Making it more difficult to watch and understand was that the carload of kids only spoke the language "motherfu*ker" and at one point told the police officer "congratulations on living past your prime." I was certain there would be a shooting and ducked in anticipation.<br />
<br />
That same carload of idiots realized they could get through the parking lot by backing up and driving around instead of cutting in front of the cop. The only problem with that was that we were in the way. We once again closed our eyes against the certain impending crash, but it never came...although that car was truly less than a half inch from ours. If my phone battery hadn't died out I would have gladly recorded it for all of you.<br />
<br />
Joe and I had such a great time. Should we be so lucky to go again, I will: buy more shrimp, wear blinders, and secure myself to a seat with a bungee cord. Just in case my crotch should pull me over the side.<br />
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-215750205269801502.post-35255061706523437102014-02-04T20:27:00.002-06:002014-02-04T20:31:00.896-06:00Snarky McSnarkster. A/k/a I'm Grateful.(our last prompt in Prompt Club was to write 1000 words starting with the words, "I'm grateful.")<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I’m grateful, truly I am.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Roof over our heads, food on the table, money
to pay the bills and from time to time visit a fancy restaurant like Chipotle
or Granite City.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have three healthy
kids, a beautiful granddaughter and a husband who still wants to hold my hand
all the time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have been on the
opposite end of the financial and romantic spectrum, so suffice it to say I
know whereof I speak.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I’m also grateful for things other
people might not think of as worthy of appreciation—for instance, my gift of
sarcasm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So when we drew the prompt where
you had to start a story with the words “I’m grateful”, I immediately snarked
it up.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I’m grateful that years ago before a
doctor’s appointment, I was able to help my middle daughter learn to pronounce “vaginal”
correctly without laughing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I like to think I spared her the
embarrassment I endured when my 7<sup>th</sup> grade science teacher asked our
class what the hangy thing in the back of the throat is called. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Turns out “vulva” was not the answer
he was searching for. That day, I comforted my 12 year old self with the
thought that I didn’t need social acceptance and popularity anyway. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Fast forward 35 years, and guess
what…that social acceptance and popularity thing is on its way because my
youngest daughter just told me that in another week or so her six new puppies
will be winged. If that’s the case we’ll all be so popular we’ll have to
move. I’m grateful I have days off coming because puppies are a lot of
work to begin with, but flying puppies and a nine month old—that’s a recipe for
disaster. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I’m grateful for the fact that I got
shingles right before my daughter’s 21<sup>st</sup> birthday, so that I was forced
to cancel plans to take my granddaughter for the weekend like I had promised
months prior so she could celebrate. I’m also grateful that I didn’t have
to worry about sleeping while I was suffering with that wretched condition,
because that gave me plenty of time to worry about a worrisome secondary rash
and the mushroom of a cold sore on my lip. It also gave me extra time to
drunk-google late at night terms like “duration of shingles” or “shingles rash”
or “should you drink when you have shingles” or my personal favorite, “how many
people die per year from shingles”. </span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8nJ_-E-Frc0aKk4ye6MzBdSgrFziDpNGT83t9RbkBsXJ241GXkkhFHmEjdyaYnh8CkNeHZa9a5aHaepkq32cz-2nhNUDKCALAhHsPBqRQCHNdVVHgq1Ji-0BxS6M1pNmHtKWj87y38KI/s1600/shingles.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8nJ_-E-Frc0aKk4ye6MzBdSgrFziDpNGT83t9RbkBsXJ241GXkkhFHmEjdyaYnh8CkNeHZa9a5aHaepkq32cz-2nhNUDKCALAhHsPBqRQCHNdVVHgq1Ji-0BxS6M1pNmHtKWj87y38KI/s1600/shingles.jpg" height="200" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Actual shingles that were on my back.<br />
ps. Good news. I didn't die. But it sure did burn. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I’m also really, truly grateful that
when I finally was able to give my husband the seductive come-hither green
light after the whole shingles/cold sore fiasco, Aunt Flo decided to come for
an extended visit. She didn’t just bring an overnight bag like she
normally did but in fact the biggest, bulkiest suitcases she owned and jammed
them in my uterus but good.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m plotting
her demise and she will be grateful when her death finally arrives.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I’m grateful for the snowfall that
prevented our family from a 2 hour drive into Plainfield on New Year’s Day for
a delayed Christmas celebration to see family I don’t see often. I hadn’t
gone grocery shopping because I knew we’d be in Plainfield, so there was hardly
anything edible in the house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However,
it’s good to experience true hunger once in a while.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thankfully we were able to gag down all of
those old, questionable leftovers and dry Christmas cookies whilst face-timing
with the Plainfield crowd, watching everyone eat spinach dip and cheese
potatoes.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I’m also really grateful they didn’t
