I wrote this last year, but it applies today. I am unproductive, uninspired, and undeniably
SICK AND TIRED OF WINTER
I can’t stay up past sundown. I’m wide awake at three.
All day I am lethargic; I know what’s wrong with me.
I ache for old friend sunshine who eases all my pain.
I hate precipitation, but I’d welcome summer rain.
I need a break from frigid, this deep freeze really sucks
I’m sick of slippery roads and salty cars and trucks.
I want to feel a trickle of sweat roll down my spine.
I’m sick and tired of goose bumps and freezing all the time.
I’m tired of wearing socks to bed and nightgowns past my knees.
I am sick and tired of winter; hurry springtime, please.
For all of you who love it
I have a word or two
WINTER- you can shovel it
That’s what you can do.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
There-There, Beware!
Every writer has his or her own writing style. I usually edit as I write, and then go back and omit words as I try to write tighter. I am amazed at how many times I trip over 'there'. Compare the two paragraphs and tell me what you think.
Paragraph 1.
There were so many school cancellations scrolling all day across the bottom of the TV when I awoke before dawn. There were animal tracks in the snow that led under the shed where I think a raccoon has made its den, so I put out a bowl of water. There was less snowfall in our area than forecasted, so we went to the mall to walk. There was a rack of marked down sweaters at Macy's, and I bought one with my gift card. There was a good movie on TV when we returned home. There was plenty to do on this fun day off school.
There-there! Good writers know that action verbs propel their writing and passive verbs such as is/are/were drag the story down. I was once told that using the word there is a direct route to passive verbs and boring writing, so I try to avoid the word, there.
The first paragraph conveys the messages, but the second paragraph seems less bland. The difference is like eating a plain glazed donut compared to one with swirls and sprinkles. (Yes, snow and winter make me crave carbs.)
Paragraph 2.
The TV news station should have listed the schools that were open instead of closed. The cancellation list started scrolling across the bottom of the TV at 4:30 a.m. when I spied animal footprints in the snow. I tracked them under the shed where I suspect a fat raccoon is holed up for the winter, so I put out a bowl of fresh
water. The meterologist was wrong again; our area received a scant two inches of snow, so we piled into the car and drove to the mall. I spied a rack of sweaters at Macy's reduced 70% and I had to have the bluish-green one. Speed walking and spending my gift card at the mall, then watching a TV movie made for a fun snow day.
Paragraph 1.
There were so many school cancellations scrolling all day across the bottom of the TV when I awoke before dawn. There were animal tracks in the snow that led under the shed where I think a raccoon has made its den, so I put out a bowl of water. There was less snowfall in our area than forecasted, so we went to the mall to walk. There was a rack of marked down sweaters at Macy's, and I bought one with my gift card. There was a good movie on TV when we returned home. There was plenty to do on this fun day off school.
There-there! Good writers know that action verbs propel their writing and passive verbs such as is/are/were drag the story down. I was once told that using the word there is a direct route to passive verbs and boring writing, so I try to avoid the word, there.
The first paragraph conveys the messages, but the second paragraph seems less bland. The difference is like eating a plain glazed donut compared to one with swirls and sprinkles. (Yes, snow and winter make me crave carbs.)
Paragraph 2.
The TV news station should have listed the schools that were open instead of closed. The cancellation list started scrolling across the bottom of the TV at 4:30 a.m. when I spied animal footprints in the snow. I tracked them under the shed where I suspect a fat raccoon is holed up for the winter, so I put out a bowl of fresh
water. The meterologist was wrong again; our area received a scant two inches of snow, so we piled into the car and drove to the mall. I spied a rack of sweaters at Macy's reduced 70% and I had to have the bluish-green one. Speed walking and spending my gift card at the mall, then watching a TV movie made for a fun snow day.
Monday, January 10, 2011
Winter got you down?
