Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts

Saturday, November 1, 2014

Uh-uh, Not Doing It. Yet.


Today,  begins NaNoWriMo, which is short for National Novel Writing Month. Thousands of writers from all over the world commit themselves to completing a 50,000-word novel by the end of the month. That's about 1,666 words a day. That is not easy!

Last year, I signed up to give a try. My enthusiasm lasted one day, which, for last year, was pretty good as I was feeling quite burnt out. I just didn't know it then.

Once upon a time I wanted to write a Great American novel. Do I still? Dunno. I do have my unfinished novel, The Mystery of Sweet Fat's Ballroom, on my computer. The story takes place in both the present and in the mid-1930s. Lately, I think I should rewrite it. Keep the story in the 1930s, with flashbacks, if any, going back to the early 1900s. Okay, writing that got me excited. I might just go immerse myself in the past to get the imagination juices rolling. But, I know, for sure, I won't be writing 1,666 words today.

So what got me thinking about NaNoWriMo. Blogging friend Widdershin is taking part and what inspired her was creating a book cover on PULP-O-MIZER. She was not kidding, it is fun making a book cover. That up there is mine.  Try it yourself. Here's the link.

Saturday, March 29, 2014

A Name Change


Okay. So, I changed the name of the blog, from Don't Be a Hippie...Then and Now to The View from the Top of the Ladder. Will a new name get me to write regularly, or just write? We shall see, dear Readers.

I haven't written in a long time. Anything. No, that's false. Occasionally, I write short articles for moolah, and  I post at Take 25 to Hollister, with the goal of doing it everyday for a year. But, until this moment, I haven't said anything about my intent there. I just post. I'll know on January 7, 2015, if I have accomplished my goal. A second time.

This is the fourth blog title change for me. The last three times, I started a new physical blog. This time, I realized whatever for. My writing voice hasn't change. Neither have the topics that I  write about because there is nothing new under the sun, including my "writer's block" that has been going on  for more than several months. Possibly years.

Some would say that I don't have writer's block because I continue to write.  But, for one who used to be constantly dreaming up, working, and completing on book projects, I know something is not right with me. The words that come to mind are unfocused... no passion... creative drought. Also, whining.

When I was still fresh at writing, hundreds of years ago, I read The World According to Garp, by John Irving, who is one of my favorite authors. At one point in the story, Garp gets writer's block. He couldn't and wouldn't write. I couldn't believe Garp's listlessness and inability to write. I thought back then that writer's block does not exist. Ha! Youthful arrogance. I can't recall how Garp shifted back into being a write, so, maybe I ought to read the story again and get a clue.

I look at this name change as a positive move for myself. After all, I have become more confident about climbing up ladders this past year. A task that I have taken up so that the nonagenarian who is the Mama does not.

Friday, May 3, 2013

Danger: Crazy Writer at Work

Sometimes, it feels like this when I'm working: Herding sheep (which are the words) into a pen.

The sheep, however, are not being nice about going into the pen. Sheep there. Sheep over there. And more sheep way, waaaaay over there. Then, of course, I must not forget the sheep that are hidden from view. Or, those sheep that have made their way to a meadow I had no idea existed. Where's Little Bo Peep when you need her? But, wait, she lost her sheep.

I wonder though if sheep is the best animal to stand for the words.

How about a horse? Gallop. Trot.  Nostrils flaring, head tossing back, foot stamping. Such attitude. Neighhhhhhhhhh.

Maybe the words are more like cattle or milking cows. Mooooooooooo.

Definitely not cats.

Be nice if the words were more like dogs. Woof-woof. Here I am. How ya doing?  I'll hang out with you. Can I do anything? You need a nuzzle. Give it a rest. Let's go for a walk.

Yeah.

Tuesday, March 26, 2013

Prepping for April


It's time for a pretty picture. Just because I feel like it.

Last Saturday, the Husband and I ran away to the beach for the day. We all need to do that now and then. To forget wearies and woes, figures and foes, as well as everyday routines. When was the last time you did that?

