Thank God for chick chat, vino, and crazy deals

   DMan's sweet sister, Barb, saved my life last night by taking me out to Vino Cellars for Thirsty Thursday!  I had been making myself crazy for days trying to finish the final edits on my memoir -- and WHEEE, it is finally done -- and I was sorely in need of chick chat and wine.  Well, truth be told I had already been drinking more than my share of wine, but it's just not the same as having a chick to chat with while I'm drinking.  Anyway, we had a fabulous time.  Vino Cellars' Thirsty Thursday is two glasses of wine and an appetizer for $13.  We sipped Silk Oak Petite Syrah (absolutely to die for!!) and munched on a chicken pesto flat bread pizza (major delish even without the chicken, and so good-ah with gouda cheese -- sorry, that was a cheesy pun!).  We were having so much fun, we just had to have a second glass of wine.  Luckily, we both live pretty close to Vino!
   She was treating me to an early birthday celebration, but I've decided I'm not having a birthday.  I hate birthdays.  Too depressing!  So I'm going to have an anniversary instead and I'm calling it "49 -- Part Two."  Maybe I'll start a new trend.
   DMan was golfing today, so I did a bit of shopping and . . . are you ready for this??  I got a pair of cha-cha cute Tommy Hilfiger shorts and a fun Aeropostale t-shirt with funky animals riding on a long bike for $3 at the Salvation Army!!  That place is a bargain bonanza.  They have discounts every day on different colored price tickets, and I hit the jackpot today getting 75% off the Tommy's, 25% off the t-shirt.  I'd probably be naked most of the time if it weren't for the Salvation Army!!  So they do wonderful work helping families in need and keep me from being arrested for indecent exposure.  What a place!
   I have to make a correction from an earlier blog.  I predicted another "roadhouse type" restaurant would go in at the corner of Campbell and Battlefield, but today I saw a sign saying "Future home of CVS pharmacy."  That's almost as bad since there's already a Walgreen's directly across the street.
   Yall have a crazy wonderful Memorial Day weekend and watch out for chick-chatting wine drinkers!       

I'm not the only crazy one

   So DMan gets up this afternoon, after not sleeping well from the construction ruckus going on all day, and looks at his mail.  The new checks he ordered with our soon-to-be new address on it came, and the zip code was printed wrong.  This wouldn't have been a big deal, but he was down to three checks left (he's one of the few people on earth that still writes checks, he thinks it's unsafe to use his debit card except at the ATM!).  So he calls the customer service number and gets an automated system that can't even repeat back his phone number correctly.  Now he is usually a very patient man, but he went ballistic!  Cussing out the recording, even using the big daddy "F" word.  He throws on his clothes and heads out in a fury to straighten things out at the bank.  Well, he ended up getting the nicest customer service man to help him, that told him not only could he keep the fouled-up checks and use as many as he needed but he wouldn't be charged for the checks, either.  Then he tells DMan that his account has been being charged a fee that should have stopped back in January, so he was crediting DMan's account $56!  DMan came back all settled down and tickled that the credited money would nearly cover the cost of his golf excursion coming up on Friday.  So hah, I'm not the only one that goes berserk before there's anything to go berserk about, and some times things work out better than they start out.
   But not always.  I've been chatting back and forth with my lawyer's secretary about changes I need made to my will since I'm living with DMan now.  She's been assuring me that they could type up some added something to make it work and it wouldn't cost me "much."  Then today she calls to tell me the lawyer has "serious concerns that what I want to do won't work and he must meet with me."  I say, "I'm trying to keep the cost down because I'm not working right now.  What will that cost to meet with him?"  And she says, "Oh, not much.  There's not a set fee.  He only charges by the hour."  So I ask, "How much is that?"  "Only $150 per hour," she says, without even an apology.  $150 per hour, now that's crrr-azy!!  But I'm going to meet with that lawyer and pay the extortion money because I want my will to be right so that DMan can have any of my junky belongings that he wants.  What's really crazy is that my will probably will cost more than any of my stuff is even worth.
   Lastly, it's been almost eight weeks since I smoked a cigarette and I've been jonesing like crazy for the nasty, stinky things.  I even dreamed about smoking all night the other night.  What's that all about?!  Can't wait for a time when I am done with them forever, if that ever comes.
   Oh well, Yall have a dandy crazy night!      

