another good thing

I went to an island filled with writers. This is the story...pretty much.

2012-01-18T17:42:00.001-05:00

It all started in Key West, Florida

an island, that to most folks looks like this

to me, it looked like this

Sure, I was there for the Key West Literary Seminar 2012 to hear all of these amazing, brilliant, stupefyingly wonderful writers speak on the subject of—wait, is stupefyingly even a word? I mean I should know, right, because I was there in the midst of all these wordsmiths and smarty pants types having my brain sucked out— I mean, enlarged. And yet?

Nevermind.

Because on Key West, there are not only writers like those in the links above...at least once a year. Yep. But, there are also hipsters and freaks with strange pets riding longboards down Duval and gay bars with pools in the back, and—wait for it— killer drag shows at 9pm.

No, I'm not shitting you.

Only I would go to a writing seminar, attend an intense and eye-opening writing workshop, then come home to tell everyone about the nicest drag queen ever, Inga,

and share all the new parodies I learned from this girl.

Sigh. You just can't take me anywhere, can you?

( be patient. I've posted a parody at the end of this soliloquy.)

But back to the writers and the real reason I was on this bizarre island—too near to Cuba.

I have finally figured out that I really, truly need a good dose of literary stuff to keep me going. Granted, most of these folks are more well schooled, better trained and larger published than moi...

but I stick by my motto, "Fake it till you make it."

With that in mind, I spent a week skirting questions posed by twenty and thirty year old MFA'ers about denouement and alliteration, about artistic selectivity and analytical persuasion, choosing instead to pepper the conversation with questions like: Did you see who he's with? OMG, was that Margaret Atwood farting in the next stall? and, Hey, who wants to get a beer?

Okay, I'm kidding about the farting thing. But Dame Margaret was definitely there, and I most definitely danced to the oldies with Michael Cunningham, though for us it was kinda like dancing to songs from high school, and we, sadly knew all the words.

I spent four days in this totally cool chick's workshop, and loved her even more when it was over than I first did when reading about her solo travels and the story of Lupe in San Miguel. There are those times when you read something or hear a comment and think, Oh, yes, I thought the same thing.

How wonderful to sit in the same room with someone who does that for you,

and be able to nod at them across the room.

There were, as in every writing getaway, a crapload of story beginnings and notes floating around on my i-pad and phone. I'll take a few days to transcribe the ones I think are worthwhile, but probably pitch the drunken musings from the bar cocktail napkin, unless anyone would be interested in a living on the fringe story about a guy who writes the lyrics to popular song parodies for drag queens, while living in his mother's basement and battling milk and sun allergies.

right.

So back home I came. After reminding this guy of a joke in our past

and getting signed books by Joyce Carol Oates, Margaret Atwood, Jennifer Egan, Gary Shteyngart

and my dance partner and sidewalk companion, Michael Cunningham.. and yes, I will admit,
I told him—even though my agent said not to—that my book,
Not Waving, Drowning was called
in a review, The Hours in Savannah. And even though I had the balls to compare my work to a Pulitzer Prize winning book, he was genuinely kind enough to chat about it.

So, until I download more of the photos and get the "ok" from my new lit pals to post their images, and tell (in code, of course) their stories.... I'll leave you with this.

are you ready for some Tebow?

2012-01-14T19:33:00.002-05:00

What happens when writers take over the town. Oh, and 5000 relay runners.

2012-01-08T10:34:00.000-05:00

I'm in Key West. A place a friend described as "like New orleans, only classier."
After seeing the guy on the longboard skateboard, with a frozen drink in one hand being pulled through traffic by his dog... I'm not so sure.

Let's start with a few pictures, then I have to go do some writerly things.

The tiny airport entry with creepy fake people to welcome us to the Conch Republic. (if you want to know how that came about, check this out.

This in Duval street. Typical Duval Street.

This is one view of the 3rd place Holiday lights winner's house.... mind you, it's Jan 8.

And this is one of the reasons I'm here.
Jennifer Egan

Happy 2012!

2012-01-04T11:52:00.001-05:00

Untitled, a photo by Another Good Thing on Flickr.

It's a beautiful new year... and an even one at that.
which in numerology even numbers mean...it's a Feminine one. One of nurturing, unselfish, patient, yet dark days ( more deep than sad, I think.)
In my world, even years generally mean a settling in, acceptance and then, moving ahead.

The Annual Report, or Christmas Letter Spoof Time

2011-12-24T16:29:00.001-05:00

twenty-eleven .... surprise!

Hellothere, and a very mustachioed holidaygreeting

to you and yours.

It has been a lovely year of surprises for the us here in Georgia.

Perhaps yousense an underlying hint of facetiousness in that statement, as surprises arenot all lovely, are they? I mean, you could have a Surprise! party thrown foryou at your own house where you show up naked, or grumpy mad or with a wine-stainedtongue and open your door to a houseful of people, say, "Oh shit!"and promptly close the door again.

Which is not at all what happened at ourfriend Dawn's 40th.

Again, with the facetiousness.

You couldhave an oh-my-kid-is-really-sick-the-doc-was-wrong kind of Surprise! And thatone pretty much blows. Ain't no pretty thing there, except, Surprise! Hersurgeon is a tiny little Indian man with enough quirks to fill your next threenovels, and double Surprise! Life in the hospital is quite interesting afterall. Hollywood was right.

You couldplan a summer vacation. Where... Surprise! The number of children multiples bytwo. You thought this was a good idea at the time. Surprise!

You mightlearn that exploring history Florida style means ghost hunting at a St.Augustine playground in the shadow of a lighthouse ... and surprise! You'vefound spirit orbs!

Thinking of popping a beer with your lunch on the beach? Surprise! Your newbest friends are three armed cops in three pickups circling your bikini-cladwife.

Whenchecking an item off the husband's bucket list: Deepsea fishing, he fails to takein account the possibility of Surprise! seasickness. ;(

Yes. Surpriseshave a tendency to sneak up on you...

Just whenyou thought you'd given up business travel....Surprise, you have a new branchin DC! oh, and Surprise! You'll be eating ribs in Nashville tonight!

When youdecide the new car you've been driving isn't really you...
Surprise! The real you is a cautious black German with a flashy interior.

Can't findthat misplaced camera? Try slamming the truck door until you break the lock.Surprise! There it is, wedged in the frame, bent and mostly inoperable.

Told the kidyou'd take him to his first concert. Surprise! He wants to see Five FingerDeath Punch. Surprise! You've gone deaf.

You realizeyour costs have increased 8%, while your income decreased 13%. Surprise! Younever were that good at math.

The pastorpatches the hole in his house and moves away, but Surprise! The woodpeckerreturns! You enjoy telling visitors, Look! It's the pastor's pecker!

No matterhow many times you're told to watch what you say...Surprise! Like when the girl's hopped up on morphine overhears Mommy reading her book dedication where shefacetiously—there's that word again—promises all her people a fuzzy littlebunny... Surprise! You're shopping for baby rabbits.

Suckeredinto the neighborhood swim team for the first year. You realize, Surprise! It'snot just for the kid. 98 unrecoverable hours and $$$$ later, you begin toSurprise! hate goggles and spandex. But hey, for the future, Surprise!Roadside beer sales would not be a bad idea.

Dear son,When your truck hits a tree, Surprise! You can't always back up and drive away.

Lindaoverhears a backpacking trip plan and Surprise! invites herself along. Thatmeans more Surprise! expenses, and a chilly few nights in the woods with Surprise!strangers at 3am and....snow.

Surprise! Cheerleading$$$ is not justabout dropping off and picking up the teenaged girl.

Getting yourfirst job, kid? Surprise! Not so hard with a mega mall just down the road. Leveragingthat first job into the second and earning a bonus bigger than your Dad's??Surprise!

Glad to havethat well-connected mentor? Surprise! He's really a crook, who got bustedconning millions from rich broads on J-date. Which... Surprise! will probablybe a lifetime movie very soon, featured in all the best prisons.

Trying tokeep up the old leg routine, big man? Rack up those 45's then... Surprise! Youcan't walk for two days.

If you'relucky, your Surprise! moment might include getting that novel both you and youragent still believe in, out in the world, where Surprise! People like it! Theyreally like it!

Your dentistgives you a big Surprise! All these years you've been grinding your teeth downto nubs in your sleep! But, you have the tightest jawline for an almost fiftyyear old!

Going home for the high school reunion, you actually get to see all of yoursisters! Surprise! And eat at the local diner, twice! Surprise!

When your bestie rents a lake house in your old stomping grounds, you take herup on the invite, and you both travel to the old neighborhood where, Surprise!Nothing has changed! Including Dave and Vicki. Surprise!

You find you really can write a damn good novel about truckers in 10 months!but, Surprise! You need to do it again starting next month.

The biggest video game release of the year earns over 2 billion dollars, andwho's in line at midnight? Surprise! You and your son.

Holiday craziness hits and you remember, Surprise! You booked and paid for aNew Year cruise to the Bahamas a year ago. Without the kids. Surprise!

2011 was theyear that ushered in a new catch phrase which Surprise! wasn't that... but....Seriously??

Yep. Anotheryear down... and surprise! You're still smiling and wearing the same jeans fromcollege. It's not all bad. Because, SURPRISE! There's always Patron.

Backpacking, Or How to Kick Your Ass, and Like It.

2011-12-16T14:01:00.000-05:00

When I overheard two husbands of my best gal pals discussing an upcoming backpacking trip, I said, "That sounds awesome," and they said, "You should come with us," in that way you say, "Do you need a ride?" to the stringy-haired girl left standing on the curb after everyone has gone home, thinking the whole time, God, I hope she says no.
Boy, were they surprised when I jumped at the invite, and inserted myself into both their trip and the world of ultralite backpacking with equal abandon.

The next weeks were spent gathering information, buying necessary equipment, and basically rewriting my Christmas list to read: tent, boots, down sleeping bag, mattress pad, backpack. ( Thank God I sleep with Santa.)

The plan was to finish another leg of the Appalachian Trail, from Hog Pen Gap to Unicoi Gap. There were maps and weather ratings, blogs and possible packing lists to exchange and mull over before our departure on the 9th. I kept telling myself, this was the south. It doesn't REALLY get cold. ( This, from a girl who grew up around lake effect snow that fell in feet, not inches and once, delivered papers on ice skates.)

Will and I drove up to the mountains on Friday... using GPS readings that turned out a little bit "off."
But hey, we found THIS ROAD. It was pretty much like a rollercoaster ride.

At some point, I saw this peak and suggested that was our Saturday night destination: Blue Mountain. Will said, "Damn, I hope not," then called Chad who was waiting at our ending point at Unicoi Gap to ask how much beer he had.

We left Will's car at the end point and took Chad's car to a campsite they had found by accident on their last trip. It's perfect, they assured me. When we saw how high the water in the FIRST creek was, they didn't seem as enthusiastic. "Hmm. Sure rained a lot, didn't it?"

(The Chevy Malibu takes on the challenge.)

Two creeks later, we pull off the dirt road. "See, there is it!" They say pointing. You mean, that nice flat, open spot ACROSS this deep, fast running brook? I'm thinking. But, I say, "You're right. It's perfect."

After a few discussions and a bit of a walk on the wrong side of the creek/brook/stream, we determine the best thing is to wade barefoot across and dry off and reboot on the other side. It's getting late, and we need to get a fire started and pitch tents, so, I quickly strip off boots and socks, roll up long johns and pants, tie my boots together and string them over my neck. The water is ice cold and calf deep, with a slippery rock bottom, but it's only about 7 steps across. No problem.

