Oh, I don't really have much to say. I found an old tape recorder and after getting new batteries in there, I thought I would record "post ideas" whenever they came to me. Yep, there it sits, right next to me...yep...filled with ideas...yep....ever have one of those days where you just aren't into posting anything? This would be one of those days. Yep.
My partner is having some surgery on her colon Friday. I guess I'm preoccupied with that. She is like the scarecrow from Oz, we keep putting her stuffing back in, but it keeps falling out. She used to dance...and draw, paint, make movies, act, take photos...yep...I guess I'm sad today.
Tomorrow I will feel better. Sad never stays with me for long. I never knew that a blog would be such a commitment. Maybe that commitment is only in my head, but I can't stand the thought of people clicking on MY blog and seeing the same story they already read. New viewers can read a years worth of crap, er, stuff, I try to keep chronic disease light, non-threatening, even funny when possible. I try to share my personal life, my family stories that still engage me---I will be that old person sitting alone in a room waiting to tell a story I've told a million times before. I enjoy hearing people's stories, quid pro quo. Oh my gracious! I know some Latin!
For some reason I think about my aunt Vi a lot when I write. I miss her. I miss my mom. I miss getting greeting cards and letters from them. I knew I would, but I thought they would be dead. This is a strange missing. They are alive, just not anywhere I can look into their eyes, laugh with them, tell them I am an author. I never was anything but a kid writing for fun, only being in a book with two covers was a writer to them. They never understood the Internet. The race was on. Could I do it? Could I get one of my simple, little stories between covers before they died?
I have been submitting shorts since I was 18. Nothing. My family stories were too complicated.
MS, cancer, my job with the city of Seattle, suddenly I had substance to write about that people seemed interested in. And then Blogs! You can put anything on your blog. I still am amazed people want to read what I write. Now, finally, I have a story between two covers. My name can be "searched" on Amazon.com and something appears! (Not that my mom or aunt Vi have a clue what Amazon.com is.)
A site called Vibrant Nation, for the over 50 group, asked me to write a letter to myself at age 18. Wow, I wrote it and cried like a baby. I totally went there and imagined reading it at 18, a year when I was suicidal and saw no light at the end of my tunnel or anywhere else. What I wouldn't have given for that letter, then. I highly recommend it to you to try. Yep.
(Why do some people write "yup?" or "yep? a regional dialect dealie?) If only I had a letter NOW from my 75 year old self.
Posts
4 paragraphs to explain my disease plus: Love a Puffin, Masturbate and living.
-
I have just finished a blog post on the Postcard Project,in fact there was
ANOTHER postcard project blog before that which I kind of forgot to mention,
tho...
9 hours ago
14 comments:
Oh, I don't really have much to say. I found an old tape recorder and after getting new batteries in there, I thought I would record "post ideas" whenever they came to me. Yep, there it sits, right next to me...yep...filled with ideas...yep....ever have one of those days where you just aren't into posting anything? This would be one of those days. Yep.
My partner is having some surgery on her colon Friday. I guess I'm preoccupied with that. She is like the scarecrow from Oz, we keep putting her stuffing back in, but it keeps falling out. She used to dance...and draw, paint, make movies, act, take photos...yep...I guess I'm sad today.
Tomorrow I will feel better. Sad never stays with me for long. I never knew that a blog would be such a commitment. Maybe that commitment is only in my head, but I can't stand the thought of people clicking on MY blog and seeing the same story they already read. New viewers can read a years worth of crap, er, stuff, I try to keep chronic disease light, non-threatening, even funny when possible. I try to share my personal life, my family stories that still engage me---I will be that old person sitting alone in a room waiting to tell a story I've told a million times before. I enjoy hearing people's stories, quid pro quo. Oh my gracious! I know some Latin!
For some reason I think about my aunt Vi a lot when I write. I miss her. I miss my mom. I miss getting greeting cards and letters from them. I knew I would, but I thought they would be dead. This is a strange missing. They are alive, just not anywhere I can look into their eyes, laugh with them, tell them I am an author. I never was anything but a kid writing for fun, only being in a book with two covers was a writer to them. They never understood the Internet. The race was on. Could I do it? Could I get one of my simple, little stories between covers before they died?
I have been submitting shorts since I was 18. Nothing. My family stories were too complicated.
MS, cancer, my job with the city of Seattle, suddenly I had substance to write about that people seemed interested in. And then Blogs! You can put anything on your blog. I still am amazed people want to read what I write. Now, finally, I have a story between two covers. My name can be "searched" on Amazon.com and something appears! (Not that my mom or aunt Vi have a clue what Amazon.com is.)