Joplin remembered and other stuff

   Today is the one-year anniversary of the Joplin tornado.  My prayers go out to all of those affected by the tornado for comfort and solace today as they remember loved ones, homes and businesses lost and lives changed forever, especially with all the media blitz going on.  I had just made it to Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, to start my vacation a couple hours before the tornado hit.  I remember calls from DMan and my folks to tell me what happened, then watching the devastation on The Weather Channel and CNN until I had to turn off the TV because I couldn't stop crying.  DMan actually flew out of Joplin two days later to join me in Myrtle Beach, so he got to see the horror from the air.  Every time we told someone we were from Missouri, they would ask about Joplin and what we knew about how things were going.  Seemed like the whole country was united, at least for a little while, around the rescues and recovery going on.  So many people stepped up to help in so many ways, and the help continues even today.  It gives me hope for humanity that we are not only about the greed and meanness I see every night on the news.  I'm so tickled that today is a beautiful blue-sky day for this anniversary, not a dark cloud or rumble of thunder anywhere, so Joplin can celebrate all they've survived and how far they've come in moving forward.

   My hair stylist told me the other day that she doesn't like doing all her shopping at Wal-Mart.  She said they are getting too big and scary and are taking over our lives with having banks, eye doctors, restaurants, tax services, health clinics, and even beauty shops right in them so people don't have to take their business anywhere else.  I hadn't really thought about it like that, but it got me wondering, what's next?  Will Wal-Mart be adding loft apartments above the store and patio homes around the parking lots, having shuttles carry folks right to the front door?  Instead of Supercenters will we be seeing Wal-Martvilles?

   Don't know if I mentioned it before, but DMan and I live right behind Jeffries Elementary, the site of God-awful construction and ruckus for months now.  Yesterday, we tried to take a nap before DMan had to go back to work last night, and I swear the rumble of the roller vibrated our whole duplex!  Our bed felt just like a cheap motel vibrator bed, the ones that you put quarters in the machine to make it go.  Poor DMan has to keep industrial-size fans running on high on both sides of the bed to get any sleep during the day.  Even when they quit working for the day, I can still hear the beep, beep, beep of the Bobcat backing up ringing in my head.  We are moving next week, and aside from the fact that I this will be my fourth move in seven months and I'm sick of moving, I will be sooo glad to get out of this construction zone.  Powerhouse Moving, take me away!!  I just feel sorry for the poor suckers moving in here.  I'll bet they have no idea what they are in for.
   Have a melty sunshine crazy day, Yall!

What's going on?

Around Springfield, MO:

• My fave wine shop, Vino 100, is now called Vino Cellars.  Owner Matt Bekebrede broke away from being a Vino 100 franchise last week, just after the store's five-year anniversary.  Kudos and congrats to Matt and the Vino gang!  They are all so nice and welcoming, plus super knowledgeable about all things wine.  DMan and I love starting out our Friday nights with their Free Frugal Friday wine tasting, then getting a glass (or even better a bottle!) of whatever tickled our taste buds, maybe even sharing an delish appetizer.  Also exciting is Vino Cellars will be moving two doors down over the next month, to a much bigger space and adding a patio area!  If you haven't been wine tasting and shopping at Vino, it's time to check it out.
• DMan and I hit Geezerfest at The Library Center on Saturday night.  What a blast!  From Journey to Toto to The Zombies to The Doobie Brothers to Bonnie Raitt, Geezer does such a wide variety of covers, and does them so spot on good, you'll think you were listening to a juke box!  And the weather was so perfect for an outdoor free concert, the crowd even spilled outside the patio area.  They'll be back for their fall show on September 8th at 7pm, so mark your calendars to groove with Geezer!

