Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Monday, September 28, 2009
An Anniversary Song
Thinking about the past year and all the wonderful people I've met through blogging -- people who are kind and supportive and witty and thoughtful and who are just plain interesting -- made me think back to the beginning.
It was the oddest feeling, putting together that first post and sending it out, kind of like sticking a message into a bottle and tossing it into the ocean to bob around until someone -- anyone -- pulls it from the water and reads it.
For me, that person was Radagast aka Matthew Holford, who, upon reading my second post, left me a comment. Matthew also gave me my first ever award (back in the days before I decided it's more important for the Chronicles to be fast than pretty).
A few of you joined soon after, and even took the time to go back and read my earlier posts, but most of you have never seen that first effort. So to celebrate one full year of blogging joy, I am re-posting my virgin effort.
This is my first-ever post on my first-ever blog. Ah, it's even got that new-blog smell.
Why am I calling it "The Raisin Chronicles?"
Because this blog is intended to be a celebration of growing older -- aging, maybe not gracefully, but with a lot of gusto. And because each of us, as she ages, becomes more and more like a raisin -- smaller, darker and a lot more wrinkled.
So, to start things off, a celebration of gal-pals (sung to the tune of "Baby Face" -- if you don't know that song, you're too young to be reading this blog).
Lady face
I’ve got a little old lady face
The bags beneath my eyes are a disgrace
It’s a waste
Being old sucks, young rocks
I sure could use some Botox
Lady hair
I’ve got this little old lady hair
It’s gray and silver and spikes out to there
People stare
And it’s getting much thinner
I’m balder than most men are
Lady butt
I’ve got a little old lady butt
It sags down even further than my gut
Used to jut
What was once X-rated
Is now just constipated
Lady tits
I’ve got these little old lady tits
It’s really hard to find a bra that fits
It’s the pits
I have my cups inflated
To keep them elevated.
Lady face
But I don’t worry when I’m hanging with the gals
I thank the stars above
That I’ve got friends who love
My little old lady face.
Thanks to everyone who drops by occasionally. Here's to another year!
(If you don't know the song, and really want to hear the melody, here's Paul McCartney singing it:
It was the oddest feeling, putting together that first post and sending it out, kind of like sticking a message into a bottle and tossing it into the ocean to bob around until someone -- anyone -- pulls it from the water and reads it.
For me, that person was Radagast aka Matthew Holford, who, upon reading my second post, left me a comment. Matthew also gave me my first ever award (back in the days before I decided it's more important for the Chronicles to be fast than pretty).
A few of you joined soon after, and even took the time to go back and read my earlier posts, but most of you have never seen that first effort. So to celebrate one full year of blogging joy, I am re-posting my virgin effort.
This is my first-ever post on my first-ever blog. Ah, it's even got that new-blog smell.
Why am I calling it "The Raisin Chronicles?"
Because this blog is intended to be a celebration of growing older -- aging, maybe not gracefully, but with a lot of gusto. And because each of us, as she ages, becomes more and more like a raisin -- smaller, darker and a lot more wrinkled.
So, to start things off, a celebration of gal-pals (sung to the tune of "Baby Face" -- if you don't know that song, you're too young to be reading this blog).
Lady face
I’ve got a little old lady face
The bags beneath my eyes are a disgrace
It’s a waste
Being old sucks, young rocks
I sure could use some Botox
Lady hair
I’ve got this little old lady hair
It’s gray and silver and spikes out to there
People stare
And it’s getting much thinner
I’m balder than most men are
Lady butt
I’ve got a little old lady butt
It sags down even further than my gut
Used to jut
What was once X-rated
Is now just constipated
Lady tits
I’ve got these little old lady tits
It’s really hard to find a bra that fits
It’s the pits
I have my cups inflated
To keep them elevated.
Lady face
But I don’t worry when I’m hanging with the gals
I thank the stars above
That I’ve got friends who love
My little old lady face.
Thanks to everyone who drops by occasionally. Here's to another year!
(If you don't know the song, and really want to hear the melody, here's Paul McCartney singing it:
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Friday, September 25, 2009
Old Joke #20
(Fiction Friday will return next week, assuming my growing obsession with Glee doesn't screw up my posting schedule again.)
A Native American goes to see the medicine man.
"You gotta help me, doc," he says. "I'm not getting any sleep."
"What's the problem?" says the doctor.
"One night," the Indian says, "I dream I'm a wigwam. The next night, I dream I'm a teepee. Wigwam, teepee. Wigwam, teepee."
The medicine man says, "I know what your problem is."
"What?" says the Indian.
"You're two tents."
A Native American goes to see the medicine man.
"You gotta help me, doc," he says. "I'm not getting any sleep."
