Hot town, summer in the city…

15 Wednesday Aug 2018

Posted by Yvonne Montgomery in Hope, snark, Uncategorized

…finish with a hellish cold and call it all shitty.

Nah, not all. June brought Bob’s and my fiftieth anniversary, which we celebrated by taking the train to Glenwood Springs. When in doubt, find water…really, really hot water. We parboiled our way through four days and chugged home, at certain points traveling 25 MPH because the tracks were so hot in the 90-plus temps. We couldn’t risk bending them by going fast. True story.

July brought some rain, some hail, some corn on the cob, some strawberries. Once again I managed to kill numerous plants through a dearth of assiduity. (Hah! I looked it up after I typed it and was right in both spelling and meaning–that I forgot, was gone, was too much of a jerk to follow the watering schedule.)

August brought the cold from hell, simply because my immune system was bored. I’m going to the State Fair to compete in the mucous-producing

Photo by Public Domain Pictures on Pexels.com

competition. It’s gross, but the sashes are stunning.

I know it’s time to move on because I’m beginning to wish I could wear jeans again. (Aren’t these little life milestones entrancing?) I know I’ll be more creative–as in actually writing, for instance–and life will have more zing, too, when I can crawl back into the jeans.

Maybe next time I’ll torture my remaining readers…are any of you out there?…by writing a take-off on What I Did on My Summer Vacation. Snorking, gagging, and using tissues will be prominently featured.

Doesn’t the woman look cute blowing her nose? You ought to get a load of me.

Cough.

Crawling out of the hole…

24 Tuesday Apr 2018

Posted by Yvonne Montgomery in snark, Uncategorized

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angst

I’ve been hiding in my cocoon of late. Lots of reasons, none lethal, but as spring screws around with brightening the landscape, I’m beginning to peer out at the world. I replaced my lost cell phone (see previous post) and, thanks to the help of my technically more advanced daughter, have managed to get most of the attachments I want to take up residence in the thing. Now all I need to do is to think of something to say.

I haven’t hung out at Wisdom Court much lately. There’s a character knocking at the door to my mind, but she hasn’t yelled loudly enough yet for me to pay her much attention. She’s too cheerful, and I don’t feel like dealing with that at the moment. I’ll let her come in soon, if only because I need writing to take me over again, but it’s cold again today and my study is a pit. I have years’ worth of files to subdue and slip into slots. If I could capture the cat hair festooning the furniture, I could make an afghan to keep me warm.

I need to send out a newsletter, but am missing an inspiring message. “Please buy my books,” doesn’t cut it. If Spring will finally extend herself into a hug across the land, maybe my limping brain cells will line up in formation and respond with grace instead of the post-winter whine I hear in my head every morning. My brain has shrunk into a petty nitpicker and nothing’s better at killing the creative spirit. (Yes, that’s an excuse for not writing.)

weenmess