Sorry. I can't write about that. I'm laughing too damn hard. Like I would know about happy.
But since you're here and I've got this space to fill up, help me come
up with a theme or themes for this journal. Mrs. Linklater hasn't been
much of a guide to anyone's universe lately. I haven't even felt like
making fun of the advice ladies over at my Ask Mrs. Linklater Blogspot
blog. And that one actually has a theme.
A perusal of my recent entries here reveals an entirely too eclectic
smattering of stuff. Coming here is like opening up the hatchback of my
Jeep and having a full size folding chair, a spare tire cover, two
rugs, four rolls of toilet paper, three plastic sweater boxes full of
mail, and a bungee cord fall out. I feel your pain.
Those of you who show up one day thinking you've discovered a lunatic
and come back just to see if I've been committed are sorely
disappointed to find a recipe for fudge instead. That's just an
example. I would never share my fudge recipe.
So help me with a theme. Or themes. Something I can write about for
more than one entry. The Duke rants are an example, but I'm only
writing about their lacrosse team because I went there. Otherwise I
could care. I need fuel to fire up my anger and I'm running out of
steam on that one. Did you see two of the players got arrested
today. And they're looking for a third guy. Just remember an
indictment is not a conviction.
Jeff over at What the Hell? once asked everyone to submit words he
could use as subjects for his entries. I sent him a bunch. But he
hasn't posted an entry since last year, so that may not be such a good
I would write about my daughters, but one of them has asked me to
include her out. She's worried that people might put two and two
together and realize I'm her mom. Nothing personal, but I could do some
serious damage to her career apparently. That whole live long enough to
become an embarrasment to your children thing sure is working for
My other daughter lives so far out of town that I have to recover from
jet lag when I see her. So the day to day family thing is out.
All the animals I used to have are croaked. I know, bad grammar. Work
with me here. Having no living, breathing, furry creatures right now
doesn't mean I
haven't mined the lives and deaths of my old pets for entries here and
My private life is like watching grass grow. Only slower. Plus talking
about getting old gets pretty old. Not that I couldn't regale you with
tales of my latest infirmities. And what you have to do to accommodate certain things. Not going there.
Looking around my computer area just now, I realize I could use this
space to sell off some of my cherished memorabilia [okay JUNK] and make some money
for a plane ticket to get out of Dodge.
For instance, the teal blue lava lamp with the yellow ploppy stuff that floats inside is
just sitting on my desk. It was a gift from two guys I'm really close
to. But I haven't turned it on in three years. It's yours for $30
plus the postage. Hey, it has hardly any mileage.
Then there's my old Polaroid camera, an SX70, just like the one Michael
Going, the famous Polaroid photographer, uses. I keep thinking I'm going
to manipulate film like he does so it looks like art. Yours for a mere $15. Okay, $10. Plus the
And the small framed oil painting of The Tetons with the Snake River
flowing in the foreground which I bought in Jackson Hole to remind me
of my favorite view in Wyoming. Yours for $50. And postage blah
blah blah. [NO LONGER AVAILABLE]
Anybody need a Trojan horse left over from my younger daughter's fifth
grade art project on Greece? I'm thinking I might be on to
something. But I better take some pictures first. And don't tell me to
lower my prices; this isn't a yard sale.