A site called Vibrant Nation, for the over 50 group, asked me to write a letter to myself at age 18. Wow, I wrote it and cried like a baby. I totally went there and imagined reading it at 18, a year when I was suicidal and saw no light at the end of my tunnel or anywhere else. What I wouldn't have given for that letter, then. I highly recommend it to you to try. Yep.
(Why do some people write "yup?" or "yep? a regional dialect dealie?) If only I had a letter NOW from my 75 year old self.
Oh, I don't really have much to say. I found an old tape recorder and after getting new batteries in there, I thought I would record "post ideas" whenever they came to me. Yep, there it sits, right next to me...yep...filled with ideas...yep....ever have one of those days where you just aren't into posting anything? This would be one of those days. Yep.
My partner is having some surgery on her colon Friday. I guess I'm preoccupied with that. She is like the scarecrow from Oz, we keep putting her stuffing back in, but it keeps falling out. She used to dance...and draw, paint, make movies, act, take photos...yep...I guess I'm sad today.
Tomorrow I will feel better. Sad never stays with me for long. I never knew that a blog would be such a commitment. Maybe that commitment is only in my head, but I can't stand the thought of people clicking on MY blog and seeing the same story they already read. New viewers can read a years worth of crap, er, stuff, I try to keep chronic disease light, non-threatening, even funny when possible. I try to share my personal life, my family stories that still engage me---I will be that old person sitting alone in a room waiting to tell a story I've told a million times before. I enjoy hearing people's stories, quid pro quo. Oh my gracious! I know some Latin!
For some reason I think about my aunt Vi a lot when I write. I miss her. I miss my mom. I miss getting greeting cards and letters from them. I knew I would, but I thought they would be dead. This is a strange missing. They are alive, just not anywhere I can look into their eyes, laugh with them, tell them I am an author. I never was anything but a kid writing for fun, only being in a book with two covers was a writer to them. They never understood the Internet. The race was on. Could I do it? Could I get one of my simple, little stories between covers before they died?
I have been submitting shorts since I was 18. Nothing. My family stories were too complicated.
MS, cancer, my job with the city of Seattle, suddenly I had substance to write about that people seemed interested in. And then Blogs! You can put anything on your blog. I still am amazed people want to read what I write. Now, finally, I have a story between two covers. My name can be "searched" on Amazon.com and something appears! (Not that my mom or aunt Vi have a clue what Amazon.com is.)
A site called Vibrant Nation, for the over 50 group, asked me to write a letter to myself at age 18. Wow, I wrote it and cried like a baby. I totally went there and imagined reading it at 18, a year when I was suicidal and saw no light at the end of my tunnel or anywhere else. What I wouldn't have given for that letter, then. I highly recommend it to you to try. Yep.
(Why do some people write "yup?" or "yep? a regional dialect dealie?) If only I had a letter NOW from my 75 year old self.
Oh, I don't really have much to say. I found an old tape recorder and after getting new batteries in there, I thought I would record "post ideas" whenever they came to me. Yep, there it sits, right next to me...yep...filled with ideas...yep....ever have one of those days where you just aren't into posting anything? This would be one of those days. Yep.
My partner is having some surgery on her colon Friday. I guess I'm preoccupied with that. She is like the scarecrow from Oz, we keep putting her stuffing back in, but it keeps falling out. She used to dance...and draw, paint, make movies, act, take photos...yep...I guess I'm sad today.
Tomorrow I will feel better. Sad never stays with me for long. I never knew that a blog would be such a commitment. Maybe that commitment is only in my head, but I can't stand the thought of people clicking on MY blog and seeing the same story they already read. New viewers can read a years worth of crap, er, stuff, I try to keep chronic disease light, non-threatening, even funny when possible. I try to share my personal life, my family stories that still engage me---I will be that old person sitting alone in a room waiting to tell a story I've told a million times before. I enjoy hearing people's stories, quid pro quo. Oh my gracious! I know some Latin!
For some reason I think about my aunt Vi a lot when I write. I miss her. I miss my mom. I miss getting greeting cards and letters from them. I knew I would, but I thought they would be dead. This is a strange missing. They are alive, just not anywhere I can look into their eyes, laugh with them, tell them I am an author. I never was anything but a kid writing for fun, only being in a book with two covers was a writer to them. They never understood the Internet. The race was on. Could I do it? Could I get one of my simple, little stories between covers before they died?
I have been submitting shorts since I was 18. Nothing. My family stories were too complicated.