"What's the problem?" says the doctor.
"One night," the Indian says, "I dream I'm a wigwam. The next night, I dream I'm a teepee. Wigwam, teepee. Wigwam, teepee."
The medicine man says, "I know what your problem is."
"What?" says the Indian.
"You're two tents."
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Monday, September 21, 2009
Anything Monday: Why Are Women Less Happy?
As I'm sure you've noticed by now, there's a predictable schedule for The Raisin Chronicles: on Wednesdays, you get a fun web link and on Fridays you get an essay and/or contest having to do with fiction writing.
Mondays, though, are pretty random. Mondays are the Chronicles equivalent of the old Mouseketeer "Anything Can Happen Day."
Today's random topic is the research findings by Marcus Buckingham that indicate that since 1972, as women have joined the workforce in increasing numbers, they've grown less happy. The theory, espoused by such Women's Liberation luminaries as Gloria Steinem and Betty Friedan, that doing "meaningful work" and getting a paycheck would increase women's self-esteem and, thereby, their happiness, has proven incorrect.
Over the same period, men have grown happier, in almost exact proportion to women's decreasing happiness.
There are a number of theories on why this is: because women now work too much, because, between work and home, they work more than men, because women still have the lioness's share of housekeeping and child-rearing responsibilities, that it's strictly an American phenomenon.
The data does not support any of these conclusions.
Old Dog, though, has his own causal link. When I told him about the research, and how men have grown happier in direct proportion to women's decreasing happiness, he said:
"Of course. Men being happy always makes women unhappy."
It may be time for an attitude adjustment on that man....
For the Ladies: As an outcome of this research, there's a test you can take to help identify the kind of work that's most likely to make you feel happy and fulfilled. I'll post my own results in the comments, along with my thoughts on their accuracy. I invite you to do the same.
For the guys: Go ahead and take the test if you have time. It will be interesting to see how your results, and your reactions, differ from the gals.
Mondays, though, are pretty random. Mondays are the Chronicles equivalent of the old Mouseketeer "Anything Can Happen Day."
Today's random topic is the research findings by Marcus Buckingham that indicate that since 1972, as women have joined the workforce in increasing numbers, they've grown less happy. The theory, espoused by such Women's Liberation luminaries as Gloria Steinem and Betty Friedan, that doing "meaningful work" and getting a paycheck would increase women's self-esteem and, thereby, their happiness, has proven incorrect.
Over the same period, men have grown happier, in almost exact proportion to women's decreasing happiness.
There are a number of theories on why this is: because women now work too much, because, between work and home, they work more than men, because women still have the lioness's share of housekeeping and child-rearing responsibilities, that it's strictly an American phenomenon.
The data does not support any of these conclusions.
Old Dog, though, has his own causal link. When I told him about the research, and how men have grown happier in direct proportion to women's decreasing happiness, he said:
"Of course. Men being happy always makes women unhappy."
It may be time for an attitude adjustment on that man....
For the Ladies: As an outcome of this research, there's a test you can take to help identify the kind of work that's most likely to make you feel happy and fulfilled. I'll post my own results in the comments, along with my thoughts on their accuracy. I invite you to do the same.
For the guys: Go ahead and take the test if you have time. It will be interesting to see how your results, and your reactions, differ from the gals.
Friday, September 18, 2009
Fiction Friday: Character Studies
This Week's Winners
Chris@Maugeritaville
Bob Hannah was the kind of guy who hated palindromes, hated them backward and forward.
I just love this one – it's perfectly in line with my sense of humor.
He was that special kind of douchebag, the kind who would take his mother to dinner for her birthday and then stick her with the check.
This one is great because of the voice. With a mere 26 words Chris has given us not only a character, but opened to door to a noir world of private dicks and beautiful but treacherous dames. Pure economy.
Steven G
He was the kind of person you just wanted to help.
In a world of bad things and bad people, he would always go out of his way to show kindness and interest in anyone else who also needed a helping hand.
At the tragic end of his young life, many of those whose lives he had touched gathered around to be with him to the very end.
He softly answered, “I’d like you to give my love to my friends and my family.”
The question, of course, was, “Do you have any final words to say, Mr.Bundy?”
What can I say? This is vintage Steven G – you, sir, are one dark dude.
PurestGreen
She was the kind of person who would be dead within a year of retiring, her entire sense of self having been erased once there was nowhere to go and no one to care.
Maybe because I’m approaching that time of life myself, this one really caught my attention. I don’t feel that way about retirement – I love working at the clinic, but would be thrilled to have 24 hours a day to spend blogging, writing, walking – but I’m interested in this alternative view.