And beyond:

• Robin Gibb, Bee Gees brother, died today at 62 after a torturous battle with cancer.  I so loved "Saturday Night Fever" and the Bee Gees wonderful songs -- "Night Fever" and "More Than A Woman" and "Stayin' Alive."  I've still got my original album in a box somewhere.  First Donna Summer, now Robin.  So many songsters of my disco dancing days are dying off, but my booty will still be shaking to their music for as long as I can move.  Thanks for all the fun times you brought me.
• I'll Have Another blew by Bodemeister in the Preakness yesterday, in nearly a replay of the Kentucky Derby.  That horse sure has brought back excitement to horse racing!  And the horse's name is so easy to remember -- "I'll have another" is one of my favorite sayings!

Hope Yall end your weekend with a crazy cuddling evening!          

Ain't too proud to beg

   It's been several days since I posted.  Had some things going on, but more than that I'll admit I got really depressed that I shared a piece of my memoir Life Gone South in my last post called "Smash?" and NO ONE READ IT, or at least no one commented on it.  I am trying to get going as a writer, and building a platform through blogging is what all the writer resources say is crucial to get an agent/publisher interested.  That is besides writing a really good book, which I believe I've already done but I need some feedback to prove it.  So, I ain't too proud to beg -- if you can read and have a minute or two to spare for a newbie writer, please go back and read "Smash?" and give me a comment!  I'd also love to hear about how you read -- do you read ebooks or buy actual books?  Do you peruse bookstores or order online?  I've been plugging away at trying to find an agent to do the traditional publishing route when maybe I should be spending my energy self-publishing or doing an ebook.  Any feedback you can give is most appreciated!
   On to the other things going on.  First, my bionic mama had hip replacement surgery.  It went well and she's getting released from the hospital today.  I call her bionic because she's had both knees done and the other hip done twice.  So this is her last "part" to be replaced.  I hope!  Whether he will admit it or not (and he won't), Daddy is pretty much a mess without Mama around, so having her in the hospital is like leaving a puppy (Daddy) home alone to fend for himself for days.  I cracked up last night listening to Mama try to tell Daddy how to cut up strawberries to get them ready for shortcake.  Of course Daddy acted like he knew it all, but them couldn't repeat back a word Mama said.  If he offers you strawberry shortcake, I'd pass for your own safety.
   DMan and I are getting ready to move, so we've had lots going on with that.  I'm so ready to get all of our things into our new home, so #1) I won't be living out of boxes and suitcases anymore, #2) I'll have all of my things again (they've been in storage) and won't be forced to make due with what I can find in DMan's man cave, and #3) we can get away from this God-awful construction racket going on all day long at the school behind us.  Wish us luck that we don't go completely over the crrr-azy cliff before we can get moved.
   The world lost another diva, Donna Summer, yesterday at age 63 to breast cancer.  I'm still missing Whitney Houston and now Donna leaves me, too.  "Last Dance" will forever be the last-call song from my disco days, when everyone would hit the floor for one last boogie.  Thank you, Donna, for all your wonderful music!  You sure gave this "bad girl" many happy dancing memories!
   Have a fine crrr-azy day, Yall!   

Smash?

   For those of you who might be new to my blog, I ran away from my life last fall and moved to Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, to be a full-time writer.  Needless to say being a writer didn't pay off because I ended up moving back to Missouri, but I did write a memoir about my experience called "Life Gone South (when I ran away to live at the beach and be a writer)."  Catchy title, don't you think?  Anyway, I have been in the final phases of editing my memoir and am still trying to find an agent interested in representing my work.  The piece I was editing today I thought was particularly humorous but how the heck do I really know because no one sees it but me?  So I decided to post the piece I was editing and see if I get any comments.  Is it funny?  Am I truly crrr-azy and should just give up being a writer??  Don't answer that last question, because I don't have any health insurance and can't afford to be truly crazy and I don't know what I'd do if I can't be a writer.  But if any of you out there can play nice and give me a fair critique, tell me what you think.

Day Seventy-Seven

December 29

Revelations

My folks are back at the trailer in Joanna, South Carolina, Daddy's hometown. I'm nearly 50 years old – dayum, the closer I get, the worse I hate the sound of that – and I didn't know, until a few weeks ago when they planned this trip, that Mama hates the week between Christmas and New Years like a gyno exam. Says she feels stuck in limbo, dreads it every year. Huh? You never really know everything about a person, even your own Mama, do you?