I came home and found a large white envelope on top of the mail. It contained a certificate awarding me Honorable Mention by the Springfield Poets and Friends for my humorous poem, Gym Dandy.
I also was asked to contribute an article for publication to the St. Louis Writer's Guild publication, The Scribe on essay writing.
And I had a personal essay about meeting Chuck Berry accepted by the St. Louis Writer's Guild for their upcoming anthology on St. Louis.
That's my twoot-twoot-twoot.
Yesterday the weather was gloomy and the sky bleak. We drove about an hour to Alton, Illinois and saw a few eagles on the river, not many. But it was fun to take a drive and stop for lunch.
I spied an eagle soaring above the car and told Bill to pull over. By the time we parked and got the camera ready, the bird had taken off in another direction. But it was one of those nature 'moments' that make me all mushy inside.
We walked along the river bank a short distance until our teeth started chattering. I was thrilled by the sound of the ice cracking as it layered and lapped up to shore.
We saw a large red dog or more likely a coyote, and this incredible tree which had been gnawed by beavers. Sometimes we all feel like we're teetering like this tree, but somehow we find the strength to stand strong, despite all the knicks and knocks.
If winter gets you down as it sometimes does me, just think, spring is 11 and 1/2 weeks away. Meanwhile, write something, anything for your own satisfaction, and stay warm.
Snow has arrived, 5:30 p.m. and I am going to snuggle in, eat a bowl of homemade chicken stew, and garlicy buttered hot rolls, and later a couple of mini chocolate donuts as I watch for school closings. Keeping my fingers crossed.
I also was asked to contribute an article for publication to the St. Louis Writer's Guild publication, The Scribe on essay writing.
And I had a personal essay about meeting Chuck Berry accepted by the St. Louis Writer's Guild for their upcoming anthology on St. Louis.
That's my twoot-twoot-twoot.
Yesterday the weather was gloomy and the sky bleak. We drove about an hour to Alton, Illinois and saw a few eagles on the river, not many. But it was fun to take a drive and stop for lunch.
I spied an eagle soaring above the car and told Bill to pull over. By the time we parked and got the camera ready, the bird had taken off in another direction. But it was one of those nature 'moments' that make me all mushy inside.
We walked along the river bank a short distance until our teeth started chattering. I was thrilled by the sound of the ice cracking as it layered and lapped up to shore.
We saw a large red dog or more likely a coyote, and this incredible tree which had been gnawed by beavers. Sometimes we all feel like we're teetering like this tree, but somehow we find the strength to stand strong, despite all the knicks and knocks.
If winter gets you down as it sometimes does me, just think, spring is 11 and 1/2 weeks away. Meanwhile, write something, anything for your own satisfaction, and stay warm.
Snow has arrived, 5:30 p.m. and I am going to snuggle in, eat a bowl of homemade chicken stew, and garlicy buttered hot rolls, and later a couple of mini chocolate donuts as I watch for school closings. Keeping my fingers crossed.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
The Yin and Yang of Freelancing...telling it like it is!
In addition to my day job as a preschool teacher, I am a freelance writer. I have learned some eye-opening truths about freelancing. All of those cute little kid quips I’ve been jotting down for thirty years with the intention of writing a book about the funny things children have said aren’t worth the paper they’re written on. They have all been published in, Kids Say The Darndest Things. Editors don’t care that kids nowadays say even darnder things. Art Linkletter beat me to the punch. He cornered that market, so I continue to plug away at targeting a variety of writer’s markets and working into the wee hours and spending a fortune on postage.
I have discovered that every positive aspect of being a freelance writer has a negative. Here are some things new writers should know. First and foremost, friends and family do not care that much about your latest and greatest essay, prose, poem or article, at least not in the same way that you do. You can tell when they’ve had enough because their eyes glaze over and roll back in their heads when you ask if they want to hear your most recent musing. I’ve learned not to give them a chance to reply; I begin reading fast and furiously until their heavy sighing begins. I trail them out of the room, and sometimes to the bathroom. Their sense of humor doesn’t even compare to mine; most of the time they don’t even ‘get it’. Oh, but my readers do. Once in a while an editor will contact me or forward a reader’s response. Or a reader will email me.