Frogs in My Formula
He/She was the kind of person/man/woman who really needed to go ahead and get the sex operation.
Clever, very clever to take my prompt and turn it around on me. Touche.
Next Week’s Prompt
Instead of providing a prompt, I want to do a different kind of exercise. For anyone who wants to play along, pick any one of the above character sketches and give us a physical description that reveals the same information about the character.
Example:
At first glance her legs looked great, but her ankles kept giving way, making it clear that her size twelve feet weren’t used to mincing down the boulevard in heels.
Chris@Maugeritaville
Bob Hannah was the kind of guy who hated palindromes, hated them backward and forward.
I just love this one – it's perfectly in line with my sense of humor.
He was that special kind of douchebag, the kind who would take his mother to dinner for her birthday and then stick her with the check.
This one is great because of the voice. With a mere 26 words Chris has given us not only a character, but opened to door to a noir world of private dicks and beautiful but treacherous dames. Pure economy.
Steven G
He was the kind of person you just wanted to help.
In a world of bad things and bad people, he would always go out of his way to show kindness and interest in anyone else who also needed a helping hand.
At the tragic end of his young life, many of those whose lives he had touched gathered around to be with him to the very end.
He softly answered, “I’d like you to give my love to my friends and my family.”
The question, of course, was, “Do you have any final words to say, Mr.Bundy?”
What can I say? This is vintage Steven G – you, sir, are one dark dude.
PurestGreen
She was the kind of person who would be dead within a year of retiring, her entire sense of self having been erased once there was nowhere to go and no one to care.
Maybe because I’m approaching that time of life myself, this one really caught my attention. I don’t feel that way about retirement – I love working at the clinic, but would be thrilled to have 24 hours a day to spend blogging, writing, walking – but I’m interested in this alternative view.
Frogs in My Formula
He/She was the kind of person/man/woman who really needed to go ahead and get the sex operation.
Clever, very clever to take my prompt and turn it around on me. Touche.
Next Week’s Prompt
Instead of providing a prompt, I want to do a different kind of exercise. For anyone who wants to play along, pick any one of the above character sketches and give us a physical description that reveals the same information about the character.
Example:
At first glance her legs looked great, but her ankles kept giving way, making it clear that her size twelve feet weren’t used to mincing down the boulevard in heels.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Web Wednesday: Shake a Tail Feather
The first few minutes of this is enough to give you the flavor, although the bird has surprising variety in his choreography....
Monday, September 14, 2009
Good Old Mr. Wilson
By now, you've all heard of Joe Wilson, (R, SC), who shouted, “You lie!” during President Obama’s address to Congress on health care reform last week.
To provide some context for the way his emotions overwhelmed him when President Obama was speaking, here’s another tidbit on that good old boy. In 2000, when Wilson was still a state senator, he was one of seven Republicans who voted to keep flying the Confederate flag over the South Carolina state capitol because “the Confederate heritage is very honorable.”
Don't worry, Senator Thurmond, your legacy lives on.
To provide some context for the way his emotions overwhelmed him when President Obama was speaking, here’s another tidbit on that good old boy. In 2000, when Wilson was still a state senator, he was one of seven Republicans who voted to keep flying the Confederate flag over the South Carolina state capitol because “the Confederate heritage is very honorable.”
Don't worry, Senator Thurmond, your legacy lives on.
Friday, September 11, 2009
Fiction Friday: Creating Memorable Characters
Labor Day has come and gone, so it’s time to resume our weekly writing exercises. Since we’ve been off for a while, I thought we could limber up our writing muscles by working on character description.
New Rules
Going forward, I’m not going to choose a winner; instead, I will select up to 5 responses that interest me for one reason or another and post them next Friday with comments on what got my attention.
Suggested word limit is still 100 words, but I’m not going to check it. Just understand that one of the reasons for the limit was to encourage you to choose what you like the best and trim away the excess.
Has to be posted as a comment on The Raisin Chronicles Fiction Friday post by midnight the following Wednesday, Eastern Daylight Time (which gives me an evening to review them all and put a post together).
Next Week’s Prompt
He/She was the kind of person/man/woman who ___________.
Examples:
She was the kind of person who always checked in when she went to the gym, just in case she was ever falsely accused of a crime and needed an alibi.
He was the kind of man who never missed a Wednesday evening prayer service, although he was often too drunk to remember what was said.
I've really missed reading your stuff -- I am SOOOOO looking forward to this.
New Rules
Going forward, I’m not going to choose a winner; instead, I will select up to 5 responses that interest me for one reason or another and post them next Friday with comments on what got my attention.
Suggested word limit is still 100 words, but I’m not going to check it. Just understand that one of the reasons for the limit was to encourage you to choose what you like the best and trim away the excess.