let me know ahead of time they were going to call, because it’s good for my
family to see what I look like with no makeup, glasses on, and hair scraped
into a brutally oily ponytail. In case they weren’t buying all those
gorgeous selfies I post online.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I’m grateful for the guy who
maintained a 4 inch distance between the front of his vehicle and the rear of
mine the other night as we drove through blinding snow during rush hour.
Your thoughtlessness kept my mind off of how slick the roads were that night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Especially helpful was the rage that kept me
warm all the way home.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">And speaking of slick, I’m grateful
for the Kenyan sprinter masquerading as our black lab.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s good to test my own speed slalom skills
in the back yard from time to time while being dragged behind a speedboat of a
dog.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It keeps me limber.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He also helps me keep the ligaments in my
shoulders stretched as he sprints off the icy back porch, yanking me with him.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 10pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">And with all the things I have to be
grateful for, I need to stay in the best shape possible.</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-215750205269801502.post-69071217323408288152014-01-07T22:20:00.000-06:002014-01-07T22:22:19.844-06:00The Smoky Eye<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">On cold days like the ones this past weekend, when it’s so
bone-chilling, teeth-chattering cold, there is one thing you can do that
really, really feels wonderful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(No, not
that. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s a whole different post.)</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Take a hot bath.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Soak.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While the bath is pouring
and you see steam curling out from under the bathroom door, take time to make a
cup of hot tea in your favorite mug.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Put
a little sugar in it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I did that and it
was a brilliant idea.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I got out I was
squeaky clean and warmed up, had comfortable sweats to put on and an afternoon that
stretched out in front of me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With a
manuscript to work on and blog posts to address, that was an excellent thing.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I love coconut oil and to that end slathered some on my feet
before putting on my cushy socks, then on my hands and arms, and hey, since I
was going to stay in, I put a little on my face as moisturizer and brought that
up into my hairline for a little extra shine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some days are good
for trying out a new smoky eye look.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
thought that day would be one of those days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I had purchased a beautiful muted violet color of eye shadow and our
neighbor who represents MAC makeup had sent home some mauve eyeliner, and since
I had nowhere to go, I applied eyeliner where I never had before.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was going to wear glasses all day anyway,
so if I emphasized my eyes a little more, it wouldn’t really matter.</span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXZk3wWgNtiGV90KY3k_tklK2Xa3q66RwRrYqVO3xSrIDm48aXuxRp2cbO7KI1uBRqn2PCGYQdTy9-TQCb_LVF86vJzuTGkoYjBBVnoPLnaNyN67IvLNwcjTLFRqi-bW2-APJ6hZKlzCg/s1600/eye.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="by nixxphotography" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXZk3wWgNtiGV90KY3k_tklK2Xa3q66RwRrYqVO3xSrIDm48aXuxRp2cbO7KI1uBRqn2PCGYQdTy9-TQCb_LVF86vJzuTGkoYjBBVnoPLnaNyN67IvLNwcjTLFRqi-bW2-APJ6hZKlzCg/s1600/eye.jpg" height="150" title="Colorful Crushed Eyeshadow" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">except a lot darker.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Also experimented with coloring in my brows a <s>lot</s> little.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Going for a little bit of a Sandra Bullock
look.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It was striking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A
lot darker than I thought, though.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Good
thing I hadn’t planned on going anywhere, because I had 11:00 p.m. makeup at
11:00 a.m.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I checked Facebook, Pinterest, and my AOL account, then
checked them again just in case something new and exciting had shown up.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It hadn’t.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Time to
get to work on writing.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Attention deficit disorder kicks in and within ten minutes
of writing I had the bright idea that now would be a good time to do the
exchange I needed to do at the department store.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was cold, sure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I was already dressed warmly!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was showered, had shoes on and more
importantly, had some extra time to do the exchange.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We
needed milk anyway.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I decided instead of
having to deal with fogged up glasses I’d wear my contacts.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">In addition to having ADHD, apparently I also have a faulty
