My new, yet temporary job editing the local news rag, has been a huge distraction from keeping up tales of the deluded girl. But something bigger has been brewing and I hope it will motivate me to get back to communicating with the two or three of you who still tune in once in a while.
Not to beat a dead horse, but sometimes an evil horse needs it. I’ve whined before about my Netflix addiction and now I am in the midst of the worst break-up of my life. It’s demanded radical measures which may be just as scary.
For some time now I’ve had the sense that something important was missing. I checked and all my underwear is in place, my tires have been rotated and bills are paid up for another month. What could it be?
I changed my toothpaste, bought some bubble bath and toyed with the idea of quitting my job and moving to Nepal. But then I remembered I am retired and have no job. Does anyone know where Nepal is?
New Years Day was almost a disaster but in the end it was saved by my neighbor and serial good fairy, Brenda Chambliss. .
Feeling nauseous and fluey from a stepped-up chemo injection on New Years Eve, I couldn’t face the fare I have consumed with religious fervor for six decades. The black-eyed peas, cabbage and cornbread would have to wait. Then, at 4 p.m. Brenda delivered a package containing all that and more. There was baked ham and her special fruit cake made from crushed vanilla wafers right in the box. I must get the recipe for my next book. Even fruit cake haters will love it.
I went to bed at 8 p.m. on New Years Eve thinking how horrified I would have been 40 years ago to greet the new year without all-night merry-making sometimes bordering on the insane.