Yearly Archives: 2012

Friday Fluff February 23, 2012

Posted on by February 25, 2020

Dear readers,

Friday Fluff is going up early (even before the linkup is open) because The Jester Queen is moving. It shouldn’t look or feel any different to you. If I’m doing this right, you won’t notice anything different, and there shouldn’t be any downtime. However, the process takes between 36 and 48 hours, and I’m not going to lie and say I’m not scared shitless. If you are used to getting e-mails from me, you won’t get one Friday, Saturday, or possibly Sunday. Or, I don’t know how this works, maybe Saturday, Sunday, and dear god surely that’s all. BUT.… Read the rest

My Life In Music: Whitney Houston

Posted on by February 25, 2020

It’s an every other Thursday folks (like that has a whole lot of meaning to you who are not tracking Thursdays) so it’s time for Bella and I to host another edition of My Life In Music. This round is dedicated to Whitney Houston. Bella is a Whitney fan, and, while I’m not,  I have a lot of respect for the lady and a great deal to say about the tragedy of her death. I’ll be adding my actual submission to the meme in a couple of days, but for now, I wanted to get it up and running over here at Jester Queen.… Read the rest

Dine In, Carry Out

Posted on by February 25, 2020

Algy jammed everything back onto the last tabletop after wiping it clean.

Edith said, “Easy now.”

“Rob sent me another letter,” Algy told her.

“Did he?”

“He wants me to send him my paycheck.”

“Ohh.” The sound was a cross between a groan and a sigh. Edith went to the cash drawer, counting the money twice over to be sure. Then she asked, “Did you write him back this time?”

Algy grunted.

“You did, didn’t you.”

Slowly Algy nodded.  “I said to ask me nicely.”

Edith counted out several stacks of bills, then went into the office for her deposit slips.… Read the rest

Lost

Posted on by February 25, 2020

The day after I wrote  the story where a five year old nearly drowns, I lost Sam for twenty minutes in the Tennessee Aquarium. Irony much? Intellectually, I knew there was no way he could get at the tanks. Everything was encased behind a wall of glass, and no child could sneak through those locked doors. But before security found him two floors above me, trying to escape and get to the car, I ran repeatedly past the same spot, each time looking up into two stories of light infused water, expecting to see my son’s green-coated body floating down.… Read the rest

Dear Armstrong Family

Posted on by February 25, 2020

Dear Jon Armstrong and Heather Armstrong:

Don’t worry, I’m not one of those assholes who feels the need to jump Heather’s shit and turn what you are both terming “Recent Events” into a hate fest. I do not blame either of you for the current state of your union, and I do not, in fact, feel like your marriage is any of my goddamned business at all.

But that’s why I’m writing you. Naturally.

I want to talk about this from a fan’s perspective. I follow blurbomat and dooce.com. I feel (although the feeling is false) that I am included in some of your most intimate moments.… Read the rest

Wolf’s bane

Posted on by February 25, 2020

“Wednesday Washday,” Mam always said.

She had sayings like that for every day of the week. The only other one I remember is “Monday morning do the darning”, probably because it rhymed. But she died when I was small. Everybody in town says Daddy should have given her at least a month in the ground before he started poking around in other women’s holes. But if he had waited, I wouldn’t have gotten Ona for my new mam, and we’d not have Ruby for our baby. Of course, she isn’t really a baby any longer. She’s got five summers on her, and she can do more every washday.… Read the rest

The Story of The Three Little Pigs

Posted on by February 25, 2020

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Those crafty Trifecta editors are at it again, asking us for a retold story in 33 words. Here’s mine. NB: “w/” is one word unconnected with “expertise”. There’s a space.

… Read the rest

Surfing

Posted on by February 25, 2020

I’m not talking ballet here. I’m trying to explain the hedony. I throw myself forward lusting into the Dionysian spontaneity. The arena is carnality alive, and all of us are hungry sybarites while the music plays. We blare, and trumpet, and thunder. I do not fall into their arms expecting asylum.  And yet, there is a safe core where the rhythm is deep enough to hold me if I dive in, so long as I keep time with my body while I ride to the shore. This is not sanctuary but an entry point. The dance begins in the air.

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Linking up here with Trifecta, this week brought to you by the word “safe”.… Read the rest

Celebrate CALM Part 2

Posted on by February 16, 2012

Today, I’m still on about Celebrate Calm and Kirk Martin. He gets special needs kids, and he also gets the need to give practical advice. Many of these gurus try to sell a thought process (and to be fair, Martin does, too, more in a minute) with this attitude that ‘believing this leads to my results’. Martin generally gives targeted advice instead. He has tips that don’t  require me to dip into my own unraveling patience to address a situation without blowing up. So, like I said, I’m sufficiently impressed, and the CDs I’ve listened to since the conference haven’t let me down.… Read the rest

Celebrate CALM Part One

Posted on by February 25, 2020

I attended a mini-conference last week, and because I am me, I’ve been mulling it over ever since. It was one of these parenting seminars destined to be either spectacular or spectacularly dumb. I should assert here that my inner skeptic was expecting the latter.

A little background. I do not approve of parenting via the fluffy-cloud method.  Scott and I once paid some $400 for a parenting course that was ALL 1970s schmaltz.  The class text even used the phrase “hang-up”. Does it get more 1970s than “hang-up”? And yet, I loved that syrupy thing. Every annoying idea that irked me actually had practical applications that were anything but stupid.… Read the rest