I've dumped my pack near the fire pit and am drying my feet off, when Will yells, "I'm going to throw my boots across the creek, come to the bank and make sure they don't roll back."

Is anyone else getting that "uh-oh" feeling?

So, yeah. One bad toss, one dangling tree branch, and I was back in the creek, this time a good eight feet downstream fishing a boot and sock out of the wash.

The fire dried Will's boot, singed his sock and gave us all something to chuckle over.

This is my tent, and sleeping set up. ( MSR Hubba 1p, Big Agnes down mummy bag rated 15 degrees, with insulated air mattress, inflatable pillow and down booties )I was very comfortable,with just a bit of cold pocket coming from the air mattress. Something I solved by sleeping on my fleece, and on night 2 by also layering a space blanket underneath.

This was my dinner: Organic Spinach Puttanesca, with Bananas Foster - dessert for 3.

Since we were near the car, we had some extras, like beer and firewood- even if it was damp and poorly seasoned...
A few words about hanging out with men. They aren't picky like girls, they don't whine, and they don't feel the need to fill empty space with words. I like that. I really like that.

In the morning, it was a colder trek back across the creek. Here's Chad in blue with the trash, and a part of Will in red.

my cold foot

The morning gave us a bit of a turn, as we had to handle a broken o-ring on the stove. A pit stop at the store in Neels Gap was great for loading up on water, warm socks, hot pocket hand heaters and I finally agreed, trekking poles might be a really good idea. ( of course I also bought a Hiker Christmas ornament for the tree and some wool socks)

Shortly, we were at the trailhead and ready for some of this:

Here we are... before. ....smiling.

And now for the photographic interlude..... try this music. ( oddly, there were no birds. I mean, at all.)

Cold, tired and wind blown, we arrived at the Blue Mountain Shelter, and decided to actually use the shelter- which was a great call... until 3:14 am. When the deep breathing, tin cup jangling, farting men arrived. Sigh...

I didn't sleep much, between noises that were real, or imagined... and the grip on the knife in my pocket

This was sunrise. We were all up in time to see it. 14 degrees and windy. We bundled up and watched the sky come alive.

Before heading down the other side of the mountain, a short 2.5 miles, (without coffee or a hot meal, as it was too cold even for the stove to cooperate), we took time to log in our stay, and read the last entries:

WOAH. Yep. And then there were the mushroom eaters...

This was the perfect intro trip for me. I used everything I brought, know where I need to switch things up... like the leaky water bladder I pitched upon arriving home. I managed to keep my pack light enough that its weight didn't matter to me. Knowing I could handle the pace of over 11 miles one day, in 5.5 hours, I felt a little less old lady with strange injuries and more Mountain Mama. Sure, I had sore calves for 2 days, but the back and knee issues that plague me daily didn't fire up even a warning bell.

I think we did a pretty damn good job, had some laughs and built some memories. I hope to backpack with these guys again—if they'll have me. At least they can be sure I've got their backs at 3am.

The best /worst Christmas card

2011-12-13T08:17:00.001-05:00

Yep. It's that time of the year. I'm running my finger over the 2011 calendar and highlighting events. Days, places, things that happened, all potentials to become snarky comments or snide jabs at reality as I compile the 13th Annual Report/ Holiday Newsletter that features my family and friends.

We used to set up photos for postcard greetings, once we all appeared in long johns in front of a roaring fire eating popcorn ( should I tell you it was 80 degrees in CA?)

We never did this:

Okay, so I admit. I think this is clever. Funny even.

I would love to have friends send me this holiday greeting.

This one? Not so much.

At least once a year, I am asked the same question...

2011-12-09T12:13:00.001-05:00

"Where do find such small dicks?

That probably sounds bad. Especially if you don't know me.
Well, build a bridge and get over it.
See, the thing is, after a typo appeared on a Christmas ornament exchange party invite, I began creating and bringing a "pornament" to my friend's house every year.

Last year, I even ran a blog special, for anyone who could find the old blog posts and photos, and repost one, I'd make them their very own pornament and mail it out by Christmas.
Yep.

so, you can go to these links and see previous years. or just jump ahead to this year. 2011.

and see the woman who unknowingly opened the secret gift.

Her face said, wow! Her body language said, WTF?

Yes. I went there.

Okay, I'll squeeze it! OMG!

These ladies- far right and blurry got to take the penis home. Mom and daughter. I think Mom is 65.

( the dick was stolen at least five times and the plot thickened- pun intended- as Mom NEEDED to get the penis for her tree.)

Most times when a dick is uncovered giggling is discouraged. Not here.

Where did the year go?

2011-11-29T10:00:00.001-05:00

Or for that matter? Where did the decade go? I'm still not sure what they're even calling it.. the two thousands??
sigh.

Having a year fly by, usually means it was filled with adventures— hopefully the kind with happy endings—not that I'm suggesting you visited a massage parlor this year. *twists lips and throws away the key.

As I collect my thoughts going into the year end wrap up AKA the family annual report/Christmas newsletter/electronic holiday greeting card from a cheapskate, I find there is much more good stuff than bad and much more forward motion than quicksand-stagnant zombie catching stuff in this "odd" year... and I am really looking forward to 2012. The "even" year of change.

Though I refrained from dressing like my child, unlike this woman

I might have spent too much time on Facebook building up multiple pages and acquiring more than 14,000 friends.
So, here, for my fellow Facebook Addicts 10 things you might not know.

The pediatrician was wrong and we ended up in the ER.

2011-11-16T13:04:00.001-05:00

That is a sentence I never thought I'd say.

We're a healthy bunch, and avoid anything that sounds like medical intervention. We don't even go to the doctor for "well checks."

But two weeks ago, after three days of stomach pain, vomiting, diarrhea and loss of appetite... I took my thirteen year old to the pediatrician for help.

Two hours later we were back home with the diagnosis of a really bad case of gastro-enteritis and a prescription to stop the vomiting- which finally worked 12 hours later.

Here's the thing. There are times in our lives that we have to trust our instincts more than the professionals. There are times when we have asked ourselves: How will I know?
When I go into labor for the first baby, how will I know it's real and not just a false alarm?
When I fall for that special someone, how will I know it's love?

Thank God, I have a handful of wise people to talk to, and in the end, a brief discussion with the kid left no doubt that we were packing her up and heading to the ER at midnight.

Nine hours later, she was in surgery with one of the worst cases of appendicitis the surgeon had ever seen.

Six days later, we left the hospital, promising her she'd never have to see that pediatrician again.

the shoes I meant to post, when I was playing nurse and mommy and event organizer and bill payer and writer

2011-11-14T10:34:00.001-05:00

The art of the shoe

2011-11-08T07:38:00.001-05:00

shoes, a photo by dott. dulcamara on Flickr.

My roommate in college was a fashion designer. She was tall and red haired, loud and "country." The kind of country that eats everything mushy or raw, with no in between.
I often wondered if she ended up in New York, working with top designers, maybe even creating a line of own as she had long dreamed to do- or if she ended up settling for a smaller dream, like marrying the douchebag country boy that came around every other weekend and stole her from me, then had a bunch of babies and used her Singer to create rompers for toddlers.

I had notebooks of my own work, but I ended up going into the business end of clothing and never did anything with my sketches. I never even showed her my designs— dresses with zippers and laces, dresses that cut up and slit and were made of fabrics that dresses shouldn't be made of, but looked great on Barbies and paper. It wasn't just dresses. There were the belly necklaces I created in the 80's, and the impossible bent heeled stilettos and platform shoes that I sketched and colored and once, went so far as to tear apart a pair of cheap leather shoes from the thrift store and tried to recreate my design, calling them "art."

Feeling strapped?

2011-11-07T23:13:00.001-05:00

IMAG0017, a photo by Another Good Thing on Flickr.

Some folks feel it in their bank accounts, some in their time management, some in their love lives. And some of us- we get it all at the same time like a big old tight bandage around our chest.
So, yeah. It may appear I am sucking at this whole post once a day for the month of shoes thing- but I have a wonderful excuse. My Kid is sick.
Everyone gets that, right?
If you don't you need to walk away right now. Just walk away until you get to a bridge, then jump.
When things are like that, all messy and wrong and unplanned, we feel that strapped sensation. We are no longer in control and it sucks.

So, I resort to the simple things that are predictable, allowing myself to self soothe with ordinary life details. A cup of coffee. A hot shower. Clean clothes and fitted shoes.

When I put on these shoes.... when I zip up the small inside zipper, I am contained.

They say clothes make the man. If that's the case, then shoes must certainly make the woman.

Perfect for a nurse, or a chilly camper, or people who hate laces

2011-11-05T00:31:00.000-04:00

We all know those ugly plastic shoes that some folks pay more than $30 a pair for- and swear by-for comfort and versatility. I read multiple glowing accounts this week as I researched the perfect camp side shoe, after a day of trails.

Apparently, Crocs have grown up. Look at this beauty. Part denim wearing hot Swedish blonde with cold feet, part lay on my bear rug hairy chest gigilo.

I know, right?
I really should be writing for LL BEAN catalog.

Hospital shoes

2011-11-04T00:18:00.000-04:00

IMAG0024, a photo by Another Good Thing on Flickr.

Maybe it's more like booting the crap out of an ill person's system, or toughing it out, as the helpless mom who can't change fate... or appendicitis.
These, my Frye mid calf slouch boots, are my comfort today, as I watch my baby- at 13- fight back after emergency surgery.

White Trash Shoes

2011-11-03T13:51:00.000-04:00

You Might call them that.

Or you might call them dancing shoes. I don't know. Put them on, watch this. Now join in.

Hey, you could be the missing sister.

Everyday footwear for Everyday people.

2011-11-02T14:20:00.001-04:00

IMAG0014, a photo by Another Good Thing on Flickr.

I know. I know. You want to break out in song now.
It's the second day of NABLOSHOEMO and you can hardly stand it.

That's how I feel when I put on these sneakers- and yes.. I still call them sneakers, even though I do less sneaking around in them and more walking around the neighborhood and driving to the gym.

There is something super sneaky about these Nikes though. And that's hidden in a secret compartment in the left shoe....

Is it a shoe? Or a slipper? Do you care?

2011-11-01T19:15:00.001-04:00

IMAG0013, a photo by Another Good Thing on Flickr.

In this day where one thing is two things, or maybe three...in this day where you make the fashion, it doesn't make you...
This shoe fits the bill.
I wore them to a drive in movie, and once, out front to get the mail, and no, I did not have on a housedress. I lent that to scary pink wigged lady for Halloween.

What's your widget look like?

2011-10-19T16:04:00.002-04:00

look at me. i made a widget, mommy.

Better than the pictures, was the look on her face.

2011-10-18T07:45:00.000-04:00

I went to the woods to see a friend

I ran down roads lined with scenes like this, as geese flew overhead

She asked me if I missed living in New Hampshire. I said. No. It's too hard to be isolated, to pine for the arrival of a UPS truck, a tree man, a visit from a neighbor.

( I am a social animal.)

After a while, I missed dressing up, wearing high heels, being surrounded by pretty people wearing fashions I coveted. Though, sure, I missed the barn of cows and the raw milk waiting on the other side, the coffee can of cash, fresh cheese. So, I jogged down the road and bought morning eggs from a cooler in a yard, as a rooster greeted me.

Of course we needed toast with our eggs, so a quick trip in the other direction, yielded fresh country bread, baked three days a week in this oven.

Sold on the honor system in this unmanned storefront.

I know that in a few weeks, this beauty will turn ugly. In a few months it will bottle up the people, chain them to woodpiles and fireplaces. The woods will be silent. The geese, long gone.

