They say it takes a village. I'm hoping it's a village of book lovers

         I've got some good news.

 Pop over to the other blog and have a drink on me.

                                     With my greatest appreciation.

Why wait for someone in NYC to tell you what to read? Vote for the books YOU love.

Check it out. 

It’s an exciting new way to get your unpublished book noticed by readers. It’s called the Kindle Scout program and each vote cast is tallied to select who makes it to publication. See? No casting couch here. Just you, and your NOMINATION button pushing finger.

Please, take a moment and change a life. Mine-and the life of this book. Click here.

Thank you.

October. That pink month of football.

 A whole month of men in pink? From football stadium to football stadium? This is what I have to say.
ENOUGH.

We get it. You want us to think you care about women, are socially aware and are behind the movement to find a cure for breast cancer, to provide medical care, and the resources needed, to encourage early diagnosis... blah blah blah.
 According to the article by Amanda Hess that ran in Slate four days ago,

"A Crucial Catch’s annual effort includes stenciling football fields with breast cancer ribbons, recruiting star athletes to don baby pink in commercials supporting the effort, and selling fans on rose-tinted team-branded gear. Some of the proceeds of those sales are donated to the American Cancer Society, but “the league declines to say” the percentage it’s actually forking over—and either way, the apparel conveniently promotes the Giants and the Cowboys (and specifically encourages female investment in those brands) alongside women’s health. One particularly grim stat: Ticketmaster capped its 2012 A Crucial Catch donation at $40,000. That’s just $1 for every woman who died of breast cancer in 2012; one study found that patients with metastatic breast cancer cost the U.S. a combined $12.2 billion annually in direct and indirect costs.

  Read that again, The league decline to say the percentage it's actually forking over.... really??
Truth is- YOU ARE HOGGING THE MONTH, stealing limelight for other charities, lining pockets that, hell, are mink fur and gold lined already.
 And more than that. The pink is annoying, and bothersome. How many plays were missed when we thought that flag was someone's dropped towel?
  My thought is this. Pink does not equal a breast. What about pale hairy men with breast cancer? African American women? Don't make me list all the different kinds, colors, shapes of tits out there. Please, please, email me one if it is hot pink.
 I know, I know. I read all about the ribbon, the color choice, the background ((you can read it here) but what about the other choices how the fashion industry wanted to make a bull's-eye, how someone else suggested the upside down purple ribbon with the tear shape?  You want men to promote and back breast cancer awareness? Maybe we need to have a beautiful healthy breast be the symbol. Hats shaped like boobs. Make your own shirt. Wear your bra on the outside of your blouse. Have men see what a mammogram looks like, how it feels. Send around self- check cards, posters, post the HOW TO in a humorous way. These shirts are better than the ribbons.

 Come on. 

 More than early diagnosis, is the need to educate women on prevention. Healthy eating, exercise and maintaining a low BMI, plus reducing the daily intake of alcohol all play a part in reducing the risk of breast cancer. Europeans have been promoting this type of frontal attack on the disease for years. ( They have a single day of BREAST AWARENESS.)

 I learned more about breast cancer prevention and statistics in a European 3 minute video than I gathered from 16 convoluted pages of American medical literature, where blame was placed on genetics, cigarettes, hormone therapy, radiation in the work place, birth control pills, oh yeah, and some non-conclusive dietary and physical activity habits.

 Give back the pink. 1980 is calling.

 Step up to reality. We want to be taught, not accessorized. 

I'd listen more if one football player told one story each Sunday about his experience with breast cancer.

Especially if he was wearing these.

Stupid and GREAT things I saw this week.

Yes, it's been a while since I posted on this blog.

There have been updates on Twitter and sometimes on FaceBook-choose any of the assorted pages, but mostly I have been busy enjoying my family travel, summer and the new place.
 And then, there's that thing with my writing. Thanks for asking.
 After months of hard work and vodka, the shortened and revamped Three Women Walk into a Bar was sent up to the  the agent now for a read through, and I'm days away from completing the latest revisions on Grand Theft Cargo, so this can make the rounds in a whole new world of publishing.
 ( If you've been living under a rock, let me direct you to a few reading spots to catch up.
 Go on, I'll wait.

1. Golden Age, Shmolden Age.
2. What's a Hybrid Author? Does she still run on gas?
3. Holding tight to that 1% rise.
4. That thing with e-books, Apples and Amazonian Princesses.


 You're back, Great. Hope your head is still on straight.

Right then, back to the business at hand.
STUPID THINGS I SAW THIS WEEK.

A flyer for a sandwich shop that delivers to my door.
Item: P&J ( peanut butter and jelly sandwich) cost $3.99

Let me be clear. No matter what my kids tell you, I do know how to spread peanut butter on bread. And it won't cost anywhere near $4.
  
 A man stealing puppies. By putting them in his pants.


I can only hope they are still teething.


GREAT THINGS I SAW THIS WEEK

This cool house decor item. And future DIY Project.

    This fab beer. Both for giving to that special man... and for imbibing.

 And these skittish little softies. ALPACAS!

Yep. As always, more good than stupid around here. It's what you choose to focus on.
 On that note.
I have missed you. I promise to not stay away so long in the future. I'm also looking for some new blogs to follow over here, that are not as book/ reader/ author/ writing oriented as the blogs I follow on my website. All ideas welcome.

See you soon.

In a crazy world, we love our crazies.

 Yes, they are not really crazy. Crazy talented maybe. More than likely, mislabeled. Because that's what we do, right? We don't understand some one, we call them crazy. That's one way to end the discussion, and lately there appears to be enough crazy going around for all of us.

You've got your crazy "spy" character.
  Today's update. 

 And your even crazier Southern cook with her friend. Trying to make apologies for being herself... not the persona she created.
 Hello??

