bikini
clad body
lounging
by the
pool.
it’s
one o four
in the shade
even the bees
are quiet.
humidity
smothers
activity
summer garden
wilting blooms
trickling sweat
puddles.
lazy
heated
days
of
s
u
m
m
e
r
bikini
clad body
lounging
by the
pool.
it’s
one o four
in the shade
even the bees
are quiet.
humidity
smothers
activity
summer garden
wilting blooms
trickling sweat
puddles.
lazy
heated
days
of
s
u
m
m
e
r
Picture this: A man and a woman, strangers to one another, agree to try to survive in a harsh environment for a period of 21 days. Naked. While being captured on film.
This is an actual television series in the U.S.

Each participant is allowed to bring one tool or accessory to facilitate their survival. I’d bring a gun to kill the huge snakes in the dark jungle. So far no one’s done that. Perhaps guns are against the rules, or perhaps bullets would count as a second tool.
Typically each couple experiences extreme dehydration, epic weight loss due to starvation, and emotional angst at being naked with a stranger.
Ok, I made that last part up, but I imagine my attempt at being on Naked and Afraid might go something like this:
Nekkid and Skeert
Stranger Joe: So, what tool did you bring?
Me: A book.
Joe: A book! That’s not a tool!
Me: (Whacks Joe upside the head with my book) Oh really?
Joe: Ok! I guess you made your point. I brought an axe.
Me: I guess that’ll work. Just don’t ask to use my book. Guess we need to dispense with our clothes. You first.
Joe: (strips) Your turn.
Me: (strips)
Joe: Ha! Ha! Oh my gosh! Can’t Unsee THAT!!! (Drops axe on foot; loses two toes)
Medical crew steps in and takes Joe to the nearest emergency room.
I wander in the wilderness for 21 days, reading my book and munching on berries, occasionally fending off snakes and lizards. In the process I lose 22 lbs. and find my inner goddess.
Peace, people!
We don’t head to the beach on the 4th of July
We know better after all of these years.
We don’t stay out late on Saturday nights
Indulging in silliness, downing our beer.
We avoid crowded places, concerts, and games,
The stressors outweighing the fun.
No more jostling with shoppers for bargains
Online shopping gets everything done.
Theater movies we seldom attend
The prices and people too much
On Demand provides our viewing now
Yet I feel so out of touch.
Just once in awhile I believe
We should pretend to be much less together:
Go play in the rain, drink a carafe of wine
Brave the crowds in all kinds of weather.
We do such sensible stuff in our sensible lives
So why does that make me so sad?
Perhaps I am not meant to be sensible
Perhaps I’m to be slightly mad.
to mark my anniversary
one year with wordpress
i got up early, ate a
fruit bar; got dressed.
no big plans to mark
this milestone day
so i went for a drive;
yeah, i roll that way.
went window shopping
at a tallahassee mall
ate a taco salad, but
i didn’t eat it all.
still didn’t feel that
i’d celebrated right
so i drove to the spa
and told them my plight.
a massage they said
would be just the thing
to help me relax and
commemoration bring.
indeed i feel honored,
special, so cool
perhaps tomorrow I’ll
do it again; spas rule.
One year ago today on a whim I decided to begin writing a blog. I promised myself I’d post something every day for one month. Really, that was my only goal, just to consistently write. How hard could it be?
That first month was pure agony. I worried about what people would think. I worried about how many people might read my words. I worried about topics. I worried about fonts and styles. I worried about running out of things to worry about. I’m a great worrier.
After 30 days I think I had five followers. Five. But I found I was enjoying the writing. I even enjoyed racking my brain for topics. And five people were reading my blog. Two of them even seemed to like it.
I decided to keep posting daily for three more months. The agony was still there, but I learned to work with it, to make it work for me instead of against me on most days.
In addition, I learned about tagging my posts–finding the little bits and pieces within a piece that might draw people to my writing. Suddenly I had people from all over the world reading what I wrote and following me. In turn, I found bloggers whose work interested me and began following them. (See below)
We began a give and take of information and support. It was amazing to have others read and comment on my writing. That’s become my favorite part of this adventure.
Three months turned into a year, and I’m proud to say that I’ve averaged more than one post per day for the past 365 days. I have a few more than five followers now, but that’s beside the point. I have fun!