A few weeks ago, I decided to participate in the A to Z Blogging Challenge that takes place in the month of April. Participants blog through the alphabet, Monday through Saturday. This is another Doing 60 thing for me. You're welcome to drop by one day, some days, or all days in April.  To learn more about the A to Z Blogging Challenge, please click here.

Monday, February 4, 2013

The Mama's Roses

The theme is still the inability to get started. That is, the brain of my mine.  

Plutter... Pletter... Splutttttt....The sounds that the brain of my mine has been making.

So, on Saturday, I tried to jump start the brain of mine by snatching up the camera and going outside.

Some of the Mama's roses are in bloom. Take that cold weather, they seem to say.

And, yes, the roses, the snapping of photos, the doing of something creative seems to have sparked something in the brain of my mine.

Of course, dear readers, I must share with you the Mama's roses.







© 2013 Su-sieee! Mac. All rights reserved.

Sunday, February 3, 2013

Back in the Saddle. Maybe.

 

The words unfold themselves in my head. The hands though won't jot them down on paper or key them onto a blank document. That's not an excuse. I have no excuse.

The Daddy accepted no excuses from me when I was a kid. If I did something stupid, then I did something stupid. I suffered the consequences. I learned quite early what the consequences were so I did my best not to do stupid things—or, at least, not to get caught.

For a man with a gentle voice, the  Daddy gave very stern scoldings. So stern that it brought on the tears. And, should I cry, the Daddy said, "No crying." The longer the crying, the harsher the scolding.

The Daddy used his belt for the dumbest decision-making acts I did. One or two quick slaps on my legs. The sting of the leather brought on the tears, too. "No crying," the Daddy said. Sucking up the tears just gave me the hiccups.

I only recall two instances when I got the Daddy's belt. Both times I was no where to be found and came home later than I should have. Both innocent mistakes on my part. Both major scares on my parents' part.

Discipline was the name of the game. But, don't get me wrong. The parents also spoiled me. For one, they let me order as many  books as I wanted from the Scholastic paperback book sales even though the family had a limited budget. For another, the parents let me stumble into my future rather than demand I study something that would immediately get me a job, such as secretarial, bookkeeping, or nursing skills.

Ah, back then the Mama wanted me to be a nurse. That was the top-of-the-line job and career a woman in my family could be. At least on the Mama's side. The Daddy thought life would be good for me if I became a secretary. He considered that a non-traditional, high-tone job. The Mama agreed. One of her highlights while working in seed research was being sent to the main office in the next town to photocopy some documents for her work. Fortunately, the Mama believed in higher education  and if that was what I wanted to do, then by golly she was all for me going to college. The Daddy loved the Mama and me, so he just shrugged and went along.

Hmmm, now look at this. I've written several paragraphs. The words tumbled in my head, somehow got interpreted and translated by the currents running through my body, and found their way out through my fingertips which tap danced the words on this computer keyboard. Totally, damn amazing. A miracle, almost.



Wednesday, November 28, 2012

What If I Just Kept Driving?

I'm doing something completely different today. I'm linking up with Just Write, a weekly writing prompt hosted by authors Rebecca T. Dickson and Laura Howard. Want to try it yourself, click here.

This week's prompt is "What if I just kept driving?"

Sheila drove into tomorrow.

It was much easier than she thought it would be.

Her present was purgatory. Maybe if it was just hell, she would've stayed. Hell was bearable. It had borders. It had form. It had shadows in which she could find relief. But, purgatory. Damn. Purgatory. Such wishy-washiness. Such enabling. Such obscenity of humanity. There she said it. She lit a match to it all.

Sheila looked over the desert floor, warming with each second of the rising sun bursting itself into the new day.

Thursday, October 25, 2012

What's the Word?

What's the word I'm thinking of?

Damn. What's the word?

That's my life these days. And, that's not good when you make your livelihood as a writer.

The word I'm trying to think of is usually a simple word, too. Forget about asking for an example, because I can't remember any one of my 500 million+ instances at the moment.

