Mark your calendars and your books because… [drum roll]Last years celebration was fun and I already have several hundred in mind for this year. If you have one you’d like to share or see dissected let me know.
Dead or alive – no poet is off limits.
😉 🙂 😀
Life is crazy, people are crazier and my family… well they get the crazy award if there is one.
Husband: What are you doing?
Me: Looking for old pictures to post online.
Husband: What’s the matter – you ran out of new ones?
Me: No, it’s Throw Back Thursday.
Husband: So that’s what TBT is. Have you seen my wallet?
Me: Look at this one. Do you remember the anniversary we spent in Las Vegas? We weren’t very lucky were we?
Husband: I don’t know about you but I got lucky quite a few times. The more you drank the luckier I got.
Me: But we didn’t win any money.
Husband: Isn’t that you standing beside a winning machine? Where did I put that billfold?!
Me: I plainly recall losing money. Maybe I just posed for the picture because you know I have never been lucky.
Husband: Well at least you’ve got lucky legs.
Me: I’m grateful that I can walk but… did you say lucky legs?
Husband: Yeah, you’re lucky they don’t break off and stab you in the butt.
Me: You should brace your abdomen when you laugh that hard so you don’t bust a gut.
Husband: Whew. You know I love you skinny legs and all.
Me: I know sweetie. By the way here’s your wallet.
Husband: Damn all of my cash is gone!
Me: Well then you’ve got yourself one lucky wallet there.
Husband: How do you figure that?
Me: You’re lucky I didn’t take your credit card too.
There were a few hazy, lazy days on the coast I spent just watching people come and go. Humans are quite an interesting species…
A little bird told me that winter was over. Really it was a noisy tree frog but I didn’t get a picture of him.
A few days ago (and a few hundred miles south) it certainly felt like the frog was right …
…so I headed back north. Damn the lying frog!
I wish I’d got a shot of the crow before making the frog eat it. 😉
According to The Humane Society feral cats are the offspring of lost or abandoned cats.
In more populated areas that apparently causes a problem but around here we like `em wild.
Prompted by the Daily Post’s weekly photo challenge: Abandoned
Ain’t love grand?
Sure it is… but sometimes it’s not.
Sometimes it is tattered and torn and embittered… Sometimes it’s so snarled and twisted it leaves nothing but ashes in its wake. Take it from Ishmael.
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Love IS grand – until it ain’t. If you have a real love and a healthy relationship you should celebrate that every day. Don’t be the characters I write.
Roses From Ishmael was originally published in Once Upon a Dead Gull and later added to Short Stories & Such.
Care(less) Bear.
The Real Janna Hill in 