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The contents contained within are suggested to be 90% true. Some embellishment and poetic license taken at the discretion of the blogger. Thanks to all my blog-reading pals! Y'all rock.  ![Merit Badge in Journaling
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I've enjoyed reading what you have in your blog as well as the comments you leave in mine. Look forward to reading more!](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/type-Journaling-2180.gif) Journaling Thanks janieruthryals!! ![Merit Badge in Creativity
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Great blog!](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/general-Creativity-2180.gif) Creativity Thanks asymmetrical! ![Merit Badge in Imagery
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For your wonderful ability in creating effective imagery within your writing.](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/general-Imagery-125.gif) Imagery Thanks again to janieruthryals!! ![Merit Badge in Nature
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Because you've got so much of it rotting in your yard, and because of your poor nose...](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/genre-Nature-1125.gif) Nature This lovely nature awardicon was given to me by tmray because of his fondness for reading about rotting deer carcasses in my yard.  ![Merit Badge in Determination
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So it's a mountain? So what? You're a good writer Lola. You don't need to try... be natural and it will come.](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/general-Determination-2500.gif) Determination " So it's a mountain? So what? You're a good writer Lola. You don't need to try... be natural and it will come. " Thanks tmray!!! |
| One of my poems was featured in WDC's Horror Newsletter! It was a poem I wrote in college (and I even remember writing it) during my Edgar Allan Poe obsession. Check out the Newsletter and all the other works that were chosen to be represented in the "Mask" theme. I would link it here, but I have no idea how! Today's 'Down on the Farm' event: My poor cats are being harassed without mercy by a pair of Mockingbirds. If you've ever read Joseph Heller's "Catch 22", imagine Yosarian at the helm of a Blue Jay-sized Mockingbird. It's gotten to the point where the cats peek out from the door of the barn and then SPRINT across the barnyard in their attempt to avoid the BIRD WRATH. It's obvious now every time one of the cats is anywhere outside. A great chattering of loud squawks erupts, followed by what sounds like a cat fight. Only it's not a cat fight, it's a fraidy cat hauling ass away from Yosarian Mockingbird. You laugh, but think of the poor kitties. |
| Even though it feels as if I JUST THIS VERY MINUTE upgraded, I'm being bombarded with emails reminding me to renew my upgrade. I really should post a poll. I have been scarce, it's true. My lovely friend Janie Ruth has prompted me to come back to the fold. It's nice to be missed! And if I spent more time around here, I'd actually remember the code to embed the name links of Janie Ruth and Grumpy, who also was kind enough to kick my ass. Me? I'm suffering from a case of writer's block so bad it feels like my tongue has been amputated with a serrated blade. Oh wait, it feels more like I've vomited but my mouth is wired shut and none of it will come out! Ewwww! So, I'm left ruminating on whatever little bits of potential flutter across my frontal lobe. See what I mean???? I think I done bumped my head on the crack pipe. |
| Down on the farm we do things bit different than everyone else. This includes Easter egg hunts. This is how it works: "Easter bunny" stays up late at night coloring easter eggs. He does his best to get his "assistant" to stay up with him, but it never happens. Easter bunny's assistant is an early to bed, early to rise kinda gal. So, by around 9:00pm, assistant is snoring loudly, and by midnight or so, the eggs are done and put in the fridge until morning. "Easter bunny" sets the alarm for 6:30am thinking he will be the first one up. Wrong. Eldest daughter wakes up at 6:10am, goes outside, and starts searching the ground, trees, and barn for colored eggs. After 10 minutes or so, she's looking perplexed. A few minutes later, she's having a rather animated conversation with one of the ponies, most likely asking him if he saw a large rabbit earlier distributing easter eggs. I step outside and say good morning to early rising