Yeah, me too. It seems that my desire to go outside and dig in the dirt has sort of been swept away along with my ability to write and take pictures. The good news is that I think I did a sufficient amount of prep work in the fall to save me some major spring ass pains. My mulched beds are not completely overrun with weeds (aside from the front bed’s four dozen or so…
… will not relent until I am petrified, will it? Hardening, hardening, crackling, smooth. Let everything — blood, sweat, bile — roll off like dew. Nothing goes in, nothing comes out, no blinking, eyes open always so I can see the lesson. And I swear, there isn’t one. There never is.
I’m at my parents’ house. A couple of escaped convicts are running around the area. Mom’s been catching me up on their tale. Apparently they got out of a Louisiana prison work arrangement thingy, and made their way up the Delta. They’ve been offing people and taking their cars. My sister sent me a text this morning saying that she heard on the scanner that they were last spotted in Lexington in a yellow truck…
Internet friends, I am using the Woo Bueno theme. I want to add a time stamp to my posts. Probably in each post’s footer. Can someone write/find some code or something for me that will do that elegantly, and then tell me exactly which theme file(s) to put that code in, and where? (This is not part of my theme options; I checked.) Can someone do that for me? I am too tired/impatient to go…
Dear Package-Delivery Workers of America from Lindsey Turner on Vimeo. Yes, I figured out to use the back door the architect of this house thoughtfully installed for sticky situations such as these. But still. Funny.
… which happens because I am a “beauty insider” living at this particular address, I feel what I think the aliens will feel once they discover our planetary remains. Nausea, complete confusion, indigestion, pity, sadness, etc.
The thing with becoming a part-time hawker-of-all-the-shit-I-make that I have a hard time doing is the self-promotion. I really hate talking up my stuff. I feel like I’m intruding. Like people get annoyed by the constant reminders of my existence. This is the precisely the reason why I have such reservations about ever pursuing a career in advertising or promotions or marketing. I don’t want to be a nuisance. Except … I totally want people…
You must be logged in to post a comment.