memory.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">After making an even exchange at the store, I also addressed
with the returns clerk the fact that I didn’t get the 15% discount that I was
supposed to.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">To make things easier, she refunded the entire thing and
then resold it back to me, and somehow instead of a little 15% discount, she
handed me a gift card for $24.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I tried
to explain to her the error in her thinking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I really did. I’m maternal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Patient.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Kind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Apparently it was a little too mathematically
challenging, and as she explained to me condescendingly, the cash register is
never wrong.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, store which shall
not be named, thanks for the extra Christmas money and hey, I tried to get your
employee’s drawer to balance but she wouldn’t listen to me.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I give up and leave with a gift card of $24.22.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She sends my daughter a sympathetic look as
we leave the store.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Daughter and I drive on to another store to pick up milk, Coke,
and two frozen pizzas and some ice cream to get us through the afternoon.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It’s not until later on the way home that I check the
rearview mirror and realize that because I put in my contacts, everyone could
see that smoky eye I worked so hard on in the privacy of my bathroom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In fact, thanks to the sun’s harsh rays, I
look like a cold raccoon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My cool factor,
already at an all time low, drops even lower.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I then realize with a sinking heart that my stay-at-home
hair, which actually looked like it had a lot of coconut oil in it and not the
little bit I thought, was still in the just-showered clip I threw it up
in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oily strands were hanging down to
attractively frame the special violet eye makeup.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">That’s just great.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">But I had planned on
staying at home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps what I needed
to do was slow down and look in the mirror before I left the house to make sure
the few people who would see me on this cold day wouldn’t run away screaming.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe slap on a hat?</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The realization stuns me, because I then understand why the
girl at Kohl’s gave me back the extra money.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It was because she felt sorry for me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Look at her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Poor thing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Doesn’t get out much, with that oily hair, and certainly doesn’t know
how to apply eye makeup.</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I think I’ll buy a nice hat with that money.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For sure some good makeup remover.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Calibri;"> </span></o:p></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-215750205269801502.post-87705873328799643322013-10-23T10:05:00.000-05:002013-10-23T10:07:38.395-05:00Sandman! Oh, Sandman!For a while, I wasn't sleeping at all at night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Total insomnia.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To the point that I started worrying a little
bit after oh, say 9:00 p.m.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I built it
up in my head.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I know I won't be able to sleep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I know it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I'll get into bed and
lay there for hours.</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was tired,
exhausted even; but the minute my head hit the pillow I laid there, wide awake.<o:p> </o:p><br />
<o:p></o:p><br />
<o:p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyUZk4gE32xDFUe8Zxx2TEepL7inhFARYRbVPbvxvsvU1BwQmUjLqus0toXqo75IoAMsVSl9tDJCTbIIguKB18d6W4MgVzzGAnAnWHNhiqLFIZYU665tAExjnGQEr_1gixKrF4SP0BgMI/s1600/DSCN2087.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyUZk4gE32xDFUe8Zxx2TEepL7inhFARYRbVPbvxvsvU1BwQmUjLqus0toXqo75IoAMsVSl9tDJCTbIIguKB18d6W4MgVzzGAnAnWHNhiqLFIZYU665tAExjnGQEr_1gixKrF4SP0BgMI/s320/DSCN2087.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">here's me. not sleeping.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
Things got better for a while, thanks to my good friend
Southern Comfort.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was able to break
through whatever it was keeping me awake and actually get some real rest at
night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Whatever cycle I had been
experiencing was over, apparently.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
At least, that's what I thought.<o:p> </o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<o:p></o:p> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
It was a Sunday like many other Sundays.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The cars started. It rained but we didn't get
water in our basement.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The dog didn’t