And then, I remember, the way a community rallies.

The way the kindness of your neighbors is what helps you make it through. When the oil runs out. When the ice storm takes your power. When your family is hungry and the driveway needs plowing. A land this pretty needs its ugly parts too.

And maybe I do miss it. Just a little.

Or maybe now, having lived in the ugly for a while, I have forgotten

how pretty simple can be.

Endorsed by a Scam Artist

2011-10-11T18:21:00.000-04:00

Can I possibly put a positive spin on this news?
Hmmm.
As a novelist in this day and age we are up against so much... the celebrity sexy tell-all, or tell nothing books, the teenaged break out internet star, the guy who puts a popular name under his own and takes advantage of a LOST culture, the has-beens in Hollywood who decide to create a picture book, or one written by their cat.
We look for the hidden door to a seat on Oprah, the brass ring of a chance to make the NYT, actually, anything to get folks Twittering, Facebooking and spreading our name around town like Starbucks coupons... and sometimes, being near the bad thing that happened, or affected by it, or the friend of the person who did the bad thing might be enough.
So, if I say my book was endorsed by ( see his review notes) an accused dating site scam artist, a guy who bilked millions of dollars from nice Jewish ladies...

will that make you think twice about reading my book? I mean, in a good way, like hey, she knows some interesting people, I bet she can WRITE!
or do I need to tell you how we went out to lunch and I made him pay?

THE BOOK IS HERE.

2011-09-30T11:37:00.000-04:00

Click over HERE to see the goods.

Hungry? Eat your clothes. Not kidding.

2011-09-15T08:56:00.000-04:00

Just ran across this bizarre site.
Edible clothing.
yep.

Like this hat.

Okay, you might be saying, Linda, be serious that is just a chick with a cinnamon bun in her head. Oh yeah? Well, what about this from a recent fashion show where all of the

elements were made of chocolate?

I am thinking it could be the next Project Runway challenge.

Sure, we have all seen candy underwear. Those sheets of nasty green stick to your teeth "candy" and even some made of the strung candy necklaces or Smarties. But what about knitting up a pair yourself, with licorice laces?

Oh, what the heck. Let's go all the way. Give me a meal. Give me a spaghetti dress with a meatball necklace. In the words of Tim Gunn, "Designers!??! Make it work."

Wondering what you should do NEXT Labor Day?

2011-09-14T13:41:00.001-04:00

This Labor Day Weekend in Atlanta,

There were cocktails.

Specifically this:

But our dude at Noche made it so much more sexy.

The taxi took us back to the bargain hotel, where we saw this in the lot. The desk clerk could not confirm if Johnny was in the house... but she didn't deny it. We were drunk enough to discuss a ding dong ditch approach to get all the suite doors to open, but instead decided to

raid the pantry... for balls, I mean apples.

I emptied my pockets to find- not a stranger's digits- but my doodles of the chef and the bar back.

Though we did meet a really cool chick who was planning her dog's wedding.

CNN is going to be there. No, I'm serious.

The next day, we headed to the Decatur Book Fest, where we heard some readings, shopped for books and trinkets. A shirt, perhaps?

After lunch and beers, I asked the bartender to do a shot with me. He insisted I try his fav. Holy shit.

See what these professionals say about it. Too funny!

I didn't eat the tittle pop. I swear.

But I think she did.

After a day of books and readings and words, words, words, we headed over to

Dragon*Con with our day pass. We were greeted by some very large teeth.

Look! It's Candyland.

What?

It's Queen Frostine and King Candy!

What are you talking about?

From the game, Candyland, you know.

I never played it.

You're kidding. What kind of childhood did you have, you poor girl?

I know. Where's the bar?

I think she's shooting her plastic surgeon but I could be wrong.

( look at the face on the guy in the background.)

This dude came looking for love. We must have seen him at 3 of the 5 hotels. I wonder how he made out? He should have made the poster into a t-shirt. A very long t-shirt.

( Of course, I went home, zoomed in on the fine print, found the guy's website and am sharing it here. Hoping for geek love. CHUPACABRA.

One of my favorite things about Dragon*Con is the group costumes. I would totally do this.

I met a funny guy in the bar I asked him to give me some of his best "lines" in his honey Southern drawl: This was good. He said, "I'm not here for a long time. I'm here for a good time." I had fun teasing him later about the free shot he wanted to give me. It looked like urine. He was drunk enough to actually start believing me when I said the bartender was playing a joke on him and there was a hidden camera. Boy. Drunk people are fun to tease.

I borrowed this pic from someone else's public posting to show how much skin is at The Con. This was tame, actually. Later that night we chased down a girl in four stripes of red paint. Yep. That was her economical costume.

We chased down red stripe girl after being convinced to start a website posting all the butts of Dragon*Con. Apparently, I can be easily influenced after drinking fake urine shots.

Everybody wants their ass on the web.

And some, want their hairy chests up there too.

That's enough punishment for one day.... until tomorrow

Wondering what to give him this anniversary?

2011-09-12T12:16:00.000-04:00

September 11, 1992.
The date of our non-traditional wedding in Florence, Italy. A wedding we backpacked to in thrift store clothing and a tie bought on the streets of Venice.
The date was chosen by our proctor, the man who was handling all the Italian paperwork that we had initiated in Los Angeles.
We joked that with 911 as the date, we would never forget our anniversary. Or someone would be calling 911!
In 2001, the date changed meaning for so many others, yet we hung onto our joy.
We began planning adventurous ways to celebrate surviving another year of marriage. We alternated years and challenged each other with upping the stakes... one year it was a day of backwoods trails and 4 wheelers, another time, hang gliding. One time we tried sensory overload:a blind adventure- Dialogue In The Dark followed by a bi-plane ride. We added other ideas to the plan... how about an alternate life for the day? We rented an expensive sportscar and spent the day at a country club and spa. ANother time we booked a hotel stay in a posh place in the city and "did the town."

This year, it was my turn to plan. I booked a weekend in an eco-resort, then changed it out at the last minute for a few nights at a swanky beachfront condo on the Gulf Coast, and in a final twist of girl vs. boy... I bought him a diamond ring.

Some might say I spoiled him. I say, I'm just leading the horse to water.

One Thing That Didn't happen This Weekend

2011-09-05T11:59:00.000-04:00

Disco I love you but cannot forgive you

2011-08-30T12:29:00.000-04:00

Sometimes, there are no words for joy, Except a silly grin and a tapping foot.

Writers and Books and Things That Might Go Bump In The Night

2011-08-30T11:10:00.000-04:00

Posts about that stuff and all sorts of ideas over here.

Movie Theater Experience at Home

2011-08-29T07:08:00.001-04:00

Oh yeah.
Avoid those bothersome cackling hens in the row behind, the fat guy with his enormous tub of popcorn, and hey, you can even answer your cell phone during the show without ANYONE complaining.

It's the beauty of watching movies in your living room. I haven't even mentioned that you can wear your jammies, drink a nice glass of wine and forget about expensive candy or parking lot traffic...
sigh.
It's perfect.

Even more perfect if you have these kind of feature movies to choose from. It's Hollywood at Your Fingertips.

We had a carload of kids on vacation, and were able to download to computers, and mobile devices, instantly. Gone are the days of the portable DVD player, a stack of DVDs and a whole bunch of cables and cords. When we need a fix for our movie junkies we just click and download. Check it out.

Sure, you can go home again. But will you want to leave?

2011-08-23T15:50:00.002-04:00

There is a sweet part of our youth that we hold onto.

The first kiss.

A secret spot in the woods that no one knows about.

A success that is a stepping stone for your future.

There are things in our past we wish we could forget forever.

That hurtful exchange.

Driving after too many beers.

Oversleeping the day of the big test.

The feeling of heartbreak or disappointment.

And then, there are the regrets for things you wish you'd done.

Studied harder.

Chased that boy.

Told that girl exactly how cool you thought she was, or how cruel.

Thanked that teacher.

Helped more- in so many ways.

Sang in the chorus.

Gone to band camp.

Ran for President... well. maybe not that, but you know what I mean.

No one should ever have regrets, and maybe at such a young age they are more thoughts of "What if?" or "Why not?" than anything else, and as we age, we can look back on those moments, those choices and see them more clearly.

Thanks to class reunions and family members that stayed put, we are offered an opportunity to visit our past and hang out with people who knew us BACK THEN. We may be forced to face all the good, bad and ugly pieces of ourselves. And certainly, we tend to be our worst critics when on most days, we should be our best champions.

Sometimes, we might need some liquid courage, or at the very least, a short trek back through our yearbooks, looking at scrapbook pages and journals, to see how far we've come... or more appropriately, to simply do the "pre-meeting oh, so that's who that is re-con."

I tried to stick to the whole plan but don't plan thing, for fear solid planning would ruin whatever Mr. Spontaneity might want to add to the occasion. ( yes, he's a dude.)

Plan one was to attend the first evening's meet and greet. And that was where the planning ended. (ASIDE: I did notice, that a bunch of people wore black at my thirty year reunion. Either it's the notion of slimming fabric color choice, or they liken this gathering to attending a funeral.)

That's me on the right, in the front row in white with the beer, trying to figure out what I snagged my heel on before I fall off the lap of a girl who's on another lap. Sigh... so, highschoolish, aren't we?

I lived in my hometown for at least fifteen years, but I still was glad for the GPS built into my phone, as the memory isn't what it used to be— as proved by the "remember when/this/that/those/them.." posts about our small village that appeared on a group posting this past week—a village my husband calls "Leave it to Beaverville, " which makes me wonder if there really is a place called Beaverville somewhere, and if there is, is there a Hooters in the center of that town, and if so, on Wednesdays, do people...

All right. I digress.

And I bend backward... sort of like some other people at 2am, after too many vodka tonics, who try to defy gravity while forming a right angle with their body, leading with the hips, then say, "Lin, my back really hurts!" These same people will hear the words, "Oh, there she goes. I knew that was coming," and then wake up with strange bruises.

I had my own share of skinned elbows and scrapes, apparently acquired a strange scratch on the rental car and returned home with a scuffed and damaged shoe that I had to drop at the cobbler's.

But that's not important. What is important is that we ate hummus. We told stories. We visited the old diner. We said hello to people we had not seen in a long, long time and we remembered the best and the funniest parts of high school. We paid for events we didn't attend and we might have missed some old friends that were in the shadows .. or the other end of the bar. We wore mustaches, but we don't need no steenkin' badges.

We drank weird shots and lots of wine. We played cards and old record albums and watched it rain. We wore moustaches.

We swam in a lake.

We spilled - wine and secrets and we shared a moment that was better than all of high school combined.

And to the stranger at the first bar who thanked me for talking to him? No. Thank you, for that story.

Something I thought about on the airplane ride home, where I slept the whole way- and probably drooled on myself, much to the chagrin of my seat mate.

But, unlike the high school me, I've finally figured out that I will never see you again, and your opinion won't change who I am or tarnish the smile I choose to wear today.
Thanks for reminding me I grew up just fine.

A little interruption in the current broadcast...

2011-08-12T14:59:00.000-04:00

Okay People

Let's talk

We are approaching the Labor Day craziness of Atlanta.

A huge independent book festival with all sorts of literary fun, art, cooking, drinking, music, drinking, writers, parades, kids, art, drinking, books, magazines, lectures, readings and drinking.

That's the Decatur Book Festival.

and then,

there is Dragon*Con

which is... well, kind of hard to explain

most of time, wandering around there, my face looks like this.. see, I'm even pointing to my own face in incredulity. Also, I'm talking to a banana.