All I know is that the word I'm trying to think of just dangles ghost-like in my mind. I really dislike the way a word plays hide-and-seek with me.

If the Husband happens to be nearby, I'll ask him for help. "What's the word that means  blah blah blah." Most often, thank goodness, he knows the word I'm seeking. Some times, he throws out a bunch of words. None of which fit what I'm wanting to write. Other times, well, let's just say that I just type in blab blab blab and move on to my next thought, choosing to believe that the word will show itself. Eventually, it does. So far. Thank goodness.

This trouble of finding the right word snuck up on me all of a sudden. But, then, it could've been gradual. I don't know.  If I were to believe the psychobabble I was taught in my 12th grade psychology class, my mental capacity started going downhill right after I graduated high school. Ha! Seriously, I was taught that. I hope they don't still feed that kind of rot to kids. I mean, come on, what a way to discourage the adventure of starting off being a post high school kid. (Well, there's an example for you. Instead of a cool, smart precise word, I give you"post high school kid".)

What was I talking about? As usual, I find myself thinking about something way in the past. That's another thing. How did I suddenly become one of the oldest elephants in the room? One thing about being an oldest one, sometimes the very young ones applaud you for doing something you normally do—such as catch a fly ball (not that I do that) or walk up a mountain (that I still do).

I know I'm rambling now.  Before I go down another wordy path, I shall say this: I think part of my problem was/is due to menopause/postmenopause.  Not all. Maybe 30 percent. I didn't get the hot flashes, which I suppose was a good thing. At least my memory lapses weren't/aren't so bad that I forgot that I did agree to skip exchanging Christmas presents. But, then, I can't recall.

Here, word. Come here, word.

By the way, if I've already written about this. Well, uhm, Merry Christmas!

© 2012 Su-sieee! Mac. All rights reserved.

Thursday, September 27, 2012

A Jump Start that Never Got Started

The Republican candidate for President—whose name shall not be invoked—thinks I'm a victim. Ha! Talk about projecting and being judgmental. No, no, come back. I'm not going to muse about politics today. Bleah. Today, I give you a look into this writer's belfry, as in bats in.

The other day I found a file on my desktop with the title 88888...8887.doc. Of course curiosity got me and I opened it. Ha ha! on me. The Word file was my writing journal, the one I had started a few months ago with good intentions.
Uh-huh. I was fishing around in my head for a story to latch onto. It had (and has) been a long while since I tried.
The narrator a woman in her late 50s. A lot of ways I could go with that. A lot of ways. Did I? No. Will I? I don't know.
 

 See. This became a post. Ha! Sorry for the blurriness of the photos of the scribbles. Hmmm, maybe that's a projection of my imagination right now.
What you read is actually less than 855 words. I left out a couple of passages—my thinking about Molly and Dakota, in the event that I do something with it—and edited a bit as I turned my scribbling into jpgs. 

I didn't write the second day. I remembered about it after midnight. The third day was my last day. That entry was a hoot. I talked about how miserable my body was feeling. The following several days, I remained in misery and never got back to trying to find a groove. At least, in that Word file. 

So, there you go. A peek into the mind of a writer who doesn't write fiction for a living. For now.

© 2012 Su-sieee! Mac. All rights reserved.

Thursday, April 5, 2012

A New Daydream

This morning, I read that a local farm needs a driver to deliver CSA boxes to its distribution points in several cities. Only twice a week. Only 15 to 20 hours a week. $12 to $14/hour, depending on experience.

I would love that job.

Yes, I would.

Those are not long hours at all. The pay is definitely a living wage and it would be a nice monetary supplement for this nonstarving writer.  The lifting and hauling? I may not be in the best of shape, but I can manage the up to 40 pounds per item. I truly believe that within a few weeks my strength and stamina would be greatly improved. I would be hauling boxes with the not-quite nonchalance I used to do when I was quite younger. (Hey, it's my daydream.) Besides, the Husband says he would do it with me. Just think, the farmer would get two for the cost of one.

