For some great rules that every writer should adopt, Go Here.
Jaci’s one smart chickie-poo. Go now and suck the marrow from her smartness.
Jaci’s Golden Rules of Writing…
3
Jaci’s Golden Rules of Writing…
For some great rules that every writer should adopt, Go Here.
Jaci’s one smart chickie-poo. Go now and suck the marrow from her smartness.
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and then he was sorry…
My 8 year old had a really, really, really bad day at school a couple of weeks ago.
It was so bad, he came home and told me about it. He told me everything–except for the part where he was extremely rude to the assistant teacher. He absolutely refused to do anything she told him and apparently had a couple of ugly things to say to her in the process.
All this happened on a Friday. On Monday, I get a note filling in the missing pieces of the story. We do the “do you know what you did wrong?” talk and he tells me he’d just had a really bad day and took it out on Mrs. G.
I said, “Well, you should draw her a picture and tell her you’re sorry.”
So he did. I didn’t see the finished picture, but I saw him writing the note to Mrs. G. He told me that afternoon that Mrs. G. really liked his picture and that was that.
Until this morning when I ran into Mrs. G…
Mrs. G: Did you see the picture he drew me?
Me: No. Should I have?
Mrs. G: Laughing Oh Lord, yes.
Me: Worried now. Um. Why?
Mrs. G: Well, (snicker, snort) he drew me a picture of a donkey.
Me: gasp. this didn’t start off promising.
Mrs. G: At the donkey’s head, he wrote my name and drew an arrow. “This is you.”
Me: grimacing
Mrs. G: And at the rear end he wrote, “And this is what I’ve been.”
Well, that did it. I started laughing and couldn’t stop.
Me: Well, I guess he can recognize ass-like behavior afterall.
Mrs. G. went on to say that it was by far the best note of apology she’s ever received.
I should say so.
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and then he was sorry…
My 8 year old had a really, really, really bad day at school a couple of weeks ago.
It was so bad, he came home and told me about it. He told me everything–except for the part where he was extremely rude to the assistant teacher. He absolutely refused to do anything she told him and apparently had a couple of ugly things to say to her in the process.
All this happened on a Friday. On Monday, I get a note filling in the missing pieces of the story. We do the “do you know what you did wrong?” talk and he tells me he’d just had a really bad day and took it out on Mrs. G.
I said, “Well, you should draw her a picture and tell her you’re sorry.”
So he did. I didn’t see the finished picture, but I saw him writing the note to Mrs. G. He told me that afternoon that Mrs. G. really liked his picture and that was that.
Until this morning when I ran into Mrs. G…
Mrs. G: Did you see the picture he drew me?
Me: No. Should I have?
Mrs. G: Laughing Oh Lord, yes.
Me: Worried now. Um. Why?
Mrs. G: Well, (snicker, snort) he drew me a picture of a donkey.
Me: gasp. this didn’t start off promising.
Mrs. G: At the donkey’s head, he wrote my name and drew an arrow. “This is you.”
Me: grimacing
Mrs. G: And at the rear end he wrote, “And this is what I’ve been.”
Well, that did it. I started laughing and couldn’t stop.
Me: Well, I guess he can recognize ass-like behavior afterall.
Mrs. G. went on to say that it was by far the best note of apology she’s ever received.
I should say so.
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The anti-blog
I have been trying to figure out what the hell to blog about today and I’m at a loss.
I could post some more retro wedding pics, but despite the dated look, I still get depressed staring at my waist and boobs.
I loved my boobs. Pre-baby boobs. C-cups that were perky enough to go without a bra in a cute-ass tank top.
So, no retro-pics.
I could post some “here we are now” pics, but I’d just get depressed about the missing waist and the sad boob-like mounds of flesh. They are more like bombs now.
So, this blog is really not about anything. Sorry to waste your time. But I had to put something here….
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The anti-blog
I have been trying to figure out what the hell to blog about today and I’m at a loss.
I could post some more retro wedding pics, but despite the dated look, I still get depressed staring at my waist and boobs.
I loved my boobs. Pre-baby boobs. C-cups that were perky enough to go without a bra in a cute-ass tank top.
So, no retro-pics.
I could post some “here we are now” pics, but I’d just get depressed about the missing waist and the sad boob-like mounds of flesh. They are more like bombs now.
So, this blog is really not about anything. Sorry to waste your time. But I had to put something here….
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A long time ago, way back when
Today, my beloved Fishdog and I are celebrating our 13th wedding anniversary.
Here’s how I met my perfect man…
The prologue to our story is that I dated a boy off and on for 4 years. It turned into a fairly unhealthy relationship. Basically, we became so used to each other, it was hard to imagine not being together. And, I realized that at 23, I was way too young to be settling. So, I kicked him to the curb.
Fast forward 3 months. The ex is pseudo stalking me. I’m on a date with a bartender and the ex shows up. I’m thinking, Wow, could this get worse?
No. It got better.
In walks the Fishdog. When I first saw him, I thought maybe it was the hangover causing all that woo-woo stuff going on inside me. It certainly wasn’t my date who was doing that to me. And the only feelings I had about my Ex at that time aren’t printable.
But, everytime I looked at this new guy, the woo-woo stuff happened.
I find out he’s one of my college buddy’s oldest friends. He had just graduated from college and had moved back into Little Rock.
He and I chatted for a while that night and when I left, I told my friend that he was the man I would marry.
And 15 months later, I did.
897
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A long time ago, way back when
Today, my beloved Fishdog and I are celebrating our 13th wedding anniversary.
Here’s how I met my perfect man…
The prologue to our story is that I dated a boy off and on for 4 years. It turned into a fairly unhealthy relationship. Basically, we became so used to each other, it was hard to imagine not being together. And, I realized that at 23, I was way too young to be settling. So, I kicked him to the curb.
Fast forward 3 months. The ex is pseudo stalking me. I’m on a date with a bartender and the ex shows up. I’m thinking, Wow, could this get worse?
No. It got better.
In walks the Fishdog. When I first saw him, I thought maybe it was the hangover causing all that woo-woo stuff going on inside me. It certainly wasn’t my date who was doing that to me. And the only feelings I had about my Ex at that time aren’t printable.
But, everytime I looked at this new guy, the woo-woo stuff happened.
I find out he’s one of my college buddy’s oldest friends. He had just graduated from college and had moved back into Little Rock.
He and I chatted for a while that night and when I left, I told my friend that he was the man I would marry.
And 15 months later, I did.
897
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Happy Official Birthday, Bonehead!
Today is my brother-in-law’s birthday.
He’s in Kyrgyzstan, celebrating with the troops. We’re hoping he’ll be home soon.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BONE.
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Happy Official Birthday, Bonehead!
Today is my brother-in-law’s birthday.
He’s in Kyrgyzstan, celebrating with the troops. We’re hoping he’ll be home soon.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BONE.
Bitchin' Fiction: Musings by author Melissa McKenzie / Melissa Francis 