Here's something you might be interested in.
I blame Nan for the demise of my writing career. If not for her nurturing ways, beautiful prose, stunning pictures and the sad email she sent me, I might be on my way to superstardom right now.
But here I am again, blogging on the Reader website, where I've stagnated for four years. The insults, name-calling, unexplained rejection. My dad would call it "character building" but I have another name for it altogether.
Here, at the Reader website, a poor country bumpkin such as myself can be educated by people who if not for the benevolence of good friends, would be living under the I-15 bridge. But never mind that, because they can tell you the distance between the sun and the moon, and the intent behind the fourth sentence of the third paragraph of the U.S. Constituation. Imagine that!
Here, I can be told I don't know anything about dog behavior by people half my age, even though I studied dog behavior and worked with shelter dogs for twelve years. I even won two "Thankful Paw Awards" from the Department of Animal Services for my work with Katrina dogs. But what is that when compared to once having owned a chihuahua and several pussycats?
And then I'll never forget the time I asked the editor to remove the comment that claimed I won the Neighborhood Blog Contest because I slept with him. He said he didn't believe in censorship but has no problem yanking off my blog entries left and right even when the subjects have nothing to do with libel.
Thank you one and all for keeping me humble. I wouldn't want to lose my head and think that my honors degree in economics taught me anything. Now that my kids have moved out, there's no one left to insult me, bruise my ego, and last but not least, royally piss me off. I thank you for it all and so does the company that makes Lorazepam.
And thanks to Nan for being my special friend. Just by gazing at the beauty you bring to the website causes me to smell the fresh scent of garden flowers, and like a drunk who has fallen off the wagon, I can't resist coming back here again. You're stuck with me, kid. In the future, you better be careful what you wish for because like the little girl in the poldergeist movie...I'm back!
I blame Nan for the demise of my writing career. If not for her nurturing ways, beautiful prose, stunning pictures and the sad email she sent me, I might be on my way to superstardom right now.
But here I am again, blogging on the Reader website, where I've stagnated for four years. The insults, name-calling, unexplained rejection. My dad would call it "character building" but I have another name for it altogether.
Here, at the Reader website, a poor country bumpkin such as myself can be educated by people who if not for the benevolence of good friends, would be living under the I-15 bridge. But never mind that, because they can tell you the distance between the sun and the moon, and the intent behind the fourth sentence of the third paragraph of the U.S. Constituation. Imagine that!
Here, I can be told I don't know anything about dog behavior by people half my age, even though I studied dog behavior and worked with shelter dogs for twelve years. I even won two "Thankful Paw Awards" from the Department of Animal Services for my work with Katrina dogs. But what is that when compared to once having owned a chihuahua and several pussycats?
And then I'll never forget the time I asked the editor to remove the comment that claimed I won the Neighborhood Blog Contest because I slept with him. He said he didn't believe in censorship but has no problem yanking off my blog entries left and right even when the subjects have nothing to do with libel.
Thank you one and all for keeping me humble. I wouldn't want to lose my head and think that my honors degree in economics taught me anything. Now that my kids have moved out, there's no one left to insult me, bruise my ego, and last but not least, royally piss me off. I thank you for it all and so does the company that makes Lorazepam.
And thanks to Nan for being my special friend. Just by gazing at the beauty you bring to the website causes me to smell the fresh scent of garden flowers, and like a drunk who has fallen off the wagon, I can't resist coming back here again. You're stuck with me, kid. In the future, you better be careful what you wish for because like the little girl in the poldergeist movie...I'm back!