   So they headed out at O-dark-thirty (what we call leaving before daylight on a trip) on Christmas morning for South Carolina to escape Mama's limbo. And to see me. They've been there since Monday and every day I get asked, “When you coming up?” So far I've had illness as an excuse. Don't want to get them sick, too, or keep them awake with my hacking and blowing. Plus, a bonus of their trip is to carry some of the God-awful amount of junk I brought with me back home to Missouri. Which required me having sufficient energy to decipher which junk I can live without, pack it, and tote it to my car. Which I have not had until today. So they've let me slide on coming to visit.

   But the better I'm feeling and the more my energy is returning, the less I can stall packing and making the trip. Which smacked me upside the head today with another revelation – packing makes it real that I'm going to leave here one day.

   Even though I put the majority of my junk in storage back home, I purposefully brought as much as I could stuff into my Chevy Cavalier and Daddy's pick-up because I never intended to go back to Missouri. Not to live, anyway. For instance, I brought every pair of panties I own and I don't even wear panties except on a have-to basis. My vision was to finish my New-York-Times-bestselling novel, get a huge advance on the mega-millions it would earn, buy a Shangri-la beach home, and continue life as a writer here and pop back to Missouri for conjugal visits with DMan and to visit the fam in between book tours. That was my #1 Thank-you-God vision anyway. Of course, I entertained lesser visions, I'm not totally delusional, but they all involved finding a way to stay in Myrtle Beach, even if it involved getting a j-o-b besides writing.

   As much as I hate it and the conscious me is fighting it, the subconscious me keeps whispering that I will want to go home. Sometime. To live. I wish those two cons would get along and leave me alone. I know what Mama would do to them. When Sister S and Sister K used to fight when we were kids, Mama would knock their heads together. Then they'd cry and hug each other and forget about their fight. I'd try it, if I knew how to get hold of them cons and smack them together without causing myself brain damage.

The subconscious whispers I keep hearing say:

• Psst. You miss DMan. Even though you've regained your solo mojo after his visit, you enjoyed sharing space with him and those everyday moments that are precious and can't happen when you live here and he lives there. This long distance love can't keep working forever, no matter how good the phone sex is. (That subcon wench is taunting me especially loud about DMan today, since it's our 19-month anniversary.)
• Psst. As much as you love Myrtle Beach, things are coming that you don't love. You think the temperatures are cold already, but it will get even colder before spring. You will hate being cooped up in these three rooms, not even getting to beachwalk because you're such a wussy and won't go out when it's too cold. And your homicidal leanings are bordering on psycho with the “holiday resorters” now. Wait until March hits with the drunken “spring breakers” coming in. Then comes the congestion and cacophony of biker weeks. Might as well turn yourself in to the Myrtle Beach Police Department now, while your haircut and color are fresh for your mugshot.
• Psst. Nothing is happening with your work. Nada. No interest from agents or publications; no “Congratulations, you've won our writing contest” letters; no freelance offers. You can't even get an article published in Elle and you have a dayum subscription. You are not getting anywhere with your so-called “writer purpose.” And you have no money coming in. But that debit card is sure getting a workout, isn't it? Are you going to spend every last dollar you have chasing this dream and then be forced to crawl home and mooch off the fam? or DMan? (The subcon wench is sounding a lot like my I Suck Demon, isn't she? I can't catch a break.)

   I mulled over my subconscious's ravings and faced the more-probable-than-not possibility that I might be moving back to Missouri to live sometime in the who-knows-when future. So this afternoon I packed up the Cavalier with my DVDs – can't believe I brought all my DVDs, enough for a mini-Blockbuster store, and then the dayum DVD player quit working and my lackadaisical landlord hasn't sent the replacement he keeps promising – and deep summer attire I won't need anytime soon and two plastic totes of shoes and any other clothes I deemed I-can-live-without-wearing-that-for-a-while. Other than actually finding something I want to wear among what's left in my closet, I'm all set to hit the road to trailerville (aka Joanna) in the morning.