It is mandatory to have your picture taken with half-naked men.

Extra points are scored if you tell a joke to a policeman, and manage to NOT get arrested.

and Hell to the YES, it is scary fun. I am actually looking more forward to this than the book festival this year. Because, you know, the freaks will always be with us. Books? Not so sure.

Do I Have It All Backward? Or Am I Just a Planner?

2011-07-27T11:25:00.000-04:00

Growing up, my parents didn't use the word, "planner." They used the word "dreamer."

After quite a few years of seeing my plans come halfway true (there is this thing about you wanting something to happen.. more than you actually trying to make that thing happen.)
And there's the whole, not now, later part of the equation.
But, it's true. I am a dreamer.

It's not a bad thing. It's another good thing.

I have a room in my house that is all blues and whites, along with three crates of accessories in the attic on the same theme, because one month a long time ago, I had the idea that I would decorate an entire house in just hues of blues and whites one day.
( I still believe I will.)

I have a file drawer dedicated to torn-out design mag pages, brochures from flooring, tile and paint stores, my own sketches and even three designer house plans. Whenever we'd buy a new house, I'd start a notebook on all changes needed to make each room perfect. I kept the pages as I accomplished each update.
( In the current house, a place I have the lived the longest EVER as an adult, each room has been done over twice- some three times.)
That means... I need a project.

Beach property. Preferably low maintenance: condo or townhome.

Fits the blue and white theme, right?
I already found some cool ideas- like this:

and this- which is the same porch couch my Grandma had

Of course, I like some crazy stuff too, like garage door walls:

and a hanging bed..

but with a smaller space, and all that time outside doing all the things I love... am thinking the most important things I will be concentrating on are:

and buying a toy like this to drive around and enjoy it all:

go ahead, call me a dreamer. I dare you.

It should be simple, right?

2011-07-26T13:05:00.001-04:00

IMAG1151, a photo by Another Good Thing on Flickr.

It's a shoe. It's a chair. it's a table that should be a chair. It's art. It's an eyesore.
It's complicated.

More and more, that is the answer. More than a social network status, life is complicated.

For instance, I wanted to merely unload a phone video onto my computer. There was no merely about it... I had to buy a program to convert the video, another to rotate and and another edit. I had to use the phone and two computers and three teenagers to get it done.
sigh.
see? complicated.
Where is my cave and scratchy bark for drawing on the walls?

the beach is wide and the water deep

2011-07-20T13:58:00.001-04:00

IMAG1161, a photo by Another Good Thing on Flickr.

The words remind me of a song
the expanse of sand here reminded
me of loneliness
a psychic once told me that
the vicinity of water renewed
my creativity

this is what I will tell the loan officer
at the bank when I negotiate
the mortgage for the beach house

What did you do on summer vacation at Gator Bob's?

2011-07-07T17:30:00.001-04:00

SAM_2572 copy, a photo by Another Good Thing on Flickr.

You're going to want to put on your Jeff Foxworthy accent for this one.

You might start with a "Woo, Lordy! Look at that!"
Or you just might shake your head in dismay thinking there goes Linda ruining another sweet young thing.
Let me just state that
A. that's not my kid
B. it wasn't my idea
C. Gator Bob is grinning under that beard

If they still had hangings, do you think there would be less crime?

2011-07-03T16:10:00.000-04:00

In St. Augustine, Florida, the oldest city in the USA, you can take a tour of the old jail and see the reconstructed gallows. They will tell you stories of local hangings, deplorable prison conditions and scare you at night with tales of ghosts stuck in those cement walls.

I'm thinking that erecting gallows in the center of most cities in the US might deter crime, or make for great photo ops.

Paint yer Wagon, or T-Shirt

2011-07-01T15:20:00.003-04:00

IMAG1204, a photo by Another Good Thing on Flickr.

In Daytona Beach, there's a famous airbrush shirt shop, run by very old, grumpy people who will screw up your order, not refund your money and them screw up your order again.

Do not give them your money.
Go across the street to GEORGE, whose motto is: "You say, I spray it."

He will make you laugh and will be certain your shirt , or shoe or license plate or wagon is EXACTLY what you want.

He might also point out that from his doorway, the name of the crappy place across the street reads: SHI-T SHACK.

This is my part of helping the little guy... until the old people die.

The second most beautiful street in the world.

2011-06-28T08:26:00.001-04:00

SAM_2610, a photo by Another Good Thing on Flickr.

If a man said, "You are the second most beautiful girl in the world," you might not think that such a compliment.
You might knee him in the groin and tell him all the things he's second best at... and you certainly would wonder for the rest of your life: Who is the most beautiful girl in the world?

I stood on this street in St. Augustine, Florida and heard the tour guide tell everyone to look down the road and know that they were at this moment- on the second most beautiful street in the world.
Really?
Who gets to make such a bold statement?

I have been on at least twenty more beautiful streets, and none of them had tour guides, or modular homes, or trash bins at the curb.

Well, heck yeah, THAT was fun.

2011-06-19T17:17:00.000-04:00

Details on the way.
a photo to hold you over.

those are ghostly orbs, my friends

What's on a writer's bucket list?

2011-06-07T11:12:00.000-04:00

Most likely:

publication in the New York Times
Paris Review or Playboy
landing the NYC agent
selling to the top 3 legacy publishers
attending Breadloaf, and not as a waiter
being asked to be the Keynote speaker at an international event
appearing as a guest on GMA during book week
meeting your literary idols- whomever they might be for you
selling your novel to Hollywood
seeing your name in lights
attending the Iowa Writers' Workshop- until you found out this.

which brings up that whole art as form thing. shown on this guy's bucket list.

My bucket list as a writer is more of a bunch of cramped notes in a dog-eared journal, a combination of prayers to a deaf God, hopeful meanderings of an optimist and desires that dwindled as I aged.

Yes, many are checked off, but not half as many as the number I've added to the bottom.
I'm determined to live a long, long life.

How my daughter solved my time issues.

2011-06-01T12:23:00.000-04:00

She said, "Just get up three hours earlier, then you'll have the time to do all that."
Uh, no. Then I would find something to put in that slot. I'm pretty certain.

What is the answer? Give something up? How do I choose what to give up?
Coin toss? Pro and Con list?

My daughter is one to talk about fitting it all in. I have never heard her say NO, to any activity. Except maybe homework...
Look at me, taking advice from a tween. Sigh.

SO, until I figure it out, I'll be blogging here at AGT and over at OOT- talking about shopping and deals and new stuff you want but don't need.
And over here at You Won't Go Blind, which sometimes sounds like You won't go blond to me.. which makes me giggle.

Also, you can find me behind the curtain at SCRATCH. ( for all you writers and poet peeps) and for the readers out there- come on by Smashwords and downloads some words.

Of course, we must be connected on Facebook and Twitter, right? I mean, you are real, aren't you, Internet?

Am I too slutty for Badminton?

2011-05-27T07:56:00.000-04:00

Apparently there is a proper dress code for badminton.
I know.
You thought since it started with B.A.D. you could just run out and smack some birdies wearing your Def Leppard tee and cut-off jeans. Uh-uh, not happenin' sista.

According to this article, women players must now wear skirts... to appear more "womanly."
That's what it says.

Later they say something, blah blah blah about wanting to increase the waning viewership... so, why not put them in bikinis? It worked for women's beach volleyball. I bet some men in the stands don't even know the score at those events, unless they're counting how many times a butt cheek is flashed or a boob slip happens.

Badminton guys can wear this

or this

but the girls need to wear this from now on

which is causing problems with female players in Muslim countries... but that's a whole different story.

I say put the BAD back in badminton. Let the players choose.
we might see something like this:

or this:

which, I can pretty much assure you would do a helluva lot for the men's sport of competitive birdie swatting.

Summer Vacation used to be fun, but now?

2011-05-26T09:25:00.000-04:00

My kid said I was the only mom who moaned at the mention of summer vacation.
"Most moms like spending time with their kids. They want them home."

I laughed. Really, really laughed, like one of those Rosie-oops-I better change my drawers laughs.
It's not that I don't want to spend time with my kids. I love them. They amuse me. They help me. They bring me joy.

They are also loud and busy and messy and needy and yearn to be the center of my attention.

Did I say I write in an open room in my house? Did I say I write best with peace and solitude? Did I say I tend to walk around with pages, reading them aloud, pacing the clear, wide areas of the house looking for inspiration? Did I say I tend to produce less work in the summer, but failed to figure this in to my spring work?

sigh.

So, this next few weeks, before I pack up my two kids and their two friends and drive them to the beach, I will try to learn to write wearing headphones, in the bathroom, balancing my laptop on my knees, behind a locked door.

Today, we shop.

2011-05-21T06:53:00.000-04:00

Rising early with money in the pocket, an idea in the back of my mind, a carload of gal pals and the directions to the nearest HOMEGOODS store = perfect Saturday. Whatever will you be doing today?

Asking to be liked, feels like middle school all over again.

2011-05-19T05:53:00.001-04:00

Facebook has its glitches, we know this. One of which is the LIKE button, which looks more like a gray/blue thumbs up.

There are certain features that unlock if you have 30 likes, others at 50, some at 100. I really don't understand any of it, especially the way that I cannot LIKE my own page, as the error message tells me I have to dump friends and/or other pages I like. This means I can't send any friends to my page, by suggesting it.
In a way to circumvent the problem, it was suggested we post private messages to the friend list, a chunk at a time... of course, what this really meant was, a bunch of people got a bunch of notices, emails, replies and generally were harassed- all in the name of Linda wanting to be liked.
sigh
Now, like middle school, I am out there apologizing and apologizing, explaining what I think happened, though I'm not really sure and asking for second chances.
Does it ever end?

If you understand this feeling, if you see the corn in the poo, if you get what I'm throwing down please, LIKE ME HERE because, I just can't stand not knowing what happens at magic number 1000.

Custom Made Jeans, Under $50. YEP!

2011-05-18T10:33:00.001-04:00

I was telling some friends about this last week, when it was 93 degrees in Atlanta. Today, as I tug on my own jeans in the 50 degree weather, I remembered.

Get your custom jeans today- fit your booty just the way you want- not the way Mr. Levi wants.

And order quick, because the world's ending in a few days you know.

MAKEYOUROWNJEANS.COM

You know it's time for a new bed when...

2011-05-18T08:50:00.000-04:00

I have been asking for a larger bed for sixteen years. You know the drill, your family grows, you grow, your dog decides the foot of your bed is much more comfortable than his crate, you add more pillows, a puffier duvet, and pretty soon you end with more "stuff" than mattress and sleeping area.

Part of my hesitation one buying another bed was the memories attached to this one.
...read more.

A new bed. Is bigger better?

2011-05-17T14:13:00.000-04:00

It's going to mean larger, more expensive sheets and more pillows. But it may also mean sleeping through the night.

Of course, I am second guessing my selection. Don't we all do this in making large furniture decisions? And I mean that in two ways: large dollar decisions, and large pieces you'll have to live with for a long time.
I found a site that allowed me to mix and match base and headboard, in effect creating my own style of bed.
I felt, at first like I was bathing suit shopping, and wondered if I wanted my bottom to be bigger than my top, or ...

Because I am inherently cheap. I thought about making my own headboard and just buying the base. Especially when I saw these:

Hey, I could do all of those. I had already mastered the trompe l'oeil look at another house, and the picket fence one and even the screen behind the raised mattress one.
Building, no prob. Painting, upholstering, also, fun and easy.
I even found this designer who walks you through a whole DIY headboard under $100 project. Here.

