Jan 2009 pg5

Archive – January 20090 commentsDreamtime
Posted Jan-06-09 06:10:58 PST Updated Jan-06-09 07:10:55 PSTIt’s raining outside. Can’t do much in the yard so will be writing.

Maybe something romantic as Valentine’s Day isn’t really that far off.

(This will be a real test of my skills as a fiction writer.)


“There was an instant attraction between them that made them argue more. Everything about the situation was wrong. He was from a rival clan. She was opinionated and told him about it. In her clan, the women were as strong as the men. Leadership was not determined by sex but by competence. This bothered him…”

Okay so this isn’t exactly romantic is it.

Maybe I need some music.

Maybe not.

You know Gentle Reader, I haven’t written an interactive story in a while. It’s time to write another one but I have a bit of writer’s block. Actually, I’m a walking NyQuil commercial. My head is all stopped up and the writer’s portion of my brain is covered in mucous. I’m thinking in slow motion. Slogging through phelem.

But it’s raining outside. I’m not sure that it’s a good idea to be out in it with this cold.

And it is coming up to Valentine’s Day.

In the meantime

I dunno. Let’s try Marriages

How about a quote from Hannah Murphy:

“Marriage is the lowest form of emotional blackmail.”

Oh dear that’s not romantic either is it. Sorry Gentle Reader. It’s all this mucous I’m coated in at the moment. When ever I find my self in misery and coated with mucous, I’m reminded of marriage. Marriage and mucous. They just seem to go together.

Okay then how about something that doesn’t remind me of marriage.

Like love, honor, trust, and a good ole’ unrealistic story.

Some BS that AuthorAnn might write.


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6 commentsI dunno. Let’s try Marriages for one thousand,
Posted Jan-06-09 05:55:21 PST Updated Jan-06-09 07:35:08 PSTSo if your only experience in relationships is in a sexless marriage what would be your next job move? Hooker or nun.

As a nun you could make use of your vast experience of spritual love without the sex but if you were a hooker,as long as prostitution was legal where you did it, you could make up for all the sex that you missed.

Hmmm tough call.

Next stop?

Bathroom humor

Unless of course you’d rather read today’s story in that case?

Click this >>Dreamtime
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0 commentsBathroom humor
Posted Jan-06-09 03:07:55 PST Updated Jan-06-09 16:15:19 PSTWhich is when she started to deface public property.

When she read that quote.

Something about the quote just pizzed her off in ways that high priced divorce attorneys and a well meaning but meddlesome mother-in-law never could. There she sat on that toilet, her control top pantyhose and spanx down around her ankles, when she looked up and saw the words:

“For every beauty there is an eye somewhere to see it.For every love there is a heart somewhere to receive it”

It just pizzed her off.

For the last hour she and the soon to be ex’s lawyers had slowly and very painfully disected her marriage and what little was left of her seff repect. What made it worse was that he’d brought the soon to be new Mrs. Wannabe with him for moral support. It was breathtaking. She was already living with him but still you would have thought some little bit of kindness. But no, he was important now. Very busy and she was- well – in the way. Half the time they were on their cellphones. She’d just sat there as the lawyers checked off the future home of things that she’d taken years to find. If only they’d remembered to include her self respect on that list.

Sitting there in that restroom stall something just snaped.

“Mental note:” she whispered to herself,” Buy Sharpie at the Office Max”

Which she did. It became a kind of therapy that Sharpie. Where ever she went, in what ever city she found herself, there was always her Sharpie. a restroom wall, and some thing to say.

Maybe even someone who would listen.


In the word of a “profit” written on a bathroon stall…
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0 commentsIn the word of a “profit” written on a bathroon stall…
Posted Jan-06-09 00:40:36 PST Updated Jan-06-09 05:29:07 PSTSomeone sent me this in an email.

“For every beauty there is an eye somewhere to see it.For every love there is a heart somewhere to receive it”

