E.C. Stilson's Blog, page 91
July 11, 2012
A Port-a-potty Disaster Story
Disaster loomed in the future, too bad I didn't know it! Of all the neat things that can happen at port-a-potties . . .
. . . something great didn't happened to me. Instead I had one of my most embarrassing moments ever.
I sat with Melynda at the fair. We joked around, cut fabric for people, sold books and giggled. I read a fantasy book after that. It was about a pansy of a girl--weak and frail. The book made me so mad, I wanted to donate it to the library! Poor girl couldn't do a thing on her own, she needed saving at least twice in every chapter. Aren't main characters supposed to be a little bit capable? Anyway, hours passed and at some point I knew I'd have to take a potty break and put the sexist book down.
Me and Melynda at the Fair--I love that woman!
"Melynda, can you hold down the fort for a minute? I need to visit the port-a-potty."
"Sure. Just don't use the big one. It's out of toilet paper."
But that was the one I wanted to use! It was nice and spacious. It
had hand sanitizer--a real commodity at the fair. The Scribe had used
it the day before, and although the door was hard to open because the
thing wasn't level and it slightly tilted forward, it was much better
than the old, fly-infested alternatives.
So I grabbed some toilet paper from a yucky potty and then, with a
hand-full, went in front of the nice john. A couple of ladies
jabbered loudly behind me. "Isn't this fair hot?" one said to the other.
"Yes," the other woman said. "I have a tough time staying out in weather like this." They looked quite fancy, fake-tanned and with loads of makeup plastered onto their beautiful faces. They quieted, listening to the band who
played near us. I wanted to like them, but I'd been reading the story about a pansy-woman and those ladies reminded me of her. How can people be so weak? It was ninety degrees--seriously. And if putting in one day at the fair was tough . . . I'd hate to see them work construction.
So, I sauntered up to the big port-a-potty's door. I kept thinking how much I love not being a pansy. I can tie my own damn shoes, replace my own kitchen sink--make my own spud gun if I have a mind to. I don't need a man to do everything for me. Cade married an equal, not a sniveling damsel. I grabbed the handle and pulled, but the stupid thing was obviously jammed from leaning too far forward. I pulled again. I wasn't some wimpy girl they'd sing tragic ballads about in the Middle Ages. I was Joan of Arc, the girl who could kick down any door--even if an idiot hadn't leveled it. The music blared. Cade had joked that the singer sounded like Tom Petty because he couldn't sing either.
I readjusted my baseball cap, so the thing was on backwards. I pulled up my pants a bit and gritted my teeth. Those pansy-women watched me, probably shocked to see how a real woman gets things done, then I yanked the handle again. That big potty rocked a bit. I pulled again, trying harder and harder!
Finally on my fifth pull--which was great since real women can open doors in less than seven tries--something popped and the door flew open.
I wanted to gloat, sing to the women behind me, but that's when I had the shock of a lifetime.
I gaped into the leaning potty and my eyes caught on the shaking man who sat using the john! His little, red eyes turned to slits. He hated me and we'd just met! "What in the Hell?" he asked in a very raspy voice which was hard to hear over the music. He'd covered himself with both hands and looked as if he might kill me if he got the nerve to move from the pot.
My jaw fell. So the pop I'd heard had been the lock. "Sir . . . I'm so sorry," I said, staying frozen as my eyes kept involuntarily darting to his old, construction hands.
"I said I was in here!" he rasped as if he'd smoked for nine thousand years--served him right for smoking! "What are you doing standing there. Shut the damn door, woman!"
Man he was ballsy for being naked. And then, instead of giving him the toilet paper I bet he so desperately needed, I shut the door and turned around. The two women behind me looked white-faced and terrified as if they might be my next victim.
"You still need to take a potty-break?" one asked the other.
"No." They just stared at me.
"Me either."
What the heck?! Had they known it was occupied the whole time? What kind of wimpy, self-absorbed women were they? Why hadn't they spoken up--they weren't suffering from laryngitis like the poor man behind door number three!
The ladies shuddered as I sprinted past, so I winked to one of them and waved because I was embarrassed and I couldn't help taking advantage of the moment.
Cade called me as I ran away. I told him the story and started laughing so badly hot tears came to my eyes. "I was just trying to be tough. That poor man! He seemed like he'd be nice under different circumstances." I knelt on the grass, I laughed so hard as I tried to keep from peeing since I STILL hadn't used the john.
I talked to a dear friend on the phone after that. "I wish I could have seen the whole thing."
"There wasn't much to see," I said. "He covered it up really well."
"Elisa! Not that. The situation."
"Oh," I giggled. "Just me being an idiot again. You know, I've walked into the men's bathroom on accident before--I think everyone has--but I've never broken in and entered. I'm on the path to being a criminal now. The port-a-potty criminal."
"I bet that man will be telling all of his elderly friends about this--the woman who broke in, just to see him naked."
"Seriously. I can't imagine what he thought as I yanked on the door over and over. And he couldn't talk loud enough. Plus, he didn't have any paper to wipe himself. It's nightmarish."
"Did you see him later at the fair?"
"No, I didn't even see him leave the john."
"That poor man will never use a port-a-potty again," she said.
"That makes two of us." I meant every word. Port-a-potties, especially the really nice, big ones, suck!
In closing, I'd like to tell you that a darling new book by Pat Hatt just came out today. The Kindle edition is only 1.99!
Click HERE to buy it now.
The eBook is only $1.99
Follow Cassie as she tries to rid herself of the Wild Cat and sweep him under the mat. From the freezer to the loo, will she chase the Wild Cat from view? Find out as you read another rhyming story from Pat Hatt starring Cassie and the Wild Cat.
. . . something great didn't happened to me. Instead I had one of my most embarrassing moments ever.
I sat with Melynda at the fair. We joked around, cut fabric for people, sold books and giggled. I read a fantasy book after that. It was about a pansy of a girl--weak and frail. The book made me so mad, I wanted to donate it to the library! Poor girl couldn't do a thing on her own, she needed saving at least twice in every chapter. Aren't main characters supposed to be a little bit capable? Anyway, hours passed and at some point I knew I'd have to take a potty break and put the sexist book down.
Me and Melynda at the Fair--I love that woman!
"Melynda, can you hold down the fort for a minute? I need to visit the port-a-potty."
"Sure. Just don't use the big one. It's out of toilet paper."
But that was the one I wanted to use! It was nice and spacious. It
had hand sanitizer--a real commodity at the fair. The Scribe had used
it the day before, and although the door was hard to open because the
thing wasn't level and it slightly tilted forward, it was much better
than the old, fly-infested alternatives.
So I grabbed some toilet paper from a yucky potty and then, with a
hand-full, went in front of the nice john. A couple of ladies
jabbered loudly behind me. "Isn't this fair hot?" one said to the other.