I’ve learned something wonderful from these writers/photographers/artists:
Stop worrying! Be yourself! Write!
www.http://sanseilife.wordpress.com
http://inesemjphotography.com/
https://aroilinpain.wordpress.com/
http://shirleysheaven.wordpress.com/
http://frommidnighttodawnlight.com/
https://mikesteeden.wordpress.com/
https://doubleupoet.wordpress.com/
https://reachingmeadowlane.wordpress.com/
https://alotfromlydia.wordpress.com/
https://eurobrat.wordpress.com/
http://movingtowardsthelight.com
https://belindacrane.wordpress.com/
https://mommycookforme.wordpress.com/
http://kittomalley.com/author/kittomalley/
http://themischiefmemoirs.com/
https://epicgran.wordpress.com/
https://redswrap.wordpress.com/
I know I’ve left some important folks out. It wasn’t intentional, I promise!
Peace and thanks, people!
Well of course you do!
Cursing, even mildly, was severely frowned on by everyone I knew in my childhood days. A “golly!” or “gosh!” uttered by me or one of my friends would result in a tongue lashing and the threat of a good old fashioned soaping of the offending mouth. Although no one, including me had ever actually seen someone have their mouths washed out with soap the thought was daunting enough to curtail, if not completely halt, the use of four letter words.
Of course once we became rebellious teenagers the taboos against cursing lured us into dangerous territory. First came “darn” then “hell” then “damnit” before we became masters of the combo curse, “Damn it all to hell!”
I might have been considered a cursing prodigy, so quickly did I incorporate proper technique into my daily language. And I was an astute cursing judge, able to discern instantly the level of experience another had with the fine art of four letter words. We had a band director at good old Floydada high school who threw out phrases like, “I don’t give a hell!” Novice!
There are folks I know who are non-cursers. My mother-in-law, Saint Helen, falls into this category; although, on occasion I have heard her say she didn’t give a “continental dam” about something. It was shocking, to say the least.
Nowadays I hardly curse at all, apart from the occasional outburst, usually reserved for indicating someone’s total lack of common sense. Now that everyone’s doing it, it just doesn’t seem so rebellious. I feel like bringing back some good old fashioned curse words like “tarnation” and “dagnabbit” or “dadgum.”
So, what in tarnation are we gonna do about that dadgum congress, dagnabbit!?” Oh, that seems so insufficient.
Peace, people!
Wednesday is Studly’s night to play in the men’s golf league at Southwood in Tallahassee. One might think that playing both Saturday and Sunday morning would satisfy his golf addiction, but one would be wrong.
I don’t mind this Wednesday ritual, though. For one thing I don’t have to cook a meal on Wednesday nights, but more importantly I am free to do just about anything my heart desires on Wednesdays. As long as I’m home by 8:30 p.m. After that I revert to a pumpkin I think. I’ve never tested the theory, but it could happen.
Some Wednesdays I head to the beach. It’s a great day for that because apparently tourists believe the beach to be closed mid-week. Please don’t tell them otherwise.
Other times I see a movie that I’m positive Studly Doright would rather die than see, such as Magic Mike XXL. I saw that last week. Ok story; great nearly naked men. I should have waited to see it on tv.
This afternoon I watched Inside Out, the new Disney/Pixar offering. Of course the theater was full of moms and grandmothers each with one or more kids in tow. My first thought was, “Crap. Darn kids are going to be fussing, and crying, and raising Cain all through this movie.” And it started off a bit slowly–typical Disney. But then it sucked me and all the other little darlings in.
The children in the audience ranged in age from two to fifteen and they were spellbound. The younger ones were captivated by the colorful emotional characters: Joy, Sadness, Fear, Disgust, and Anger, who live inside the control center of a little girl named Riley. I’d worried that they’d be uninterested in the storyline, but the action was enough to keep them in the game.
After explaining a little about Riley’s core memories, Riley’s emotions are set to enjoy smooth sailing. Then Riley turns 11. That in itself would have brought about changes, but to add insult to injury her family moves across the country from Minnesota to San Francisco and a series of unfortunate events throw her emotions into chaos. To fix the emotional train wreck, Riley’s emotions have to work together in new ways.
This is a great movie. Go see it by yourself if you have to, but go see it. If there’s a pre-teen in your life make sure they see it, preferably with you or someone that cares about them. There are some emotional moments, given the characters ARE emotions, but there are some excellent conversations just waiting to happen once the lights come up. I heard the beginnings of a few as I lingered during the closing credits.
I’m hoping for a sequel. After all, Riley’s new control panel has a big red button with PUBERTY stamped on it.
Peace, people!