If only I didn't have this writing project right now. And, those other responsibilities that I can't walk away from for two days a week.

I know my limits—and my priorities. So, I'll just daydream about driving a van full of organic vegetables and fruit from a farm to suburban and urban locations. That is, when I'm not stuttering out words on the computer into the early morning hours for a wage that was minimum many years ago.  Not that I am complaining. Most definitely not.

Monday, March 26, 2012

Remembering. . .What?

Some days are better than others when it comes to my memory.

Who am I kidding? It's really down to moments.

Once upon a time, a long time ago, when I was 17, I memorized all of Horton Hears a Who! by Dr. Seuss for a public-speaking competition. I recall stumbling once or twice. Maybe trice. Ah, I had a strong memory back then.

My long-term memory is still rather good. I just related a tale from over 40 years ago, didn't I?

It's the short-term memory. Sigh. The other day, I was telling the Husband how many states allow employers to pay their workers who receive tips far less than minimum wage, as long as the combination of their tips and hourly rate (let's say $2.13/hour) totals up to either the federal or state minimum wage, whichever is the higher amount in the state. Yes, I know. The Husband could not believe it either. I'm glad to say that California does not have that law. I told the Husband that I learned all this from research I had done the day before for the occupational profile I had written. But, I couldn't for the life of me remember what the occupation was. That was quite troublesome, you betcha.

That incident happened at around 2 p.m. in a supermarket parking lot. About five hours later, while I was pulling ingredients out of the refrigerator to make dinner, it suddenly came to me. Skycaps! That was the occupation.

And, since we're on the subject of skycaps, did you know that some airlines are now charging passengers $2 a bag for using skycap service? The bummer part about that is the money does not go to the skycaps. Passengers think it does, so they don't tip the skycaps for their help. Thank goodness for federal minimum wage. Currently that is $7.25 per hour. California's minimum wage is $8.00 per hour, which is one of the highest hourly rates for a state. Can you believe that some people believe that the federal minimum wage is just too high? Seriously. Some politicians want to abolish minimum wage because it will create more jobs. They obviously don't live on minimum wage.

I have digressed. What was I talking about?

Thursday, March 1, 2012

Staying the Course


I've been dragging my fingers across the keyboard right now, and pressing the delete button a lot. I just don't feel like writing.

So, why try, you may ask. It's not like my boss will scold me if I don't offer something up to the blog today.

Well, yes, the boss will scold me.

The boss is me.

When I started Don't be a Hippie, I committed myself to publishing a post every Tuesday and Thursday. A job commitment is a commitment, regardless of whether it's to myself or to someone else for a fee. Blogging wasn't always like that for me. It was mostly comme çi, comme ça.  But, a few years ago, I went through a rather bad bout of what I shall just call writer's block. I used the delete button and stared at a blank computer screen more than quite a lot, and that's saying it mildly. The only way to keep that from happening again is for me to meet my self-imposed deadlines. It truly helped that I made myself do a daily post for one year on my Take 25 to Hollister blog. Yes, I accomplished my goal earlier this year, thank you very much.

It also helps that the darn notebook in which I keep my to-do list is nearby.  And, to write what I must remember to do, even the fun stuff. At the moment, I have these ideas for future posts:
• Watching the Lawrence Welk Show with the Husband and the Mama
• How Molly the Cat is changing my daily routine for the positive
• Family picnics at the beach
• The Monkees

There you go, dear Readers, and there I go. Something for us to look toward (or is it towards). Maybe I'll add a post about my missing commas and wrong subject/verb agreements.

And, since I've mentioned The Monkees, check out this wonderful tribute to Davy Jones by Rob Sheffield at the Rolling Stones Web site. You'll also get to hear many of the songs that the sweet, talented Davy performed with Peter, Mickey, and Mike.

Thank you, Davy Jones!

Thursday, February 16, 2012

Thirty Years Ago. . .

