What does ice cream have to do with knees? Read on…
My knees. And how the only way they do not fail me is by providing fodder…
Do your ears hang low, do they wobble to and fro?
It was a warm, sunny evening.
Peacefully sitting in the yard, that obnoxious song blared from the ice cream truck. It rambled up the street, with kids running out their doors, clutching dollar bills, screaming, “STOP!” Decades ago, I was doing the same thing; running, screaming “STOP,” clutching a quarter in my hand. That was back when my knees worked and a quarter bought more than 15 minutes in a parking meter.
All I needed for a day of workshop sessions.
A funny thing happened… my most embarrassing moment. Ever. I learned to really appreciate this quote:
“That which does not kill us, makes us stronger.” – Friedrich Nietzsche
Ah, yes. The famous quote. By this standard, I am Wonder Woman.
I’d like to add my own quote:
“When your life flashes before your eyes, stupid quotes and clichés race through your head.” – Lynne Cobb
I recently had the privilege to attend the Erma Bombeck Writers’ Workshop (EBWW). It was a dream come true. Erma was my favorite – my inspiration as a young writer. I was beyond giddy to attend.
Earlier this year, I kicked off the New Year by attending a local writers’ workshop where we discussed the importance of writing goals and pushing ourselves out of our comfort zones. It was there I took a short survey that revealed my “word of the year,” which was brave.
Go big or go home.
It’s my understanding that tiaras will be worn.
“Erma-titis.” I’ve got it. Bad.
It’s a total self-diagnosis. A few hundred people get it around this time of April, about every two years.
“I really can’t tell that you are excited…” – My husband
From the moment I started reading newspapers in the morning – so, basically, many moons ago – I’d always read Erma Bombeck’s column. When I was a local columnist, and a reader wrote that I reminded her of “a young Erma Bombeck,” my heart soared and my ego inflated! Someone compared me to Erma! Whoa!
So this week I get to fulfill a dream and attend the Erma Bombeck Writers’ Workshop, affectionately called, “Going to Erma.”
“He who laughs … Lasts.” – Erma Bombeck
The exterior of the Aversa Cathedral.
“Art used to be made in the name of faith. We made cathedrals, we made stained-glass windows, we made murals.” – Julia Cameron
It was Lent when we visited Italy.
Perusing through my travel journal on the anniversary of our trip, I realized I hadn’t written about the beautiful cathedral we toured. So, I am sharing these photos during Holy Week. Not only do they remind me of our travels, but seeing, breathing and touching some of the history of Christianity has helped me in my own spiritual journey.
Entering the Magic Kingdom!
“We’re going to Disney!” Yeah – I said that. Via text.
It was an extended weekend, whirlwind-trip, that started with my youngest daughter. She researched for some military discounts we qualified for, and I started making calls and reservations. Hotel – booked. Flights – booked. Four-day park passes – got ‘em. When they arrived, I took a picture and sent them to my daughter, my sister and my niece.
We’re going to Disney!
It became real.
Shear terror – I only use safety trimmers these days.
Shear terror – an ironic play on words. I submitted this piece to the Erma Bombeck Writers’ Workshop pre-conference writing contest. Alas, it was not, a-hem, cut out to be a winner. I did however, want to share it, as many other contestants have shared their “losing” submissions. Sure, I was a little disappointed to have been trimmed. Maybe I missed winning by a hair! Who knows? But, after last week’s very somber post, I thought I’d lighten the mood and post one of the funniest stories I have about being a military wife.
ZZZvumm. The sound still haunts me.
I was a young, newly-wed Army wife. We had just recently moved to our new duty assignment. Money was tight, and we looked for ways to save our pennies.
Posted in humor, Marriage, Military Marriage, Military wife
Tagged haircuts, humor, marriage, military life, military marriage, military wife, shear terror, shears
“Where were the parents?” is a question that I have read and heard countless times, especially since the victims of Dr. Nassar, the former US Gymnastics team doctor, have taken the stand to face their attacker. The video of this distraught father brings it all home for me – click HERE to watch it.
Anxiety and depression have plagued me off and on for years. The recent news coverage of Dr. Nassar has brought my experience up again. It happens – it is a form of PTSD. Though this essay easily flowed from my heart through my fingertips, it was the decision of whether or not to publish it that has brought me the most angst. For years I have felt that God has called me to discuss this. And for years, I couldn’t bring myself to do so. The fear of sharing this story is real. How will people react? My children, grandchildren, family, friends, co-workers, readers. But I feel that I have been repeatedly nudged by the Holy Spirit the past few weeks. Maybe my experience will help someone. Maybe that someone is you.
It seems to be a logical question. How could hundreds of victims have been sexually assaulted by one man, and the parents seemingly be clueless?
One of my favorite notepads and my new notebook for my “Bullet Journal.”
“I write journals and would recommend journal writing to anyone who wishes to pursue a writing career. You learn a lot. You also remember a lot… and memory is important.” -Judy Collins
On the first weekend of the New Year, I braved the bitter cold and headed out to a local writer’s workshop. The theme – perfect for starting the year – was “Writing Goals and Skills,” led by the president of the Detroit Working Writers.
I purposely left my laptop at home, for a multitude of reasons. First, there was the practicality of lugging it in the cold. As uncoordinated as I can be, I envisioned slipping and falling in the icy parking lot, struggling to save my device as opposed to struggling to save myself.
My sweet hat and sunglasses from Italy will provide me, um, cover…
“Clothes make a man. Naked people have little or no influence on society.” – Mark Twain
Well, Mr. Twain, I beg to differ. Little did you know that we’d have naked dating shows, naked real estate shows and naked survival shows. Oh, and naked restaurants. I’m thinking naked people do have a wee bit of influence these days.
Oo la la! France is on my bucket list of travels. Food, wine, fashion and sites – oui! I am looking forward to seeing more of the country than I saw recently, which was the inside of an airport on a layover.
Naked and afraid to eat…
But, one place I will definitely avoid is the new, all-nude restaurant. (Don’t believe me? Google it. I can’t be responsible for the spam bots, okay? Okay!) Hey, if I plan to drop a boatload of money on clothes in Paris, I want to show them off. Right? I mean, I’m all for themed-restaurants, but who comes up with the idea that people want to eat when they are nude? I’m thinking they aren’t going to be famous for their wings, ya know?
My mind goes places. Places I don’t want it to go… like to pre-teen immaturity when I hear “naked.”
So, please bare with me while I have a little fun.