P.S. Just so you won't think I've given in to subcon completely, I kept Sex and the City The Movie, SATC Seasons One through Six, and my Big Bang Theory DVDs here. I just couldn't survive without my girls and my geeks.

   Well, that's the snippet of my memoir to give you a taste and see what you think.  Please comment if you're moved to.  Right now I've got to get ready to watch the season finale of "Smash."  My fabulous cousin, who actually performed on Broadway, turned me on the this show and how true-to-life it is of the Broadway experience.  And I love the show, it's fabulous!  I'm devastated that it's over for the season, and if there is any justice in this world it will be picked up for another season!  (And my memoir will get published!!  Please, please, please let it be a smash, too!!)

Diarrhea and Mother's Day

   Mama and I tend toward having the black funks.  A lot.  If you haven't had it, consider yourself dayum lucky.  Nothing brings you joy when you're in the funk, even chocolate (and believe me, we've tried every kind there is), and you don't want to get out of bed.  Ever.  Maybe that's why we like napping so much.  Anyway, Mama calls me the other evening (not unusual 'cause we talk every day) and starts right off singing:

DI - ah - rrhe - a

DI - ah - rrhe - a

diarrhea

diarrhea

DI - a - RRHE - E - AHH

to the tune of "Hallelujah Chorus."  Now this was unusual.  I asked what was going on.  Mama said we should start singing the "Diarrhea song" to each other instead of saying "hello" to make each other laugh and ward off the black funks.  We did laugh.  Then I started singing her a complementary song I remembered from the movie Parenthood, even though I had to make up some of the verses I couldn't remember verbatim:

When you're sliding into first

and your gut's about to burst,

diarrhea, diarrhea.

When you're sliding into two

and your shorts are full of poo,

diarrhea, diarrhea.

When you're sliding into third,

and you've got to make a turd,

diarrhea, diarrhea.

When you're sliding into home

and your pants are full of foam,

diarrhea, diarrhea.

The song was apropos to the movie because it was a kid singing it as they were leaving a baseball game to make his younger sister laugh.  It sure made Mama laugh, too, and she even got a piece of paper to write down the verses.  We've had several laughs with both songs since them.

     Just a little Mother's Day tale to say "Thanks Mama" for sharing the black funks with me and making me laugh.  Also to give you readers a glimpse of the murky cesspool of a gene pool I come from so you'll understand a little better why I'm so crrr-azy.

    The black funk has had hold of me pretty intensely the past two days, and DMan has been so good to give me space.  Today he brought me home a luscious-colored bouquet of flowers to cheer me up.  They are in a beer pitcher on the table in front of my computer.  We ate a big ol' mess of pancakes and then napped for several hours.  Nothing like pancakes and milk to induce a deep carb coma.  Now I'm trying to wake up with some killer strong coffee.  I've got to meet Mama (and Daddy) soon to buy her a banana split for her Mother's Day treat.  Of course, I'll have to buy me one, too.  I am gonna be on a caffeine and sugar buzz from now until the end of time.  Maybe the buzz will short-circuit the black funk?

   Wishing a Happy Mother's Day to all you mothers out there!   You are sure amazing for all you put up with all year long and then settle for a card and a burnt breakfast (or banana split) once a year in thanks!  I sure couldn't do it.  I can't even handle having a dog anymore without going hide-under-the-covers crrr-azy!

   Have a cherry-on-top-of-Sunday crazy day, Yall! 

