After I finished my hoop-dancing session this morning, Zippy walked into the kitchen. I’d blasted lots of funky songs from my playlist and the final one was “Overpowered by Funk” by The Clash. As I danced over to pour myself coffee, I asked my mate, “Are you feeling overpowered by funk?”
Zippy said, “I think I’m immune to funk.”
“No,” I cried. “That’s just wrong! How could anyone be immune to funk?! That’s blasphemy!”
“Well,” Zippy conceded. “I do like Roger Clinton more than most people.”
“George Clinton!” I corrected. “You like George Clinton.”
“Oh, yeah,” Zippy said. “Roger Clinton is Bill Clinton’s brother.”
No offense to Zippy, but there’s no mistaking Roger’s music for George’s.
The best way to cheer yourself up is to try to cheer somebody else up.
~ Mark Twain
I hope that helped. I’m definitely feeling better.
I’ve started working again on a project that I put on hold in 2012 because I didn’t feel equipped to do it justice. I’m still not insanely confident about my abilities (after all, I am a writer), but I’m pushing ahead.
Last night my Writing Roosters critique group got together, and one of the members spoke of her current process as she drafts another book in a series. She said that for her, outlining and research could turn into a form of procrastination, and that it was important to just get writing and trust that that other stuff will sort itself out along the way. I realize that isn’t a new concept, but it was one of those right-comments-at-the-right time things, and it went ping in my brain.
That’s exactly where I’ve been with this project; reacquainting myself with the characters and plot, doing more and more research. Thinking I had to get most every detail nailed down. Obviously, that’s false. Because as it says in STOP THAT BALL! : Could this go on all day and night? It could, you know, and it just might.
So today I stepped away from the outlining and research rabbit holes, and started writing. I didn’t get a whole lot of words down, but I accomplished more than page numbers.
Take that, Steven Wright!
Marched this morning with a couple hundred thousand other people. The day started out cold and overcast (really appreciated the ride downtown on the packed-to-the-gills light rail because all that body heat warmed me up again) before turning sunny and warmer. It was a good morning, and I’m glad my neighbor friend, Kim, invited me to march with her. I brought my camera and captured some of the wit and wisdom of the very large gathering. (Click to enlarge)
And here’s me with my sign:
Finally, here’s an overhead shot of Civic Center Park in Denver:
Kim and I left the march before it reached the park so you won’t be able to find us in this crowd. Turning around was a good call, though, because as we “swam” downstream, we got a good look at THE MANY MANY PEOPLE. It was life-affirming to read the signs screaming with anger, hope, and humor.
We’re gonna need all three to make it out alive.
Marcel up top, watching me closely while Loki, down below, does his best impression of a narcoleptic. A much better photographer than me would be able to balance the harsh sunlight with the white fur and black fur. Makes me long for the days in the darkroom when I could dodge and burn the image. But because I should be working on my writing project rather than messing with this, I’ll let it go.
Apologies for the glare. (HA! I made a pun.)
This morning I took my exercise and yoga routine to the basement in order to escape the cacophonous roofers. As I did a quad stretch next to the support post, something caught my eye:
My first thought was that those initials were etched by Alex E., one of Zebu’s best friends throughout childhood. But then it hit me: Amelia Earhart!
That’s clearly either a flight route or maybe even a rough sketch of Howland Island where Amelia was headed on that fateful flight. Do you know what this means? I’ve uncovered a clue that could help solve the mystery of Amelia Earhart’s disappearance!
Wow! Who knew what was in store when I woke up this morning?!
(Okay, okay. Cut me some slack. I’m suffering the effects of WAY too much loud noise. The hammers are echoing in my head.)
This old Get Fuzzy strip does not represent any personal animosity toward poets.
Rather, it’s more a statement on my current state of mind.
Specifically, my desire to punch something.
Although, stabbing would be equally therapeutic.
As Zebu would say, “Mom’s feeling a little stabby today.”
“Stabby and punchy.”
Shouldn’t there be a t-shirt or bumpersticker?