The only thing I'm battling right now, is time.
so, I went with a store bought combo, and will receive it on Thursday. But since today is trash day... I'll be sleeping on a mattress on the floor for a few nights and imagining what I can do to the room to meld old and new.

M.I.S.S.I.S.S.I.P.P.I: Whatever comes, you just got to take it, you know.

2011-05-10T07:53:00.000-04:00

You sang it as you skipped rope.

You probably never stood beside it, or flew over it. But if you had, you would have seen this:

1996 1997

Top picture is May 2010, bottom is April 2010

May 9, 2011

I was touched by this account from two sisters who survived the flood of 1927.

When floods devastated Yazoo County in 1927, Johnson and Townsel, who were 9 and 7-years-old, respectively, at that time, said were the lucky ones.

"We'd go down and look at them. Our uncle used to take us down in the wagon to the store," Townsel said.

The sisters said they don't remember how long it took for their neighbors to recover, but they remember being afraid.

"Satartia (was) nothing but water. I can remember that," Johnson said.

Johnson and Townsel said they are staying in Jackson after rising flood waters closed a road and forced them out of their homes in Satartia.

Residents are still preparing for what may come, and Satartia Mayor Charles Lungrin said on Monday he is trying to prevent another disaster like 1927.

Lungrin said this month's floods will be worse than 1927, and he's building up a 4-foot levee to protect the homes nearby.

"My mother's house is right down the street and it was in the halls in 1927," Lungrin said.

Lungrin said he even built a levee around an airplane hangar, and he finds it hard to believe how high the water is at a place where he used to fly planes as a boy.

With water filling in from all directions, some said they are making the most of the situation.

While Johnson and Townsel aren't sure if the flood will destroy their homes, they said they are not planning on leaving Satartia for good.

"If it (flood) does that (destroys home), you just have to forget about it and try to get another. That's all you can do," Johnson said.

Townsel said she was forced to leave her home twice after the floods of 1927.

"Whatever comes, we just got to take it, you know," Johnson said.

Read more: http://www.wapt.com/news/27834292/detail.html#ixzz1Lwuvk6EI

It's just like high school, or is it?

2011-05-02T12:51:00.003-04:00

A woman said to me today, "This is ridiculous, isn't it? It's just like high school."
I laughed, and wondered what she'd been like in high school and if she realized even speaking to me about the issue made her seem the most immature of all the involved parties.

For many women, high school was a horrible experience that they would never choose to re-live-- as seen on a recent Glee episode, where the OCD Ginger chick felt ostracized, the powerful bitch wanted even more power and the fame hungry talented girl just wanted her recognition.

Reality check. That's not just a high school mentality. That's corporate world positioning. That's teachers vying for tenure. That's a political fight between Democrats and Republicans. That was me trying to make a point a few weeks ago in a room of print happy writers.
And strangely, that's probably the same thing this broad has to deal with on her job with men and women all day long.

To tell me I can't mention the people in the story by name- ever... is fun. Really thanks for the story idea. To say something is high-schoolish is to say it won't matter in another four years... but doesn't EVERYTHING matter?

Every time we hurt someone's feelings, every time we act out of impulse or anger, every time we made a bad decision about a friendship or a lover, every time we lie. These decisions - made as a high school aged person, or an adult will not only matter in the here and now- but in the future.

Of course, in the moment, I listened. (while taking notes - call it character study for the novel). I tried to tell the woman that I was sorry she'd felt it necessary to waste her time and mine, that if she would take the time to read through the lines, ask the right questions and actually make a committed decision, she could have laid the problem to rest long ago.
When she'd let me, I told her the truth, I inserted my opinion, and mostly I chuckled to myself, that A. she didn't want to hear any other sides of a story, except the one she was choosing to believe and that B. some ass- backward uneducated people in the world feel like it's their right to abuse authority, in any shape or form.

Don't you hate the guy who drives up in the Mercedes to collect the free turkey at Thanksgiving, the woman who sues for the hot coffee she spilled on her lap at the fast food drive-thru. Don't you despise corruption at any level and those people who imagine they are above it all?

Mostly, I guess I am disappointed in mankind. That the idea of freedom of expression, of personal communication and private interaction and even, a good old-fashioned tossing down of the gauntlet in the most polite way ever to say,"Oh yeah. Bring it!" has been pushed to the wayside in favor of some dumb-assed sophomoric life approach wherein one feels abdicated by saying "you tell him that she told her that I said that to them and now, I don't want to talk about it any more, so it's over."

All that says to us, the wiser ones is .....you're a fucking moron.

Need a new car? Let me save you some time.

2011-04-29T11:12:00.000-04:00

Thumbing through an old copy of Car and Driver in a waiting room, I read an article by John Phillips that basically stole all my reasons for reading car magazines. Well, some of them anyway.

I frequently read passages of car descriptions out loud to whoever's home, as I think the writing is extraordinary. My fav interactive mag is Winding Road. I talk about it here.

The Phillips article left me chuckling... funny enough to make me rip out the page. Sorry, next dude who wanted to finish that article on Cash for Clunkers.

So, because I want to save you a few hours of research in your car purchase situation, here are a few insider views on cars you may want to avoid..or not. Compliments of John Phillips at Car and Driver.

Of a BMW 3-series’ shifter: “As slick as the jumpsuits worn by the Captain & Tennille.”

Of the Pontiac Aztek: “A body that resembles Janis Joplin’s during her most devoted heroin years.”

Of the Hummer H2: “A professional tailgater’s vehicle that can be driven strictly by feel and sound, with road rage offered as standard equipment.”

Of an Oldsmobile Custom Cruiser: “It should have been called the Emetic because the body motions will induce the sort of vomiting necessary to save the lives of recently self-poisoned persons, namely this vehicle’s buyers on or around the date of their third payment.”

Of the Daewoo-built Pontiac LeMans:“Sufficiently awful that it will cause you to abandon your family and open a souvenir shop in Tucumcari.”

Of the Chrysler Concorde, whose front wheels intruded on the footwells: “The dead pedal’s position will suit those who have recently received a prosthetic left leg made in Somalia.”

Of the Plymouth Prowler’s stiff ride: “Great car if you enjoy viewing the passing landscape in moiré patterns.”

Of the Chrysler Crossfire’s similarly unyielding ride: “Very much like an epileptic seizure, except you unfortunately remember every single detail afterward.”

Of the Geo Metro convertible: “All the structural integrity of hollandaise sauce atop filet of eel.”

Of an early Porsche 911 Turbo: “A particularly spirited drive in the hills will necessarily be followed by a week of prunes and Quaker Oats.”

Of a Renault Le Car (one of my first reviews): “Guaranteed to end your social life and lead to a lifetime of bed-wetting interrupted only by savage bouts of window peeping.”

Of an Alfa Romeo Spider: “With steering this sloppy, expect to crash minutes after departing the showroom, although the car will likely self-immolate or rust into fine red dust before it can truly maim you.”

Of the first Oldsmobile Bravada: “I memorized the rollover warnings on the visor and performed every banned maneuver in hopes of wadding this rebadged armadillo into a metallic pellet that could be readily gathered by a pooper-scooper.”

Of the Bugatti EB110: “Exuding all the charm of an industrial air conditioner, it nonetheless will remain rare because no one will want one, no one can afford to maintain one, and the company’s likely swan dive into receivership won’t leave enough cash to buy an industrial air conditioner.”

Of the Bugatti Veyron: “It won’t enhance your sex life because it causes all of the blood to rush to your head.”

Of the GMC Typhoon: “Less a typhoon than a tsunami of hurry-up engineering guaranteed to leave in its wake a tidal wave of shrapneled valves, rods, cam lobes, and neighbors who finally feel it’s safe to let their kids out again.”

Of the Daewoo Nubira: “Like a George Foreman grill but greasier.”

Of a Caterham 7: “Like driving a rural-route mailbox into which vandals occasionally toss lit cherry bombs that first deafen and then somehow induce pneumonia.”

Of the Dodge Shadow: “Who would have thought that someone could create a car guaranteed to make your wife shout, ‘Wow, my mother was right!’ ”

Of a Ford Bronco: “It’s like a morbidly obese NFL defensive lineman with 14 concussions and 12 knee operations and his 42nd birthday a week off.”

Of the Factory Five Roadster: “In the rain, it exhibited all the poise of a Zamboni on the Rubicon Trail.”

Of the Merkur XR4Ti: “It looks like a geothermal event bulging up through the tarmac.”

Of an early Maserati Quattroporte: “The dash and its attendant control layout resemble a trailer park following an Oklahoma tornado.”

Of the Daihatsu Rocky: “One of the few cars apparently capable of simultaneously summoning dive, squat, yaw, understeer, oversteer, a trade deficit, acid reflux, impotence, and a military coup in Ecuador.”

Of the cockpit smell in a Hyundai Pony: “A curious mixture of wet dog, WD-40, and
liquid Maalox.

Perks of being a blogger with local blogger friends

2011-04-28T13:53:00.001-04:00

You can invited to some pretty cool events. I have been asked to evaluate sports cars, read advance copies of celebrity books, sample wine and travel to places I never would have known about.

Last night, I was able to tap into my technologically creative and organizational side- at the same time- when I was introduced to the personalized card company called tiny prints.

I wish this had been around when my kids were born. Although my personalized chocolate bar wrapper was a hit. It had required a lot of guesswork and I still think the results could have been better.

Tiny Prints makes the perfect big impression for any occasion, but last night we were all about Mommies.

We chatted and snacked.

we were treated to manicures by Rhonda.

and massages by Mary

AHHHH.

We laughed, drank wine, shared our websites, blogs, and contacts, as social moms and mannies do. We told stories about motherhood- our own experiences and that of our parents raising us. We sat on a balcony and welcomed the cool breeze and fresh scent of spring, while the rest of the south was hunkering down in basements, clamping their ears against tornado sirens.

Thanks to our hostess dot at Dabbled.org and Foodwhirl I hope to keep in touch with the other bloggers and moms I met last night and definitely think we should do this again.

And the best thing was, I made a THE BEST card for my mother today, tinyprints even sent it for me! AND last night, I won the door prize: A FREE Tiny Prints photo book. Just in time for Father's day.

It's not too late for you. Fan tinyprints on Facebook and get a free Mother's day card.

Trucks. A word every toddler has trouble saying.

2011-04-25T13:44:00.002-04:00

This year, I went to MATS in Louisville Kentucky for the second time.
You might be saying, Linda, I had no idea you were a truck enthusiast, and I would tell you- DArlin' you hardly know me.
You probably don't know I have been compiling interviews with long haul truck drivers for over a year, that I have teamed up with photographers to take portraits of the drivers, mostly working with this talented fireball, all to create a slick photo essay book called, We Brought It .You Bought It.

It is our desire to bring greater understanding to the average Joe about these road warriors- the long haul trucker, whose life is lived on the road. They are not at all what or who you think. Believe me.

SO, yes, I drove 7 hours to walk end to end of a huge convention center for three days. But wait, you ask, Was there Beer?
Well, hell yeah.

and also:

I saw some old friends... like Granny and Snuffy Smith

and made some new ones like Mush Mouth

Sure it was a working trip. But we saved up one night to go play here:

we did not dance on the bar like this guy, oh don't act so surprised

we did dance with Norwegians, like this, Go Angela!

And there was some interesting "karaoke-esque" moments while singing along at the piano bar while this guy ( below) played and we drank with Lars #1 who thought the words to the song were "Sweet Town Alabama." Southern Rock is very popular in Norway. We tried to avoid getting dragged around on the dance floor by the short man with the chubby kilt-wearing girlfriend, a man who was convinced he was the life of the party.

