Archive for September, 2016

I hate it when I’m working late at night. All’s quiet and dark, when my cursor starts moving across the screen like the pointer on a Ouija Board. It scares the crap out of me. I’m like, “Grandma?”


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“My first mistake, falling in love with my enemy. My second, not killing him when I had the chance.” The first line of The Novel With No Name and hasn’t been started yet. What do you think?

I was challenged to try First Line Friday by Rami Ungart at https://ramiungarthewriter.wordpress.com/. Okay, Rami I accept your challenge.

You can play along at home. Here’s what you do.

  1. Create a post on your blog titled #FirstLineFriday, hashtag and all.
  2. Explain the rules like I’m doing now.
  3. Post the first one or two lines of a potential work, a work-in-progress, or a completed or published story.
  4. Ask your readers for feedback and then encourage them to try #FirstLineFriday on their blogs (tagging is encouraged but not necessary).

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“I can’t believe she wants us in at six. It’s one in the morning,” I’m complaining to the rest of my team members on the verge of another meltdown.

“I’m exhausted,” another of my team members, Kevin confesses.

We pile into the waiting taxi, a minivan that can hold us all.

“We’re in Paris and we haven’t seen anything that isn’t between the hotel and the office.” Sarah agrees, sounding as frustrated as I feel.

The van pulls to a stop in front of the hotel.

“We just have to hold it together for just two more weeks,” says Kyle, our 6’2” cheerleader, trying to rally us as he opens the van door.

I climb out of the van.

“We’ve been working like this for six weeks. I can’t think anymore,” I say, yelling at the rest of the team on the verge of another meltdown.

Kyle grabs the back of my head and shoves my face into his armpit.

“What are you doing?” I ask or maybe scream, smacking him with my ineffectual fists.

“Calming you down. Male musk has a calming effect on females.”

“Do I seem calm?” I’m still struggling to extract my head from his armpit.

“If you would just let biology work,” he says, finally releasing my head.

“I’m going to let anatomy work if you ever do that again.”


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Sweet Pea

I think you meant “Pea”, but I could be wrong.


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Top 7 Reasons the Mayan calendar ended in 2012

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Because the author’s chisel broke.

Because the author accrued a lot of vacation.

Because someone got carpal tunnel syndrome.

Because an overachiever got really far ahead.

Because they ran out of flat rocks.

Because the dirty English came with their chicken pox.

The great Mayan calendar maker’s strike of the 5th century B.C.

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69 (11)

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Instead of writing, I’m writing a blog post about cleaning out the closet in my office.

First thing, the closet is filled with empty containers. No wonder I don’t have room for anything in here.  I next encountered three alarm clocks still in boxes, funny since I’m always late.

Just found my Gramms’ old photo album perfect distraction. I can flip through these for a while. Ah, my eyes! There’s a picture of my Gramms in her industrial brassiere and a man’s tie around her neck drinking whiskey from the bottle. No, it wasn’t taken yesterday, she looks about twenty. I see what Gramps was attracted to, but I wonder who’s taking the pciture?

Four beanie babies I’ll set those aside for the kidlings.

Cloth grocery bags I never take to the grocery store. Perfect for storing the twenty plus empty containers.

Something in a box from IKEA called Rationell. Don’t know what it is. The only picture on the box is of a man throwing away trash. Those Swedes are so neat. Opened it. Put it together. Still don’t know what it is. I’m using it to hold notebooks on my desk.

Lots of trash, extra wrapping paper. Huge matted balls of cables for who knows what. Pictures that were never hung.

Oh dang it, Blind Dog made off with one of the beanie babies. Think it was a grey dog. Too late, Blind Dog’s chewed the nose off.

My apologies to Blockbuster. Apparently you didn’t lose that movie several years ago. My bad.

That’s about it. Wait somethings in the very back. Okay, no clue how this got back there. Tucked in the very back behind the vacuum and several large pictures is a lasso, a green lasso.  I have absolutely no idea where that could have come from.

Check your closets. If you find a stray cowboy, send him round for his lasso.

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84 (6)

Try taking the mouse, just try. I dare you.

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lipstick coat

Do you remember when air travel was so much better, before the tight security? Back then you could stuff your husband’s body in a trunk, fly to France, dump it outside of Paris and still have time for dinner with your French boyfriend.

The dog barked, waking my husband.
“Hush,” I told the dog.
My husband rolled over, “Who are you talking to?”
“The dog.”

Who does he think? My French boyfriend hiding in the closet? Hopefully he doesn’t notice the body size suitcase. – Drusilla Signet (current character in question)

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