I’m tired and nauseated and sick of just about everything right now, and thought I’d post a quick spike image that might convey those feelings. But then I came across this quotation:
The other day I was thinking – because I get a lot of headaches – I was wondering whether the head should be where it is. Because, at the end of the day, it’s probably the heaviest part of your body, right? And yet it’s at the top as opposed to, I don’t, dangling at the bottom somewhere. ~ Karl Pilkington
And now I’m laughing and feeling a tiny bit better. Karl Pilkington saves the day yet again!
P.S. I thoroughly enjoyed THE WORLD ACCORDING TO KARL PILKINGTON
Zippy and I just returned from a family picnic at a park that had a playground. I spent time on a teeter-totter with three nieces, two of us per end.
The rule was, whoever was up in the air had to tell a joke in order to be lowered to the ground. Here’s a sampling:
What do you call a pile of cats?
What do you call an alligator in a vest?
I rarely attempt telling a joke because I inevitably screw up either the set-up or the punchline. Case in point: I messed up the Orange Knock-Knock Joke today.
I kid you not. But none of them called me out on it and they still lowered me to the ground.
That’s a win.
Allow me to explain.
It’s February and I’m longing for spring when flowers bloom.
So I went to last year’s photos and found this clematis:
“Perfect,” I thought. “I’ll post it as Thankful Thursday: The Looking Forward Edition.”
But then I wanted to also include a quotation about the future,
so I searched for something eloquent to match my lovely flower.
And I came up with this:
“The future will be better tomorrow.” ~ Dan Quayle
A keeper, for sure, because not only am I longing for spring, I’m in desperate need of
laughter. But I won’t say anything more about that because as a
wise man once said:
“Verbosity leads to unclear, inarticulate things.” ~ Dan Quayle
I’m reading The Diaries of Adam and Eve by Mark Twain.
Every time I read Twain, I crack up. Such a wit.
This is what got me laughing in the opening pages:
Extracts from Adam’s Diary
Been examining the great waterfall. It is the finest thing on the estate, I think. The new creature calls it Niagara Falls–why, I am sure I do not know. Says it looks like Niagara Falls. That is not a reason; it is mere waywardness and imbecility. I get no chance to name anything myself. The new creature names everything that comes along, before I can get in a protest. And always that same pretext is offered–it looks like the thing. There is the dodo, for instance. Says the moment one looks at it one sees at a glance that it “looks like a dodo.” It will have to keep that name, no doubt. It wearies me to fret about it, and it does no good, anyway. Dodo! It looks no more like a dodo than I do.
I’m fast-approaching my freak-out limit what with
dead birds falling from the sky,
dead crabs washing up on shore,
Sarah Palin as 2012 presidential candidate,
spineless, tone deaf Obama and his new Wall-Street-insider-Chief-of-Staff,
It’s time for something funny.
How about a monologue from Jane Wagner and Lily Tomlin’s
The Search for Signs of Intelligent Life in the Universe . . . . . . . . . . .
This is Judith Beasley, a suburban housewife who used to sell Tupperware:
About a month ago, I was shown some products designed to improve the sex lives of suburban housewives.
I got so excited, I just had to come on public access and tell you about it. To look at me, you’d never suspect
I was a semi-nonorgasmic woman. This means it was possible for me to have an orgasm—but highly unlikely.
To me the term “sexual freedom” meant freedom from having to have sex. And then along came Good Vibrations.
And was I surprised!
Now I am a regular Cat on a Hot Tin Roof.
As a love subject, it surpasses my husband Harold by a country mile.
But please, this is no threat to the family unit; think of it as a kind of Hamburger Helper for the boudoir.
Can you afford one, you say? Can you afford not to have one, I say.
Why, the time it saves alone is worth the price.
I’d rank it up there with Minute Rice, Reddi-Wrap, and Pop-Tarts.
Ladies, it simply takes the guesswork out of making love.
“But doesn’t it kill the romance?” you say. And I say, “What doesn’t?”
So, what’ll it be? This deluxe kit? Or this purse-size model for the “woman on the go?”
Fits anywhere and comes with a silencer to avoid curious onlookers.
Ladies, it can be a real help to the busy married woman who has a thousand chores
and simply does not need the extra burden of trying to have an orgasm.
But what about the guilt, you say? Well, that thought did cross my mind.
But at one time I felt guilty using a cake mix instead of baking from scratch.
I learned to live with that. I can learn to live with this.
Thank you, Jane and Lily.