Some of the first books I wrote and edited at Janus Book Publishers.
Thirty years ago, I began my first day at work in the publishing industry. It was actually my second day of employment, but the first day was a holiday. I still think that was (and is) definitely a great way to start a new job—and a new career.

I had not planned to enter the publishing world. Back then, my goal was to get at least five years of teaching under my belt so I could eventually become a high school counselor or a curriculum developer in a school district. So, what happened? Simple. By the time I earned my teaching credential in social science, there were few teaching jobs. I was in another bout of unemployment when I saw the newspaper ad for an assistant editor position at a small educational publishing house. I figured it was a long chance, but heck, what did I have to lose.

Throughout the whole job selection process, I had a good feeling about the job. I had to do a writing sample, and as I worked on it, I knew that this was the type of work I wanted to do. Creating textbook materials was the best way for me to contribute to education. Alas, I did not get the job. Still, I felt like one day I would work for the company. 

Ring. Ring.  You got it. About a month later, another position became available, and I was offered that position.  Every day, for four years, I commuted from San Francisco to Hayward, about 45 minutes away, to edit and write student materials at a third grade readability for teenagers with learning, reading, and language disabilities. The interactive workbooks were used as supplementary materials by teachers to teach core curriculum subjects. Although the primary audience was teenagers, the books were also being used in regular elementary classrooms and adult basic education programs.

My time at Janus Publishing was essentially an apprenticeship. I was fortunate to work under the editorial direction of  Winifred Ho Roderman, who had been a special ed teacher and so was quite committed about developing materials that taught concepts in small, manageable, and progressive, chunks of learning. She was ruthless with her purple pencil, but so worth it. She was a visionary and fair-minded. What I especially liked about Winifred's work style was her dedication for explaining to an author or an editor why a change needed to be made to improve the manuscript. Winifred demanded excellence and I did my best to give it to her.

Let me tell you, I learned quite a lot in those four years at Janus. Not just about editing and writing professionally, and how the publishing cycle works from developing book content outlines to producing books, but also about science, mathematics, history, English, government,  home economics, and other subjects. I was actually learning basic concepts about the solar system, simple machines, human body, and earth science for the first time. I had science in grammar school and took most of the science classes in high school, but for the life of me, I do not recall learning things such as we always see the same side of the moon as it revolves around the earth, or that the inclined plane is a simple machine and a screw is an inclined plane. It blows my mind away again as I tell you those basic concepts.

I was perfect for writing the Janus workbooks. I was like the audience, a bit slow in grasping abstract concepts. I wrote and edited words, sentences, and paragraphs so I sure as darn tooting understood what was what.  It took a lot of  hard work to state tough concepts clearly and simply. But, then, that's the way everything is, isn't it?

Yep. One of the best things that ever happened for me was Winifred willing to take a chance on me—an inexperienced teacher, editor, and writer—and hire me, all based on what she perceived I could do through my writing sample.  Thank you, Winifred!

So, here I am 30 years later. Writing and editing haven't gotten any easier. But, then, why should they?

Wednesday, December 28, 2011

Closing Up

Update: May 20, 2013
Today, I decided to merge the old and new blogs. There are just too many posts from "This and That. Here and There. Now, Sometimes Then" that I want to keep alive.  ~Su-sieee! Mac 

It has been over two months since my last post. I have mumbled several times to the husband, "I'm going to stop blogging This and That. Each time, he replied, "I thought you already have."

Yeah. Well. I finally am.

This is it. My last post.

For this blog, that is.

I've decided to start another blog. The husband  will be surprised.

The new blog is called Don't Be a Hippie. . . Now and Then. Its focus is more selfish. I shall be revealing as much as I dare about myself through my memories, stories of my elders, and everyday experiences. At least that's what I think.

Thank you Dear Readers and fellow Bloggers for your kindly visits and generous support. I hope you'll stop by my new blog.

~ Su-sieee! Mac





Monday, July 11, 2011

Hi, Hello, How are you?

Really?

It's been almost a month since I posted a post.

Wish I could say I was traveling or wandering in wonder lust.

Nope. Just getting on with life.

