I had such a wonderful Mother’s Day.
Studly bought me flowers,
my son sent me designer face masks,
and my daughter sent me a set of “books” with each of the grandkid’s names printed on the spines.
Best of all, both of the kids called me and wished me a happy Mother’s Day, and Studly Doright spent extra time with me.
Happy Mother’s Day and peace, people!
Friday morning I sat down at my laptop to work on my novel. Folks, I was at 83,902 words, and yet I couldn’t get a single thought on the electronic page.
I’d type a bit, then delete. Type and delete. At the end of two hours I had 83,899 words. Yikes! I was going backwards. Studly Doright called around 9:30 a.m. to ask how the writing was going, and I just laughed.
He said, “Take a break.”
I reminded him that the last time I took a break from working on this novel it lasted seven years. This time, he laughed.
I went back to the WIP (Work in Progress) and sat staring at the screen. I picked up the book I’m currently reading and let it carry me away for a couple of chapters. Sometimes that gets me unstuck, but not this time.
Finally it was lunch time. Okay, it was only 10:30, but close enough. I put on some eye makeup and my mask (the one with books and a cat on it) and called Sweet Pea Cafe to order their daily special. I sat in their parking lot eating a sweet potato wrap with a side of hummus and veggies. So good.
Back home, I checked the mailbox and there was an oversized envelope addressed to me from my good friend, Flo. But not addressed to JUST any old me, to this me. Author me.
This little psychological boost was enough to give me a kick in the pants and I ended up writing over a thousand words that day. Flo, thank you!
The clippings she sent were ones Flo had found while going through her late sister’s memorabilia.
I remember reading about this woman who claimed to be Anastasia Nikolaevna Romanova, the youngest daughter of Russian Tsar Nikolas II.
According to Wikipedia: Anastasia was the younger sister of Grand Duchesses Olga, Tatiana, and Maria, and was the elder sister of Alexei Nikolaevich, Tsarevich of Russia. She was murdered with her family by a group of Bolsheviks in Yekaterinburg on July 17, 1918.
And yet many people believed that Anastasia somehow escaped the fate that befell the rest of her family and made it to the United States where she lived out the rest of her life. I need to reread the whole story. There are several movies about the young woman, at least two are animated.
Thanks to Flo, I not only got a boost for my writing, but much to ponder. If I ever get this thing finished and published, she and Studly get mentions for sure.
Peace, people!
When I feel sad I might curl up in a ball and sob
Or apply mascara and go out for lunch
I might dance around the room with abandon
Or sit by myself in a corner, when I feel sad.
There’s no telling what I’ll do when the self pity lands
And my thoughts go to dark places. But I won’t do that.
Don’t worry. I’m not sad.
Peace, people.
I received the above message on Twitter a few days ago. Needless to say, I did not respond.
For the record, this is my “captivating” Twitter profile:
Yes, I can see where many a red-blooded man might want to invade me. 🤣🤪😳
Peace, people.
In the evenings during our quarantine, Studly Doright and I have been watching a series of YouTube videos shot by a 31-year-old solo female adventure motorcyclist from The Netherlands. Her name is Noraly, and she is fearless.
I’ve subscribed to her blog and am enjoying every minute of it. Many of the videos are quite recent. On her planned trip from Patagonia to Alaska, she had a harrowing experience while trying to get out of Peru to keep from being quarantined there due to COVID-19. Her bike had to stay in Peru while she made it home to The Netherlands, and she’s unsure when, or if, she’ll be reunited with it.
She makes me want to be brave, but I have trouble being brave riding a motorcycle on smooth American roads. Noraly rides on all terrain—gravel, sand, rocks. She stops at checkpoints and speaks whatever language is necessary to get through. I can only speak English and a smattering of Spanish. What have I done with my life?
Motorcycle enthusiasts will enjoy Noraly’s adventures, but even non-motorcyclists will find something to enjoy in her videos. She meets so many lovely people who welcome her with open arms. These videos have restored much of my faith in humanity. And, they’re kind of addictive.
Peace, people.
My blog has a new follower:
Me.
I “like” my own posts,
But I haven’t gone overboard
With praise for my writing.
That would be pure vanity.
Neither have I critiqued it
Negatively, though.
I’m fairly certain the writer is daft
And I’d hate to hurt her
Feelings.
By nature I’m a bit of a hypochondriac, so the pandemic gods are having quite a bit of fun with me.
To me, any cough becomes suspect. Every headache signals the end. It doesn’t help that here in north Florida a thick coating of bright yellow pollen adorns every outdoor surface, and the particles find their way into nasal passages and beyond, resulting in stuffy noses, watery eyes, and headaches that seem resistant to Tylenol.
In the middle of the night I woke up with a headache of epic proportions. Behind my eyes the pain pounded relentlessly. Boom! Boom! Boom! Then I developed a tickle in my throat, resulting in a dry cough that awakened Studly Doright. Studly was actually concerned and offered to get me some medicine. I think his exact words were, “Are you feeling sick?” which to my paranoid mind was code for, “Is it the virus?”
I patted him back to sleep, got up and took a couple of Tylenol, even though those I’d taken four hours earlier hadn’t helped much. And I drank some over the counter cough syrup, that at least calmed the tickle.
Worse than the physical symptoms, though, were the imaginary ones. I was pretty sure I’d developed COVID-19, even while I knew that wasn’t the case. I’m a hypochondriac who knows she’s a hypochondriac. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not.
My headache is merely a sinus headache and my cough is but a dry throat tickle. It’s that time of year and I go through this process annually, but damn, it’s hell for a hypochondriac during a pandemic.
When I stumbled out of bed this morning and fired up the laptop, I figured I’d be unproductive in the writing department, but after a slow start I totaled 2,000 plus words. So, maybe my muse works well with hypochondriacs. Go figure.
Peace, people!
When one sticks to a mostly vegan diet, as I do, one is constantly on the lookout for good snack foods. Well, at least I am. Yesterday I drove over to Whole Foods on Thomasville Road to buy bananas and foil. I was pleased to see that all but one or two shoppers were wearing masks and gloves. That’s not always the case at the Publix grocery store nearest Doright Manor where I’m often the only one in PPE besides the employees.
So, feeling like I didn’t have to run in and out of the store as I do at Publix, I went to the snack foods aisle where I found these cookies:
Uncle Eddie’s Vegan Chocolate Chip Cookies with Walnuts. They are incredibly good. In fact, these might just be the best cookies I’ve ever had—and that includes homemade cookies. I promise even if I weren’t vegan I’d be singing their praises.
No one paid me to say this. Uncle Eddie doesn’t even know I exist, but if he wanted to adopt me I’d be all in.
Peace, people!
Masks are neither comfortable nor attractive; however, there are perks to wearing one beyond helping to prevent the spread of the Corona virus.
5. I now only apply makeup to the part of my face that the public can see, thereby saving time and money.
4. If, for some reason I forget to brush my teeth before leaving the house I’m the only one who knows. What happens in the mask, stays in the mask.
3. Referring to 4, if I eat in my car and then have to go to the grocery store for toilet paper, I don’t have to worry that I have food stuck in my teeth.
2. Masks have given my ears a new purpose in life.
1. I can talk to myself all I want without embarrassment. This is the best thing ever!
Peace, people!
I seldom take selfies, but since I’ve been wearing a hat to hide my crazy hair for the past two weeks I thought I should celebrate when it behaved.
It’s not going to win me any beauty contests, but I can at least forego the baseball cap today.
Peace, people.
Praying for Eyebrowz 