run away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dinner was good.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nothing earth shattering.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p> </o:p><br />
<o:p></o:p> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
However, Sunday night around 10:30 p.m., my husband and I
kissed each other good night, as we always do, cuddled for approximately 10.7
seconds until it got wayyyy too hot, and then turned over to our respective
spots.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hadn't even given my
sleeplessness a thought.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I burrowed
further into the covers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
And laid there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A
half hour went by.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I knew my husband was
awake.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He knew I was awake too because
he says my eyes make a sound when I blink.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
We laid there some more.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And laid there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Another half hour
went by and… <o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
…we’re still awake.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And I’m thinking, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">what the hell?</i><o:p> </o:p> </div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
I get up and pee to break the monotony.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am quiet and careful, reluctant to jostle my
husband or bounce the bed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know where
the squeaky floorboards are and avoid them, drawing on years of experience with
fretful babies and a father who worked midnights. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don't use any lights, even in the bathroom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I climb back into bed with the stealth of a
ninja.<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
Having taken care of that, I snuggle back down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">any
time now I’ll fall fast asleep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></i>I
close my eyes and try to count sheep but end up mentally composing a story
about them instead.<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
I hear my son come in at midnight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He doesn't wake me up because I'm not
asleep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He knows after years of sneaking
in how to hold the bells on the door so they don't make a noise when he opens
it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He too is familiar with the
floorboards and is able to avoid the squeaky ones.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He pees and goes to bed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
Now my <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">husband</i>
gets up to pee.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He is not silent and
careful like I am.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was a bachelor for
45 years and never had to be quiet for a sleeping wife or child.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everyone knows he's up because he uses every
light he can on the endless ten foot trip to the bathroom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He has owned the home longer than my children
have drawn breath and yet doesn't know the path to take on the wooden boards to
avoid making excess noise.<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
He stomps back to our room and swings himself back into bed
like an orangutan, then proceeds to thrash around on the bed trying to get
comfortable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Good God, </i>I think.<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He moves more than a kid in a bouncy house.</i><o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
Unbelievable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wait
until he is settled and I blink several times in a row, loudly, in retaliation.<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
Shortly after he gets back to bed, my <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">daughter</i> is up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She has
inherited her mother's ability to walk catlike in a sleeping household.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She also has inherited her mother's sneakiness
and I know she's going outside to have a cigarette.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She is fooling no one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She
too knows to hold the bells on the door as she comes back in and creeps back to
her room, stopping in the bathroom, also to pee.<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Ok,</i> I think.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Now
that we’ve all ensured there would be no bedwetting, we’ll all get to sleep.</i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><o:p> </o:p></i></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
Husband whispers to me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>"Are you awake?"</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
I whisper back. "Yes, what’s
the deal with this?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m so tired and I
just can’t fall asleep!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Is there some
giant geometry test I didn’t study for?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>A project I didn’t turn in?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because
the only time I can’t sleep is when I’m fretting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And for the life of me, I don’t have anything
