Eyes Cream For Vinyl

I want my vinyl back, vinyl back, vinyl back...... vinyl is back baby. Possibly for a limited time, but I am shore glad to be in the epicenter of this plastic rebirth. Yes, my collection sat in the basement: in a box; with a fox; got pooped on by a Burmese Python; and seemed to survive two decades of basement plagues. I've been bringing albums up from the dungeon, two at a time, to re spin the likes of "Ogdens' Nut Gone Flake" or Zappa's "Apostrophe." Looking forward to bringing up four more.

Oh Bucket!

Short little post about my word for the week and that is "bucket." Somehow the cosmos is entering my direction and she's carrying a bucket. I don't know why. Say it with me, "bucket, bucket, bucket." It's just one of those words that keep coming up and I am pretty sure it must mean something. I posted on my Face Book page about a hypothetical agent introducing a product to his client. The product was a rubber chicken, no silly, it was a bucket and the client was a famous model. She is now the proud endorser of her very own line of gold gilded diamond encrusted champagne carriers, I suppose. The agent is fiction, but the model and her pail are not. Next thing I know Bootsy Collins is posting his latest video with his side kick- "buckethead." I think there was a "bucket list" connection in there too per author Rico Austin. He got a kick out if it. And last but not least, the ending to my book club novel, The Catcher In The Rye," where the only italicized word in this piece is - "In buckets, I swear to God."

I'll Take A Stick of Butter, Eggs, And A Pack Of Carnies.

Make that a wild pack and throw in grandma Carnie who sews like a son of a stitch. I want their costumes to shine like the top of the "I'll take a Chi-town three flat" building and gleam like 72' fondue and when that's all said and done- these brothers from another mother better be good in the sack. Oh yeah, I am not going to have these suckers be like the 1932 rat pack in "Freaks," but so slick and good lookin, their side burns have a black book. They get the chicks, they get the money, they get the Gary Glitter outfits and they totally get "The Best Of Bread." Wink, wink.

Listen- if you made it this far, I am so laughing at myself and these crazy 70's cliche's. That's what the decade was all about, cliche's and crochet hanging plant holders. That probably is not what the decade was all about but what do I know. Welcome to my outline/notes, where randomness and cynicism prevails. Have a nice day.

Ramblings Mans

Starting to get real antsy about writing professionally. I am not sure if I want to get back into journalism. My ex-editor once said "Journalists are not writers, they are reporters." Then he gave me a job answering phones. Those words got me to thinking, "Am I cut out for this journalistic underworld? " I am not sure. I do not know much about politics, sports or local businesses but eagerness is stomping out the fear of rejection and this mom is bursting at the seams for a chance. My resume has collected dust which incidentally has caused breathing problems, heart palpitations and panic, nothing that a martini can't fix and a good editor. I am excited to be helping a local online news site with an every Wednesday "moms council" where three of us ladies tackle questions from discerning parents . It is not a payed gig and is lead by a local mom who freelances and produces her own "arts and entertainment" local city magazine in which I have also been helping her proofread. Baby steps, baby steps.

You Are In A Church......

I am never on his blog so the fact that I even have a few followers is a miracle so just bare with me as I type a bunch of nonsensical ramblings to help me piece this short story together. If I do not get back on for weeks, that means that this story will be buried next to the other one and will forever be at peace. From our writing prompt this past Sunday...."You are in a church.".....

"Who needs a wrist band?" shouts the young man as he shuffles up and down the brick-paved sidewalk. "Who needs a wristband?" He stops abruptly to bend down and pick up a penny. He gives it to the young girl who holds her mom's hand intensely and squints her eyes as if she is refraining from saying something she will regret. "Young lady, do you know why you're here?" "I'm here to see the Father." (at this time, not sure what the name is.) " Why such a sweet faced angel would need to do that?" "I'm here to repent."
She releases her grip from her mother and continues to move forward. A long line of sinners follow.

Sinner #1
Susie Q
(At this moment I am hearing CCR's "Susie Q" and a cowbell. Camera is panning down the same brick- paved road and stops, pointing directly to a woman's face.)
"I haven't quite picked out my pew for the replacement chairs to my 1908 farm table. I am delighted to see an ad in Craigslist for a pair, but I think a bit pricey." (OK- now I am stuck. Let me get out of this scene and go back to my "original place" for the introduction to "Sinner #1"- Chelsey Hotel.)

Everything She Liked #3....

Taking those thoughts to heart, she double bolted the door and turned to the entry way. She noticed the parquet maple flooring was a bit dusty and proceeded to the kitchen for a damp cloth. Near the counter, a bottle of vodka. "A bit early for the drink." She grabbed an icepick, opened the fridge and made her way to the icebox. A cold cocoa cola would be her poison.
"Oh fiddle- sticks Henry." The cat purred while feeling the tousle of familiar hands.
A knock at the door made her jump to her feet. Under her breath she whispered, "Breathe baby, breathe."

"Breathe baby, breathe. Breathe Betty. Wake up!"
"What?" Betty felt her surroundings. The crumbling papers awakened her senses and she quickly snapped out of her stupor. She felt her broken glasses on the right side and put them on. The release of her squint softened the lines on her face and an early morning familiar sun beat down with a vengeance.
" Time to move."

Everything She Liked Cont.....

Startled by the loud noise of a heavy old door, she was surprised that a tiny nudge would cause such a sound. The door slowly reopened. A glimmer of sunlight graced the blue undertones in her ruby reds. Her pout was only slightly attractive and her pin dangled from a now disheveled curl.
"What do you want from me? Its best that you turn around and walk away. My friend is coming any moment now."
" Not very lady like to shut the door with such strong force."
" It was a slip of the wrist and I am not feeling very lady like. Best that you leave."
" Yeah well, do yourself a favor and get over whatever it is that floats in that crazy head of yours. An empty mind is quite liberating."
From the corner of his eye he could see the neighbor peeking through Dupioni silk curtains. He hesitated but turned around and hit the pavement. A quick glance over his shoulder left her with the impression that he would be back.