I decided not to continue with the book format and went back to the magazine style. The former just cost way too much and my plans for Amazon domination didn’t pan out. I had intended to sell it on their website but it turned into such a headache with their print/bleed/gutter guidelines demands that I simply gave up. I print how I want.
Whatever though, it’s still packed with 64 pages of diary goodness, including the 2016 Flashback dream I had about Styx guitarist, Tommy Shaw. π
I don’t know how many times I heard my mom say “that’s enough water!“ growing up but it was a lot. I hear her voice in my head every time I’m filling up the pitcher to water my plants, or when Maggie’s running her bath, or even when I’m getting a lone ice cube on a warm summer’s night.
I set up an auto-renew feature on a client’s website not long ago so members could check a box and have their member account renewed each year. It’s a win-win for the client and the member since neither would need to do anything. The client would collect their membership dues and the member would have uninterrupted access to the site. Hurray!
However. When the first member selected the option their credit card was charged twice. And then of course it happened to the second member.
I was talking with one of my friends several months ago and I brought up something that sounded an alarm in her. What I’d just touched on triggered an unhappiness almost like ripping someone’s blanket off on a chilly night when they’re sound asleep.
I don’t know who first used the blanket analogy but I love it so much that it works its way into the things I write.
But anyways, you fuck people up and you won’t be able to take that shit back.
It’s unfortunate that I can’t be my best self with certain people because of the torrid history between us. Even though I can forgive people, there can be so much damage in the past that it forever influences the present. And then also, the future will be permanently stained.
Okay, maybe that’s not entirely true, that relationships can “never recover” but both people really have to want it. They have to fill the present with astounding moments and create a backlog that more than rivals the historical damage of the past.
What I’ve seen, more often than not, is that people can never get there. At least not both of them.
And sometimes it seems like you just run out of time.
I’ve had them. I laid a trail of sunflower seeds to the door. That got one out. The other stole the seeds and I found a pile of them behind boxes in the basement when we moved. Bought live traps. Didn’t work. Moral: don’t let the cats bring in their friends. As if.
She thinks it was “Rekindling Motives”. Jolie Gentil series.
A real cat named Daisy was the inspiration for this. Daisy brought the chipmonks in alive and played with ‘em until we got ‘em out or Daisy killed ‘em.
Have you tried a serious sit down with your cats explaining your expectations? They are not allowed throw parties with their friends without prior consent. Be firm. I know it’s hard…
I woke up from one of those dreams that wake me because the story turned sour.
The scene was an industrial area early in the morning. The sky was gray, the air foggy and misty. I was shuffling along to meet back up with a group of friends that were having a get-together of some kind.
A car pulled up and an early 20-something boy got out. And then his girlfriend, too. A homeless wanna-be monarch and his queen. Not blatantly hostile but an obvious menace.
As the two walked toward me a two more 20-somethings appeared. And then all four drew closer like wary insects knowing they’re almost to feed.
With a dismal future planned I looked at the grubby crown and said, “do you want the cash in my wallet?” And he nodded.
The dream fast-forwarded as they often do and I was on the ground looking up at the scattered gray sky. The three cockroach minions held my arms and legs while the soiled monarch was lying flat on his stomach beside me. Going through my wallet, flipping business cards and whatever aside.
Then he held up my car keys as the primary prize. He started taking the keys off, unringing them one by one. He motioned that I could keep my truck key and then scooped the others in a pile on my chest, like he was going to keep them.
Pinned on my back I said to him with irritation, “now you’re just fucking me.”
And then I woke up. Because I was done with all of that.
Momma J · Jun 14, 2018 at 5:54 pm
It’s the best magazine I subscribe to! And I’m not saying that because I’m Momma J
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