Anyone who would like to try it out may feel free to use the “One-Liner Wednesday” title in your post. If you do, please ping back here to help your blog get more exposure. As with Stream of Consciousness Saturday, if you see a ping back from someone else in my comment section, click and have a read. It’s bound to be short and sweet. It’s a great way to meet new bloggers!
The rules that I’ve made for myself for “One-Liner Wednesday” are as follows:
The people in my town are polite – I’ve written about how dangerously polite they are in the past. But today, on the city bus, I found out how far it really goes.
Take, for instance, the graffiti:
Here’s something a little edgier: It originally said, “All your base are belong to us,” until a handy grammarian came along and corrected it to, “All your bases belong to us.”
When asked by a reader who complained that a gay couple was moving in across the street what he could do to improve the quality of the neighborhood, “Dear Abby” replied, “You could move.”
― Abigail Van Buren
Anyone who would like to try it out, feel free to use the “One-Liner Wednesday” title in your post, and if you do, you can ping back here to help your blog get more exposure. As with Stream of Consciousness Saturday, if you see a ping back from someone else in my comment section, click and have a read. It’s bound to be short and sweet.
The rules that I’ve made for myself for “One-Liner Wednesday” are as follows:
In my infinite wisdom borne of never having enough of a challenge in my life, I’ve decided to join Camp NaNoWriMo, which starts July 1st. My goal is to write 25,000 words of the sequel to the novel I started and failed as a NanoWriMo project in November of 2011. That one took me 18 months to finish. I’m not under any delusion that I can get the sequel done in a month, so I won’t even try.
But wait, Linda, I hear you saying. You can’t even reply to the comments on your blog, what makes you think you can take on another project?
To answer that question, I have no idea other than that I need to start being creative again or I will go completely around the bend. I’m halfway there now, and let me tell you, the scenery ’round there is scary-dark and smells ominously like a fart.
Is it worse than getting lost in the woods while at Camp Nano? There’s only one way to find out. I figure I should be okay as long as I don’t come across any bears — ‘coz you know what THEY do in the woods.
This morning while waiting outside for Alex’s school bus with Alex and my best friend John, I lifted my right hand to point at something and felt a shooting pain through my shoulder. I moaned. Not normally being one to complain about aches and pains, I thought about what made me so miserable where this shoulder thing is concerned.
Being that I was diagnosed with arthritis in it, I explained to John that pain has never really bothered me that much. I just live with it. But I realise it’s different this time, because I’m not sure it’ll ever go away: I may very well have to suffer with this one for the rest of my life.
I suppose just saying that made me deserve what was to come. At the house of the second customer on my paper route, I missed a step on the way down and landed on my knee on their brick pathway.
It could have been worse though – I could be out in the torrential downpour I’m watching through the window as I type this.
It’s true! A tuna has taken up residence under my front steps. What’s worse, there may be more than one!
Okay, by now you’re probably asking yourself what the hell I’m talking about. Let me tell you a story.
One fine evening when my eldest son was about a year old, my ex and I decided to go for a walk around the block, baby in carriage. It was spring, just like it is now, and the lilacs were blooming their fragrant heads off. The bumble bees were in heaven, and there were plenty of them. Their low pitched drones could be heard as they busily buzzed from blossom to blossom.
In the thick of it all, my ex decided that it might be the best idea for me to push the carriage. When I inquired why, he explained.
Now there are two things you need to know about my ex at this point. One, is that he is French. Quebecois. And two, that he is deathly afraid of bees.
His explanation for not wanting to push the carriage containing our child was as follows:
Because if I see a taon, I’m going to run.
Taon is the French word for horsefly, deer fly… but he meant bumble bee.
What I heard was thon, which is French for tuna.
Many minutes passed before I was able to get up off the ground from laughing so hard. When I could finally speak, with tears running down my face, I told him he could push the carriage because it didn’t matter – if I saw a tuna, I was going to run as well.
So there you have it. I have a tuna living under my steps. I won’t be telling my ex though – I won’t see him again until winter if I do.
That awkward moment when you’re concentrating really hard on making the bed until you realize that all three of you are sticking your tongues out but you’re the only one without ice cream.
01:00 – The thirteen year old comes to my room to say he needs to be covered up again. I get up because he won’t leave me alone until I do, and the more he fusses, the more he wakes up.
02:01 – Cell phone rings. Squint at the number. Don’t recognize it. Decline call.
02:02 – Roll over to go back to sleep. Get cramp in left foot. Writhe until cramp goes away.
02:03 – Get comfortable again. Notice light in my eyes. Open them to be blinded by rays of moonlight like laser beams coming through window. Roll over.
02:04 – Am awake, wondering if the phone call was from eldest son, lost, alone on the side of the highway, with a phone he plucked from the cold dead body of the guy he’d just seen run over. (Okay, the body wouldn’t be cold yet, but you get the picture.)
02:25 – Thinks about getting up to write this post.
02:30-02:54 – Drifts back off to sleep.
02:55 – Cell phone rings. Answers it. Loud talking in the background and then a voice says, “Wrong number,” and hangs up.
02:56 – Cell phone rings again. Answers it. Person hangs up.
02:57 – Cell phone rings … again. Answers it. Lots of noise: voice says, “Still wrong number.” Well DUH!! Am clearly dealing with a rocket scientist.
02:57 – Cell phone rings. Picks up and listens. Voice says, “I think the number’s 0215…” Resists temptation to say, “YES! Try that!” They hang up.
03:00 – (While failing to get back to sleep.) Imagines how it might be possible to replicate fax machine noise for next phone call.
03:27 – Considers getting up to write post which will include phone number of non-rocket scientist so that people all over the world can phone said doo-doo at 2 and 3 every morning for the next week.
03:41 – Tries to figure out how to say 999,999 in Japanese.
03:50 (or so) – Drifts off to sleep.
06:25 – Thirteen year old wakes me up to let me know he’s going downstairs and that he’s going to let me sleep for another half an hour. Goes downstairs and proceeds to scream at TV for half an hour.
06:55 – Phone rings … cousin in England has forgotten yet again how many hours difference there are…
It’s going to be a long two weeks until I’m able to sleep again.
My mother, talking to me on her cellphone: I’ll make sure I keep my phone with me tomorrow, in case you call – I just have to find where I put the bloody thing now.
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