It took hours and hours to count, create, and tabulate the entries...hours, because there were hundreds of people interested in winning a book of poetry.
Okay, it really only took a minute but the low number of entries isn't due to a lack of interest in Shay, Joy and Kelli's poetry. It's just that I have a small number of followers(but they are mighty).
Here are the entries:
Notice the fancy font I used to create the slips. My techno-skills are so amazing, I can make things appear like they were handwritten. I'm oh-so-clever that way.
Who are you tryin' to fool? You wrote those names on slips of paper with some old, fat-tipped marker that you found in a drawer. And don't even waste your breath about using rafflecopter or some computer program to determine the winner. You folded each one in half, closed your eyes, stirred the slips up and then snagged one...
And the winner is...
Marcia, if you email your address, I will send the book your way. (And it's ironic that Marcia won this book. She and Shay have competed in at least one writing contest, and Shay swears that some day, she's "gonna get" Marcia.)
(You'd better watch your back, Marcia.)
Change is hard for some of us. We try to resist new experiences and new approaches--sometimes--but when we embrace it, it often brings some (initial) discomfort but (eventually) it leads to an improvement. The new experience was enjoyable. The different strategy made things easier.
Last Thursday I attended a funeral...for my black Crocs. My dog had chewed off one of the straps (years ago) so I cut the strap off the other one so they would match. Another time, I did a decoupage project and dribbled Mod Podge all over those trusty shoes, and still they remained reliable. But when Bronx Diba offered to pop for a pair of shoes for all the Listen to Your Mom performers, I knew it was time to kill those Crocs. (I cut them up--in public at the shoe store so I wouldn't lose my resolve--in front of my daughter and my friend. Those two shoe-loving and Croc-hating women cheered, along with the Bronx Diba employees, who screamed in horror when they caught sight of my trusty Crocs.)
By the way, have you gotten your Listen to Your Mother tickets? If you don't live in the St. Louis area, have no fear--there are shows all over the country. No matter the city, the show is going to be moving. You'll laugh...you'll cry...and in the end you'll be glad you went.
Here are the shoes I chose, after spending two hours vacillating.
They may not appear to be high or scary-looking, but compare them to my tan Crocs (which are shaking in their rubber-ness, since they know good and well what I did to their cousins).
Wedges are a big step (or misstep) for me. There is a pool going on--how soon will Sioux fall on her face? As soon as she steps onto the stage? As she walks to the center of the stage? Will she save the best for last, and fall when all the performers are taking a bow, taking the whole line of writers down with her?
You'll have to come to the show to find out. And if you aren't in the area, there's always Youtube later...
What kind of changes have you embraced lately? Tell. We want to hear all about it...