Dusting and vacuuming a bit more often to keep my facial eczema from flaring so awfully awful that my eyes become swollen. How swollen? The recessive epicanthic folds of my eyelids show themselves. An advantage for me. Nobody thinks anything is wrong with my eyes.

Celebrating the husband's 60th anniversary of being born. Every 60-year-old child should have a birthday party complete with bubble wands, darts, and other games. And lots of his favorite food.

Finishing a deadline and starting another one. Sigh. I'm boxed in until 12/12/12. So, by golly, the world better not end on 12/21/12!

Working on my 40th high school class reunion. The husband doesn't believe me when I say this is the last time I work on a reunion. "Absolutely," I say. "Uh-huh," he says.

So, that what has kept me me away from writing on the blog for almost a month.

Actually, I probably will stay away until the reunion stuff is over. But, you can find me every day at Take 25 to Hollister. That's the blog I do about my hometown, not the store. I've given myself the challenge of posting a photo a day for a year. I'm now on Day 170.

So, if you don't find anything new here, head over to Take 25 to Hollister. Yep, that's what I would do.

Hope all's well with everyone!

A piu tarde,

Su-sieee! Mac

P.S. I let the husband cut my hair off. All of it. His first time at cutting hair. He did a very good job,  don't you agree?


Tuesday, June 14, 2011

Earlier, this evening. . .

I don't remember the last time I was outside. Just sitting. Just doing nothing. Well, okay, except for doodling words with a pen on a piece of paper. About, of course, nothing.

I'm sitting on a beach chair on the front stoop. The mama is sitting in the back yard deadheading her pink daisies. The husband is standing in the front yard hand-watering the lawn. Uhmmm, that spray feels good.

Me. I should be making dinner. And, I shall in a while.

For now, I just want to enjoy a pause. I've been cooped inside spinning words and sentences into short, but clear and comprehensible paragraphs about stuff I have already forgotten. It's best to do that when you work on reference books. If I had retained everything I've written about in the last 13 years, my gosh... Ka-poosh! The sound of my brains exploding. Splattt. Splutt. Spposh. The sounds of my brains splashing on the walls and ceiling.

Ah, yes. Imagination is good to have at any age.

Now, I must go make dinner for the crew.

This was a relaxing pause.  It was. 

Sunday, April 17, 2011

Hold that Thought

I've held many thoughts so long that I hope one day they'll pass through my mind again. Especially the funny ones.

One of my faults is suddenly interrupting the husband when he is reading or following something on TV to tell him something that bam! popped into my head. Let's just say he finds it annoying. Very. After blah-blah years together, I believe I've gotten better at holding my thoughts until he looks up or a commercial comes on. Alas, my brain has moved on to other thoughts.

I wonder if that's what the vagueness is I sometimes feel going on in my head. Random thoughts that didn't get shared by either saying them aloud (to the husband) or writing them down for  this blog. Yeah, I miss expounding about nothing and wasting virtual  space with my verbiage.

Do you think it's true that everything on the Internet is floating outwardly into the infinity of space? The waves must be pretty darn strong to break through the atmosphere and whatever else without fizzling before reaching space, the final frontier.

I really wonder if there is an end to the universe. Perhaps its perimeter is bound by some kind of fence put up by those who live on the other side. The only reason they would put it up is to keep us out. Of course, like Hadrian's Wall.

Oh, yes. I just remembered one of the thoughts I had on hold. Giving myself decrees for when and how often to post to my blog is plain redonkulous.

Catch as catch can. Can-can.

Wednesday, March 23, 2011

What's Up With Me

Hello Dear Gentle Readers,

I haven't been on vacation.  I wish, though.

I'm not sick. Knock on wood.

The mama and the husband are doing well. Thanks for wondering.

I've been blogging less because I'm not very good anymore at writing for work and writing for fun at the same time. I'm working on revisions for some career books over the next two years. If only blogging could pay the bills. So, alas, I'm down to blogging at least once a week—on Thursdays.