"Yes," the other woman said. "I have a tough time staying out in weather like this." They looked quite fancy, fake-tanned and with loads of makeup plastered onto their beautiful faces. They quieted, listening to the band who
played near us. I wanted to like them, but I'd been reading the story about a pansy-woman and those ladies reminded me of her. How can people be so weak? It was ninety degrees--seriously. And if putting in one day at the fair was tough . . . I'd hate to see them work construction.
So, I sauntered up to the big port-a-potty's door. I kept thinking how much I love not being a pansy. I can tie my own damn shoes, replace my own kitchen sink--make my own spud gun if I have a mind to. I don't need a man to do everything for me. Cade married an equal, not a sniveling damsel. I grabbed the handle and pulled, but the stupid thing was obviously jammed from leaning too far forward. I pulled again. I wasn't some wimpy girl they'd sing tragic ballads about in the Middle Ages. I was Joan of Arc, the girl who could kick down any door--even if an idiot hadn't leveled it. The music blared. Cade had joked that the singer sounded like Tom Petty because he couldn't sing either.
I readjusted my baseball cap, so the thing was on backwards. I pulled up my pants a bit and gritted my teeth. Those pansy-women watched me, probably shocked to see how a real woman gets things done, then I yanked the handle again. That big potty rocked a bit. I pulled again, trying harder and harder!
Finally on my fifth pull--which was great since real women can open doors in less than seven tries--something popped and the door flew open.
I wanted to gloat, sing to the women behind me, but that's when I had the shock of a lifetime.
I gaped into the leaning potty and my eyes caught on the shaking man who sat using the john! His little, red eyes turned to slits. He hated me and we'd just met! "What in the Hell?" he asked in a very raspy voice which was hard to hear over the music. He'd covered himself with both hands and looked as if he might kill me if he got the nerve to move from the pot.
My jaw fell. So the pop I'd heard had been the lock. "Sir . . . I'm so sorry," I said, staying frozen as my eyes kept involuntarily darting to his old, construction hands.
"I said I was in here!" he rasped as if he'd smoked for nine thousand years--served him right for smoking! "What are you doing standing there. Shut the damn door, woman!"
Man he was ballsy for being naked. And then, instead of giving him the toilet paper I bet he so desperately needed, I shut the door and turned around. The two women behind me looked white-faced and terrified as if they might be my next victim.
"You still need to take a potty-break?" one asked the other.
"No." They just stared at me.
"Me either."
What the heck?! Had they known it was occupied the whole time? What kind of wimpy, self-absorbed women were they? Why hadn't they spoken up--they weren't suffering from laryngitis like the poor man behind door number three!
The ladies shuddered as I sprinted past, so I winked to one of them and waved because I was embarrassed and I couldn't help taking advantage of the moment.
Cade called me as I ran away. I told him the story and started laughing so badly hot tears came to my eyes. "I was just trying to be tough. That poor man! He seemed like he'd be nice under different circumstances." I knelt on the grass, I laughed so hard as I tried to keep from peeing since I STILL hadn't used the john.
I talked to a dear friend on the phone after that. "I wish I could have seen the whole thing."
"There wasn't much to see," I said. "He covered it up really well."
"Elisa! Not that. The situation."
"Oh," I giggled. "Just me being an idiot again. You know, I've walked into the men's bathroom on accident before--I think everyone has--but I've never broken in and entered. I'm on the path to being a criminal now. The port-a-potty criminal."
"I bet that man will be telling all of his elderly friends about this--the woman who broke in, just to see him naked."
"Seriously. I can't imagine what he thought as I yanked on the door over and over. And he couldn't talk loud enough. Plus, he didn't have any paper to wipe himself. It's nightmarish."
"Did you see him later at the fair?"
"No, I didn't even see him leave the john."
"That poor man will never use a port-a-potty again," she said.
"That makes two of us." I meant every word. Port-a-potties, especially the really nice, big ones, suck!
In closing, I'd like to tell you that a darling new book by Pat Hatt just came out today. The Kindle edition is only 1.99!
Click HERE to buy it now.
The eBook is only $1.99
Follow Cassie as she tries to rid herself of the Wild Cat and sweep him under the mat. From the freezer to the loo, will she chase the Wild Cat from view? Find out as you read another rhyming story from Pat Hatt starring Cassie and the Wild Cat.
July 7, 2012
Twelve Habits of Highly Successful Cats and Their Humans
When I first visited Dee Ready's blog I had no idea how much her words would change my life. I didn't know she'd made a successful living by using her writing skills. I had no idea she'd written a five-star book with Dulcy called
A Cat's Life: Dulcy's Story
. I didn't realize she'd once lived in a convent, or led the type of life movies are made about.
All I know is that last August I sat at my computer, drinking a large cup of coffee as I read a hilarious posting about taxis, gutsy cabbies and dreams. In that moment I knew I'd met a kindred spirit.
I HIGHLY encourage you to read that post. You won't be sorry. And if you are drinking coffee like I was, you may spit it out from laughing too hard.
coming home to myself: Revelation
Time passed and over the last year I've been amazed by Dee's strength, kindness and wisdom. All these things are shown in both of her books, but especially in Twelve Habits of Highly Successful Cats and Their Humans . This work has become more than just a book to me--it's a foundation to give me strength.
The last few months have been hard. My writing career seems direct and straight in front of me, but other obstacles stand in the way. Should dreams be pursued without the support of others? Well, as I've gone through so many tough choices, I've found these Twelve Habits have helped so much. Not only does this book give parables from Dulcy (a cat the likes of which I'd love to meet), it also shows Dee's own examples of how to live life to the fullest. I find it so intriguing what habits she picked to be among the twelve. They have helped me AND my daughters who also cherish the book. This isn't just another piece of literature to be read and easily forgotten--it's a shining example of how to live a happy, successful life.
I love books, always have and I'm so thrilled to have found Dee and her writing. I think she's one of the best writers of our time, this is because she feels more than most. She writes from the heart and her words are those which can be read multiple times to still find new, deeper meanings.
If you read Twelve Habits of Highly Successful Cats and Their Humans , I know you'll love it. It's a special book--the kind that will impact the reader and help nudge them along the right path, the path of love and happiness.
For more info about Dee, please visit her blog HERE.
All I know is that last August I sat at my computer, drinking a large cup of coffee as I read a hilarious posting about taxis, gutsy cabbies and dreams. In that moment I knew I'd met a kindred spirit.
I HIGHLY encourage you to read that post. You won't be sorry. And if you are drinking coffee like I was, you may spit it out from laughing too hard.
coming home to myself: Revelation
Time passed and over the last year I've been amazed by Dee's strength, kindness and wisdom. All these things are shown in both of her books, but especially in Twelve Habits of Highly Successful Cats and Their Humans . This work has become more than just a book to me--it's a foundation to give me strength.