MS, cancer, my job with the city of Seattle, suddenly I had substance to write about that people seemed interested in. And then Blogs! You can put anything on your blog. I still am amazed people want to read what I write. Now, finally, I have a story between two covers. My name can be "searched" on Amazon.com and something appears! (Not that my mom or aunt Vi have a clue what Amazon.com is.)
A site called Vibrant Nation, for the over 50 group, asked me to write a letter to myself at age 18. Wow, I wrote it and cried like a baby. I totally went there and imagined reading it at 18, a year when I was suicidal and saw no light at the end of my tunnel or anywhere else. What I wouldn't have given for that letter, then. I highly recommend it to you to try. Yep.
(Why do some people write "yup?" or "yep? a regional dialect dealie?) If only I had a letter NOW from my 75 year old self.
Oh, I don't really have much to say. I found an old tape recorder and after getting new batteries in there, I thought I would record "post ideas" whenever they came to me. Yep, there it sits, right next to me...yep...filled with ideas...yep....ever have one of those days where you just aren't into posting anything? This would be one of those days. Yep.
My partner is having some surgery on her colon Friday. I guess I'm preoccupied with that. She is like the scarecrow from Oz, we keep putting her stuffing back in, but it keeps falling out. She used to dance...and draw, paint, make movies, act, take photos...yep...I guess I'm sad today.
Tomorrow I will feel better. Sad never stays with me for long. I never knew that a blog would be such a commitment. Maybe that commitment is only in my head, but I can't stand the thought of people clicking on MY blog and seeing the same story they already read. New viewers can read a years worth of crap, er, stuff, I try to keep chronic disease light, non-threatening, even funny when possible. I try to share my personal life, my family stories that still engage me---I will be that old person sitting alone in a room waiting to tell a story I've told a million times before. I enjoy hearing people's stories, quid pro quo. Oh my gracious! I know some Latin!
For some reason I think about my aunt Vi a lot when I write. I miss her. I miss my mom. I miss getting greeting cards and letters from them. I knew I would, but I thought they would be dead. This is a strange missing. They are alive, just not anywhere I can look into their eyes, laugh with them, tell them I am an author. I never was anything but a kid writing for fun, only being in a book with two covers was a writer to them. They never understood the Internet. The race was on. Could I do it? Could I get one of my simple, little stories between covers before they died?
I have been submitting shorts since I was 18. Nothing. My family stories were too complicated.
MS, cancer, my job with the city of Seattle, suddenly I had substance to write about that people seemed interested in. And then Blogs! You can put anything on your blog. I still am amazed people want to read what I write. Now, finally, I have a story between two covers. My name can be "searched" on Amazon.com and something appears! (Not that my mom or aunt Vi have a clue what Amazon.com is.)
A site called Vibrant Nation, for the over 50 group, asked me to write a letter to myself at age 18. Wow, I wrote it and cried like a baby. I totally went there and imagined reading it at 18, a year when I was suicidal and saw no light at the end of my tunnel or anywhere else. What I wouldn't have given for that letter, then. I highly recommend it to you to try. Yep.
(Why do some people write "yup?" or "yep? a regional dialect dealie?) If only I had a letter NOW from my 75 year old self.
Oh, I don't really have much to say. I found an old tape recorder and after getting new batteries in there, I thought I would record "post ideas" whenever they came to me. Yep, there it sits, right next to me...yep...filled with ideas...yep....ever have one of those days where you just aren't into posting anything? This would be one of those days. Yep.
My partner is having some surgery on her colon Friday. I guess I'm preoccupied with that. She is like the scarecrow from Oz, we keep putting her stuffing back in, but it keeps falling out. She used to dance...and draw, paint, make movies, act, take photos...yep...I guess I'm sad today.
Tomorrow I will feel better. Sad never stays with me for long. I never knew that a blog would be such a commitment. Maybe that commitment is only in my head, but I can't stand the thought of people clicking on MY blog and seeing the same story they already read. New viewers can read a years worth of crap, er, stuff, I try to keep chronic disease light, non-threatening, even funny when possible. I try to share my personal life, my family stories that still engage me---I will be that old person sitting alone in a room waiting to tell a story I've told a million times before. I enjoy hearing people's stories, quid pro quo. Oh my gracious! I know some Latin!
For some reason I think about my aunt Vi a lot when I write. I miss her. I miss my mom. I miss getting greeting cards and letters from them. I knew I would, but I thought they would be dead. This is a strange missing. They are alive, just not anywhere I can look into their eyes, laugh with them, tell them I am an author. I never was anything but a kid writing for fun, only being in a book with two covers was a writer to them. They never understood the Internet. The race was on. Could I do it? Could I get one of my simple, little stories between covers before they died?