Take 25 to Hollister
As some of you know, I also do a blog about my home town. Take 25 to Hollister, for those of you who haven't seen it. I've stopped writing posts for that blog, too. But, not photos. Not just yet. I've challenged myself to post a photo every day. I'm up to day 61. We'll see how long I can go.

Another Book Reading Challenge
Really?

Yes. Call me nuts. Many already have and do.

This one is the annual Cozy Mystery Challenge. This will be second year. I couldn't resist. Cozy mysteries relax me after hours of dry research. So, why not throw in a challenge while I'm at it. This year, I'm aiming for the "I think I can do better" level, which means I shall read between 7 to 10 cozy mysteries. (Yes, I'll be cheating by reading some books that I'm doing for other challenges. It is allowed, however.)

Cozy Mystery Challenge 2011 is hosted by Kris at Not Enough Books. It runs from April 1 to December 31. If you'd like to sign up, click here.

So there you go. That's what has been up with me lately.

Until later, my lovely blogging friends,
Su-sieee! Mac

Thursday, March 17, 2011

Winter's End


There have been years where I've missed spring completely. I often started writing projects in late autumn or early winter that would have summer deadlines. I left the house mostly to go grocery shopping, run errands, and attend engagements. Not until May would I realize that I did it again. No spring. Sigh.

The month of March is one of my favorite months. To me, March is the essence of spring. Plants giggle "Hello" as they pop up through the ground. Trees sing with blossoms and new leaves. California poppies, blue larkspurs, and other crazily colorful wildflowers smile above expansive fields of grass. The yellow mustard laughs through the orchards. The hillsides shout green, green, green.

It was easy for me to forget when I lived in city settings with miles of concrete and canyons of buildings. And, as my freelance career took off, the rides and walks into nature became far and few.

It's much differently now since the husband and I have moved to the town where I grew up. Although it has developed over the years, there still is a lot of rural to it. So even though I may be hot and heavy into a project, such as now, whenever I go out, I am reminded instantly. Spring has come.

Yes, it has.

For more spring vistas of my area, please visit this page at my other blog, Take 25 to Hollister.

I am participating in Alphabe-Thursday, a weekly meme hosted by Jenny Matlock. Today is the letter W. You can check out other W posts by clicking here.

Friday, January 7, 2011

Random rambling


I've been feeling muddle-headed lately. Too many brain lapses. Quite a lot of pressing of the delete button. Sigh. So, bear with me, dear readers, as I ramble forward to clear my mind with random thoughts.

Random thought number one. Big birds (maybe the doves) splatted big time on the side of the car and the driveway. Very rude! Especially since we leave bird seeds out every day.

Random thought number two. The husband got a surprise check for $100 yesterday. It was part of a cash settlement in a class action law suit against a large drug distributor that was alleged to have set drug prices wrongfully high. The husband had no idea it was taking place. The company settled rather than go to court because it would be cheaper to pay $350 million today. In settling, the company does not formally admit to wrongdoing. That part is what always astounds me about corporations that get away with crime.

Random thought number three. I have publishing deadlines over the next two years. I hope I can maintain blogging at the same time as I write about occupations in aviation, law enforcement, education, and engineering. Ouch, my brain!

Random thought number four.  I borrowed a friend's sewing machine a month ago. It's still sitting on the hope chest in the hallway unused.

Random thought number five. Yesterday, the mama harvested a banana blossom, as she was cutting the dead leaves from the banana plants. She said that it was protected by the dried leaves so it hadn't frozen. Amazing!

Random though number six. I really appreciate the husband making morning coffee and washing dishes. With his finger in stitches, I've had to do his chores. Only a few more days to go.

Random thought number seven. The tiny birds (maybe sparrows) are frolicking in the front yard as they fly from feeder to feeder to fence to tree to the neighbor's shrubs where they're nesting. Their singing fills the air. We are blessed!

So, am I feeling less muddle-headed? The noggin does feel a little bit lighter, thank you very much dear readers for being a captive audience.

Onward, I go. . . .

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