The last few months have been hard. My writing career seems direct and straight in front of me, but other obstacles stand in the way. Should dreams be pursued without the support of others? Well, as I've gone through so many tough choices, I've found these Twelve Habits have helped so much. Not only does this book give parables from Dulcy (a cat the likes of which I'd love to meet), it also shows Dee's own examples of how to live life to the fullest. I find it so intriguing what habits she picked to be among the twelve. They have helped me AND my daughters who also cherish the book. This isn't just another piece of literature to be read and easily forgotten--it's a shining example of how to live a happy, successful life.
I love books, always have and I'm so thrilled to have found Dee and her writing. I think she's one of the best writers of our time, this is because she feels more than most. She writes from the heart and her words are those which can be read multiple times to still find new, deeper meanings.
If you read Twelve Habits of Highly Successful Cats and Their Humans , I know you'll love it. It's a special book--the kind that will impact the reader and help nudge them along the right path, the path of love and happiness.
For more info about Dee, please visit her blog HERE.
July 4, 2012
The Hippie and the Surprise Box
The Hippie and the Scribe's last day of school was yesterday--gotta love year-round school. Anyway, to celebrate that school finally ended IN JULY, last week the entire school had a fair. The Scribe promptly told me she'd need some trinkets and things to sell. The Hippie, however, never said a thing. And when last night came, I asked if she'd participated too.
"Yeah. The whole school had a fair. We saved tickets all year to spend them. I didn't want to bother you or ask for things to sell, so I thought of something else. . . ."
"Really?"
"Yeah. I grabbed things people left around the house. I found some really great stuff and some bad things too. You know how you tell us not to leave toys on the ground and if we do, you'll throw them away?"
I nodded and bit my fist because it was hard not laughing. That threat had been a bluff. Why? Because I'm a hoarder. Yet she'd followed through for me. The Hippie rocks!
"But when the other grades started coming through my class's sale, none of the kids wanted to buy used toys." She looked at me with her icy blue eyes. "I wasn't selling a thing."
"That's sad. I'm sorry. You should have asked for my help."
"No way. I was doing things myself. Plus, I wouldn't let something like that get me down." She grinned. "I knew there was a way to get around it. My teacher had a cardboard box in the corner of the room. I asked if I could use it and she just smiled and nodded, watching me the whole time. I decorated the box and put 'Surprise Box. Take a chance for five tickets.' on the sides of it. Then I put all my junk inside."
That was a bit witty--impressive actually. "Five tickets . . . was that a lot?"
"Yeah, but kids actually paid! My desk was the most popular place to be."
"Did the kids like what they got?"
"Some did. Some didn't. But they were taking a chance on a surprise. That was their own fault."
I started laughing then. I know I shouldn't have, but she took me off guard!
"One kid got a baby toy and I told him right away, 'You get what you get and you don't throw a fit.'"
Wow, so he got a bargain AND some advice that day.
"You're ingenious. You know that?" I said.
"You kidding? I don't even know what ingenious means."
"It means you're pretty dang smart."
"Yeah. I've learned a lot this year." The Hippie curled up next to me on the couch. "Second grade was great. I started out as a girlie girl and ended up as a tomboy. I'm so glad I think about girl AND boy things now. Girlie girls just think about their hair all the time."
"There's more to life than hair?"
"Oh yeah. There's cool things like surprise boxes!"
"You are hilarious."
"And ignious."
"Ingenious."
"Whatever." She suddenly jumped up and ran toward the stairs. "Scribe, come here," she yelled to her older sister. "I have an idea for how we can make some money this summer. It's gonna be epic."
"As long as it isn't a fundraiser, then I'm in," the Scribe replied. "Fundraisers never turn out well when I hold them for myself."
Heaven help me when those two grow up! I really wonder what the future holds for a couple of girls who are so hysterical and resourceful.
"Yeah. The whole school had a fair. We saved tickets all year to spend them. I didn't want to bother you or ask for things to sell, so I thought of something else. . . ."
"Really?"
"Yeah. I grabbed things people left around the house. I found some really great stuff and some bad things too. You know how you tell us not to leave toys on the ground and if we do, you'll throw them away?"
I nodded and bit my fist because it was hard not laughing. That threat had been a bluff. Why? Because I'm a hoarder. Yet she'd followed through for me. The Hippie rocks!
"But when the other grades started coming through my class's sale, none of the kids wanted to buy used toys." She looked at me with her icy blue eyes. "I wasn't selling a thing."
"That's sad. I'm sorry. You should have asked for my help."
"No way. I was doing things myself. Plus, I wouldn't let something like that get me down." She grinned. "I knew there was a way to get around it. My teacher had a cardboard box in the corner of the room. I asked if I could use it and she just smiled and nodded, watching me the whole time. I decorated the box and put 'Surprise Box. Take a chance for five tickets.' on the sides of it. Then I put all my junk inside."
That was a bit witty--impressive actually. "Five tickets . . . was that a lot?"
"Yeah, but kids actually paid! My desk was the most popular place to be."
"Did the kids like what they got?"
"Some did. Some didn't. But they were taking a chance on a surprise. That was their own fault."
I started laughing then. I know I shouldn't have, but she took me off guard!
"One kid got a baby toy and I told him right away, 'You get what you get and you don't throw a fit.'"
Wow, so he got a bargain AND some advice that day.
"You're ingenious. You know that?" I said.
"You kidding? I don't even know what ingenious means."
"It means you're pretty dang smart."
"Yeah. I've learned a lot this year." The Hippie curled up next to me on the couch. "Second grade was great. I started out as a girlie girl and ended up as a tomboy. I'm so glad I think about girl AND boy things now. Girlie girls just think about their hair all the time."
"There's more to life than hair?"
"Oh yeah. There's cool things like surprise boxes!"
"You are hilarious."
"And ignious."
"Ingenious."
"Whatever." She suddenly jumped up and ran toward the stairs. "Scribe, come here," she yelled to her older sister. "I have an idea for how we can make some money this summer. It's gonna be epic."
"As long as it isn't a fundraiser, then I'm in," the Scribe replied. "Fundraisers never turn out well when I hold them for myself."
Heaven help me when those two grow up! I really wonder what the future holds for a couple of girls who are so hysterical and resourceful.
June 29, 2012
Have you ever had a fried coke?
Fried coke is practically modern day manna. I bet Samson ate it before he got Super Strength. Esther bought some before she grew enough courage to confront the king. David ate it before stoning a giant!
Well, now it's my turn. I wait ALL YEAR LONG for the fair just so I can buy one. They are golden, seriously. Because it's coke AND it has texture.
