I once knew a woman who celebrated Easter, focusing on the Resurrection, with unusual zeal. I discovered why. But even those of us who are not fugitives, convicted felons, in need of new life, commit crimes against ourselves; others; the universe; and children, all of which deserve perfect Love.
It is spring. May you play in the rain, dance with the wind, enjoy the sun on your cheeks and, yes, discover new life. When spring turns to summer, I’ll write again and hope to find you well. I’ve become a seasonal blogger. Thanks for reading. XO.
From time to time I launch into a monologue I wrote a few months ago. Jake’s a good sport; he hears it a lot and always acts like he loves it. He’s such a smart dog (I am Food Girl II). Besides, some of you remember, if I’m in the kitchen I’m calling it cooking. xo. And, if I move to Des Moines,this could be my address.
I think she meant me. Let’s face it, writers like to sleep. Sleeping equals working. Dawdling equals working. Eating ice cream? Working.
Some believe writers should not be allowed to marry. Fine. These people were probably married to writers (or rejected by writers). Anna Quindlen’s husband said something like: can’t you get me a beer without writing about it? Her response was a 250-page tome.
I’m not going to marry her but it’s nice to know I could (in some states at least)(if she’d have me).
“Justine” with Cledus T. Judd whose hit “It’s a Great Day to be a Guy” was on airwaves daily back when I first created gg.
Was it a great day to be a guy? I don’t know. But it was a great day to be me. Once I finally relented and let myself like country music, I laughed and laughed. Thank you, Nashville.
During the original show, we played country music as house music. Curious actress, Christine Alexander, piped up, “Does gg like country?”
Yes, oddly, gg likes country - and it’s not only because many of her clients live in Nashville. It’s because, business aside, in private, among friends, she likes to throw her head back and laugh her ass off (but she doesn’t say “ass”). “Justine” does. Amen.
I took the red-eye from Los Angeles to Chicago with a little stop in Denver to let the injured passengers off the plane. The pilot said it was the most turbulence we’d experience (and survive).
While in California, I saw a greeting card that said, “Everything will be okay in the end. If it’s not okay, it’s not the end.” I didn’t know what to make of it. I stood there, in Los Olivos Grocery, looking at the card. While I like the idea of things being right in the end, something about this sentiment made me uncomfortable. Maybe the card was preparing me for my flight.
In addition to the 20% off coupon, we received a $10 voucher for food while stuck in Denver. I was short on coffee, so I wanted to buy a pound at Starbucks. The voucher was rejected. It was good for Big Macs and fries, not Starbucks coffee by the pound. Everything is not okay. It must not be the end.
CHILD: Mommy, why do people say it’s a Doggy-Dog world?
MOTHER: A Doggy-Dog world?
CHILD: Yeah. People say it’s a Doggy-Dog world like it’s bad. I like dogs. Who doesn’t want to live in a Doggy-Dog world?
MOTHER: Oh, I see. Yes, a Doggy-Dog world sounds lovely, doesn’t it? Lots of happiness and love.
I came to explain the idiom, “dog-eat-dog world,” to my daughter who was not pleased by the imagery of dogs eating other dogs. She did not want to live there. Wise girl. I hope she never does.
Some of us reject the dog-eat-dog world. XO.
Meet Jake and Becker. They could teach us a thing or two.
Mom swears it doesn’t bother her that people celebrate the birth of Christ on her birthday. Nevermind that across the board, bible scholars agree, Jesus was not born on December 25.
Still, it doesn’t bother my mom, who really was born on Christmas Day. In any event, I won’t be voting for Mike Huckabee, who completely ignores my mom’s birthday in his advertising.
Mom will be celebrating with Howie this year and having a damn fine time.
This is a little blog that a few people read. Like other things, it started as a joke between Christine and me. Not everyone likes me or my writing or my jokes, but I highly doubt anyone at The Des Moines Register has the time or interest to comment. On the other hand, ANY comment from The Des Moines Register is welcome.
Still, when someone tries to hurt me, they usually succeed. Hopefully, this admission will provide comfort: congratulations,you’ve hurt me.
My next play? Dog-Sitting in Des Moines. Maybe it will play in a warehouse near you soon.