It would be nice if that were true. Nice if the people who we like or that ones that like us would be the people who you should spend time with. It’s not true. As I see it from here it’s just something we tell ourselves to get through life. As for my life? I think that Fate hates me. So does Cupid.Now, jJust like last year. the season of Valentine’s Day approaches. I will once again hide in my Valentine’s Day Hurricane hole and try to avoid all the hype and the folks in love.I’ll go outside and do physically hard labor so that when night comes I’ll fall into a dreamless sleep. Before I do, I’ll remind the friend who sent this to get her special someone something nice for Valentine’s Day. Then? I will hide from what is lacking in my own love life. I really do dread this time of year and could just skip it. With the exception of IrishDavid no one sends me flowers. No one. except for that time in college when my mom took pity and humiliated me by sending flowers to my dorm. Oh and WB who takes pity on me and stops by the grocery store to pick up something from the flower section on his way home. Cause it feels sorry for me. Jeeze this is worse than high school when I found out that my best friend who I secretly had a crush on only asked me out because he took pity on me because no one wanted to ask me out. He’d rather have the good looking blonde for a girl friend. But hey, thanks to him I did have my one and only date in highschool. Or my personal favorite. Finding out that the guy that dumped me for another girl and then came back didn’t do so because he missed me. Oh no. He did it because he knew I was so stupid I would forgive him only to find out later she dumped him. I was his rebound girl. Wow. Nope. I’m like someone’s sister.The ugly one that folks say is so sweet but never seems to have a sweetheart.I’ll remind folks to remember their loved ones, but other than the year that IrishDavid sent those flowers, all Valentine’s Day really does is remind me that no one wants me.

Happy Valentine’s Day Author Ann,

Your love life is a disaster and no one really gives a shit.

Love, Cupid

I try to make light fun of the situation. I’ve gotten pretty good at making folks laugh at my own expense. Or I’ve helped other folks to say the things I wish someone would say to me. Make someone else feel like I’ld love someone to feel about me and I back. Only they don’t.

Kind of pathetic isn’t it.

Or I’ll just add antoher layer on my jagged heart. Only there never seems to be a pearl come from it. Not even one of those misshappen ones with the fancy name. Baroque.

No fancy name for this unfortunately.

My friend who sent that quote keeps telling me there is someone for me here. I like her and don’t want to hurt her feelings. So I nod and say how lovely. When inside, I’m shouting, “Then where the fuck are they? I’m getting old here.” Only the person fate keeps shoving down my throat I grow to like less and less. He’s only ever going to be a friend. Remember. It’s not that they like you. You’ve got to like them back. It should get easier but it just never seems to.

If you want beautiful words about this day you’re going to have to find them somewhere other than here Gentle Reader. I won’t lie to you about it. Me” I’m hiding in my Valentine’s Day hurricane hole where I am safe from all the hype. In my Valentine’s Day hurricane hole it is safe and sane and I don’t have to remember that once again. Fate and Cupid hate my guts and no one wants me.

Sorry Gentle Reader, but I just can’t lie to you about this.

The Valentine’s Day dread watch has begun.

What better way to open the Valentine’s Day dread watch season by letting ya know that

that Tv’s Craig Ferguson got married.

Another sane individual does the insane.

Stupid thing marriage.

Marriage is emotional black mail of the worst kind.

I’m thinking of getting that tatooed on my ring finger or maybe my middle finger just to make the point.

Hugs and kisses,

Auntie Slacker


Merry Christmas, May we take this back…..

(More happy talk from Author Ann, Can miss her. She’s the dumpy one in the middle of the two, good looking actors. :D)

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0 commentsMerry Christmas, May we take this back…
Posted Jan-05-09 07:01:54 PST Updated Jan-05-09 07:05:16 PSTI have a new hobby.

It’s called the yard. It’s a big yard. We mow it with a bush hog.

Anyway, This Christmas, WB and I got stuff for each other just like every Christmas only this year is different. Neither one of us is going to be sad if the clothes don’t fit or the gift doesn’t work. (Well kind of. I really was disappointed that the sweater didn’t fit. It was a nice sweater.) But deep down in our hearts, this year was different.

The reason?

The “yard”.

You know the story in the last post where the lady with the complicated life. The lady who started with a dog pen and ended up with field fencing?

Well that part was true.

It all started when a very nice man explained to me that if I bought 5 t posts it would cost me more per post than if I bought 100. So I started figuring.

This was a very dangerous thing.

A heck of alot more dangerous than that chainsaw.

“You know WB,” I said one evening, ” If I put in a 100 foot of fencing this is much cheaper than just putting in say 50 feet. It’s amazing…”

I’m always saying stuff like that and WB ignores me. Most time that’s the end of it but not this year. No way. This year I needed that dog pen. I was determined. WB was in trouble when he didn’t pay attention and just ignored me. Not only was I determined, I’d been saving up and doing some figuring myself.

The next thing he knew, he found himself walking around the perimeter of the “yard” with two nice gentlemen and myself. They were explaining to him like they explained to me that if I put that cross fence in just so we’d actually save money AND we’d get a dog pen. Poor WB. He was just out numbered.

Now we are the proud owners of a field fence that is also a dog pen. I thought he might be angry but well he’s kind of getting into this whole farming thing. He’s even talking about giving me a dozen fence posts as a Valentine’s Day present.

I can just see the card.