See! I told you--sweet, sweet goodness!
But this is an extra special fair because I got a booth for today and tomorrow. I feel like an actual super star. So if you'd like to meet the girl who will be selling fabric for $2 a yard--since she quit her sewing business to write, and has an entire basement filled with fabric--I'll be (enjoying my fried coke) at Founders Park in Syracuse, UT. Click HERE for details. Oh and I'll also be selling books--because being literate rocks.
Also, if you're here for fishducky's awesomeness, she started a blog. Go HERE to follow her and read her hilarious Friday posting.
Well, now it's my turn. I wait ALL YEAR LONG for the fair just so I can buy one. They are golden, seriously. Because it's coke AND it has texture.
See! I told you--sweet, sweet goodness!
But this is an extra special fair because I got a booth for today and tomorrow. I feel like an actual super star. So if you'd like to meet the girl who will be selling fabric for $2 a yard--since she quit her sewing business to write, and has an entire basement filled with fabric--I'll be (enjoying my fried coke) at Founders Park in Syracuse, UT. Click HERE for details. Oh and I'll also be selling books--because being literate rocks.
Also, if you're here for fishducky's awesomeness, she started a blog. Go HERE to follow her and read her hilarious Friday posting.
June 27, 2012
The Scribe and Someone Like You
The Scribe told me she'd signed up for a talent show that would take place THE NEXT DAY. She talked like it was no big deal. "I need to sing a song about break-ups. SO, you need to learn a song on the piano. I'll sing while you play. It'll be great and easy."
For who! "But the talent show's tomorrow."
"I know. I just told you that."
"And you want me to learn a new song . . . in less than a day?"
"Well, yeah. You're a mother aren't you?"
Like mothers have powers . . . laser vision and boobs of steal. I'm not a freakin' super hero, but still, I learned Adele's "Someone Like You"--that's what love can do for ya. And by some twist of fate we perfected it enough that I could accompany the Scribe at her talent show.
Now the thing about the Scribe is that until Monday, I didn't know she moonlights as a heart-breaker. Her voice drifted sweet and clear at the performance. I kept wishing she had a mic, but apparently that didn't matter. Several parents--and my mother--informed me of what went on while the Scribe sang, "Sometimes it lasts with love, but sometimes it hurts instead." Apparently several of the boys were nodding forlornly. One of them was rude and stuck his tongue out at her!
After school, I pulled the Scribe aside. "Why did parents say boys were pointing and nodding while you sang?"
"Those guys thought the song was about me and them."
"What? How many hearts have you broken?"
"At least ten."
"Scribe. That isn't nice." For living only a decade, she sure thinks she's a teenager.
"Ten hearts. That's one a year. Not bad if you ask me." She strutted--like a dude!
"You really think they thought you sang to them?"
"Oh, yeah," she said. "I know they did because I talked to each of them separately at recess and told them the song was for them."
"What?"
"Yeah. One kid said he loved me. I said he shouldn't have kissed Maisy on a dare then! Boys. They always want to kiss Maisy and tell."
"Wow!"
"Plus, guys will believe anything. I'll only date when I meet a smart one who can see through my lies."
"Oh really? And you lie often?"
"Yep." She shrugged and started singing Adele's "Someone Like You" again as she went up to her bedroom, giggling the whole time.
Are heart-breakers made or are they just born that way? The poor guy who catches the Scribe. He'll have his work cut out for him!
In closing, on Monday my book sales for Bible Girl & the Bad Bo y were the best they've ever been. I attribute this to my wise choice of drinks. Sunday night I drank a coke and my book rating hit 77 on Amazon. I drank black
coffee Monday morning and it hit 22. I drank beer and it hit 15. Then one question
plagued me . . . What drink could boost sales even more?! What was better
than beer, seriously? Holy water?
Well, apparently water was not the right choice--holy or otherwise. My ranking plummeted back to 22--which had sounded so fantastic just hours before--maybe ignorance really is bliss. At least one thing is for sure, I'm never drinking water again, ever.
For who! "But the talent show's tomorrow."
"I know. I just told you that."
"And you want me to learn a new song . . . in less than a day?"
"Well, yeah. You're a mother aren't you?"
Like mothers have powers . . . laser vision and boobs of steal. I'm not a freakin' super hero, but still, I learned Adele's "Someone Like You"--that's what love can do for ya. And by some twist of fate we perfected it enough that I could accompany the Scribe at her talent show.
Now the thing about the Scribe is that until Monday, I didn't know she moonlights as a heart-breaker. Her voice drifted sweet and clear at the performance. I kept wishing she had a mic, but apparently that didn't matter. Several parents--and my mother--informed me of what went on while the Scribe sang, "Sometimes it lasts with love, but sometimes it hurts instead." Apparently several of the boys were nodding forlornly. One of them was rude and stuck his tongue out at her!
After school, I pulled the Scribe aside. "Why did parents say boys were pointing and nodding while you sang?"
"Those guys thought the song was about me and them."
"What? How many hearts have you broken?"
"At least ten."
"Scribe. That isn't nice." For living only a decade, she sure thinks she's a teenager.
"Ten hearts. That's one a year. Not bad if you ask me." She strutted--like a dude!
"You really think they thought you sang to them?"
"Oh, yeah," she said. "I know they did because I talked to each of them separately at recess and told them the song was for them."
"What?"
"Yeah. One kid said he loved me. I said he shouldn't have kissed Maisy on a dare then! Boys. They always want to kiss Maisy and tell."
"Wow!"
"Plus, guys will believe anything. I'll only date when I meet a smart one who can see through my lies."
"Oh really? And you lie often?"
"Yep." She shrugged and started singing Adele's "Someone Like You" again as she went up to her bedroom, giggling the whole time.
Are heart-breakers made or are they just born that way? The poor guy who catches the Scribe. He'll have his work cut out for him!
In closing, on Monday my book sales for Bible Girl & the Bad Bo y were the best they've ever been. I attribute this to my wise choice of drinks. Sunday night I drank a coke and my book rating hit 77 on Amazon. I drank black
coffee Monday morning and it hit 22. I drank beer and it hit 15. Then one question
plagued me . . . What drink could boost sales even more?! What was better
than beer, seriously? Holy water?
Well, apparently water was not the right choice--holy or otherwise. My ranking plummeted back to 22--which had sounded so fantastic just hours before--maybe ignorance really is bliss. At least one thing is for sure, I'm never drinking water again, ever.
June 25, 2012
My book made the top 100!
I have three excited things to tell you today--including something awesome about Fishducky.