Has to be posted as a comment on The Raisin Chronicles Fiction Friday post by midnight the following Wednesday, Eastern Daylight Time (which gives me an evening to review them all and put a post together).
Next Week’s Prompt
He/She was the kind of person/man/woman who ___________.
Examples:
She was the kind of person who always checked in when she went to the gym, just in case she was ever falsely accused of a crime and needed an alibi.
He was the kind of man who never missed a Wednesday evening prayer service, although he was often too drunk to remember what was said.
I've really missed reading your stuff -- I am SOOOOO looking forward to this.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Web Wednesday: Courtesy of Skylers Dad & Perigrin
Skyler's Dad sent me this video link in response to my drunk test post:
And Perigrin provided this link to The People of Walmart after reading The Man by the Window.
And Perigrin provided this link to The People of Walmart after reading The Man by the Window.
Monday, September 7, 2009
You Sexy Thang
After many years of marriage, sometimes the sparkle begins to wear off. You're still in love, can't imagine being with anyone else, but the spice and savor are gone, and a dreary sameness starts to take over. You settle into a routine so predictable that it's hard to work up enthusiasm for executing the maneuver one more time.
And, honestly, I think this is a lot harder on the husband than it is on the wife. We just have so many more things to fill our time....
But when you're married to a wonderful man like Old Dog, it doesn't have to stay that way. Shy as he is, he will take matters into his own hands and step outside his comfort zone to make a mail order purchase to jazz things up, an electronic device to add some flavor and spice to life.
I was more than a little surprised, because he's never done anything like this before. I'd like to say he got my input before he made his purchase, to ensure that I would receive the maximum pleasure from the model he chose, but he didn't, and honestly, his instincts served him well, because I love the one he picked out.
The evening it arrived in the mail, I poured us each a drink and set aside some quality time to investigate the bliss that such a gadget can provide.
Since then, I've made Beef Bourgignon, Risotto with Peas, Acapulco Chicken and Italian Sausage Soup with my new pressure cooker.
Seriously, folks, the food around here these days is orgasmic.
And, honestly, I think this is a lot harder on the husband than it is on the wife. We just have so many more things to fill our time....
But when you're married to a wonderful man like Old Dog, it doesn't have to stay that way. Shy as he is, he will take matters into his own hands and step outside his comfort zone to make a mail order purchase to jazz things up, an electronic device to add some flavor and spice to life.
I was more than a little surprised, because he's never done anything like this before. I'd like to say he got my input before he made his purchase, to ensure that I would receive the maximum pleasure from the model he chose, but he didn't, and honestly, his instincts served him well, because I love the one he picked out.
The evening it arrived in the mail, I poured us each a drink and set aside some quality time to investigate the bliss that such a gadget can provide.
Since then, I've made Beef Bourgignon, Risotto with Peas, Acapulco Chicken and Italian Sausage Soup with my new pressure cooker.
Seriously, folks, the food around here these days is orgasmic.
Friday, September 4, 2009
Old Joke #19
A woman whose husband has passed away comes into inspect the mortuary’s work before the viewing begins.
The funeral director leads her into the room where her husband’s remains are on display.
“How does he look, ma’am?”
The woman begins to weep violently.
“He looks very nice but Harry never wore brown suits," she sobs. "Harry always wore blue suits!”
The funeral director leads her from the room. “Don’t worry about it, ma’am” he says soothingly. “We’ll take care of it.”
And, sure enough, when the funeral begins, there’s Harry, nicely laid out in a blue suit, as promised.
Afterwards, the woman stops to thank the director. “I just hope it wasn’t too much trouble,” she says, swallowing back a sob.
“No problem, ma’am,” he says. “We just switched heads.”
The funeral director leads her into the room where her husband’s remains are on display.
“How does he look, ma’am?”
The woman begins to weep violently.
“He looks very nice but Harry never wore brown suits," she sobs. "Harry always wore blue suits!”
The funeral director leads her from the room. “Don’t worry about it, ma’am” he says soothingly. “We’ll take care of it.”
And, sure enough, when the funeral begins, there’s Harry, nicely laid out in a blue suit, as promised.
Afterwards, the woman stops to thank the director. “I just hope it wasn’t too much trouble,” she says, swallowing back a sob.
“No problem, ma’am,” he says. “We just switched heads.”
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Web Wednesday: Wild About T*ts
I saw this back in the '80's, but hadn't thought about it for a long time, till Steven G sent me the link....
Oh, and one other thing I'd forgotten: the way this little ditty gets stuck in your head.
Oh, and one other thing I'd forgotten: the way this little ditty gets stuck in your head.
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