AND as every trip I take must... A. give me a story or character to take home B. teach me something that I can share with others C. remind me of something I already knew. or D. pleasantly surprise me

This time: It was all of the above, culminating with a wedding. An authentic Cherokee ceremony with singers and drummers and an officiating Chief. In a parking lot of semis. With a very brief reception as the killer storm blew in and sent everyone running. I would say that might be a sign of future marital trouble, but as these two have almost ten marriages between them- including once prior to each other, I think they have plenty of experience, to weather any storm.

Tsunami of backlogged posts #1

2011-04-09T16:02:00.000-04:00

Consider this your warning. The wave of blog posts are on the way. All it will take is a few hours of buttinchair combined with singular focus and childfree space. Or a couple of beers and some sunshine.

Catching you up first with the birthday fun.
Yep. I did it again. Got older, that is.
I am just as much of a snarky, stubborn PITA as I was at 20, but now I can target my attacks so much better. See? Older AND wiser.

There were chocolate pudding shots. yep.

Followed by people shooting each other.

And then, we shared birthday cupcakes, in the way only friends can share with friends.

Brian thinks being fed goodies is "Just swell!!"

Before the teams arrived

I made bacon vodka... no one was brave enough to drink it

Best team ever!

The year we saw the Elvis impersonator after a road rally... was sort of like this

The year we went to a fancy 7 course dinner thing with way too much wine- there were taters, so this is our version of the potato induced memory-- of course, my friends made it be sexual

The party bus took off with GPS coordinates- and a really bad navigator

one determined group! Success! the geocache

Part 2- Mexican bar with huge beers

part 3 - a dive bar.. where the buxom broads loved the gay man

shots and lots of water.. and beers

Girls will be girls- LADY MARMALADE

It's a forest out there, Mr. Gump, said Chris Brown on GMA.

2011-03-24T09:18:00.000-04:00

Sometimes, do you find the internet a confusing mass of misinformation, instead of the answers to all your trivial questions about THAT song or THAT show or THAT girl?

I know I rely on it too much for research, but really, there are no reasons to go to the library anymore. Unless you want to catch a virus or eavesdrop on necking teenagers.

But here's the thing. When I'm bopping around looking for one quick answer to a - insert air finger quotes here- research question, I may spend another two hours putzing around on the links the question sends me to, or the blog of the person quoted in the answer, or shopping for shoes because an ad popped up and man, those are some cute shoes!

You feel me?

I have multiple blogs, multiple facebook pages and multiple personalities- nah, not really. I just like stringing examples in sets of threes.

AT any rate, here's me today, effectively enacting my PRODUCTIVE PROCRASTINATION. I woke up today to an email from my ebook publisher telling me they had finally honored my request to drop the cost of my ebook, Simple Intent, for a short while- as a "marketing test."
He asked me to post a few notices to my facebook pages and my facebook friends' pages. Sure. great idea. I check the clock and give myself a set stopping time.

Thirty minutes after the set stopping time, I look up from a page about Chris Brown doing his non-anger management thing again. I don't even know how I got there. It was like my brain was saying, post info. move forward. finish task. get back to novel page - scene in the building with Jojo, but my fingers had a totally different idea: who's doing who? What the hell is that? And really? A monkey and a bullfrog?

sigh.

Is there a name for Internet surfing ADD?

Microsoft Word Humor from The Onion

2011-03-22T05:48:00.002-04:00

Microsoft Word Now Includes Squiggly Line To Alert Writer When

Word is Too Advanced For Mainstream Audience

Multi Tasking like Lady Gaga meets Octo Mom

2011-03-18T10:05:00.001-04:00

from TVB

In the Spring, many of my neighbors clean out garages and sheds. They cut back hedges and rake up last Fall's leaves. I see kids finally old enough to push a mower out in the yard, see parents pointing more than doing. Trash cans fill up by the curb.

Out with the old. In with the new.

How does this work in your life?
Is it a cycle, where you purge closets and attic space because you grew up doing the Spring cleaning/ wardrobe seasonal switch?

Or does the "new season" make you grow in other ways, forcing the cleaning and purging because you've got a new job, a better house, the kids are growing up and don't need all that now that you're moving to Switzerland?

I find myself swamped every March. Mostly by self- imposed deadlines and calendar events the I SCHEDULED... yeah. me.
Can't help but wonder what the draw was? To complete everything so I can enjoy lazy summer days? Or to catch up after I farted around all Winter? Sigh.

Book sale

2011-03-04T07:34:00.000-05:00

Last night my daughter told me that I could start my own used book store with all the books I have on my shelves.

I laughed, then wondered again, about storage for my darling hardcovers, all those signed and first editions- books that I imagine will be called "antiques" before I die.

I know publishing is a changing industry. I accept that. I bought my Kindle, and shopping for tablets, read downloaded material all the time.

I even have my own e-book at all the retail outlets.

Simple Intent

* on sale for the next fews days at a discounted rate of $4.99

Though I still buy books in all forms, I must admit, the nights of wrestling with a 600 page hardback book while trying to get comfortable in bed, only to have it bonk you on the bridge of your nose when you fall asleep... won't be missed.

Lessons from the beach

2011-02-26T12:05:00.000-05:00

Well, the first lesson should be: don't post your blog via text without knowing how it will appear, and then get in a car for 6 hours.

If the sun is shining when you arrive, hit the beach immediately. You never know what tomorrow brings.

When someone wants to meet for a meal. Always say yes.

If a shopkeeper is trying to make her way back to her home country next month, you can negotiate 20% off sale prices of anything in her store.

Most people live in a bubble. Proudly carry a large supply of pins. Don't be afraid to use them.

Women in ten gallon hats who arrive at beach bars alone after dark, are probably bald. And horny.

Fish is good.

No matter how hard you try to separate life from fiction.... you can't.

And the best lesson from the beach?

There are a lot more beaches out there.

Facebook has ruined society

2011-02-17T10:11:00.000-05:00

You don't want to hear it. But you know it's true.

The Zuck has changed the way we interact.... FOREVER.
( see these essays here and here )
I woke up this morning thinking "in status message" format.

If I can't reach someone on the phone or my email, there's always Facebook.
Even if you don't know me, like me or friend me.. I can still send you a message, poke you and probably see your daughter's reaction to the visit from the tooth fairy.

And you can see me. It's not new to me. I'm a writer. I need to be seen. I don't care of you hate me, love me, want me or want to be like me. AS long as you are reading this. See? That's the ugly truth.

There are ways to access facebook and twitter pages, as well as emails and photo accounts, even the videos of your wedding that you posted on vimeo for family and friends. I have people ask me all the time.. how did you know??

The Internet = No Secrets

I have been online for YEARS. I know when you read my blog, what pages you viewed, what computer you accessed it from and how long you were on. I know your IP address and how fast your internet runs at your house.

But it's not stalking.

It's not wasting time.

It's normal.

Is it?

I honestly cannot remember the last telephone call I had with a family member or gal pal. ( I know. I know. I hate the phone, and have for many many years.)

But with FB and texting and email. I can do 3 things at once, with multiple recipients.

I am going to argue that it is a multi- tasker's dream. And hope you don't read between the lines and see... we... are.. all.. nosy.. bitches... who are bored.... at work.

As Zuckerman says,
Privacy is no longer a social norm.

SAHM Fashion Trends

2011-02-10T06:58:00.000-05:00

Spring is almost here, and if you're like most SAHMs, that means you'll be changing out your fleece sweat suit and sneakers for some jersey capris, t-shirt and sandals.

Of course, you may want to embrace the 2011 Spring Hairdo Trend. Guess what? It's bangs and bobs. Again.
Surprise.

Should I admit now that when I was browsing shoes on Piperlime at 6 am I actually keyed in the words Spring 2010 fashion.
And yeah, we both know this is 2011.

So, if you rarely shower before noon, find yourself bra-less in a ball cap and yoga pants most days when the Fedex guy shows up, I'm doing you a favor.

What to wear when you finally get out of the house this Spring, so you won't look like a total hermit or overworked Mommy who got her fashion tips from the Victoria's Secret Catalog.

wide legged and bell bottomed jeans or trousers (bye bye skinny jeans)
lace, crochet, macrame accents ( not a bikini or a dress, please)
floral and billowy tops (this does not mean you can ditch the diet.)
wedge shoes, booties (walking downhill will never be the same)
accessories that are textured: wooden, leather, neutrals
denim, denim, denim (finally, the 70's are back.)
biker- inspired clothes and accessories (aim for sleek leather and zippers, not rocker skank)
maxi dress (sheer, is one way... but probably not for you.)
capri pants (stop cheering. Yours are probably stained from jello shooters.)
jumpsuit, not catsuit (yes, it will be a bitch to go pee.)
stripes ( maybe not horizontal. just sayin')
crop tops and long tail hemlines ( if you're under 35)
clogs ( 'nuf said.)
kitten heels (no animals were harmed in the naming of this shoe)
cat eye sunglasses ( whew. I have the perfect pair in my glove box!)
the belt purse ( not a murse. not a fanny pack)

good luck SAHMs and happy dressing

Writing about the person writing about writing... kinda

2011-02-01T13:51:00.000-05:00

She is kickass and I am a subscriber. You should be too.
Read Suzannah.

GO HERE.

Okay, so I'm a loser, I just pulled the cheapest blogger trick in the book. Surf, browse, link content, comment a bit and paste.
Ta da.
That, bitches, is how you put up 3 blog posts to 22000 people in less than 8 minutes.
Then link to a few FB pages- especially at on the top 6, and you have just hit over 10 million people in the world.
Damn, my secret is out. And I didn't even charge you for it.

The NAKED post I promised

2011-01-31T11:11:00.001-05:00

I was just reminded that I was supposed to tell you how the Korean Bathhouse Adventure turned out. ( Sorry for the leading title, and No, I'm not writing this post naked.)

The idea was born on a December ladies night out. The energy and enthusiasm with which the idea was received was second only to the amount of Appletinis imbibed.

It did put me off my game when our initial party of 8 dwindled down to me and 1 possible other. But, I have this horrible habit of sticking to my plans, always following through, no matter what... so, I went up there alone, because this was an adventure, dammit. and first stop was a Caribbean style bar for a few fortifying mojitos. Battling traffic and bitchy co workers, my friend Debbie made it in time for another cocktail and a light dinner, before we checked in at Jeju.

If you could stay anywhere in the world for 24 hours at a cost of $25, would you choose a Korean bathhouse in Georgia? Probably not.

HERE IS THE PLACE. Jeju.

Cool little website, right. Nice music even. And I'm glad there are photos because I didn't take any when I visited. I mean, where was I going to hide a camera?

The online brochure shows how unique and beautiful the saunas are ( I called them "huts" but I think that is more Native American and less Korean, also, there was no birch branch switching going on.)
Each sauna has a different therapy and unique design element.

The floor of the whole place in yellow jade and heated beneath the surface. Walking barefoot is a necessity, yet inside the saunas there are grass mats/ natural flooring on top of the jade.

You have to be open-minded to totally enjoy Jeju. if you're a germophobe, or a prude, or hate the heat, or Asians, then forget it.

You pay at the front counter, get a pink tee shirt and shorts outfit, a wristlet key for your locker and are separated men from women.
For the purpose of the post, I will assume the men's side is as similar as the woman's.. though we wondered who gave the treatments over there, because on our side? It was Korean ladies in black lace bras and flowered panties. Yep.

