I spend quite a bit of time on the Twitter these days. I’m not one to follow a bunch of celebrities — although, Melissa Etheridge did like my Bring Me Some Water post when I tweeted it, which kind of had me swooning for a couple of days. But aside from a select few famous people I truly admire, my feed is nearly void of celeb tweets.
Instead, I’ve surrounded myself with other #bloggers, people from the #writingcommunity and those interested in, or dealing with, #mentalhealth issues. In addition to being incredibly warm, welcoming and supportive, I find that a good number of people in these groups are also fairly young. This shouldn’t, and doesn’t, surprise me. After all, social media tends to be a young person’s game, so it stands to reason the people I’m interacting with would be on the youthful side. Continue reading →
If you’re going to get an annual update from a family, it usually comes in the form of a Christmas newsletter. Well, in 1974 my liberated mother decided to get her Erma Bombeck on and send out the update in the form of four-page article called “Dear Diary, or How I Spent My 35th Birthday.” If you’ve ever wondered how a blog-post would have read in 1974 (although, that’s something fairly specific to wonder, so likely, no one has), here’s your answer. Apparently, my mom had the makings of a blogger, long before the concept existed. She was, and still is, a woman truly ahead of her time.
And now, without further ado, I give you February 1974 and my mother’s 35th birthday …
My Actual Family, 1974-ish
“Happy birthday,” he said, as I gagged on the overpowering smell of his hairspray.
Where does it say that a wife should have to endure the noxious fumes of a man’s vanity? Where does it say that the husband has first crack at the hairdryer in the morning? I say, beware, girls, of the nice guy who fits in perfectly with your dreams of the ideal man and father for your children! I am convinced that these so-called “nice guys” are the ruination of the truly liberated woman. I’m so liberated that I find myself in a kind of oppressed liberation. With him sitting on the sidelines, full of self-satisfaction, watching my every move and thinking to himself, “You got yourself into this mess, Anita, and you can get yourself out of it.”
Continue reading →
With the days getting longer, the weather getting warmer and flowers bursting forth from the earth in a Ta-Dah! of color and fragrance, Spring has not been shy about announcing its arrival this year. And I’ve welcomed the season just as enthusiastically, spending as much time as I can out on the veranda enjoying the beauty and sweet perfume of season’s first blooms.
As is typical, Spring not only coaxes new life from the ground, it also invites the children of the village to come out and play. The sound of their laughter and excited voices as they run and play, indicating it’s an invitation they eagerly accepted. Continue reading →
The Writing Challenge of Indeterminate Duration – Day 23
What could have happened to you in high school that would have altered the course of your life?
I skipped over this writing prompt a few times. But after discovering all my old notebooks and diaries, I thought I’d have a better perspective on what I was like and which paths I might have taken. Mostly what I discovered, however, was what a colossal dork I was. I found myself so mortified at times that I couldn’t finish reading certain passages. Continue reading →
The Writing Challenge of Indeterminate Duration – Day 22
Anything Can Happen Sunday!
If you woke up with a smile on your face and a feeling that today is special, it’s probably because you remembered that today is Anything Can Happen Sunday. Widely regarded as the best day in blogging, ACHS is a proud Pucker Up Buttercup tradition, the origins of which have been traced back as far as two weeks. When I tell you how we’re going to celebrate Anything Can Happen Sunday, you’ll be saying, “Gosh! I guess anything really can happen!” Continue reading →
The Writing Challenge of Indeterminate Duration – Day 20
No prompts, I’m free-wheeling!
I was waxing nostalgic with my dad not long ago because listening to him talk about his childhood makes me feel somewhat less ancient by comparison. It also got me thinking about what had changed, aside from clothes, hair styles and music, since I was younger. I think most of what I miss, and what makes feel bad that today’s kids won’t have, are experiences or feelings rather that things. That is, I don’t think it’s sad that taking music “to go” no longer requires a fanny-pack full of cassette tapes and extra batteries. But it’s a bit of a shame that they won’t feel the joy of going to Licorice Pizza and finding that elusive album they’d been searching for. It’s also a little sad to realize that many have no idea why it was even called Licorice Pizza. Continue reading →