I'm floating on air right now because the paperback version of Bible Girl & the Bad Boy is currently one of the top 100 women's memoirs on Amazon! This morning it jumped up to number 22. I'm in shock. The Golden Sky made this list in November, but was only in the 90s. Anyway, I can't believe it--and if this continues maybe it'll even make it to the top twenty! If you'd like to check that out, you can see it under product details and then Amazon Best Sellers Rank. Here's that link: Bible Girl & the Bad Boy .
The journey with this book has been interesting. I've lost facebook friends over it. For example a girl--who used to bully me in our high school locker room--read it and has since de-friended me. She wrote (and I quote) "I was a kid. Why would you write something like that in a book?"
Well, because it happened and . . . unfortunately for her . . . I'm a nonfiction writer. Plus, instead of apologizing, she sent me that? Maybe she hasn't changed.
On the other side, I wrote the book to explain to my family why I ran away when
I was seventeen. Not only has it brought healing, but I feel closer to my family. They've been so understanding. My brother even said he never knew what I'd gone through as a teenager.
So, I'm not sure what helped the sales spike, but I do know that new people found my blog last weekend by searching "Bad Girl Bible." Thank God for that search term!
Anyway, thanks for all of your support.
Another neat thing is that both of Dee Ready's books also made it to Amazon's top 100 lists. I can't imagine having two books make it at the same time! Here's the link if you'd like to check that out as well: Dee Ready
Also, I signed up for my first fair. I'll be selling books and fabric this weekend. I recently bought a mechanical dragon and I can't wait to put it on the table and tell people it's Ophyrus (the dragon from my other book). The Scribe and the Hippie are going with me--so fun.
The third thing is that Fishducky has started a blog.
Here's the message she wanted me to pass on to everyone:
A note: I've always said that I don't
want my own blog. Just because I'm here doesn't mean that I've changed my mind.
Elisa says that it takes her about an hour to get the stuff that I send her
ready for posting & she just can't take that time any more. She is ONE BUSY
LADY! With her instruction I'm going to try to do my own posting because I love
her. I'm planning on posting Mondays & Fridays. Wish me
luck!
-fishducky
Here's her button:
Feel Free to Grab It and go follow her at www.fishducky.blogspot.com :0)
<a href="http://www.fishducky.blogspot.com" target="_blank"><img alt="Fishducky" src="http://i80.photobucket.com/albums/c18...
Thanks for letting me share all of this with you!
Have an awesome day. And I'll just be posting every Wednesday from now on since things are so busy.
-Elisa
I'm floating on air right now because the paperback version of Bible Girl & the Bad Boy is currently one of the top 100 women's memoirs on Amazon! This morning it jumped up to number 22. I'm in shock. The Golden Sky made this list in November, but was only in the 90s. Anyway, I can't believe it--and if this continues maybe it'll even make it to the top twenty! If you'd like to check that out, you can see it under product details and then Amazon Best Sellers Rank. Here's that link: Bible Girl & the Bad Boy .
The journey with this book has been interesting. I've lost facebook friends over it. For example a girl--who used to bully me in our high school locker room--read it and has since de-friended me. She wrote (and I quote) "I was a kid. Why would you write something like that in a book?"
Well, because it happened and . . . unfortunately for her . . . I'm a nonfiction writer. Plus, instead of apologizing, she sent me that? Maybe she hasn't changed.
On the other side, I wrote the book to explain to my family why I ran away when
I was seventeen. Not only has it brought healing, but I feel closer to my family. They've been so understanding. My brother even said he never knew what I'd gone through as a teenager.
So, I'm not sure what helped the sales spike, but I do know that new people found my blog last weekend by searching "Bad Girl Bible." Thank God for that search term!
Anyway, thanks for all of your support.
Another neat thing is that both of Dee Ready's books also made it to Amazon's top 100 lists. I can't imagine having two books make it at the same time! Here's the link if you'd like to check that out as well: Dee Ready
Also, I signed up for my first fair. I'll be selling books and fabric this weekend. I recently bought a mechanical dragon and I can't wait to put it on the table and tell people it's Ophyrus (the dragon from my other book). The Scribe and the Hippie are going with me--so fun.
The third thing is that Fishducky has started a blog.
Here's the message she wanted me to pass on to everyone:
A note: I've always said that I don't
want my own blog. Just because I'm here doesn't mean that I've changed my mind.
Elisa says that it takes her about an hour to get the stuff that I send her
ready for posting & she just can't take that time any more. She is ONE BUSY
LADY! With her instruction I'm going to try to do my own posting because I love
her. I'm planning on posting Mondays & Fridays. Wish me
luck!
-fishducky
Here's her button:
Feel Free to Grab It and go follow her at www.fishducky.blogspot.com :0)
<a href="http://www.fishducky.blogspot.com" target="_blank"><img alt="Fishducky" src="http://i80.photobucket.com/albums/c18...
Thanks for letting me share all of this with you!
Have an awesome day. And I'll just be posting every Wednesday from now on since things are so busy.
-Elisa
June 21, 2012
ADVICE FOR PROSPECTIVE AUTHORS: Fishducky Friday
Fishducky has joined us again with ADVICE FOR PROSPECTIVE AUTHORS. This is gonna be good!
Following is a list of children’s books that didn’t make it. If you
have written one with the same theme, I would suggest discarding it
& going on to another book. (These first ones are copied stolen borrowed from That’s Comedy, issue #0153)
YOU ARE DIFFERENT & THAT’S BAD
THE BOY WHO DIED FROM EATING ALL HIS VEGETABLES
DAD’S NEW WIFE ROBERT
FUN FOUR LETTER WORDS TO KNOW & SHARE
HAMMERS & POWER TOOLS (AN I-CAN-DO-IT-MYSELF BOOK)
THE KIDS’ GUIDE TO HITCHHIKING
KATHY WAS SO BAD HER MOM STOPPED LOVING HER
CURIOUS GEORGE & THE HIGH VOLTAGE FENCE
ALL CATS GO TO HELL
THE LITTLE SISSY WHO SNITCHED
SOME KITTENS CAN FLY
THAT’S IT! I’M PUTTING YOU UP FOR ADOPTION
GRANDPA GETS A CASKET
THE MAGIC WORLD INSIDE THE ABANDONED REFRIGERATOR
GARFIELD GETS FELINE LEUKEMIA
THE POP-UP BOOK OF HUMAN ANATOMY
STRANGERS HAVE THE BEST CANDY
WHINING, KICKING & CRYING TO GET YOUR WAY
YOU WERE AN ACCIDENT
THINGS RICH KIDS HAVE, BUT YOU NEVER WILL
THE MAN IN THE MOON IS ACTUALLY SATAN
YOUR NIGHTMARES ARE REAL
PLACES WHERE MOMMY & DADDY HIDE NEAT THINGS
EGGS, TOILET PAPER & YOUR SCHOOL
WHY CAN’T MR. FORK & MS. ELECTRICAL OUTLET BE FRIENDS?