It’s not the fortune and fame that keeps a freelance writer going. I haven’t made a fortune, and fame has not found me, yet. I haven’t earned enough to buy a daily latte and a pastry. I settle for a pot of warmed over coffee and prepackaged cookies to feed my muse.
Writer’s should cross genre lines; you can be widely-published and broaden your portfolio with a variety of clips. You can also broaden your backside by sitting way too long in that padded desk chair. Send-send-send to a variety of publications, and when the rejections pour in, dump them right back out there. My letter carrier thinks I have a crush on him, poor old fool. He doesn’t realize the only reason I meet him on the street is because I don’t want my tome lifted from the mailbox by some thief looking for a check that isn’t there.
Be forewarned, when you’re writing on deadline, you may become maniacal. My family thinks I’m disturbed, because when they disturb me, I hiss, “Can’t you see I’m writing; what do you mean, ‘dinner’?”
Less noise and interruptions keeps the writer focused. When my hard-of-hearing honey watches television, I ask him to please keep the volume low, and then I scream for him and at the computer when it malfunctions.
Freelance writers have the freedom to choose their work schedule. On the nights when my husband goes to bed without me, I find myself slinking in my nightgown whispering sweet nothings at 1:00 a.m. “Come on baby, you can do it, uh-huh; don’t quit now, you darn printer.”
If you submit a lot, you will receive nice little checks in the mail when you least expect it. In fact, when I least expect it, that’s when my car engine light starts winking at me, the big flirt! And that’s usually when the check is nice, but way too little.
One more piece of advice, your family will be more likely to listen to your ‘latest and greatest’ if you use their name in print in a flattering manner. My husband may not be interested in everything I write, but if I refer to him in print, he’s all eyes and ears. The other night I went to bed early, and HE stayed up late and worked on the computer. He roused me from a sound sleep at midnight. “Honey, wake up.” He sounded very excited. “You have an acceptance on that story you wrote about ME, Goofy Willy.”
I rubbed my eyes, smiled, and patted the pillow. I let him down gently, “Bill, come to bed. Willy was a goofy dog I had forty years ago.”
I have discovered that every positive aspect of being a freelance writer has a negative. Here are some things new writers should know. First and foremost, friends and family do not care that much about your latest and greatest essay, prose, poem or article, at least not in the same way that you do. You can tell when they’ve had enough because their eyes glaze over and roll back in their heads when you ask if they want to hear your most recent musing. I’ve learned not to give them a chance to reply; I begin reading fast and furiously until their heavy sighing begins. I trail them out of the room, and sometimes to the bathroom. Their sense of humor doesn’t even compare to mine; most of the time they don’t even ‘get it’. Oh, but my readers do. Once in a while an editor will contact me or forward a reader’s response. Or a reader will email me.
It’s not the fortune and fame that keeps a freelance writer going. I haven’t made a fortune, and fame has not found me, yet. I haven’t earned enough to buy a daily latte and a pastry. I settle for a pot of warmed over coffee and prepackaged cookies to feed my muse.
Writer’s should cross genre lines; you can be widely-published and broaden your portfolio with a variety of clips. You can also broaden your backside by sitting way too long in that padded desk chair. Send-send-send to a variety of publications, and when the rejections pour in, dump them right back out there. My letter carrier thinks I have a crush on him, poor old fool. He doesn’t realize the only reason I meet him on the street is because I don’t want my tome lifted from the mailbox by some thief looking for a check that isn’t there.
Be forewarned, when you’re writing on deadline, you may become maniacal. My family thinks I’m disturbed, because when they disturb me, I hiss, “Can’t you see I’m writing; what do you mean, ‘dinner’?”