I have been submitting shorts since I was 18. Nothing. My family stories were too complicated.
MS, cancer, my job with the city of Seattle, suddenly I had substance to write about that people seemed interested in. And then Blogs! You can put anything on your blog. I still am amazed people want to read what I write. Now, finally, I have a story between two covers. My name can be "searched" on Amazon.com and something appears! (Not that my mom or aunt Vi have a clue what Amazon.com is.)
A site called Vibrant Nation, for the over 50 group, asked me to write a letter to myself at age 18. Wow, I wrote it and cried like a baby. I totally went there and imagined reading it at 18, a year when I was suicidal and saw no light at the end of my tunnel or anywhere else. What I wouldn't have given for that letter, then. I highly recommend it to you to try. Yep.
(Why do some people write "yup?" or "yep? a regional dialect dealie?) If only I had a letter NOW from my 75 year old self.
Oh, I don't really have much to say. I found an old tape recorder and after getting new batteries in there, I thought I would record "post ideas" whenever they came to me. Yep, there it sits, right next to me...yep...filled with ideas...yep....ever have one of those days where you just aren't into posting anything? This would be one of those days. Yep.
My partner is having some surgery on her colon Friday. I guess I'm preoccupied with that. She is like the scarecrow from Oz, we keep putting her stuffing back in, but it keeps falling out. She used to dance...and draw, paint, make movies, act, take photos...yep...I guess I'm sad today.
Tomorrow I will feel better. Sad never stays with me for long. I never knew that a blog would be such a commitment. Maybe that commitment is only in my head, but I can't stand the thought of people clicking on MY blog and seeing the same story they already read. New viewers can read a years worth of crap, er, stuff, I try to keep chronic disease light, non-threatening, even funny when possible. I try to share my personal life, my family stories that still engage me---I will be that old person sitting alone in a room waiting to tell a story I've told a million times before. I enjoy hearing people's stories, quid pro quo. Oh my gracious! I know some Latin!
For some reason I think about my aunt Vi a lot when I write. I miss her. I miss my mom. I miss getting greeting cards and letters from them. I knew I would, but I thought they would be dead. This is a strange missing. They are alive, just not anywhere I can look into their eyes, laugh with them, tell them I am an author. I never was anything but a kid writing for fun, only being in a book with two covers was a writer to them. They never understood the Internet. The race was on. Could I do it? Could I get one of my simple, little stories between covers before they died?
I have been submitting shorts since I was 18. Nothing. My family stories were too complicated.
MS, cancer, my job with the city of Seattle, suddenly I had substance to write about that people seemed interested in. And then Blogs! You can put anything on your blog. I still am amazed people want to read what I write. Now, finally, I have a story between two covers. My name can be "searched" on Amazon.com and something appears! (Not that my mom or aunt Vi have a clue what Amazon.com is.)
A site called Vibrant Nation, for the over 50 group, asked me to write a letter to myself at age 18. Wow, I wrote it and cried like a baby. I totally went there and imagined reading it at 18, a year when I was suicidal and saw no light at the end of my tunnel or anywhere else. What I wouldn't have given for that letter, then. I highly recommend it to you to try. Yep.
(Why do some people write "yup?" or "yep? a regional dialect dealie?) If only I had a letter NOW from my 75 year old self.
Oh, I don't really have much to say. I found an old tape recorder and after getting new batteries in there, I thought I would record "post ideas" whenever they came to me. Yep, there it sits, right next to me...yep...filled with ideas...yep....ever have one of those days where you just aren't into posting anything? This would be one of those days. Yep.
My partner is having some surgery on her colon Friday. I guess I'm preoccupied with that. She is like the scarecrow from Oz, we keep putting her stuffing back in, but it keeps falling out. She used to dance...and draw, paint, make movies, act, take photos...yep...I guess I'm sad today.
Tomorrow I will feel better. Sad never stays with me for long. I never knew that a blog would be such a commitment. Maybe that commitment is only in my head, but I can't stand the thought of people clicking on MY blog and seeing the same story they already read. New viewers can read a years worth of crap, er, stuff, I try to keep chronic disease light, non-threatening, even funny when possible. I try to share my personal life, my family stories that still engage me---I will be that old person sitting alone in a room waiting to tell a story I've told a million times before. I enjoy hearing people's stories, quid pro quo. Oh my gracious! I know some Latin!