Honey, (well maybe not. I can’t ever remember WB calling me honey)

Anyway the card.

Roses are expensive

And violets are too

Here’s a dozen fence posts.

Happy Valentine’s Day to you.

Isn’t it romantic.


Well, Gentle Reader, while we were talking to that very nice man about the fence he also told me that the way we did it, the field fence will also make room for the goats and a horse.

So on New Years Day? I talked to another very nice man about a horse. He said that the horse is a very good horse and can pull wagons. WB thinks that horses aren’t really good for much but eating and pooping.. But this man I talked to said that the kind of horse I’m looking at is a really good horse. And as Nolen pointed out, all that horse poop makes very good compost–for flowers.

But first I’ve got to talk to another man about a barn. Can’t have a horse or maybe a cow without a barn.

I am determined. 😀


Kindness with furry faces and wagging tails.

Happy New Year!

Today is the first day

of the rest of the year.


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0 commentsKindness with furry faces and wagging tails.
Posted Jan-04-09 16:12:59 PST
Dogs bark this morning.

Telling of a guest to be;

Good story at supper.

Ann 1-2-09

One of the interesting things I’m learning about pet owners is that they genuinely are nice people. They really are. Doesn’t matter if the person is an extrovert or introvert,rich or poor, if someone mentions their pet, there seems to be an almost instant comraderie and caring for the welfare of each other and the animals of this world. I’ve seen extremely shy folks who don’t say a word open up and become right chatter boxes when it comes to their animals. Their hearts seem to come alive.

When it comes to their animals, they don’t know strangers.

Nor do they think that my family of eleven “furbabies” is weird. As a matter of fact when it comes to the number of dogs a person owns? My brood is–well– small. I remember the shock when I sheepishly told someone I had eleven dogs. She looked at me and laughed. When she asked me to guess how many dogs she had? I wasn’t even close. It happens more and more as I talk to folks. Slowly, I’m meeting the “underground railroad” for stray dogs. The folks who breed dogs. The farmers who have dogs that herd their livestock and help them hunt. They’re interesting people with practical minds. Far from being the “crazy old cat ladies or men with all those pets”, these are folks for whom their animals are a working part of their lives. They are part of their family. A BIG part of their family and they are happy to have them.

They all seem to smile. They all seem to have a kind heart and a sense of humor.

I like them.

While I still feel that my home is out on the Gulf of Mexico, this year looks like I might have found a place to rest for a bit. I’m tired and in need of some kindness. There are people here who are good story tellers and very talented artists. The clock moves different here. It’s a place with folks who will love my dogs and might grow to love me too.

After all, “Love me? Love my dogs or cats or iguanas or cows…” seems to be the motto here.

I can live with that.

This whole week I’ve been introduced to the nicest folks.

The following song is for one of them.

Vivaldi ** Concerto for Lute Largo in D Major

I’ve got to get some sleep. Hoping that this cold will disappear in the morning so that I can start work on Tangled Woods.


So the mystery begins
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0 commentsSo the mystery begins
Posted Jan-03-09 19:35:59 PST Updated Jan-03-09 19:45:01 PSTWHO is Dickie Darlington? WHAT is troika? WHEN will he be coming back to the USA? WHERE did he go? WHY did he go in the firs …

Sorry I’ve got to interupt this post. WB made pumpkin pie for me because I have a sore throat and a cold. I have to go eat it or he’ll have his feelings hurt. Don’t have a clue what WB’s problem is anyway. The dogs didn’t complain when I feed it to them. WB should be flattered as they are picky. I’m going to force myself to eat another piece and then brag on it so that WB will stop complaining. In the meantime, If you know who Dickie Darlington is and why he’s in New York looking for eBay Girl Friday writer type would you let me know. I mean seeing how I am a female writer type person…




The definition of pure joy.

Comments On but in hidden mode. Works like an ebay answering machine. I’m not here. Leave a message will bet back to you.


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4 commentsThe definition of pure joy.
Posted Jan-03-09 14:19:08 PSTToday the first group of pups got to run in the new dog pen. They are the picture of pure joy. I’m not kidding. These dogs ran and ran and ran (and then marked their territory) and ran and ran and ran and ran (and asked to have their ears rubbed) then ran and ran and ran and ran and ran and ran (and then rolled in the mud puddles ) and ran and ran and ran and ran (and then Dizzy jumped in my lap and licked my face) and ran and ran and ran and ran… There was some worry that they might try to digout under the fence and escape but there are no worries now. We had to just about drag them out of their new home. The only dog that got out was Ivan and that was just because he wanted to go see what I was up to. He’s a very curious pup.