After
extensive research, I have personally discovered these other titles
while wandering through my mind. They also fit in this category:
MOMMY & DADDY ARE NOT REALLY TAKING A NAP
JUST RUBBING IT UNTIL YOU NEED GLASSES
RUNNING WITH SCISSORS & OTHER FUN GAMES
HOW TO SHAVE HEADS
HIDE MOMMY’S WALLET & KEYS
FARTING FOR FUN & PROFIT
NEUTERING YOUR DOG AT HOME
KICK-THE-SEAT & OTHER GAMES TO PLAY ON A PLANE
WHY GRANDMA HAS A MOUSTACHE
THAT’S MY TOY—YOU CAN”T HAVE IT
PROJECTILE VOMITING CAN BE FUN
DECORATING YOUR WALLS WITH CRAYONS & MARKING PENS
FUNNY FACES & NOISES TO MAKE IN CHURCH & SCHOOL
WHAT TO DO IF YOUR FACE FREEZES LIKE THAT
IF JOHNNY JUMPS OFF A CLIFF, YOU SHOULD, TOO
HOW TO MICROWAVE YOUR PETS
WELCOMING DADDY HOME WHEN HE’S ON PAROLE
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
If you have written any
sort of book & hope to have it published, keep in mind that not
only the subject matter, but also the title is very important. Below is
a list of books that became bestsellers only after the author changed
the title:
What’s the Worst That Could Happen? / Great Expectations—Dickens
Beverly Hills & Compton / A Tale of Two Cities—Dickens
(Dickens was apparently a slow learner.)
Can You Recommend a Good Lawyer? / Crime and Punishment—Dostoevsky
Huckleberry Argentinian / Huckleberry Finn--Twain
The Grapes of Welch’s / The Grapes of Wrath—Steinbeck
That’s Just Sick!! / Interpretation of Dreams—Freud
Close the Window, There’s a Draft / Gone With the Wind--Mitchell
Romeo and Jailbait / Romeo and Juliet--Shakespeare
Some Pretty Funny Stuff / The Divine Comedy—Dante
I’ll Give Him Five More Minutes / Waiting for Godot—Becket
The Worst Trip Ever / The Odyssey—Homer
Gatsby, You Suck! / The Great Gatsby—Fitzgerald
Those Zany Italians / The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire--Gibbon
Uncle Tom’s Condo / Uncle Tom’s Cabin—Stowe
Boy, Were They Pissed Off!! / Les Miserables--Hugo
Critique of Pure Bullshit / Critique of Pure Reason—Kant
The Big Fat Whale / Moby Dick—Melville
It may surprise you to learn that even the world’s all-time bestseller once had this very same problem:
I Brought My Son Into the Business / The Bible--God
The right title could mean the difference
between this:
and this:
I hope this was helpful----fishducky
Following is a list of children’s books that didn’t make it. If you
have written one with the same theme, I would suggest discarding it
& going on to another book. (These first ones are copied stolen borrowed from That’s Comedy, issue #0153)
YOU ARE DIFFERENT & THAT’S BAD
THE BOY WHO DIED FROM EATING ALL HIS VEGETABLES
DAD’S NEW WIFE ROBERT
FUN FOUR LETTER WORDS TO KNOW & SHARE
HAMMERS & POWER TOOLS (AN I-CAN-DO-IT-MYSELF BOOK)
THE KIDS’ GUIDE TO HITCHHIKING
KATHY WAS SO BAD HER MOM STOPPED LOVING HER
CURIOUS GEORGE & THE HIGH VOLTAGE FENCE
ALL CATS GO TO HELL
THE LITTLE SISSY WHO SNITCHED
SOME KITTENS CAN FLY
THAT’S IT! I’M PUTTING YOU UP FOR ADOPTION
GRANDPA GETS A CASKET
THE MAGIC WORLD INSIDE THE ABANDONED REFRIGERATOR
GARFIELD GETS FELINE LEUKEMIA
THE POP-UP BOOK OF HUMAN ANATOMY
STRANGERS HAVE THE BEST CANDY
WHINING, KICKING & CRYING TO GET YOUR WAY
YOU WERE AN ACCIDENT
THINGS RICH KIDS HAVE, BUT YOU NEVER WILL
THE MAN IN THE MOON IS ACTUALLY SATAN
YOUR NIGHTMARES ARE REAL
PLACES WHERE MOMMY & DADDY HIDE NEAT THINGS
EGGS, TOILET PAPER & YOUR SCHOOL
WHY CAN’T MR. FORK & MS. ELECTRICAL OUTLET BE FRIENDS?
After
extensive research, I have personally discovered these other titles
while wandering through my mind. They also fit in this category:
MOMMY & DADDY ARE NOT REALLY TAKING A NAP
JUST RUBBING IT UNTIL YOU NEED GLASSES
RUNNING WITH SCISSORS & OTHER FUN GAMES
HOW TO SHAVE HEADS
HIDE MOMMY’S WALLET & KEYS
FARTING FOR FUN & PROFIT
NEUTERING YOUR DOG AT HOME
KICK-THE-SEAT & OTHER GAMES TO PLAY ON A PLANE
WHY GRANDMA HAS A MOUSTACHE
THAT’S MY TOY—YOU CAN”T HAVE IT
PROJECTILE VOMITING CAN BE FUN
DECORATING YOUR WALLS WITH CRAYONS & MARKING PENS
FUNNY FACES & NOISES TO MAKE IN CHURCH & SCHOOL
WHAT TO DO IF YOUR FACE FREEZES LIKE THAT
IF JOHNNY JUMPS OFF A CLIFF, YOU SHOULD, TOO
HOW TO MICROWAVE YOUR PETS
WELCOMING DADDY HOME WHEN HE’S ON PAROLE
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
If you have written any
sort of book & hope to have it published, keep in mind that not
only the subject matter, but also the title is very important. Below is
a list of books that became bestsellers only after the author changed
the title:
What’s the Worst That Could Happen? / Great Expectations—Dickens
Beverly Hills & Compton / A Tale of Two Cities—Dickens
(Dickens was apparently a slow learner.)