For some reason I think about my aunt Vi a lot when I write. I miss her. I miss my mom. I miss getting greeting cards and letters from them. I knew I would, but I thought they would be dead. This is a strange missing. They are alive, just not anywhere I can look into their eyes, laugh with them, tell them I am an author. I never was anything but a kid writing for fun, only being in a book with two covers was a writer to them. They never understood the Internet. The race was on. Could I do it? Could I get one of my simple, little stories between covers before they died?
I have been submitting shorts since I was 18. Nothing. My family stories were too complicated.
MS, cancer, my job with the city of Seattle, suddenly I had substance to write about that people seemed interested in. And then Blogs! You can put anything on your blog. I still am amazed people want to read what I write. Now, finally, I have a story between two covers. My name can be "searched" on Amazon.com and something appears! (Not that my mom or aunt Vi have a clue what Amazon.com is.)
A site called Vibrant Nation, for the over 50 group, asked me to write a letter to myself at age 18. Wow, I wrote it and cried like a baby. I totally went there and imagined reading it at 18, a year when I was suicidal and saw no light at the end of my tunnel or anywhere else. What I wouldn't have given for that letter, then. I highly recommend it to you to try. Yep.
(Why do some people write "yup?" or "yep? a regional dialect dealie?) If only I had a letter NOW from my 75 year old self.
Oh, I don't really have much to say. I found an old tape recorder and after getting new batteries in there, I thought I would record "post ideas" whenever they came to me. Yep, there it sits, right next to me...yep...filled with ideas...yep....ever have one of those days where you just aren't into posting anything? This would be one of those days. Yep.
My partner is having some surgery on her colon Friday. I guess I'm preoccupied with that. She is like the scarecrow from Oz, we keep putting her stuffing back in, but it keeps falling out. She used to dance...and draw, paint, make movies, act, take photos...yep...I guess I'm sad today.
Tomorrow I will feel better. Sad never stays with me for long. I never knew that a blog would be such a commitment. Maybe that commitment is only in my head, but I can't stand the thought of people clicking on MY blog and seeing the same story they already read. New viewers can read a years worth of crap, er, stuff, I try to keep chronic disease light, non-threatening, even funny when possible. I try to share my personal life, my family stories that still engage me---I will be that old person sitting alone in a room waiting to tell a story I've told a million times before. I enjoy hearing people's stories, quid pro quo. Oh my gracious! I know some Latin!
For some reason I think about my aunt Vi a lot when I write. I miss her. I miss my mom. I miss getting greeting cards and letters from them. I knew I would, but I thought they would be dead. This is a strange missing. They are alive, just not anywhere I can look into their eyes, laugh with them, tell them I am an author. I never was anything but a kid writing for fun, only being in a book with two covers was a writer to them. They never understood the Internet. The race was on. Could I do it? Could I get one of my simple, little stories between covers before they died?
I have been submitting shorts since I was 18. Nothing. My family stories were too complicated.
MS, cancer, my job with the city of Seattle, suddenly I had substance to write about that people seemed interested in. And then Blogs! You can put anything on your blog. I still am amazed people want to read what I write. Now, finally, I have a story between two covers. My name can be "searched" on Amazon.com and something appears! (Not that my mom or aunt Vi have a clue what Amazon.com is.)
A site called Vibrant Nation, for the over 50 group, asked me to write a letter to myself at age 18. Wow, I wrote it and cried like a baby. I totally went there and imagined reading it at 18, a year when I was suicidal and saw no light at the end of my tunnel or anywhere else. What I wouldn't have given for that letter, then. I highly recommend it to you to try. Yep.
(Why do some people write "yup?" or "yep? a regional dialect dealie?) If only I had a letter NOW from my 75 year old self.
Oh, I don't really have much to say. I found an old tape recorder and after getting new batteries in there, I thought I would record "post ideas" whenever they came to me. Yep, there it sits, right next to me...yep...filled with ideas...yep....ever have one of those days where you just aren't into posting anything? This would be one of those days. Yep.
My partner is having some surgery on her colon Friday. I guess I'm preoccupied with that. She is like the scarecrow from Oz, we keep putting her stuffing back in, but it keeps falling out. She used to dance...and draw, paint, make movies, act, take photos...yep...I guess I'm sad today.