Lockers have plenty of room for your clothes and purse, etc. Lots of people bring laptops, books, and iPods. FREE WI-FI.
We brought some things with us- after I shared a link of a Travelocity post where a girl recommended flip flops and robe and large towel. We didn't use any of those things, wanting to truly experience the traditional bathhouse. I didn't see anyone in a robe or with a large towel. In the private women's area, it is all naked all the time, baby.
Steam room, dry sauna, stand up showers, sit down scrub/ shower units- 4 rows of them, a cold water plunge, a warm water pool, and a jetted hot tub, plus an area for bathing on marble under UV lamps. Whack.
This is all included in your entrance fee, as are the 7 sauna rooms and huge community swimming pool in the main area.

We started with the main area saunas where everyone had clothes on. Lots of families and lots of Europeans, and tiny babies. Was thinking what a great hotel it is- can't beat the price. Then I wondered why homeless people don't know about the place.

Jade Sauna, Gold and Silver Sauna, Salt Sauna... all great. stretch, rest, meditate. Lots of couples.

After rehydrating, we used the wet side of the facility, in the nude ladies area.
We bought an extra treat: a 1.5 hr scrub/massage/facial.
OMG
I wasn't sure I could hang for that long... and facials can weird me out, like the inability to really breathe in a steam room... ok. I know I have issues, but honestly? I no likey.

Debbie FORCED me to commit, and I told the woman, "Hey, if I want to be done early, I can, right? I will pay you the same, but I may not be able to hang.. okay?"
She nodded and I was sure she had no idea what the hell I was whining about, so I just laid my naked self on the slippery white vinyl table and tried to not feel like the slab of meat behind the glass at the butcher window at Kroger.
The scrub is first. It's herbs and a little water and some salts and is applied with a brillo pad. Or something similarly scratchy.

Afterward, Debbie said,"I have to ask, was that my skin they were peeling off at the beginning, because I was feeling these big chunks..."
I stopped her. "It was herbs and lavender. Wait. You are asking me that now? If it was your skin? Four hours later?"

It is pretty easy to zone out there. After we were scrubbed, they sloshed water on us with big bowls, sent us to the showers and then laid us down again for round 2. Lavender oil massage. They didn't miss an inch. Let's just say, the flip over part was a little trickier with all that oil on vinyl.

Round 3 was a scalp massage, reflexology and a facial, followed by them washing and conditioning our hair. the facial was a bit freaky when she got goop on my lashes and sealed my eye shut. I had to sit up for that one, though she kept pushing me down. Do you know how hard it is to tap-out on a oily vinyl slab when your opponent is a tall Korean chick in lace underwear?

Afterward, we slipped back into the Jeju outfits and did the rest of the saunas, explored the upstairs fitness room, smoking room, poker/ game room, and wished the mani-pedi place was open. We drank fresh juice and shared some noodles and generally vegged out. Literally.

At 1 am, we watched the clients line up to get their sleep mats and blankets. The security guy arrived as people found a lace to bed down in the big open room.
I think we were there five or six hours. I really don't know. I do know that I definitely want to go back, and this time, stay the night.

How's this whole New Year thing working out for you?

2011-01-20T06:26:00.002-05:00

So far so good on my end. Thanks for asking.
Sure, there have been a few glitches.

Like a surprise snow-ice debaucle in the sunny South that left most rednecks scritching thar haids and saying, "Why lookie there."

Then going back inside for 7 days.
Nah. That was just me.

Like most people entering a new year, I made some determinations- not resolutions. I do realize the difference. ANd the best part is- I never told anyone. So if I don't do them? Who will ever know. God, that sounds psychopathic.

It turns out, my kids are pretty good at the parenting part, so in a role reversal, when my brain is fried, or I am just too worn down to say "no" one more time, I let them tell me what to do. Take me to the mall. Let me have a sleepover. Order pizza. Buy this thing on the internet that I don't need but you will never have to leave your desk chair and I will go away and not bug you for another twenty minutes at least so you can continue to troll facebook profile pictures of strangers who look interesting because of the things in the background of their shadowy image uploaded at 3 AM.

I started a new novel.

Yep. That's all I'm saying right now.

I blew off the MRI for the shoulder, afraid of what they would tell me...finished the Naproxin and now just winch alot all day long. I created my own rehab program, with elastic bands, trips to the gym, yoga stretches and shots of tequila. So far, so good.

I rearranged my closet. To make room for more shoes.

I bought my kid a 5 foot long bean bag that took 45 minutes to re-fluff upon vacuum packed arrival, and totally killed my shoulder to haul up the stairs.

I have only been reading ebooks- which is strange. And wonderful.

I realized I went almost 2 months without really eating vegetables. I'm embarrassed to admit that. Which is not half as bad as my friend who admitted he'd gone almost 3 months without drinking any water. How do you even DO that?

I went to a passion party which is really a sex toy party and came up with all these ways to be a better salesgirl than the salesgirl, even got roped into a drunken yes moment with a gal pal asking me to start a business venture with her, but in the end, I just wrote a check and decided to write a story about the whole thing.

I can honestly say that I may have my hand in too many pies, my spoon in too many broths, my mind in too many gutters- I mean directions- and that I really should try to limit my tentacular reach so I can focus more... I just made up that word- tentacular.
Go ahead. you can use it.

I'm still thinking about the drop some things part.
Maybe I was born to be tentacular.

Snowed in and not minding it so much

2011-01-14T13:15:00.001-05:00

SAM_2148
Originally uploaded by Another Good Thing

There is something to said for forced hermitage. I got stuff done. Not that I always run all over town all the other days of the non- snowed in year.. because honestly, my 2.5 yr old car has about 25k miles on it and it's been driven on long trips at least 6 times.

While the other moms were joyful about having kids home- I assume their kids bake and clean or give fantastic neck rubs... I pretty much pulled my summer bitch session, "Omg, when are you going back to school?" My daughter says I am the only mom who's like that. I told her to read Facebook.

When the husband looked outside and didn't even attempt to A. shovel or B. clear off the 4x4 I knew I was in trouble, and later, as businesses closed and the mail delivery stopped and I got a note from UPS saying my shipment was delayed for "problematic weather conditions" I got a little itchy.

Maybe I'm not such a good hermit after all.

So, thank you to the girlfriend who just invited me to come out and play tonight. I think I just may have to take you up on that.

I'm an astronaut

2011-01-12T10:00:00.001-05:00

DSC01041
Originally uploaded by Another Good Thing

What did you want to be when you grew up?
Did you want to grow up?
What is you could do it all over again?
These are some tof the questions and conversations we're having with a kid prepping for college applications and decision making.

My answer:
You can be and do whatever you want to do- and don't limit yourself to just one choice. Think large.

Strange jobs I have held:
roadside vegetable vendor
answering machine operator for 65 companies- simultaneously
pre-screener for a dating service
promotional model
ear piercer-- ears only, pal

Happy New Year, all over again.

2011-01-11T12:53:00.001-05:00

IMAG0020
Originally uploaded by Another Good Thing

I'm not late. I just have imperfect timing.

This was a bunch of us welcoming in the new year in a very different way.. one which one of the party goers summed up later as.. "kinda lame, actually."
But, you know what? I had never partied with Coolio before, so I pretty much had to do it- at least once.

Check that one off the bucket list, pal.

Three Drafts later... and I'm not talking beer.

2011-01-11T12:34:00.002-05:00

I do this whole start one thing, walk out of the room and start something else thing all the time. That's normal right?
At some point during my day I will return to each location and complete the tasks... usually in reverse order, fold the laundry that I had dumped from the dryer into the basket. take the trash bag all the way to the outside can, instead of the halfway point in the garage, hang up my morning workout jacket and maybe even venture to the kids rooms to finish what they started before the school bus arrived.

I always get a feeling of pride when the tasks are done, and if I am mid multi- task.. I feel a bit panicky, like standing in a cluttered room makes it hard for me to breathe.

When I opened my blog post draft page and saw not one, but three started drafts.. 2 with similar titles, I had to wonder A. what was so important that I never finished them and B. what the heck had I planned on saying anyway.
So, in typical, I like to clean up and clear up my debris Linda Sands style, I give you belated:

Bunco Christmas Party

It was wine tasting followed by a trolley ride through the cold to a Christmas light display synchronized to music, followed by dinner and drinks ... followed by a DD ride to another house for more drinks, followed by an impromptu trip to a bar, followed by mush dancing and singing, followed by stealing a stranger's phone, followed by somehow making it home and somehow waking up non drunk and non hungover.
the evidence:

2011-01-07T19:58:00.001-05:00

Because I never managed to complete the awesome... and you know it was... post earlier. You get this lame one.
Thank the baby Jesus it's martini Friday. Amen.

Was it something I said? Or something I didn't say?

2011-01-04T10:36:00.000-05:00

In the past two weeks I have been accused of:

spending too much time on my computer writing
not spending enough time with family
spending too much time away from computer
not being readily available
making too much time for friends and parties
not doing enough PR and web work
wasting time on the internet
not making time for myself
spending too long at the gym
not answering my phone
not getting off my phone
cooking too much
not cooking enough
writing too many words
not finishing anything
complaining about poor communication
not listening
talking too much about things no one cares about
writing for smart people
working too hard for little return
thinking that anything I do really matters
believing in the best in everyone regardless of reality
being too optimistic
dragging things on
living in a bubble

It's not a Bathhouse, it a multi sauna facility with naked people

2010-12-30T14:50:00.000-05:00

And we're going there tonight, in that spirit of companionship and comraderie... there are a few things my gal pals and I can do with supreme confidence and... a crapload of booze.

Oh, who am I kidding? This is just too weird to NOT do. C'mon. You know me. The world is very big and I don't have a lot more time to do everything, so I am grabbing with handfuls.
And whenI can experience all this novelty in a convenient location, under one of my assumed names... hell to the yeah, people.
Hell to the yeah.

Will check back in tomorrow with the dirty details- appears you can actually spend 24 hours on site getting all sorts of... treatments. hmmmm.

If Yoda Was a Porn Star.

2010-12-30T14:03:00.000-05:00

He might say, "Would to see my little friend you like, hmm? "

He might take marketing to a whole new level at Christmas time... if he had an employee like me.

He might have to do a super special unveiling, with an XXX rating.

( that was your warning, people)

He might proclaim, "Ornaments for the masses, there will be. Hmmmmmm."

Or, in this case, a single special edition collectible pornament for a winner. A sci-fi writer pal who actually reads and understands my work... a very cool guy who took me up on a challenge and was the first to respond by Facebook posting a photo found on my website of a former pornament party surprise package.
Yep. There's more where Yoda came from.

Thanks Steven, for putting me back in the craft room. Glad you like it!

The Chicken Little Syndrome

2010-12-29T16:43:00.000-05:00

Dear God,
It is not necessary for you to put leaks in structures over my head at the end of every year.
I will not run outside and cry, "The sky is falling The sky is falling." You know me better than that.

Instead, I will host martini matinees and shower in the other bathroom, for as long as it takes.

Love,
me

Shoe store Attraction, or I'm a Magnet, still.

2010-12-17T07:45:00.003-05:00

It's probably happened to you. You were just shopping in that brand name department store, maybe bent over a rack of designer tees, trying to find that elusive size large... when someone said, "Do you work here?"

And you turned around, cell phone to ear, purse in hand, wearing no name tag, no where near the I stand 11 hours a day kind of comfortable shoes... and yet?

You looked like you belonged there, or they were so desperate for help, they were willing to ask a stranger.

This happens to me a lot.

People don't just ask me for help. They ask me for advice. ( They have no idea they picked the worst candidate possible.)

In the produce section, I get: "Excuse me, but which tomato is best?"