daughter. "Oh, hi mom. I'm just, uh, out here spending some time with the horses." (right) I suggest that she feed them and then come inside (thus giving "Easter Bunny" time to get up and go outside to hide eggs). Finally, horses fed, eldest daughter inside, "Easter Bunny" back inside, youngest daughter finally out of bed and dressed. Let the race for the Easter eggs commence! Two girls grab baskets, run outside, frantically try to outrun the dogs for the eggs. Youngest daughter goes neck and neck with Sammy the yellow lab for the blue spotted egg in the azalea bush. Girl wins! Eldest daughter daringly yanks red egg out of Rosco the terrier mutt's mouth. "Ha!" she yells triumphantly. Beau the Chow mix comes jogging around the corner of the porch spitting yellow egg shells. "How many are left?" mom yells from the porch. "Only two!" shouts the "Easter bunny". "There's one!" shrieks Shelby, pointing to the hammock. Sammy the lab spies the pink egg under the hammock at precisely the same time Shelby does. Shelby glances at Sammy. "Sit!" she commands. Shelby takes off for the hammock, grabs the egg, and tosses it into her basket. Time for the final count: Beau: 2 Sammy: 1 Rosco: 1 Kudzu: 0 (who cares about eggs when there's a rat sized mole to chew on?) Shelby: 4 Georgia:4 Folks, this year, for the first time, the girls were the winners with four eggs each! Next year: Two dozen eggs! |
| I'll upgrade already. It appears my donated upgraded membership is about to expire. Which means either I get used to being 'free' or I pay money to upgrade. So yeah, I handed over the $20 to upgrade for three more months. So, for three more months I have a place to celebrate things like....................... the coming of Spring! My mood has changed for the better already. And for three more months I have a place to bitch about things like................... my horses escaping onto my neighbor's north 40 and having to run hither and yon to retrieve them. And for three more months I have a place to throw a pity party for myself for.......... falling over a tree onto my face and knee while chasing the damn horses all over the county. And now I'm sporting a lovely black and blue nose and scabbed knee. And at the end of three months, I'm sure I'll renew again. Because life just keeps happening. |
| I really had no intention of writing here today, but tmray made me do it! His latest blog involved arachnids and vegetarianism and both are dear to my heart. I may have mentioned that my nine year old wanted a tarantula for Christmas this year. Well, she got her wish. A Chilean Rose-hair of unknown gender and unknown age now resides in a 10 gallon aquarium. She/He's a cute little dude, with long, hairy legs and fangs the size of cat claws. We don't handle him, mostly because I think it would be more stressful to him than us. BE FOREWARNED: I aim to post a pic! If you are even the slightest bit arachniphobic, look the other way now! This is Rosie. Rosie is not a vegetarian. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Rosie eats crickets. To be precise, Rosie sucks the life blood out of crickets and tosses away their exoskeletons when she's had her fill. She does not feel guilty for eating crickets. I doubt she feels guilty about much, come to think of it. Well, there you go - the latest member of my menagerie. Life is always exciting down on the farm. |
| I have fairly thick skin as a writer. I am willing (and desire!) constructive criticism of my work. It's a large part of why I joined up here. What I can't tolerate, however, is poor reviews that come from people who haven't a clue what they're reviewing. For instance, if you review a poem in a particular form, KNOW the form before you write the review. If you review a Haiku poem and say something like, "Not great - the lines need to be longer and they need to rhyme," well, rest assured you will look like a giant idiot. If you review a sonnet, try to refrain from mentioning that "just because it's a poem, doesn't mean it has to have structure." My eyes have rolled out of my head twice today. I have picked them up and returned them to their proper orifices, but DAMN people - think before you review. Hell, I don't care if you give my poem one damn star if your review makes SENSE. <rant over> Ahem. Thank you. |
| I'm not cynical, just not overly-sentimental. I like flowers, but I'd rather have a tree to plant in the orchard. I like candy, but my thighs and ass don't. I like jewelry, oh wait, no I don't. I'd rather have a new dressage saddle or mountain bike. Did I mention I'm not terribly romantic? At least, I'm not romantic in the way that retail marketers would have you believe. If I hear one more guy say to another, "Well, you can't go wrong with jewelry or perfume," I think I'll bitch slap him. |