Less noise and interruptions keeps the writer focused. When my hard-of-hearing honey watches television, I ask him to please keep the volume low, and then I scream for him and at the computer when it malfunctions.
Freelance writers have the freedom to choose their work schedule. On the nights when my husband goes to bed without me, I find myself slinking in my nightgown whispering sweet nothings at 1:00 a.m. “Come on baby, you can do it, uh-huh; don’t quit now, you darn printer.”
If you submit a lot, you will receive nice little checks in the mail when you least expect it. In fact, when I least expect it, that’s when my car engine light starts winking at me, the big flirt! And that’s usually when the check is nice, but way too little.
One more piece of advice, your family will be more likely to listen to your ‘latest and greatest’ if you use their name in print in a flattering manner. My husband may not be interested in everything I write, but if I refer to him in print, he’s all eyes and ears. The other night I went to bed early, and HE stayed up late and worked on the computer. He roused me from a sound sleep at midnight. “Honey, wake up.” He sounded very excited. “You have an acceptance on that story you wrote about ME, Goofy Willy.”
I rubbed my eyes, smiled, and patted the pillow. I let him down gently, “Bill, come to bed. Willy was a goofy dog I had forty years ago.”
Friday, January 7, 2011
Books of Knowledge tucked neatly into a hand held device
I just read on Yahoo that encyclopedias will be dinosaurs in the future for all babies born this year. With hand-held computers, knowledge is a click away.
The Encyclopedia Salesman (True story!)
When I joined my soldier husband in a tiny rural Alaska town, we were young newlyweds. I had a difficult adjustment period moving from a Midwest inner city neighborhood -where nearly everyone owned a dog, and nearly everything we needed was in walking distance -to moving to a remote wilderness town.
I was used to the sights and sounds of the big city where the aromas from ethnic cooking blended on the breeze. Pork steaks sizzled on open charcoal grills, the smells of garlic, green pepper and onion meant someone in the neighborhood was having spaghetti and meatballs, but my favorite smell was bacon sizzling on someone’s stove to be served up with a fresh home grown tomato.
From the big city to a rural town where moose and buffalo traversed our unpaved road, I was lonely and I missed my dog who was back home with my parents. From a lovely little apartment to a rundown trailer. A string of eight ramshackle trailers in eight crayon colors stretched down the gravel road - I felt alienated. From a thriving five block shopping district where small shop owners and five and dime stores displayed their wares to a tiny two block town with one general store - I felt displaced. It was the bakeries sprinkled throughout our Midwest neighborhood that I missed most. I craved pastries, but the general store in town didn’t sell anything that came close to fresh chocolate long johns or cheese danish. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway; we never had any extra money; none of the newlywed military families who lived off post did.
One Saturday morning, I heard a car pull into the gravel drive at the far end of the trailer court. I peeked out the window and saw a man lift a heavy satchel from the trunk. I assumed he was visiting a neighbor. A few minutes later he knocked on our door and asked if he could come in and show us his product. He was a traveling encyclopedia salesman. I nudged my husband in his ribs, knowing full well that we could not afford them, but he invited the man in anyway. He opened his case and handed us a book, gilded edged Volume A.
“What do you think of this?” he asked as he fanned the pages. Before I could speak my mind, the guy had five volumes spread on the floor. “Eight dollars a month, that’s all it will cost you folks. We can set up a payment plan and you will have this gorgeous set for your future children. I’ll even throw in a children’s set; now how does that sound for eight dollars?”
If we’d had eight extra dollars a month, I sure wouldn’t have bought encyclopedias. I was adamant and said, “We absolutely cannot afford these. They are beautiful, but not at this time.”
Then he started talking faster than an auctioneer, “Twenty-five cents a day, only twenty-five cents a day and you and your family can own this wonderful set. Twenty five cents a day and I’ll even through in a book case for you to display these treasures. What do you say, twenty five cents a day? Don't deprive your children. Twenty-five cents a day.”