And yet, it's the crazy people who change the world... and make it a much more fun place to live, right?
  So get out there, take some risks, challenge yourself and go... a little crazy.
 Not celebrity crazy though, ok?

How to sell your house. In 4 days.

Write a letter like this and leave it on your counter.

To the potential owners of XXXX,

We found this house probably much the same way you did, scrolling through hundreds of web pages, sipping wine and dreaming. Our kids were young, three and seven. We wanted a safe, family-oriented neighborhood with a pool and playground and good schools nearby. We hoped for a flat, fenced yard and beautiful big trees on a cul-de-sac, a house that we would make a home.

 That was eleven years ago. Our son is now in college and our daughter's a freshman in high school. They were born on different coasts, but this is the house they'll speak of when asked about their childhood. This is the place where Christmas magic happened, where baby birds fell from trees and were handfed until they could fly, where puppies grew into dogs, where slumber parties and birthday celebrations and over ten years of mystery parties were forged into lifelong memories.

This house has a distinct soul. You'll feel it on quiet mornings sitting on the patio with a cup of coffee, on cool evenings burning twigs in the fire pit as owls hoot, cooking and baking in the kitchen, scents drifting into the dining room where guests wait, lounging in the family room on movie night, or hosting outdoor barbeques on game day—even in those times when the pace slows and the bubbling aquarium tells you to relax.

 We have been very blessed in this house. It has, what some call "good juju." We welcomed that and tried to add special touches along the way, upgrading features whenever possible, yet always honoring the bones of the home.

This is a special community. We've made many wonderful friends here and enjoyed pool parties, bunko night, book club, and swim team. We've even kept in touch with neighbors who moved away. It's that kind of place. You'll meet people who grew up here twenty years ago and have returned with families of their own to call XXX home again.

I know we'll miss living in the yellow house on the hill. And we really hope she finds someone who will love her and care for her as we did. Maybe that's you.

*** also called, how to make your family cry***

I don't have a swooping hairstyle, but I have a lazy eye

This is one of those rambling poorly punctuated, misspelled timer's set I've got ten minutes kind of posts.
 You know, typical Linda.

I'll go backwards first.
In college, I dated a very hot, straight hairstylist named Don. He was model gorgeous. Blond, blue-eyed, slim, but muscular. He was banging every broad in the hair salon, I later found out.. and some of them in the tanning bed... but that is beside the point.
 The thing is, he was staying over one night, in the house I shared with three men ( WHOLE other story), and he said, I need to show you something. Now you are going to see the real me.
 Um. yeah. that is EXACTLY like I felt.
I watched as he went to the mirror, poked around in his eye, then placed a single lens in a contact case.
When he turned around, his left eye was pointing directly at his nose, while his right eye stared at me, looking a bit ashamed.
For the money, I still thought he was beautiful.

Yesterday, when the news came out that doctors are warning kids and celebs that the

swoop over one eye hairstyle

 may be giving them lazy eye.. lack of light and stimulation, decreased muscle use, overuse to other eye... blah blah blah, I thought of two things: Don and Diane Sawyer, because she has a droopy left eyelid like me, and sometimes, when I'm really tired I hide it with a strong side part and long bangs.

Of course, Heidi Klum makes it look good with her hair pulled back.

And that is a whole lot of story to say, no one's eyes are perfect, as a matter of fact two of the top 20 super models of the 80's have one smaller eye. Go see. 

To me, they are still beautiful.

The Annual Report, or Christmas Letter Spoof Time

                twenty-eleven ....   surprise!

Hello there, and a very mustachioed holiday greeting

                              to  you and yours.

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

Perhaps you sense an underlying hint of facetiousness in that statement, as surprises are not all lovely, are they? I mean, you could have a Surprise! party thrown for you at your own house where you show up naked, or grumpy mad or with a wine-stained tongue 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 our friend Dawn's 40th.

 Again, with the facetiousness.

You could have an oh-my-kid-is-really-sick-the-doc-was-wrong kind of Surprise! And that one pretty much blows. Ain't no pretty thing there, except, Surprise! Her surgeon is a tiny little Indian man with enough quirks to fill your next three novels, and double Surprise! Life in the hospital is quite interesting after all. Hollywood was right.

You could plan a summer vacation. Where... Surprise! The number of children multiples by two. You thought this was a good idea at the time. Surprise!

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

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

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

Yes. Surprises have a tendency to sneak up on you...

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

When you decide 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 find that 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 kid you'd take him to his first concert. Surprise! He wants to see Five Finger Death Punch. Surprise! You've gone deaf.

You realize your costs have increased 8%, while your income decreased 13%. Surprise! You never were that good at math. 

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

No matter how 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 she facetiously—there's that word again—promises all her people a fuzzy little bunny... Surprise! You're shopping for baby rabbits.

Suckered into the neighborhood swim team for the first year. You realize, Surprise! It's not just for the kid. 98 unrecoverable hours and $$$$ later, you begin to Surprise!  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.

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

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

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

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

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

If you're lucky, your Surprise! moment might include getting that novel both you and your agent still believe in, out in the world, where Surprise! People like it! They really like it!

Your dentist gives you a big Surprise! All these years you've been grinding your teeth down to nubs in your sleep! But, you have the tightest jawline for an almost fifty year old!

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

When your bestie rents a lake house in your old stomping grounds, you take her up 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, and who's in line at midnight? Surprise! You and your son. 

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

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

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

Hospital shoes

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.

Movie Theater Experience at Home

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.

How my daughter solved my time issues.

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?

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.

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

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?

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.

Trucks. A word every toddler has trouble saying.

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.

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

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?

Facebook has ruined society

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

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

 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 Chicken Little Syndrome

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