I was getting dressed to walk the dogs. I put on my sweatshirt. Pulled on a fleece liner. Hauled into my winter parka. Tied a scarf around my neck. Sat down to put new cleats on my shoes. They didn’t fit. Despite the sizing information on the box, the cleats bent my boots in half when I was finally able to stretch the rubber out far enough to get them on.
So I took off the parka. Took off the fleece liner. Took off the sweatshirt. Put on a regular shirt. Put on my regular shoes. Got back in my
Does the Spears family not represent the ultimate in American white trash? Finally, a title they can hold on to proudly without worrying about morals or sobriety getting in the way.
I spent an hour on the floor playing peekaboo with Abdul who was hiding under the couch. I’d say, “Where’s Abdul” and from the other side of the hanging fold of upholstery I’d hear his little squaky voice say, “Come here. Abdul, good bird, come here.” And yes, that actually did amuse me for almost an hour. I’m old and I’m easy. Get over it.
I spent the rest of the night holding a fifty pound dog in my lap who was totally freaked by the explosions. Blondie sat on my chest panting fish breath into my mouth and refusing
I always mean to have this newsletter done before Christmas but then I get busy with all those Christmas preparations. You know, barricading my door so carolers can’t get in; taking my phone off the hook so no one gets through with some cheery hohoho that makes me want to scream; sabotaging my mail box so that it automatically spits out anything that remotely resembles a card from some company that takes my money all year while providing minimal service yet thinks I want holiday greetings from them that my money paid for instead of service. Well, you get the
Keeping a secret from a friend. Oh god, when will this agony end?
Sometimes, when a deadline looms and I’m pretty sure I will never have another idea in my life worth putting down on paper, I get up and talk to my birds till I feel better. I don’t necessarily get great ideas doing that, but it kills a few unproductive moments when I would otherwise be pounding my head on the keyboard, mentally screaming, “Think! Damn it. Think!”
See How Your Work
Compares With the Best!
Have you done something at work this past year that you’re proud of? Ever wonder how it would stack up against the best in Alaska and in the nation? Then the Alaska Professional Communicators’ 2008 contest is for you.
Alaska Professional Communicators, formerly Alaska Press Women, is made up of both women and men in journalism, writing, broadcasting, public relations, and related fields. For more than 30 years the organization has offered a contest in many categories of communication, with winning entries going to the national competition run by the National Federation
Has the year really gone by this quickly? Can it already be time for my 2007 Hall of Infamy induction ceremony? For those of you new to this, my Hall of Infamy enshrines all those people, places and things that so annoy me each year that they alone are responsible for most of my wrinkles and gray hair. Since 2008 is an election year, I’m sure there will be many, many nominations for next year’s honor so it’s time to wipe the slate clean and make some executive decisions on who or what has truly earned the top honor for
I will now never know what my housekeeper gave my dogs for Christmas. By the time I got back to my office, they had dragged the package off the desk and devoured whatever had once been inclosed in the wrapping that said, “For Blue and Blondie”. I hope to god it was edible.
My wish for the holidays is for someone to give George Bush enough brains to figure out he’s really quite stupid and for someone to give Dick Cheney morals.