Can You Recommend a Good Lawyer? / Crime and Punishment—Dostoevsky
Huckleberry Argentinian / Huckleberry Finn--Twain
The Grapes of Welch’s / The Grapes of Wrath—Steinbeck
That’s Just Sick!! / Interpretation of Dreams—Freud
Close the Window, There’s a Draft / Gone With the Wind--Mitchell
Romeo and Jailbait / Romeo and Juliet--Shakespeare
Some Pretty Funny Stuff / The Divine Comedy—Dante
I’ll Give Him Five More Minutes / Waiting for Godot—Becket
The Worst Trip Ever / The Odyssey—Homer
Gatsby, You Suck! / The Great Gatsby—Fitzgerald
Those Zany Italians / The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire--Gibbon
Uncle Tom’s Condo / Uncle Tom’s Cabin—Stowe
Boy, Were They Pissed Off!! / Les Miserables--Hugo
Critique of Pure Bullshit / Critique of Pure Reason—Kant
The Big Fat Whale / Moby Dick—Melville
It may surprise you to learn that even the world’s all-time bestseller once had this very same problem:
I Brought My Son Into the Business / The Bible--God
The right title could mean the difference
between this:
and this:
I hope this was helpful----fishducky
June 20, 2012
Do you think the teen years are the hardest?
Looking back, I didn’t know I’d run away with a practical stranger, get married at seventeen, or end up as a homeless street musician. I didn’t know what turn of events would bring me there or help me find myself, because before all that, I was completely lost. It seems everything turned sour at one moment. A day that started with gossip and ended in an exorcism, that one, single day is the main reason I ran far from everything; why I ran to Hawaii.
I’m not really sure how the rumors started. I couldn’t even tell you who set them in motion. All I know is that they exploded during history class. People talked as if I wasn’t there. I heard them whispering, “Did you hear about Bible Girl?”
Eager silence followed before the voices hissed louder. I didn’t want to hear their words and instead of facing my problems, I stared at the chalkboard. It blurred in my vision. The history of England changed to a mushy river as I pretended I wasn’t in the room. I couldn’t believe how callous my classmates could be. Putting my hand by my neck, I calmed my breathing. Their judgment was still there, deliberating over what I’d done. My hot eyes closed and tears split across my cheeks. I blinked, once, twice, but the chalkboard still looked blurry.
“And to think, she always talked about Jesus.”
I saw myself burning in the fires of Hell. I just knew I’d go there because of my poor choices. I’d been a good Christian and then ruined it all, my reputation, my salvation . . . everything.
I couldn’t swallow. As much as I tried, my throat wouldn’t cooperate. I sat fighting with my own nerves when one of the cutest boys in school bent down next to my desk. I wiped my eyes and glanced away to the right. My hand slid to the side of my face and blocked him from seeing my tears. And then he asked me a question that would haunt me for years.
I couldn’t breathe. The damn chalkboard looked like it was right next to my face. The ceiling and the walls pulsed closer. The cynical voices grew too loud and I wanted to scream. The cute guy next to me closed one eye and pointed at my face. I focused on his hand and told myself to calm down.
“I know why you did it,” he said, stroking his chin.
I wouldn’t let him see me cry. I wouldn’t show those kids my weakness, but I knew I was about to explode. I burst past the jerk, slammed my homework on the teacher’s desk and left.
It wasn’t that my life was bad. Far from it, really. A bunch of things had just spiraled out of control.
. . . I wanted to talk to you about the teen years. I really wonder if the those years are the hardest. Often we're trying to find ourselves as we deal with everything else. Kids can be mean. Adults can forget what it's like growing up. And it's amazing that we make it through.
Today I thought about all of this because I encountered a teen who is struggling. I took extra time to talk with them. Sometimes just knowing one person cares can make all the difference. As an adult, I forgot how hard it was being a teenager.
Although this example from my memoir Bible Girl: & the Bad Boy is vague in the beginning, I hope it will pull teens in enough to read on for answers--how I made it through.
Click HERE for more info:
Is a teen in your life struggling? Do they need your love and attention today?
Additionally, do you think the teen years are the hardest? Do you have stories similar to mine?
June 18, 2012
HOW TO ABSOLUTELY POSITIVELY GUARANTEE A HAPPY MARRIAGE; Fishducky Funday
Welcome to Fishducky Funday!
I'll be back to post on Wednesday.
-Elisa
I believe I have discovered the secret of a happy marriage!
What is it, you ask? I’ll tell you. It’s very simple. The answer is
MUSHROOMS. Actually, not only mushrooms--that would be silly--but also
olives (both green & black) & avocados. You may ask, how can
this be? Bud & I have been married since February, 1955. I have
never cared for mushrooms (the taste is good but I HATE the consistency)
& since he won’t eat olives or avocados, for over 57 years now any
food offensive to one (but yummy to the other) automatically gets
transferred to the other’s plate. Don’t laugh—it works for us!
We
still find each other (reasonably) attractive. Perhaps that’s due to
failing eyesight caused by old age. We have both added a few pounds
over the years. My features are still good—but my face needs ironing.
We both suffer from an advanced case of altakockeritis. This is a
disease that old Jews get that can’t be fully explained to those not of
our faith. (Think of it as a sort of mild form of Alzheimer’s.) We
share the belief that you know your relationship is solid when one of
you can belch (or pass gas) & both of you can laugh. Does this mean
it’s true that love means never having to say you’re sorry?
I
used to ask Bud, as a joke, “Are you still glad you married me?”
Depending on what had occurred prior to my asking, he would either
smile & say, “Yes”, or moan & say sarcastically, “Oh, boy, am I
EVER glad!” For our 25th
anniversary he gave me a charm which I wear on a neck chain. It is one
ounce of silver in the shape of an ingot. On the front it says, “25”
& on the back is “I’m glad”, my husband’s name & the date. We
went out to dinner with our family to celebrate our 50th
anniversary. I fully expected a gold version of the charm. What I got
instead was a cake he had ordered. It was a loaf cake with yellow
frosting, shaped like an ingot with a ring on one end to slip a “chain”
through. Written on the top was “I’m glad”. I laughed & told him
how clever I thought that was & asked him where my real gold one
was. He asked if I knew how much gold was selling for these days &
said he wasn’t sure if I was still worth it. I’m pretty sure he was
kidding, but I’m still waiting for my gold ingot.
He
did have this made for me several years ago. It’s gold, with tiny
sapphire eyes. It looks just like me, don’t you think? It even has its
mouth open.
This is me.
This is my necklace.
Some
people say that marriage is like a deck of cards. All you need at the
beginning is two hearts & a diamond. By the end, you’re looking for
a freaking club & a spade! Then there’s the couple who were
celebrating their 27th
anniversary. He gives her a beautiful bouquet of roses. She looks at
them & asks him why there are only 23 flowers. He tells her there’s
one for every good year of their marriage. She smiles sweetly &
tells him that she understands. She then removes two roses from the
bouquet & drops them in the wastebasket.
