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Showing posts from June, 2014

adjustments

first let's do this because I read it and was bowled over. 
“Grief can destroy you --or focus you. You can decide a relationship was all for nothing if it had to end in death, and you alone. OR you can realize that every moment of it had more meaning than you dared to recognize at the time, so much meaning it scared you, so you just lived, just took for granted the love and laughter of each day, and didn't allow yourself to consider the sacredness of it. But when it's over and you're alone, you begin to see that it wasn't just a movie and a dinner together, not just watching sunsets together, not just scrubbing a floor or washing dishes together or worrying over a high electric bill. It was everything, it was the why of life, every event and precious moment of it. The answer to the mystery of existence is the love you shared sometimes so imperfectly, and when the loss wakes you to the deeper beauty of it, to the sanctity of it, you can't get off yo…

The Latest Chicken Taste Contest

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Before you start to slaver and think yum, chicken, no...this is about the chickens' taste not ours.
Yum. Chicken kabobs grilled....peanut satay sauce.

Not that.

This is all about what the chickens prefer. I created A CONTEST!!! I pitted my usual treat for them vs. some Chinese stir-fry vegetables.

Which do you think chickens would prefer? I really didn't know. The last time I tried this test, the apple lost.

 So I turned on the lights of Iron Chef Studio.  I placed the two pans side by side and asked our judges to examine and pick their favorite dish.

 Chicken Three takes the first peck of the New Stuff. She has the most discerning palate of the group, first to recognize the tastiness of oats and moths.

 And, as always, Chicken Three is also the one with the most to say: tap, tap, tap. I think repeatedly thumping plastic is a method of communication.

 Spotchy is also willing to try the food. She seemed most interested in plain rice, maybe because it looks like oats. 
 &quo…

As Promised

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For Pity's Sake

I did this, fool that I am.


All those comments later, I feel the following announcement is the only possible response post-that-particular-post:


Very soon I plan on changing my name(s) and moving to a cabin in Vermont miles from anything, including a public library.

I'm going to raise goats, chickens, and owls and forget how to use the keyboard. I'll write all my stories long-hand and then curse the publishers who send me form rejection letters. I won't be able to get on the internet to curse them publicly, so within a day or so I'll grow hoarse yelling at the sky. 

I will miss cracked.com's lists and the kitty pictures. I will also miss Gawker, God save me, and that's part of the reason I must go. 

I'll let you know what name I pick, so you and the rejecting editors can send me reponses via USPS. 

music

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I have the worst taste in music. I know because my kids have told me so -- and they know because they've caught glimpses of my running music list. Let's just say there's some Josh Groban on there and leave it at that. Run away.

BIMD (back in my day) you had mix tapes. Party mix tapes, driving mix tapes, dance mix tapes. Now my "tapes" are all about my goals, not to enjoy. Work music and running music--those are the two times I use music. Key point is I use, not enjoy, music these days.

Work music is basically a Pandora channel of movie theme music. Sometimes I listen to Chopin or other classical works, but only when I'm writing a historical. Otherwise my pacing is off. When I work, the music has no words.

Running music...nothing I'd sit around and listen to on my own, except perhaps Bittersweet Orchestra or National. And my kids introduced me to most of those bits.

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In other news, chickens grow up fast. Usually I mean chickens, referring to my own…

What's more fun than getting a contract offer for a story?

Getting a nice note along with it.