to really fret about."</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 12pt 0in 0pt;">
Husband whispers again. "I
can’t sleep either!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I think Annie is
smoking!"</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 12pt 0in 0pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">No shit, Sherlock,</i> I think.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Only for like six months now.</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Out loud, I say,<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i>"Gosh, I hope not."<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And then I think, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">why are we
whispering, anyway?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">We're all awake.</b></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 12pt 0in 0pt;">
During the course of the sleepless
night from hell, husband ends up sleeping in the living room on his chair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I must be experiencing some sort of
menopausal symptoms, as I am either freezing or too hot, and eventually make my
own way out to the living room as well where I lay wide eyed on the couch for
two hours, with a floor fan three inches from my face.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 12pt 0in 0pt;">
4:41 a.m.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I haven’t slept at all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I briefly drift off and dream I'm in a wind
tunnel.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 12pt 0in 0pt;">
4:42 a.m.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Husband turns on a new age music channel on
cable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It reminds me of the nightmare
that was his deviated septum surgical recovery and I fight the urge to throw
up.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 12pt 0in 0pt;">
5:00 a.m.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We should probably just stay up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However, I don't come from a family of
quitters.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I get up and stumble down the
hallway to the much more comfortable bed and that's all I remember, because I sink
into the most blissful sleep anyone has ever experienced.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 12pt 0in 0pt;">
For about one hour.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It's not enough.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I'm so tired and frustrated I want to punch
someone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However, it is at this time I smell
fresh coffee.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 12pt 0in 0pt;">
One thing my husband manages to do
quite well is the coffee.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And I firmly
believe that today, it's probably saving his life.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyUZk4gE32xDFUe8Zxx2TEepL7inhFARYRbVPbvxvsvU1BwQmUjLqus0toXqo75IoAMsVSl9tDJCTbIIguKB18d6W4MgVzzGAnAnWHNhiqLFIZYU665tAExjnGQEr_1gixKrF4SP0BgMI/s1600/DSCN2087.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a> </div>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-215750205269801502.post-43699750780999684772013-08-22T18:56:00.001-05:002013-08-22T19:02:37.551-05:00Emily Post, where are you?It's 6:30 on Thursday night. I worked a regular full time day then came home to our cheerful little house, where cleaned the kitchen, swept the floor, made some coffee, and now I'm sitting in the living room with my trusty laptop.<br />
<br />
What do I do at work, you ask? Well, it's secretarial/accounts payable/accounts receivable/coffee buyer/supply orderer/filer/you name it. <br />
<br />
And I answer the phones.<br />
<br />
And due to the fact that this is a <a href="http://poopwafoley.blogspot.com/2013/03/girl-trouble-period.html">very homicidal time of month</a> for me, I am very crabby, tired, headachy, and crampy. I'm struggling with being in a good mood and being polite. Struggling, but winning.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRBrdnbboRFioa1VCHPGOEi8dW0y5cbYBmM0ZGnd5ZwpB2OUnMDVgJcz76S-zChFieHoQ6QDgBphEcJjaQQ3oaaBjLNiTh2_AssKTzGu_QoM-il6fYBI7Gv5SROGcLtWg8TsWgwhrTJag/s1600/cs.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRBrdnbboRFioa1VCHPGOEi8dW0y5cbYBmM0ZGnd5ZwpB2OUnMDVgJcz76S-zChFieHoQ6QDgBphEcJjaQQ3oaaBjLNiTh2_AssKTzGu_QoM-il6fYBI7Gv5SROGcLtWg8TsWgwhrTJag/s200/cs.png" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">sort of like this guy, but not as whacked out.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I had a very hard time yesterday with a caller who was checking status on a payment, which is code for her saying "I hate my job, I'm helping someone else, I'm condescending, I'm rude, I'm smarter than you are, I'm impatient, I'm discourteous, and in short, I'm a huge, gigantic beeyotch."<br />
<br />
As always, I was patient. I was kind. I tried to be helpful, but kept being interrupted by the snot on the other end of the phone. I'm not sure what bug crawled up her rear and took up residence, but let me assure you that it was one of those BIG bugs.<br />
<br />
I kept my cool. My reward was hearing her hang up on me. <br />
<br />
I never get an answer to this, but why do people act this way? Just because you're on the phone doesn't mean you can be nasty. You wouldn't burst into my office, shaking papers in my face, interrupting me and being a complete ass, would you? Then what makes you think it's ok to do this on the phone? <br />
<br />
If I could remember her name, I would look her up on Facebook just to tell her that. <br />
<br />
Better yet, I would look up her mother.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-215750205269801502.post-85834313405962848262013-08-09T22:09:00.000-05:002013-08-09T22:09:00.668-05:00What not to say to your wife, a/k/a "The List"<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