One of my sons sent me this:
http://austriantimes.at/image/30308/news/General_News/2012-06-08/42193/Shelling_Out_for_a_Divorce
I
love adventure & surprises—that’s why I enjoy going for a drive
with my husband. We often take the scenic route to our destination. We
don’t plan to, he just gets lost. He doesn’t have, nor does he want, a
GPS, which is probably a good thing. I can hear his GPS now, talking
to him. “I TOLD you to turn left 3.4 miles ago, but do you ever
listen?” (I hear a lot of things that nobody else does. I used to be
upset that the voices kept talking to me until I realized they were
usually right!)
My
husband loves me most when I’m just being myself. I’m glad, because I
tried being someone else once--Jennifer Anniston--& it didn’t work.
I couldn’t fit into her body. I love being married—it’s so great when
you find that one special person you want to annoy for the rest of your
life!
For better or worse, I’m fishducky
I'll be back to post on Wednesday.
-Elisa
I believe I have discovered the secret of a happy marriage!
What is it, you ask? I’ll tell you. It’s very simple. The answer is
MUSHROOMS. Actually, not only mushrooms--that would be silly--but also
olives (both green & black) & avocados. You may ask, how can
this be? Bud & I have been married since February, 1955. I have
never cared for mushrooms (the taste is good but I HATE the consistency)
& since he won’t eat olives or avocados, for over 57 years now any
food offensive to one (but yummy to the other) automatically gets
transferred to the other’s plate. Don’t laugh—it works for us!
We
still find each other (reasonably) attractive. Perhaps that’s due to
failing eyesight caused by old age. We have both added a few pounds
over the years. My features are still good—but my face needs ironing.
We both suffer from an advanced case of altakockeritis. This is a
disease that old Jews get that can’t be fully explained to those not of
our faith. (Think of it as a sort of mild form of Alzheimer’s.) We
share the belief that you know your relationship is solid when one of
you can belch (or pass gas) & both of you can laugh. Does this mean
it’s true that love means never having to say you’re sorry?
I
used to ask Bud, as a joke, “Are you still glad you married me?”
Depending on what had occurred prior to my asking, he would either
smile & say, “Yes”, or moan & say sarcastically, “Oh, boy, am I
EVER glad!” For our 25th
anniversary he gave me a charm which I wear on a neck chain. It is one
ounce of silver in the shape of an ingot. On the front it says, “25”
& on the back is “I’m glad”, my husband’s name & the date. We
went out to dinner with our family to celebrate our 50th
anniversary. I fully expected a gold version of the charm. What I got
instead was a cake he had ordered. It was a loaf cake with yellow
frosting, shaped like an ingot with a ring on one end to slip a “chain”
through. Written on the top was “I’m glad”. I laughed & told him
how clever I thought that was & asked him where my real gold one
was. He asked if I knew how much gold was selling for these days &
said he wasn’t sure if I was still worth it. I’m pretty sure he was
kidding, but I’m still waiting for my gold ingot.
He
did have this made for me several years ago. It’s gold, with tiny
sapphire eyes. It looks just like me, don’t you think? It even has its
mouth open.
This is me.
This is my necklace.
Some
people say that marriage is like a deck of cards. All you need at the
beginning is two hearts & a diamond. By the end, you’re looking for
a freaking club & a spade! Then there’s the couple who were
celebrating their 27th
anniversary. He gives her a beautiful bouquet of roses. She looks at
them & asks him why there are only 23 flowers. He tells her there’s
one for every good year of their marriage. She smiles sweetly &
tells him that she understands. She then removes two roses from the
bouquet & drops them in the wastebasket.
One of my sons sent me this:
http://austriantimes.at/image/30308/news/General_News/2012-06-08/42193/Shelling_Out_for_a_Divorce
I
love adventure & surprises—that’s why I enjoy going for a drive
with my husband. We often take the scenic route to our destination. We
don’t plan to, he just gets lost. He doesn’t have, nor does he want, a
GPS, which is probably a good thing. I can hear his GPS now, talking
to him. “I TOLD you to turn left 3.4 miles ago, but do you ever
listen?” (I hear a lot of things that nobody else does. I used to be
upset that the voices kept talking to me until I realized they were
usually right!)
My
husband loves me most when I’m just being myself. I’m glad, because I
tried being someone else once--Jennifer Anniston--& it didn’t work.
I couldn’t fit into her body. I love being married—it’s so great when
you find that one special person you want to annoy for the rest of your
life!
For better or worse, I’m fishducky
June 14, 2012
A POOPY POST; Fishducky Friday
Welcome, Fishducky!
A POOPY POST
Without a doubt, birds are the biggest perpetrators
of unwanted poop. Would that make them “poopetrators”?
How birds see us
A
bird’s version of potty training
Maybe you should be nicer to your husband:
They’re into politics, too:
I don’t want to offend anyone. Please feel free
to change the top 3 names to the administration of your choice.
We all know how much they love cars:
Birds aren’t the only of nature’s creatures to give us potty problems:
(This reminds me of a poem from my childhood. If you have
trouble reading it, I’ve put a “translation” at the end of this post—
or you could ask your children to read it to you.)
A b, c d goldfish?
O, s, a r! S, a r!
C m p n?
When
one of my granddaughters was being toilet trained, her daddy put her on
her baby potty (on the floor) & left the room for a minute. When
he returned, she was sitting there reading a magazine, upside down.
(The magazine was upside down, not my granddaughter.) This isn’t her,
but it’s pretty close:
I’ll leave you with some people who have something you never have—
a poopy attitude:
And, of course, this is NEVER you:
(The poem)
Abie, see the goldfish?
Hell, them ain’t no goldfish!
Oh, yes, they are! Yes, they are!
See ‘em peein’?
I apologize for this post----fishducky
A POOPY POST
Without a doubt, birds are the biggest perpetrators
of unwanted poop. Would that make them “poopetrators”?
How birds see us
A
bird’s version of potty training
Maybe you should be nicer to your husband:
They’re into politics, too:
I don’t want to offend anyone. Please feel free
to change the top 3 names to the administration of your choice.
We all know how much they love cars:
Birds aren’t the only of nature’s creatures to give us potty problems:
(This reminds me of a poem from my childhood. If you have
trouble reading it, I’ve put a “translation” at the end of this post—
or you could ask your children to read it to you.)
A b, c d goldfish?
O, s, a r! S, a r!
C m p n?
When
one of my granddaughters was being toilet trained, her daddy put her on
her baby potty (on the floor) & left the room for a minute. When
he returned, she was sitting there reading a magazine, upside down.
(The magazine was upside down, not my granddaughter.) This isn’t her,
but it’s pretty close:
I’ll leave you with some people who have something you never have—
a poopy attitude:
And, of course, this is NEVER you:
(The poem)
Abie, see the goldfish?
Hell, them ain’t no goldfish!
Oh, yes, they are! Yes, they are!
See ‘em peein’?
I apologize for this post----fishducky