My husband looked at me hopefully and said, “Babe, what do you think? It is a good deal.” He put me in an awkward position, and I wanted to scream, 'We don't have children and you hate reading!" but I simply said, “No.”
By the time the salesman had packed up his volumes A-Z, I had two men upset with me. I heard the car engine start up at the end of the trailer court, looked out and saw the salesman’s car pull away. I was relieved.
I was upset with my husband for even thinking we could afford such a luxury and I got tired of defending my position, so I went next door to complain to my best friend. I banged on her door. I rapped again. I called her name. She finally answered.
“What took you so long to answer? Sleeping in?" She stood at the open door but did not invite me in as she usually would. “I hope I’m not disturbing you. I just have to tell you this. Did you see the guy who got out of that white car down at the end of the road? He was some little weird encyclopedia salesman and I’m telling you he was a goof who had a bad comb over and bad breath and a bad sales pitch.”
She was usually as animated as I was, but she stood statue-like with the door narrowly opened and blinked nervously. She narrowed her eyes and shook her head from side to side.
“Yes, really!” I said. Her face contorted.
“Okay, I’ll hurry, I guess you want to get back to hubby, huh? Well listen to this first. The little creep sounded like an auctioneer trying to hawk these encyclopedias. ‘Twenty-five cents, twenty-five cents.’ You’re lucky he didn’t hit you up. Your husband’s like mine; he’d have signed on the dotted line just to make the guy happy. Now I’ve ticked off my husband and that goofy salesman.”
Her eyes flashed wide. She opened the door and her husband yelled, "Come on in." There sat the encyclopedia salesman with his volumes spread wall to wall.
“Hi there again." he shouted, "My partner took the car up to town. We always travel in pairs."
My friend's husband said, “I'm about to sign the contract.”
My face was as red as my friend’s trailer as I stumbled down the stairs backwards and shouted an apology to the salesman. I could hear him and my friend's husband laughing as I ran home.
To this day, my best friend blames me for their purchase of an obsolete set of encyclopedias, circa 1969 that her husband refuses to dispose of. If I were her, I'd throw them out, or at his head!
I'm glad that nowadays knowledge is a digital click away. Times, how they change.
The Encyclopedia Salesman (True story!)
When I joined my soldier husband in a tiny rural Alaska town, we were young newlyweds. I had a difficult adjustment period moving from a Midwest inner city neighborhood -where nearly everyone owned a dog, and nearly everything we needed was in walking distance -to moving to a remote wilderness town.
I was used to the sights and sounds of the big city where the aromas from ethnic cooking blended on the breeze. Pork steaks sizzled on open charcoal grills, the smells of garlic, green pepper and onion meant someone in the neighborhood was having spaghetti and meatballs, but my favorite smell was bacon sizzling on someone’s stove to be served up with a fresh home grown tomato.
From the big city to a rural town where moose and buffalo traversed our unpaved road, I was lonely and I missed my dog who was back home with my parents. From a lovely little apartment to a rundown trailer. A string of eight ramshackle trailers in eight crayon colors stretched down the gravel road - I felt alienated. From a thriving five block shopping district where small shop owners and five and dime stores displayed their wares to a tiny two block town with one general store - I felt displaced. It was the bakeries sprinkled throughout our Midwest neighborhood that I missed most. I craved pastries, but the general store in town didn’t sell anything that came close to fresh chocolate long johns or cheese danish. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway; we never had any extra money; none of the newlywed military families who lived off post did.
One Saturday morning, I heard a car pull into the gravel drive at the far end of the trailer court. I peeked out the window and saw a man lift a heavy satchel from the trunk. I assumed he was visiting a neighbor. A few minutes later he knocked on our door and asked if he could come in and show us his product. He was a traveling encyclopedia salesman. I nudged my husband in his ribs, knowing full well that we could not afford them, but he invited the man in anyway. He opened his case and handed us a book, gilded edged Volume A.