Tomorrow I will feel better. Sad never stays with me for long. I never knew that a blog would be such a commitment. Maybe that commitment is only in my head, but I can't stand the thought of people clicking on MY blog and seeing the same story they already read. New viewers can read a years worth of crap, er, stuff, I try to keep chronic disease light, non-threatening, even funny when possible. I try to share my personal life, my family stories that still engage me---I will be that old person sitting alone in a room waiting to tell a story I've told a million times before. I enjoy hearing people's stories, quid pro quo. Oh my gracious! I know some Latin!
For some reason I think about my aunt Vi a lot when I write. I miss her. I miss my mom. I miss getting greeting cards and letters from them. I knew I would, but I thought they would be dead. This is a strange missing. They are alive, just not anywhere I can look into their eyes, laugh with them, tell them I am an author. I never was anything but a kid writing for fun, only being in a book with two covers was a writer to them. They never understood the Internet. The race was on. Could I do it? Could I get one of my simple, little stories between covers before they died?
I have been submitting shorts since I was 18. Nothing. My family stories were too complicated.
MS, cancer, my job with the city of Seattle, suddenly I had substance to write about that people seemed interested in. And then Blogs! You can put anything on your blog. I still am amazed people want to read what I write. Now, finally, I have a story between two covers. My name can be "searched" on Amazon.com and something appears! (Not that my mom or aunt Vi have a clue what Amazon.com is.)
A site called Vibrant Nation, for the over 50 group, asked me to write a letter to myself at age 18. Wow, I wrote it and cried like a baby. I totally went there and imagined reading it at 18, a year when I was suicidal and saw no light at the end of my tunnel or anywhere else. What I wouldn't have given for that letter, then. I highly recommend it to you to try. Yep.
(Why do some people write "yup?" or "yep? a regional dialect dealie?) If only I had a letter NOW from my 75 year old self.
Oh, I don't really have much to say. I found an old tape recorder and after getting new batteries in there, I thought I would record "post ideas" whenever they came to me. Yep, there it sits, right next to me...yep...filled with ideas...yep....ever have one of those days where you just aren't into posting anything? This would be one of those days. Yep.
My partner is having some surgery on her colon Friday. I guess I'm preoccupied with that. She is like the scarecrow from Oz, we keep putting her stuffing back in, but it keeps falling out. She used to dance...and draw, paint, make movies, act, take photos...yep...I guess I'm sad today.
Tomorrow I will feel better. Sad never stays with me for long. I never knew that a blog would be such a commitment. Maybe that commitment is only in my head, but I can't stand the thought of people clicking on MY blog and seeing the same story they already read. New viewers can read a years worth of crap, er, stuff, I try to keep chronic disease light, non-threatening, even funny when possible. I try to share my personal life, my family stories that still engage me---I will be that old person sitting alone in a room waiting to tell a story I've told a million times before. I enjoy hearing people's stories, quid pro quo. Oh my gracious! I know some Latin!
For some reason I think about my aunt Vi a lot when I write. I miss her. I miss my mom. I miss getting greeting cards and letters from them. I knew I would, but I thought they would be dead. This is a strange missing. They are alive, just not anywhere I can look into their eyes, laugh with them, tell them I am an author. I never was anything but a kid writing for fun, only being in a book with two covers was a writer to them. They never understood the Internet. The race was on. Could I do it? Could I get one of my simple, little stories between covers before they died?
I have been submitting shorts since I was 18. Nothing. My family stories were too complicated.
MS, cancer, my job with the city of Seattle, suddenly I had substance to write about that people seemed interested in. And then Blogs! You can put anything on your blog. I still am amazed people want to read what I write. Now, finally, I have a story between two covers. My name can be "searched" on Amazon.com and something appears! (Not that my mom or aunt Vi have a clue what Amazon.com is.)
A site called Vibrant Nation, for the over 50 group, asked me to write a letter to myself at age 18. Wow, I wrote it and cried like a baby. I totally went there and imagined reading it at 18, a year when I was suicidal and saw no light at the end of my tunnel or anywhere else. What I wouldn't have given for that letter, then. I highly recommend it to you to try. Yep.
(Why do some people write "yup?" or "yep? a regional dialect dealie?) If only I had a letter NOW from my 75 year old self.
Oh, I don't really have much to say. I found an old tape recorder and after getting new batteries in there, I thought I would record "post ideas" whenever they came to me. Yep, there it sits, right next to me...yep...filled with ideas...yep....ever have one of those days where you just aren't into posting anything? This would be one of those days. Yep.
My partner is having some surgery on her colon Friday. I guess I'm preoccupied with that. She is like the scarecrow from Oz, we keep putting her stuffing back in, but it keeps falling out. She used to dance...and draw, paint, make movies, act, take photos...yep...I guess I'm sad today.
