Miscellaneous Excuses Used Randomly

HOW TO CATCH A FREE RANGE BABY!

It's been a bit of time since I've gathered my thoughts, posted my opining, and laughed at everything. 

What?? I've been busy. 

I finished a one hundred thousand word novel, mowed a lot of grass, pressure washed the barn once or twice and began to grow out my gray hair. Like I said, I've been busy.

But here's a few random bits to tide us all over:

Spoke at my first writer's conference last weekend and met some enthusiastic readers, writers, and Indian Chiefs. Had some fun eavesdropping. NOTE: If you are a writer you know the importance of hanging upside down from the eaves to be able to overhear real people trying to talk to each other.

I met a fellow Indie writer who was excited to tell me that he publishes Kindle stories and that his UK fans are the BEST. Another excited writer overheard the discussion and with a lovely, lilting southern accent chimed in to declare, "Oh, you too. My husband is a crazy, wild fan of U. K." 

They tried talking around each other and to each other. I listened in fascination to the big, swirly mess of their attempts to communicate, because he was talking United Kingdom and she was saying University of Kentucky.

To my knowledge, they never arrived on the same page. Random Conclusion: If it's that hard for two wordsmiths to communicate, what chance does the world have to figure stuff out?

We gutted our kitchen . . . after the dishwasher motor burned out. Doesn't that sound frivolous and silly? I wish. The repair individual--not man, because who knows these days--put a new motor in our six-month-old dishwasher, neglecting to hook up the drain. I ran the dishwasher. It drained. It drained all the way to the baseboards. The floor started to float. We complained. The bosses paid for a new floor. We got uppity and thought, "Let's upgrade."

The tile was fancy and cool, but it jacked up the dishwasher one-quarter inch so that it no longer fit in the wonky cabinet built by the original owner/builder. Time to tear out that cabinet which made all the other cabinets come tumbling down like dominoes (metaphorically speaking). Time to refinance the house, and rip the guts out of the nerve center of our home. Start over. Flip your lid. Remodel everything. Sure. Sure. What could go wrong? 

Random Conclusion: Live in the woods.

Grandparenting is eighty percent fun and twenty percent worry. Parenting is twenty percent fun and eighty percent worry. As a grandparent I know that whatever weirdo thing those kids are going to do or are doing, someday they're going to outgrow that goofiness—or not. 

Miscellaneous sentiment: Good luck, young parents, and God's speed. You're going to need it. I'll hold your coat while you worry.

That's it for now. Like I said, "I'm busy trying to figure out if the tile guys are ever coming back since Home Depot finally found that last box of tile they shorted us."

What could go wrong?

Linda (Save the Date) Zern