| Remember not too long ago when I gave my kiddos a lesson in real music? I used a Warren Zevon song to teach them the definition of a ballad. Warren has been in my vehicle's cd player since that day, thereby insuring that we listen to each and every song on that disc many times. So, on comes "Lawyers, Guns and Money" - a perfectly innocent song about getting one's self out of little "situations." Well, I went home with the waitress The way I always do How was I to know She was with the Russians, too I was gambling in Havana I took a little risk Send lawyers, guns and money Dad, get me out of this I'm the innocent bystander Somehow I got stuck Between the rock and the hard place And I'm down on my luck And I'm down on my luck And I'm down on my luck Now I'm hiding in Honduras I'm a desperate man Send lawyers, guns and money The shit has hit the fan Send lawyers, guns and money... Now, the girls pretty much pick up the chorus right away, it doesn't take long before I hear them singing along. Suddenly, I hear my 5 year old pipe up from the back seat. she: "Mom, what's shit?" me: "Um, it's a not so nice word for poop." she: "Oh well, then this song is gross." me" "It is?" (confused) she: "Um mom, poop hitting the FAN? Is the fan ON?" me: Oh, that's a metaphor honey. It's like saying everything's a big mess and we're all in trouble." A ha! So, now I have a 5 year old who knows what a metaphor is. Fast forward to last week. I get a note home in her folder: "Dear Ms. Lola, Please call me at your convenience to discuss an incident with your daughter this morning." Well, I decided to just stop in and talk with her briefly the next morning when I drop the kids off at school. I ask her about the "incident." Apparently, one of the kids in her classroom dropped any entire bottle of paint that immediately splattered all over the floor, desks, and wall. Every child in the class erupted into laughter except for my little darling. Her reaction was to exclaim, quite loudly I might add, "Uh oh, the shit has just hit the fan!!" Before you all condemn me for being a terrible mother, I just want you to know that her teacher was barely able to tell me without laughing. |
| For those of you who don't know, I live on a farm. We have eight horses (soon to be nine), four dogs, three cats, one tarantula, and a yard full of deer carcasses. Yes, my yard is full of deer body parts in various stages of decomposition. We live in the country, and we have farm dogs, and farm dogs think it is their duty to haul nasty, rotting deer legs, rib cages, skulls, and entrails back to the yard to show us. They are extremely proud of their prizes, and we don't even think about taking them away. At least, not if we want to keep our arms and hands attached to our bodies. For those of you "city folk," the end of January and into February in Tennessee is the time of the year that skunks look for love. Every so often, they look for love in all the wrong places - like, my yard for instance. My dogs, those lovable mongrels, are quite particular about who enters their yard. Skunks are not on the guest list. The thing about skunks is they're not very secretive about when they've been skulking around. Last night, they were skulking around. And now, guess what? Yep, skunk carcass in my yard. Occasionally, I have a sleepless night. About twice a month, a big ole pack o' coyotes go storming through the front pasture right in front of our house. This is especially dismaying in the summer when the windows are open. Let me try to describe to you what this sounds like: coyotes: yip yip yip yoooooowwwllll yip yip yip yooooooowwwllll dogs: bark bark bark bark yowl bark ruff growl growl snarl bark bark bark coyotes: yip yip yip yoooooooowwwwllll yooooooowwwlll yip yip yip dogs: bark bark bark bark bark bark yowl, growl bark bark bark me (out the window): SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!!!! silence silence silence me: (drifts off to sleep) dogs: bark bark bark bark bark coyotes: yip yip yip yip yip yip laugh laugh laugh laugh dogs: bark bark bark bark bark bark bark bark Lab (she's the only one who howls): HOOOOWWWLLL Sigh. Life in the country ain't always peaceful. It's a wonder I ever suffer from writer's block with all this action going on out my back door. |
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