Tomorrow I will feel better. Sad never stays with me for long. I never knew that a blog would be such a commitment. Maybe that commitment is only in my head, but I can't stand the thought of people clicking on MY blog and seeing the same story they already read. New viewers can read a years worth of crap, er, stuff, I try to keep chronic disease light, non-threatening, even funny when possible. I try to share my personal life, my family stories that still engage me---I will be that old person sitting alone in a room waiting to tell a story I've told a million times before. I enjoy hearing people's stories, quid pro quo. Oh my gracious! I know some Latin!
For some reason I think about my aunt Vi a lot when I write. I miss her. I miss my mom. I miss getting greeting cards and letters from them. I knew I would, but I thought they would be dead. This is a strange missing. They are alive, just not anywhere I can look into their eyes, laugh with them, tell them I am an author. I never was anything but a kid writing for fun, only being in a book with two covers was a writer to them. They never understood the Internet. The race was on. Could I do it? Could I get one of my simple, little stories between covers before they died?
I have been submitting shorts since I was 18. Nothing. My family stories were too complicated.
MS, cancer, my job with the city of Seattle, suddenly I had substance to write about that people seemed interested in. And then Blogs! You can put anything on your blog. I still am amazed people want to read what I write. Now, finally, I have a story between two covers. My name can be "searched" on Amazon.com and something appears! (Not that my mom or aunt Vi have a clue what Amazon.com is.)
A site called Vibrant Nation, for the over 50 group, asked me to write a letter to myself at age 18. Wow, I wrote it and cried like a baby. I totally went there and imagined reading it at 18, a year when I was suicidal and saw no light at the end of my tunnel or anywhere else. What I wouldn't have given for that letter, then. I highly recommend it to you to try. Yep.
(Why do some people write "yup?" or "yep? a regional dialect dealie?) If only I had a letter NOW from my 75 year old self.
Oh, I don't really have much to say. I found an old tape recorder and after getting new batteries in there, I thought I would record "post ideas" whenever they came to me. Yep, there it sits, right next to me...yep...filled with ideas...yep....ever have one of those days where you just aren't into posting anything? This would be one of those days. Yep.
My partner is having some surgery on her colon Friday. I guess I'm preoccupied with that. She is like the scarecrow from Oz, we keep putting her stuffing back in, but it keeps falling out. She used to dance...and draw, paint, make movies, act, take photos...yep...I guess I'm sad today.
Tomorrow I will feel better. Sad never stays with me for long. I never knew that a blog would be such a commitment. Maybe that commitment is only in my head, but I can't stand the thought of people clicking on MY blog and seeing the same story they already read. New viewers can read a years worth of crap, er, stuff, I try to keep chronic disease light, non-threatening, even funny when possible. I try to share my personal life, my family stories that still engage me---I will be that old person sitting alone in a room waiting to tell a story I've told a million times before. I enjoy hearing people's stories, quid pro quo. Oh my gracious! I know some Latin!
For some reason I think about my aunt Vi a lot when I write. I miss her. I miss my mom. I miss getting greeting cards and letters from them. I knew I would, but I thought they would be dead. This is a strange missing. They are alive, just not anywhere I can look into their eyes, laugh with them, tell them I am an author. I never was anything but a kid writing for fun, only being in a book with two covers was a writer to them. They never understood the Internet. The race was on. Could I do it? Could I get one of my simple, little stories between covers before they died?
I have been submitting shorts since I was 18. Nothing. My family stories were too complicated.
MS, cancer, my job with the city of Seattle, suddenly I had substance to write about that people seemed interested in. And then Blogs! You can put anything on your blog. I still am amazed people want to read what I write. Now, finally, I have a story between two covers. My name can be "searched" on Amazon.com and something appears! (Not that my mom or aunt Vi have a clue what Amazon.com is.)
A site called Vibrant Nation, for the over 50 group, asked me to write a letter to myself at age 18. Wow, I wrote it and cried like a baby. I totally went there and imagined reading it at 18, a year when I was suicidal and saw no light at the end of my tunnel or anywhere else. What I wouldn't have given for that letter, then. I highly recommend it to you to try. Yep.
(Why do some people write "yup?" or "yep? a regional dialect dealie?) If only I had a letter NOW from my 75 year old self.
Oh, I don't really have much to say. I found an old tape recorder and after getting new batteries in there, I thought I would record "post ideas" whenever they came to me. Yep, there it sits, right next to me...yep...filled with ideas...yep....ever have one of those days where you just aren't into posting anything? This would be one of those days. Yep.
