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Well, I’m starting to peek my head out from under my recent obsession with the easy accomplishments and bright colors of the world of Azeroth, and get back to the other parts of my life. I’ll probably be fine now for a few months.

Except that I’ve had the flu, so even though I’ve been up to doing some reading, I haven’t done a lot of writing yet. In the meantime, I highly recommend that you visit McSweeney’s. It’s a wonderful compilation of mostly clever stuff written by — well, I have no idea who writes all of it, but it’s darn funny , anyway.

You might start with Catcher In The Retirement Home, in keeping with the recent theme of aging. This is a sort of sequel to Catcher in the Rye, in which Mr. Caulfield finds himself an elderly man, and not that much changed, really.

There was a time when I would, once in a while, watch the Jerry Springer show. I don’t watch it anymore, because I can’t believe it is anything but staged. But back in the old days, there were moments like this: Read the rest of this entry »

Someone kindly told me they enjoyed my Thanksgiving post, and asked if I was going to write any Christmas reminiscences. I’ve been thinking about that, and for some reason it’s much more difficult. Because Christmas itself is kind of difficult.

The expectations for Christmas are so much higher, and the scope so much larger. Thanksgiving is one big dinner, followed by a long weekend. Christmas requires cards, presents, parties, decorations, and at least one big meal, and it is as often as not followed by going to work the next day. Add to that the timing — the last few days of the calendar year are a busy time in many workplaces — and you have a lot of pressure. I think if I had to pick a favorite day of the year, I would have to pick December 26. Read the rest of this entry »

Well, apparently my blog is a little short on big words, or long sentences or something.

cash advance

If you were hoping for intellectual pretension here, apparently you hope in vain.

So, after yet another decongestant, and a beer and some pizza, I remembered something that I saw earlier today.

Read the rest of this entry »

As you can see, I’ve been spending less time writing and more time figuring out how to make this space look the way I want it to. See the nice picture? And the different colors? I even made my own widget, so you can send me email. (It’s a ways down on the left hand side …)

There’s a lot left to do.  Technology is hard to learn when you get older.  So, one step at a time.

Meanwhile, I was looking through Amazon for something today and got a great idea for a book. It will be really easy to write!

Title: Self-Esteem for Dummies

Chapter one: Don’t buy stuff from people who insult you. Put this book back! Don’t pay for it! No wonder you don’t have any self-esteem!

Chapter two: There. Don’t you feel better now?

My husband is a bit of a hockey fan, and he found this picture yesterday. It’s mainly a picture of a hockey player, of course. He told me which one, but I forget. But take a look in the background, where the red circle is. Is that a baby? Being hurled on to the ice? Is the baby that big of a fan? Or is the baby’s dad (one can only assume it’s not a mom) tossing the baby down to the hockey player — perhaps like girls throw lingerie on to the stage for their favorite singer? Is this common now?

Of course, that’s probably not it. That…would have been in the newspaper or something. Probably dad was just tossing his baby in the air — although the angle just isn’t right. It’s a mystery.

Diving Baby

I hate pictures of myself. It’s not just the usual irrational female insecurity about my appearance. And it’s not just because photos make you look fat, although they do. I have very fair skin, a roundish face, and smallish features. Most pictures are a little bit overexposed, and I look like the man in the moon. Or the woman in the moon. Anyway, it’s not pleasant.

So, I thought perhaps a Simpsons version of me would be useful. It actually does look like me, sorta.

Simpson me

Quote of the Day (or other random interval)

By the time a man realizes that maybe his father was right, he usually has a son who thinks he's wrong.
Charles Wadsworth The three little sentences that will get you through life. Number 1: Cover for me. Number 2: Oh, good idea, Boss! Number 3: It was like that when I got here.
Homer Simpson

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