Hair Crazy

   Gonna toot my own horn a bit:  today is six weeks since I smoked a cigarette!  For those of you who've never been besties with the stinky smoking habit (or any other addiction, take your pick), that may not seem like much to toot about.  But for me, that's like saying I haven't eaten in six weeks, or taken a poop.  Smoking was that much a part of my existence.  Living without my besties is getting easier over time, I'm no longer wishing I was drugged 24/7 so I don't have to face the day.  I thank God and about.com for that (they have an awesome smoking cessation forum with fabulous folks that reached out and lifted me up when I was being a big wussy and ready to quit quitting).  So I'm sending props to anyone else out there trying to kick an addiction's butt.  Good luck and get angry and fierce, that's the only way!
   Remember the late-1960s Broadway nudie musical "Hair"?  That song, I think it was even used in a commercial recently, keeps going through my head -- "Gimme a head with hair, long beautiful hair."  Hair is a crrr-azy thing, especially for those of us who were kids when that musical came out and are now "middle aged."  By the way, I hate that term.  Seriously, how many of us are going to live to be 100?  So we've gone way over the cliff of the middle of our lives already.  And who wants to be in the middle anyway?  Being the middle child is no fun, being a middle manager means you do all the work and get no credit for it, and middle-of-the-road anything is just blase -- no thanks.  Back to hair, most of us are facing the lack of it, too dayum much of it where you don't want it to begin with, or it's going white and making us feel older than we already do.  Lately I've been having to trim my nose hairs and upper-lip hair all the time.  Never had to do that before.  The hairs in my eyebrows are growing in white and when I try to pluck them out, I end up with bald spots in my brows.  And the hairs on my thighs aren't growing at all anymore, but by noon I've got a five o'clock shadow on my calf hairs even though I shave every morning.  Poor DMan has got it even worse:  he's losing more hair from the bald spot on top of his head every day but having to pluck dark, wild horn-like hairs out of the top of his nose and ears so he's not poking me when we're kissing.  Someone should be putting "Hair, The Nightmare" on Broadway about people of my generation.  It would be a hoot!  But please, I'm begging you, no nudity!  Leave us at least a little dignity.
   Hope I made you laugh and have a fine crazy day, Yall!  

Mojo no-go and Barbie is alive!

   If you tuned in to the blog yesterday, I was thinking I was some sort of voodoo woman because I complained about gas prices and the price went down.  So I tried doing my complaining magic on the Mega Millions lottery last night.  Well, my voodoo mojo was a no-go, didn't even get one number right.  Dadgummit!  So I'm back to selling plasma and hunting for pennies.
   Someone had posted a story on Facebook about a human Barbie from Russia, so I did some checking into her today.  According to the international tabloids, her name is Valerie Lukyanova and she's only 21 years old but has had enough plastic surgery to make her look like a live Barbie doll.  There's even a slideshow on YouTube that shows her before and after.  She was a pretty gal before, maybe not super-model gorgeous but not an ogre, either.  I would guess she could have gotten a date anytime she wanted.  But now, she's creepy looking!  Her waist looks like they sucked all the guts right out of her and pumped it straight into her bosom.  I don't know how she can even eat or why she doesn't fall over, especially if her feet are perpetually "en pointe" like a Barbie doll's.  I feel sorry for the poor thing, probably has to shop in the toy department and can't find any clothes over six inches long that will fit her figure.  Hope they create a human Ken for her real soon so they can have a little Skipper together.  (Or was Skipper Barbie's sister?  I forget.)
   I was stressing all morning about so much noise going on while DMan was sleeping (he works nights).  He didn't get to bed until later than normal anyway, then the tornado siren (which is right outside our bedroom) went off at 10am for the monthly drill, and after that the yahoo next door mowed his yard (again, right outside our bedroom).  When DMan got up, I said, "Sorry about all the noise today."  He said, "I slept great, didn't hear a thing."  Now, that's crazy!  I would've been cussing all that noise to high heaven if it was me trying to sleep.  Come to think of it, I was cussing the noise on DMan's behalf, and it ended up he didn't hear a thing.  Good lesson there for me:  quit stressing yourself until there's something to stress about!
   Have a fantasterrific (a word DMan made up) crazy day, Yall!        

Got gas?