Seriously, dude? I have no clue. Buy the biggest reddest one.

In the home improvement store, I've been asked to weigh in on paint color choices.

White. You can never go wrong with white. Or off- white, more of a cream, really. Anything that has the word "wheat" in it. Yep. That's the one.

And always, always, I am asked for my opinion in the shoe store. I swear.. cross my heart and all of that.

Every single time I step into ANY shoe store, I will be approached no less than two times by absolute strangers who think I am their answer.

Well, I am.

Last night, shopping with a gal pal, I was approached by a young girl who started the conversation with, "This is going to sound strange, but I..."

I almost held up my hand to stop her there, but I let her continue.

"... I have the same tights that you're wearing, and I want to see which of these shoes ( she holds up two black stillettos; one with a lace-up front, one traditional pump), would look better with them, would you mind..."

"Not a problem," I say and follow the girl back to where she and her friend have made a mess of the shoe aisle.. I then try on both pair, trot around in them, suggest the lace up ones, they agree and box up the others. I make my way back to my row.

Within three minutes, a man wearing two different boots comes around the corner. A woman is sitting in front of a few open shoe boxes, texting on her phone. She barely looks up.

The guy is tall, attractive and has that sort of good boy gone bad cowboyish adorable quality.

"Excuse me, may I ask your opinion. I'm trying to decide..."

He lifts his pant legs to show the mismatched boots.

"Which one do you like better?"

The woman glances at me, the boots, the guy, then motions with her phone, and says,"The dark one-" just as I say, "The lighter one."

He smiles at me.

I say, "Are you wearing them with jeans mostly?"

"Yeah."

"Turn around." I look at his ass.

He turns back around.

"Yeah, definitely," I say. "The lighter ones. I like the toe." (and then, shamelessly borrowing from Paris Hilton I add, "They're hot."

He breaks out into a grin. "Thanks."

Moments later I see him at the checkout counter and think, "Man, they should hire me."

( see my pics of the shoes I bought on FACEBOOK.)

It's all about the hunt.

2010-12-15T08:55:00.000-05:00

In a post that may have been written by her husband, or her therapist ( if she had one),
Linda realizes in a split second...
her life has been all about the hunt.

Hold up your ornaments! I may wanna steal them.

2010-12-06T18:44:00.001-05:00

Yes, we did it again.
Women gathered under one roof to drink Sangria and rob each other.

It was the annual p-ornament exchange party.
Well, there were 2 PORNAMENTS anyway... thanks to my partner in crime. ;-)

If you havent heard the story yet... It isn't this.

These are some previous years posts on the subject Here and HERE: and more at other places that you can find..like some hater's page probably. But bottom line is, I love this hostess and she has a great sense of humor- as does her Mom! And I always meet some cool new friends every time I go to her parties- so this is an event I look forward to every year.

Details, shmetails... all you need to know is that this was the year of the Black Santa. ( read into that as much as you will. I'm zippering it over here.) Yes, a Black Santa come to give you all the presents you may desire...With Hot Sauce in one hand and a Sheep in the other.

and also... I admit it. I totally defaced the collectible Atlanta Braves ornament, and probably made some black men proud with my artistic interpretation on ornament #2. Beacause even though I sat in Jane Fonda's old seat and admired Chipper Jones' ass up close and personal for one blessedly long ball game, I am not a baseball fan... or a collector.

Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah and Cheery Kwanza.

It started calm. There were mini wine glasses and a martini one.. and some cute alligators with boas- the feather kind... I made a light up shirt out of a $5 Target tee and a string of battery operated twinkling lights. BIG hit. ( all these ladies think I need to start my own business. I guess I make a pretty good elf.)

looking pretty innocent in his box, eh?

lift his shirt.....

Here' s those boys who run the diamond... all those analogies about sex and baseball?

They're true.

as our happy gift recipient found out!

Andrea, the party hostess and I are ASTONISHED! ;-)

I should have made more this year and brought them to the "after party".... a friend's birthday gathering that I pretty much crashed. Oopsie.

This is the host.

and this is the Birthday girl.. who looks like she's gonna need some glued on help to celebrate her birthday tonight. heh heh..

Some Marketing Advice for Jenny the Caterer?

2010-11-19T19:03:00.002-05:00

If you want to cater my party or special event, don't advertise by throwing your wadded up cheap ass menu in my driveway-

even if you did place it in a dollar store baggie and add white rocks.

Seriously???

EPIC FAIL.

Goodbye friend.

2010-11-16T08:16:00.002-05:00

8th annual linda bash
Originally uploaded by Another Good Thing

I first saw you trying to fit in the kindergarten chairs.
Our daughters brought us together.
You sat and waited with a child you barely knew when I was late to pick her up at gymnastics. And you never complained.
You were the first couple to arrive and sometimes, among the last to leave.
You always went all out for each event, whether it was a holiday gathering, a sporting event or a crazy costumed party.
You were all in.

We loved that.
We loved how your booming laugh filled our kitchen, how your jokes and teasing stayed with us well after the party was over. How you were the perfect combination of tough and tender.

We will remember you and lift up your family.
We won't let anyone forget you, Brian Leech.

Something bad happened. So I had a party.

2010-11-15T16:39:00.000-05:00

Call it denial. Call it misdirection. The party event. It's what I tend to do to escape reality.

Whether the badness comes in the form of a health issue, a lost pet, job changes and moves, or even the sudden death of a friend, I tend to believe in the old adage about busy hands and minds.
I hope it was the right decision to continue with an annual murder mystery party event, one in which our friend had always contributed greatly.

And so we gathered at the house on the cul-de-sac and gave homage to a good man taken way too early, raising him up in spirit on the Island of Mulla Mulla.

The torches to Exile Island

The mandatory fruit machete

Winning the Immunity necklace

Playing the Findit Game

Relaxing in the lean-to

Preparing for the knot tying competition

Fruit, fruit and more fruit

Get a clue......

happy Island man

The Hollywood Hasbeen

Our host: Sean Styles

The investigative reporter and an ex- Navy Seal

Another challenge...

Gathering clues, interviewing suspects, trying to figure out where I left my beer

Snuggling up to the competition

the stern attorney gives us game face- all night long

Staying rehydrated, building alliances

Island princess and a rich girl from The Hills

Cigarettes come with a NEW warning label.

2010-11-11T13:48:00.000-05:00

You thought they were bad for before?
Well, now you'll be making the person who merely SEES your pack of smokes ill.

Wil it work?

I remember when the new "cigarettes KILL" labels came out in Europe.

within weeks people were buying slip on covers to hide the angry, finger pointing labels.

It may just be another way to boost a creative mind, and make smokers pay for something else.

PACKET COVERS

The Morning After Pill

2010-11-09T09:40:00.001-05:00

I have been remiss in my blogging duties. And even worse? I am not doing the 30 days of shoes this November. Oh. Spank me!
No. seriously. Spank me.

I wold like to take this next 22 minutes. Clock set... to catch you up on the stuff that happened... the morning after, the mornings since I've been unblogged. ( that is a word you know)

Let us begin with:

Halloween.

I was a puppet- doll- girl. And my man was the puppet master. He joked that at least one day out of 365 he gets to be the one who pulls my strings.
I ran out of time to add the gloved strings... maybe next time.

We went to a party, where we got to see people we hadn't seen all summer and some even longer ago than that. I love going to parties of creative people, as I can always get new ideas... and of course, the repartee is so much more interesting.

There was an evil Capitalist.

Beer in the beer coffin

Yummy treats and some creepy treats too.

Later, the geek gear came out. Queens slappa'd the bass, mon. While A Mad Hatter played the rock band drums.

We laughed when we heard that people were stopping into the well decorated party house in error... looking for the party down the street.
I offered one a beer. They left soon afterward, but pointed int he direction of their friend's house.
So of course, I had to go down the street and se what was up.

Hey, a party is a party, right?
Four of us walked a few houses away, following the sound of music. We walked right into this house:
( after I checked the mailbox to learn the owner's name)

Upstairs it was empty..

with lots of, ummm... lonely bottles of booze.

but in the basement.. a spooky unfinished basement there was a lame party- that we crashed,

and I am pretty sure they missed us when we left. HAHAHA

We stole the hostess and brought back to our friend's house so she could meet her cool neighbors. Who knows, maybe next year they will combine parties for double the fun.

The next day, We had our own Halloween. Complete with loads of candy and the required minimum of scaring toddlers.

the dog got to be the evil thing that taunts her daily

All in all a wonderful October.

Most Viewed Blog. And A Teaser.

2010-10-26T10:19:00.001-04:00

I changed the layout a bit here, bop around and see if you like it.

And as a bow to the old days, I thought I would share with you my most viewed post... maybe it's the pictures? Had to laugh to see the Middle Eastern hits on that one. Really??

Here it is.

I am also back to also posting on THE OTHER OTHER GOOD THING,

and trying to wrap my mind around final, final edits on the contemporary detective novel, 3 Women Walk into a Bar, while shoving copious notes on the WIP mystery series aside and trying to tell myself to slow down and breathe...

Yep. Just another day in my world.

What's the teaser, you ask?
Well, it's another sort of wrap.
The conclusion of the first writebythewater.com WRITERS RETREAT

writers retreat

You can read all of Gwen's posts here and you can read how you can join us a writer in at the retreat in February here.

But mostly you can be jealous that a bunch of writers shared a beach house, had a great time, and wrote like crazy.

Writers Retreat

2010-10-19T10:14:00.000-04:00

Write by the Water takes the gulf by storm without the storm part. Unless whirling dervishes at The Red Bar are your kind of thing...

Writing retreat- a story in pictures

2010-10-17T11:02:00.002-04:00

To be able to get to THIS

you may need to go to THIS

walk past places like THIS

Up stairs like THIS

past signs like THIS

To see things like THIS

a view to entice creativity, writers retreat

Soak in the sun by places like THIS

and then come home and chat about

your day with writers like THIS

Then tuck yourself into bed at night

in a place like THIS

with someone who may or may not snore

Girlfriends

2010-10-12T11:22:00.001-04:00

Urban Dictionary: girlfriend

mystical creature whose known powers range from clairvoyancy to being able to bleed for a week without dying. a person to have on your side

.... especially on Haunted House night.

http://linda-sands.com

If you came to this page because you're a guy googling the phrase, "how to find a girlfriend," you should probably stop here. If you're a mean girl looking for revenge, or trying to steal a guy from his girlfriend, you might want to watch this video.

If you're an adult female who enjoys the company of like-minded women and the occasional night out, read on. You're in the right place.

You know how you have friends for certain evenings? There's the smart girl you take to trivia night. The shopaholic you take to the midnight sales, the gourmand you make sure is on the list when you're headed to a new restaurant... well, my friends are like all of them rolled into one package. And one thing we do well, is our annual drinks and haunted house night, usually followed by more drinks, and sometimes, a massage.

There's usually props.

and sometimes our hot dates dress up real pretty for us

We always scream - which not only makes the rest of us laugh, but tends to scare large German men- Scheiße!

One year one of us ran from the chainsaw man, slipped, fell, got bumped and bruised and made all the monsters come out of character. The words, "You okay, Ma'am?" coming out of a hairy, bloody creepy werewolf's mouth are a bit disconcerting... just sayin'

We had a wonderful time as always, even in our seventh consecutive year.

Enjoyed the amazing effects at the houses, the fun banter before, during and after, the singalong car ride, the search for an open bar in a sleepy hamlet. The idea that there's always one who gets drunk, one who gets bruised and at least one inside joke made.

That's girlfriend time.