My husband is one of the most wonderful people you'll ever
meet, truly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everyone loves him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He's friendly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He's handsome.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He's loyal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He's thoughtful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He's a great
husband, a great son, a great (read:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>patient) father and now, a grandfather. <o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
He also is a name-maker-upper for us at home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For instance, if I'm ironing a shirt, he'll
find me down in the basement.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"Hi,
Iron-y!"<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If I'm cleaning the bathroom,
he stands behind me, "Hi, cleany!" <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(All the time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He does this all the time.)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If I
get home from shopping, "Hey, shoppy!"<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Cooking:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>"Hey, cooky!"<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think
you see the pattern.<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
While silly and goofy, those names aren't <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">harmful</i> in any way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They don't hurt my <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">feelings</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Silly and goofy
were two of my "husband" requirements, as a matter of fact.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He has those two qualities in spades,
people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In spades.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He
just comes up with something on the fly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
He's really creative like that.<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
The birth of "the list" list was created several
years ago out of necessity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were
newlyweds, and ever mindful of developing FWS (fat wife syndrome) I was
standing in the kitchen having a low carb snack after work while I waited for
the coffee to get done.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He came in the
door from work, big, happy smile on his face, and the first words out of his
mouth were, "Hi, porky!"<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<br />
No.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am not kidding.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw4JjI8pUR1VUBST61Bc0ilxyI730h0tfEj3JiCRtlMbbzA0jRXvty3Ey9rSeEZXcbi_RJMS_1n_IsPyXeTNQ5sEyddWR9JmSPYAy_1SIJkfiH0PWkRVcDT4t8PLo6k1eVs0Z0gdBqVX4/s1600/pig.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="credit: akarakingdoms" border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw4JjI8pUR1VUBST61Bc0ilxyI730h0tfEj3JiCRtlMbbzA0jRXvty3Ey9rSeEZXcbi_RJMS_1n_IsPyXeTNQ5sEyddWR9JmSPYAy_1SIJkfiH0PWkRVcDT4t8PLo6k1eVs0Z0gdBqVX4/s320/pig.jpg" title="Pig" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This isn't me but it sure is cute.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
I was eating <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">low carb</i>
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">pork rinds</i>, not twinkies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> And he saw me eating pork rinds, and in typical creative fashion, said that unfortunate word. </span>In quiet protest, I did not make dinner that
night, and in addition (just in case he didn't get the hint) maintained a stone
cold, icy silence for the rest of the evening, which is my preferred method of
communication when I am upset.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Who's
with me?)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
"<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The list</i>"
was born.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There have been remarkably few
additions here and there, because ol' what's his name has learned his lesson.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<o:p></o:p> </div>
Or has he?<o:p> </o:p><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
This morning I was getting ready for work, hurrying as
usual, running around our bedroom slapping on deodorant and finding my
shoes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I grabbed my body spray (what I
call smellgood) from <st1:state w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Victoria</st1:place></st1:state>'s
Secret and was spritzing it on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I always
try to arch my back and shake my hair as I do this, like the VS models do, but
even the dog doesn't take me seriously.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>My husband wandered in the bedroom to grab his gym bag, saw me spraying,
and says cheerfully, "Hi, smelly!"<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
He realized right away what he had said and looked like a
rabbit with his back foot caught in a trap, trying to get away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fortunately, my steely gaze pinned him to the
spot.<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
"<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">LIST</i>."<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
It must be time for a refresher course.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0