“What do you think of this?” he asked as he fanned the pages. Before I could speak my mind, the guy had five volumes spread on the floor. “Eight dollars a month, that’s all it will cost you folks. We can set up a payment plan and you will have this gorgeous set for your future children. I’ll even throw in a children’s set; now how does that sound for eight dollars?”
If we’d had eight extra dollars a month, I sure wouldn’t have bought encyclopedias. I was adamant and said, “We absolutely cannot afford these. They are beautiful, but not at this time.”
Then he started talking faster than an auctioneer, “Twenty-five cents a day, only twenty-five cents a day and you and your family can own this wonderful set. Twenty five cents a day and I’ll even through in a book case for you to display these treasures. What do you say, twenty five cents a day? Don't deprive your children. Twenty-five cents a day.”
My husband looked at me hopefully and said, “Babe, what do you think? It is a good deal.” He put me in an awkward position, and I wanted to scream, 'We don't have children and you hate reading!" but I simply said, “No.”
By the time the salesman had packed up his volumes A-Z, I had two men upset with me. I heard the car engine start up at the end of the trailer court, looked out and saw the salesman’s car pull away. I was relieved.
I was upset with my husband for even thinking we could afford such a luxury and I got tired of defending my position, so I went next door to complain to my best friend. I banged on her door. I rapped again. I called her name. She finally answered.
“What took you so long to answer? Sleeping in?" She stood at the open door but did not invite me in as she usually would. “I hope I’m not disturbing you. I just have to tell you this. Did you see the guy who got out of that white car down at the end of the road? He was some little weird encyclopedia salesman and I’m telling you he was a goof who had a bad comb over and bad breath and a bad sales pitch.”
She was usually as animated as I was, but she stood statue-like with the door narrowly opened and blinked nervously. She narrowed her eyes and shook her head from side to side.
“Yes, really!” I said. Her face contorted.
“Okay, I’ll hurry, I guess you want to get back to hubby, huh? Well listen to this first. The little creep sounded like an auctioneer trying to hawk these encyclopedias. ‘Twenty-five cents, twenty-five cents.’ You’re lucky he didn’t hit you up. Your husband’s like mine; he’d have signed on the dotted line just to make the guy happy. Now I’ve ticked off my husband and that goofy salesman.”
Her eyes flashed wide. She opened the door and her husband yelled, "Come on in." There sat the encyclopedia salesman with his volumes spread wall to wall.
“Hi there again." he shouted, "My partner took the car up to town. We always travel in pairs."
My friend's husband said, “I'm about to sign the contract.”
My face was as red as my friend’s trailer as I stumbled down the stairs backwards and shouted an apology to the salesman. I could hear him and my friend's husband laughing as I ran home.
To this day, my best friend blames me for their purchase of an obsolete set of encyclopedias, circa 1969 that her husband refuses to dispose of. If I were her, I'd throw them out, or at his head!
I'm glad that nowadays knowledge is a digital click away. Times, how they change.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Ode to a new year
It only took me three days to go back on every word and start to fuss.
If I hadn't cracked my toe, no one would have even heard me cuss.
If hubby hadn't taken the detour past the very best bakery in town,
That cheese danish would be on someone elses' hips and my weight would be going down.
If only I had sorted the stuff on the desk into a pile of his and mine
I wouldn't have missed by one day! that writer's contest deadline.
If only I'd written my thank you cards, a few of them everyday
I wouldn't have a hand cramp from writing forty-two of them yesterday.
Okay so I've broken my resolutions; I swore when I swore I wouldn't.
Instead of eating oatmeal, I'm eating junk I know I shouldn't.
So, I missed a writer's deadline and could have kicked myself out the door.
It's January fifth and I've been busy, my January submissions now total four.
