I missed out on a chance to watch the Bears-Packers game in the best company while eating chicken wings, because I forgot there was a late Thanksgiving game. I don’t know where my phone charging cord is.
And at 1:37 a.m., I realized it’s Friday – time to answer your Go Ask Daddy questions.
Let’s see if I can finish this sucker. Fueled by two rows of monster KitKat and a good liter of Food Lion’s answer to Diet Mountain Dew, I at least have a puncher’s chance. I am feeling punchy, though.
Some of ours have more blue language in them than others. Some are short stories. Others, epic. All have our voice, and deserve to be heard. Even if they wind up on the clearance table.
Every month, I compile a post called “6 Words.” Ernest Hemingway inspired it when he said any story can be told in a six-word sentence. I ask bloggers, friends, strangers, and a few strange blogger friends to respond to a prompt.
November is National Memoir Writing Month. You don’t have to write your memoir – just the title. What would it be, in six words?
“So my first time on your blog,” she commented, “and I’m hooked!” Sometimes you get sweet first comments like this. And then the person never comes back. I won’t find blame in this. You don’t know what life holds.
A year later, and she’s still leaving comments and has moved into that inner circle of bloggers you can rely on to read you if the rest of the world decides not to.
Tiffany, who writes the blog Sounds Like Life to Me, is here today, on my birthday, to talk about raising a girl. You should check out her blog. She writes lovingly of life with teenagers, critters and and amazing husband.
Thoughts of what we want and hope to do can tie our shoestrings together, though. I’ve learned that hopes and dreams without an oxygen supply won’t have much of a chance – unless you can zip them into those freezer space suits like they did in the movie Interstellar.
When you’re not sure how you’ll manage groceries or prescriptions or which golf discs you’ll use in the coming days, how close can a bucket list really feel?
I still have hopes that involve Rockies postseason wins, a drive to New Mexico and a mountain cabin with a wraparound porch. Today, though? I think it best to look back – to my reverse bucket list.
When they get in my car, if I turn my radio down a little – to say, 12 – I can keep NPR on and they won’t even notice. (If the Moth Radio Hour is on, I can turn it up to 15 or 18 even.) Every once in a while a word will pop out from the broadcast, and it’ll even spark a little conversation.
Race relations. Politics. Shit about the rain forest.