So far there is plenty of room and they are back to playing “dog tag” like when they were little pups.

We are all really happy about this. Well there are four dogs who weren’t happy. It started to rain before we could let Jane, Domi, Iz, and Babee out. Hopefully there will be a break in the rain tomorrow and they can go outside too.

Well I’ve got lots to do and to write about. The people who put in the fence were about the nicest people that you could meet. I was sorry to see them leave. I got to talk to them abit about fences and barns and stuff. And then we talked about music and art. They’re going to come back soon. I’m really looking forward to it.

I hope that I can post some photos soon but until then close your eyes and imaging pups bouncing and running all over the place in absolute joy. You really can’t ask for a better picture.

Happy New Year again.

Hugs to you Gentle Reader.



Happy New Year!

Today is the first day

of the rest of the year.


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6 commentsHappy New Year! Today is the first day of the rest of the year.
Posted Jan-01-09 11:08:48 PSTLast night in Atlantic City, New Jersey, Craig Ferguson performed a special New Year’s Eve show and I wasn’t there. Instead I spent my money on field fencing and two gates. Then I celebrated by wishing folks here in Blogland a Happy New Year, called my folks, and called it a night. I dreamed about gates.

While this wasn’t a wild and crazy celebration, it was a very good thing.

It was also the first New Year’s eve in my entire life where I was looking forward to being in bed by 10pm. You see the last couple of days some very nice people have been putting up a fence. And me? I’ve been learning a thing or two about fences, clearing brush, and what really hard work feels like. I’ve also have the privelege of being around some really wonderful folks. I thought I might write about them this coming year. Thanks to them, I’m learning alot about the care and “feeding” of fences. It’s the reason why I found myself on New Year’s day seeing to a fence line. I am really, really, really looking forward to seeing what this completed fence looks like. When it’s finished, I’ll have a new home for the pups.

This is a big deal for us.

I took pictures.

As I mentioned, I might even write a story about it which would begin something like this:

“Once upon a time there was a very nice woman with a complicated life. Most times this woman tried to plan her life best she could. Frankly, she sucked when she did this. But every now and again she didn’t plan or organize her life. With breathtaking clarity, she just did stuff. No plan or forthought. Like the spring when, out of the blue, she somehow convinced someone to put in a long gravel drive to an open patch of field and somehow found the money to pay for it. Her neighbors thought that this was just this side of insane as she already had a perfectly good gate in her perfectly good fence. They told her this. She simply nodded and agreed that perhaps this wasn’t the best plan for them but for her it was a pretty good idea. Then she tried to explain to them that these moments weren’t about planning. They were about doing something.

The next thing they knew, she has a gravel drive through the trees and the little patch of land that no one really cared about began to look alittle better. Even her father had to admit that it looked pretty good.

And it did look good but still there was a problem. It was a lovely gravel drive to nowhere. She needed to do something with it. She mentioned to the man who put in the drive,” Hmmm, this would be a very good place for the pups.” The fella who put in the drive told her that sounded pretty good and if it was him, as long as she was putting in a dog pen, he’d put up one of those red metal gates too. Since she had no earthly idea how to do that, she called another man about a gate. Which somehow turned into a fence and a gate. It was supposed to have been a dog pen and a gate sure, but the other man she talked to, the one who was expert on such things as fences and gates, told her that she could get her dog pen and would save ever so much more money if she put in a long, country fence. He did this in such a convincing manner that she thought why not. That’s how she learned how to put in a fence post. No, I take that back. That’s not how she learned how to put in a fence post. She learned how to put in a fence post by not putting in a fence. This sounds confusing, I know, but if you met this woman it would be perfectly clear, that in the bigger picture of things, for her and her menagerie of animals and people friends, this made perfect sense…”

That would be the beginning of my story I guess.

Oh and they all lived happily ever after.

Me, WB, Pup, the pups, the finches, the maybe goats (WB, who is hearing me read this aloud just yelled, “NO GOATS!”), the maybe chickens (“But only if you actually eat them Ann. NO NAMING THE CHICKENS AND THEN SAYING YOU CAN’T EAT THEM BECAUSE THEY ARE YOUR FRIENDS. THEY AREN’T PETS. THEY ARE DINNER!” WB is just acting like he’s upset. Really.), the nice folks who I’m meeting during all this, and the little baby girl who’s not born–yet.

And the horses.

Happy New Year Gentle Readers.

Kind regards,

Author Ann


I did kind of wish that a tall, dark haired, talkshow host with a Scottish accent would show up too. After all we do have an airport here but well nothing yet.

I’ll keep you posted.

The still celibate Ann.


Stop the Insanity (it’s about a chainsaw)

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