Don't hold yourself to resolutions that you know you're going to bend,
Forgive yourself and start over, today is a new one, not the end!
My toe is feeling a little better; today it's back to work I hobble.
I am living in fear that one of my little darlings will step on it and I will have to gobble. (Cursing's not cool at school.)
If I hadn't cracked my toe, no one would have even heard me cuss.
If hubby hadn't taken the detour past the very best bakery in town,
That cheese danish would be on someone elses' hips and my weight would be going down.
If only I had sorted the stuff on the desk into a pile of his and mine
I wouldn't have missed by one day! that writer's contest deadline.
If only I'd written my thank you cards, a few of them everyday
I wouldn't have a hand cramp from writing forty-two of them yesterday.
Okay so I've broken my resolutions; I swore when I swore I wouldn't.
Instead of eating oatmeal, I'm eating junk I know I shouldn't.
So, I missed a writer's deadline and could have kicked myself out the door.
It's January fifth and I've been busy, my January submissions now total four.
Don't hold yourself to resolutions that you know you're going to bend,
Forgive yourself and start over, today is a new one, not the end!
My toe is feeling a little better; today it's back to work I hobble.
I am living in fear that one of my little darlings will step on it and I will have to gobble. (Cursing's not cool at school.)
Monday, January 3, 2011
Word origins
ETYMOLOGY: Origin and development of a word.
My word, "PAD"
In the 1950's I used to toddle and pad around in my stockinged feet.
In the '60s some girls in my class had to pad their bras with tissue. We also had to carry a pad in our purses.
In the early '70s some of my friends had their own pad and invited others to crash.
In the mid '70s I took my kids to the Botanical Gardens and Tower Grove Park, and we would stare in awe at a giant lily pad.
In the late '70s I would pad my college essays to make page count and so I would sound informed.
In the '80s I would pad $10 into the household budget.
In the '90s I wore cute, too tight shoes and ended up at any given time wearing a corn, callus or bunion pad.
In the 2000's I looked closely in the mirror and noticed a pad of fat on my left and right cheeks; yeah, those cheeks too.
I am a writer, so I always have a pen and pad nearby.
Today, I padded downstairs in my stockinged feet to the laundry room to do some hand washables. I know I should have worn shoes. I know that there is a slighty raised piece of PVC pipe that sticks out of the floor drain about an inch.
I know that I swore loudly when I stubbed by toe, heard and felt it break. It's my left foot, the toe next to my big toe is so purple and swollen. I am padding around with it wrapped in a big foam pad.
My husband says he can pad the walls if I need him to. Sometimes, I wonder.
From our pad to yours, Happy New Year!
My word, "PAD"
In the 1950's I used to toddle and pad around in my stockinged feet.
In the '60s some girls in my class had to pad their bras with tissue. We also had to carry a pad in our purses.
In the early '70s some of my friends had their own pad and invited others to crash.
In the mid '70s I took my kids to the Botanical Gardens and Tower Grove Park, and we would stare in awe at a giant lily pad.
In the late '70s I would pad my college essays to make page count and so I would sound informed.
In the '80s I would pad $10 into the household budget.
In the '90s I wore cute, too tight shoes and ended up at any given time wearing a corn, callus or bunion pad.
In the 2000's I looked closely in the mirror and noticed a pad of fat on my left and right cheeks; yeah, those cheeks too.
I am a writer, so I always have a pen and pad nearby.
Today, I padded downstairs in my stockinged feet to the laundry room to do some hand washables. I know I should have worn shoes. I know that there is a slighty raised piece of PVC pipe that sticks out of the floor drain about an inch.
I know that I swore loudly when I stubbed by toe, heard and felt it break. It's my left foot, the toe next to my big toe is so purple and swollen. I am padding around with it wrapped in a big foam pad.
My husband says he can pad the walls if I need him to. Sometimes, I wonder.
From our pad to yours, Happy New Year!
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