If I were a hairdresser, I would want to be called a “dresser” and not a “stylist.” I would own a little two chair place in a small town, tucked close to a bakery. Every morning, just as the sun was coming up, I would walk to work. Down the hill, past the small garage…
I am so awkward. Honestly, sometimes things seem perfectly normal at the time and then I just don’t know what I was thinking. This post is cringeworthy, so be forewarned. If you are uncomfortable with boobs, stop right now and go enjoy your weekend. I have an author page on Facebook. I hate Facebook, but it’s…
I don’t review books. I work at writing them, read tons of them, but except for the occasional comment on GoodReads, I do not review or critique. Book reviewing, being able to encapsulate an experience within a book so that others can understand, is an art form. There is nothing finer than a good book…
At the risk of sounding politically incorrect (God forbid), an interesting little diddy popped up on my news feed and I feel compelled, yes compelled, to comment. Let’s start with the Editor’s note that accompanied the article… (Editor’s Note: We have followed the Advocate’s lead, and referred to John Jolie-Pitt as “they” as a gender-neutral pronoun…
I need to cut down on the commas and take a break from the incomplete sentences. I don’t normally have a lot of rules for this blog, but enough is enough. As the new year gets rolling, I’ve looked back at some of my 2014 posts. Usually, I write what comes to mind and then it’s gone. I…
I’ve been in my fictional worlds lately. It’s time to pop my head out and say something from the laundry room, but I need the help of a random word. Let’s see… Today’s post is brought to you by the letters L, A, U, G, and H. A laugh shows a person unlike anything else, except…
I wonder what my breath smells like. Sometimes when I have oatmeal for breakfast, my mouth feels pasty. It can also be a little yucky after too much tea too, but that’s just how it feels. I don’t know what it smells like when I’m talking and it reaches out to someone else’s nose. Following…
The breeze whispered sheer black across her face. Gathered near the earthen void, someone asked, “What time is it?” It no longer mattered, she thought closing her eyes. The touch, Sunday breakfast, that laugh. Time had shattered into a million never agains. My response to this week’s Yeah Write.Me Gargleblaster. The prompt…Have all your clocks stopped? Exactly…
I am not feeling well. I’m fighting it and taking my vitamins and getting enough rest, but I think the bastard virus, germ, bug is winning. That being said, it’s past time to put something on the blog, so before I slip into fuzzy head, stuffy, runny nose, cold and then sweaty, here are some…