   If you don't, it may be a good time to get some gas because I saw it went down to $3.37 today around my part of Springfield.  I felt a little like a voodoo woman when I saw the price had gone down after I complained about it yesterday.  Maybe I should complain about more stuff and see what happens.  I never win the Mega Millions and I really should.  Right now my income is selling plasma and the two pennies I found on the street, and that doesn't go very far.  So here goes:  I am officially complaining that I never win the lottery, and I think it's my turn to win.  I did buy a ticket today.  We'll see if my voodoo woman mojo works.
   Speaking of the lottery, did yall hear about that poor Arkansas woman that found a million dollar winning scratcher ticket in the trash and now a judge says she wasn't entitled to the winnings and has to give the money back?  Seems to me trash is trash and most people are just glad to get rid of it.  I feel bad for the gal, she's already spent over $200 thousand and there's no way she can pay that back.  The lesson here is:  don't tell the truth.  If you find something valuable in the trash or on the street, lie about it.  So please, don't tell anyone about the two pennies I found today, okay?!
   Nothing much exciting or crazy happened in my world today.  I got turned down by another agent to represent my memoir, then I turned right around and sent out another query letter to a new one.  Guess that's kind of crazy to keep trying when I keep getting told "no," huh?  Then I rode around the block on my pin-tail longboard Pinkie tonight.  And I didn't fall off once.  Once I get the feel of my skate-legs again, I do fine.  Maybe to my neighbors it looks pretty crazy for a 49-year old woman (don't tell anyone my age, either!) to be riding a pink skateboard in overall shorts and plaid cap-toed sneakers, but it feels just right to me.  Come to think about it, living on plasma money and found pennies, trying to be a writer when I keep getting turned down, and riding a skateboard at my age does seem pretty crazy, doesn't it?  I guess my entire life be crrr-azy then.  Seems like I picked the right title for my blog after all.
   Have a great crazy evening, Yall!  

Here I go again

   I am back in Missouri now, so it's time for a brand new blog.  You can still go to myrtlemoments.blogspot.com if you need a sunrise or sunset or beach fix from when I lived in Myrtle Beach.  I'll be going back there again, real soon I hope, but not to live this time.  Only to visit.  And I'll be taking my special guy DMan with me this time.  The beach just wasn't as much fun without him!
     So this new blog is all about the craziness of life and trying to see the hootie side of things instead of the downer side.  DMan calls it making chicken salad out of chicken sh*t and he's mighty good at it, so I may have to enlist his help from time to time when I get into one of my black funk moods.  As Seal says in "Crazy":  No we're never gonna survive unless we get a little crazy.  You got that right, Seal.
   Here's some crazy from today:

• I'm hooked up to the machine donating plasma, my only income source right now (please let my memoir sell, soon!, so I can make some other money), and it's not going well.  A newbie stuck me and didn't get the needle in clean, so they keep having to move the needle around (not fun) and put my blood back in me to check the flow and I'm pumping my fist like crazy until my arm feels like it will fall plumb off.  So I'm a bit stressed by this time, can you tell?  Then this woman in the bed across from me gets on her cell phone and IN A PRACTICALLY SHOUTING VOICE starts telling someone about the most popular sex positions she heard about on some show.  And she's describing it in way more detail than any of us around her want to hear.  I'm not sure of her source, but I would guess from the look of her and the rest of her conversation that it was some tacky reality TV show.  In case you are wondering, she said the least popular is side-by-side, the most popular is woman-on-top, but she didn't know which way the woman was facing.  I was so glad to get unhooked from that dayum machine and get out of there!  I've come to expect unexpectedly overhearing this type of twisted conversation in Wal-Mart, but while I'm donating plasma?  Come on!
• For you all around Springfield, by now you've probably heard that Lonestar Steakhouse closed.  Now they have bulldozed the place down and the corner of Battlefield and Campbell looks positively naked!  What do you bet that a brand new building goes up there with a "roadhouse" type of restaurant (just like Lonestar was, only it was the original 20 years ago).  We sure don't have enough of those types of eating joints around Springfield, do we?! 
• What's up with gas prices?  Is every gas retailer owned by the same company now?  You cannot get a gas bargain no matter where you go in this town.  If one place goes up, they all go up before the end of that day.  What happened to those gas wars of the 70s when gas stations would try to undercut each other to bring in business?  Guess it went in the crapper with getting your windshield washed and oil checked.

  Oh well, have a great crazy day, Yall!  And please comment, I'd love to know what you're thinking and who is reading my blog.