My partner is having some surgery on her colon Friday. I guess I'm preoccupied with that. She is like the scarecrow from Oz, we keep putting her stuffing back in, but it keeps falling out. She used to dance...and draw, paint, make movies, act, take photos...yep...I guess I'm sad today.
Tomorrow I will feel better. Sad never stays with me for long. I never knew that a blog would be such a commitment. Maybe that commitment is only in my head, but I can't stand the thought of people clicking on MY blog and seeing the same story they already read. New viewers can read a years worth of crap, er, stuff, I try to keep chronic disease light, non-threatening, even funny when possible. I try to share my personal life, my family stories that still engage me---I will be that old person sitting alone in a room waiting to tell a story I've told a million times before. I enjoy hearing people's stories, quid pro quo. Oh my gracious! I know some Latin!
For some reason I think about my aunt Vi a lot when I write. I miss her. I miss my mom. I miss getting greeting cards and letters from them. I knew I would, but I thought they would be dead. This is a strange missing. They are alive, just not anywhere I can look into their eyes, laugh with them, tell them I am an author. I never was anything but a kid writing for fun, only being in a book with two covers was a writer to them. They never understood the Internet. The race was on. Could I do it? Could I get one of my simple, little stories between covers before they died?
I have been submitting shorts since I was 18. Nothing. My family stories were too complicated.
MS, cancer, my job with the city of Seattle, suddenly I had substance to write about that people seemed interested in. And then Blogs! You can put anything on your blog. I still am amazed people want to read what I write. Now, finally, I have a story between two covers. My name can be "searched" on Amazon.com and something appears! (Not that my mom or aunt Vi have a clue what Amazon.com is.)
A site called Vibrant Nation, for the over 50 group, asked me to write a letter to myself at age 18. Wow, I wrote it and cried like a baby. I totally went there and imagined reading it at 18, a year when I was suicidal and saw no light at the end of my tunnel or anywhere else. What I wouldn't have given for that letter, then. I highly recommend it to you to try. Yep.
(Why do some people write "yup?" or "yep? a regional dialect dealie?) If only I had a letter NOW from my 75 year old self.
Oh, I don't really have much to say. I found an old tape recorder and after getting new batteries in there, I thought I would record "post ideas" whenever they came to me. Yep, there it sits, right next to me...yep...filled with ideas...yep....ever have one of those days where you just aren't into posting anything? This would be one of those days. Yep.
My partner is having some surgery on her colon Friday. I guess I'm preoccupied with that. She is like the scarecrow from Oz, we keep putting her stuffing back in, but it keeps falling out. She used to dance...and draw, paint, make movies, act, take photos...yep...I guess I'm sad today.
Tomorrow I will feel better. Sad never stays with me for long. I never knew that a blog would be such a commitment. Maybe that commitment is only in my head, but I can't stand the thought of people clicking on MY blog and seeing the same story they already read. New viewers can read a years worth of crap, er, stuff, I try to keep chronic disease light, non-threatening, even funny when possible. I try to share my personal life, my family stories that still engage me---I will be that old person sitting alone in a room waiting to tell a story I've told a million times before. I enjoy hearing people's stories, quid pro quo. Oh my gracious! I know some Latin!
For some reason I think about my aunt Vi a lot when I write. I miss her. I miss my mom. I miss getting greeting cards and letters from them. I knew I would, but I thought they would be dead. This is a strange missing. They are alive, just not anywhere I can look into their eyes, laugh with them, tell them I am an author. I never was anything but a kid writing for fun, only being in a book with two covers was a writer to them. They never understood the Internet. The race was on. Could I do it? Could I get one of my simple, little stories between covers before they died?
I have been submitting shorts since I was 18. Nothing. My family stories were too complicated.
MS, cancer, my job with the city of Seattle, suddenly I had substance to write about that people seemed interested in. And then Blogs! You can put anything on your blog. I still am amazed people want to read what I write. Now, finally, I have a story between two covers. My name can be "searched" on Amazon.com and something appears! (Not that my mom or aunt Vi have a clue what Amazon.com is.)
A site called Vibrant Nation, for the over 50 group, asked me to write a letter to myself at age 18. Wow, I wrote it and cried like a baby. I totally went there and imagined reading it at 18, a year when I was suicidal and saw no light at the end of my tunnel or anywhere else. What I wouldn't have given for that letter, then. I highly recommend it to you to try. Yep.
(Why do some people write "yup?" or "yep? a regional dialect dealie?) If only I had a letter NOW from my 75 year old self.
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