You Asked For It

      Avert your eyes if your eyeballs are sensitive to flashy brilliance. But come back at the end... where a smidgen of pride flourishes and where darkness returns.

         Yes, this one of my new Crocs. It was given to me by my enabler husband. Of course, in this picture the strap is not where it is supposed to be. I wear my Crocs in the tres chic way--with the strap pushed to the front, so that it protects the top of my delicate size 11 foot.

        If you head to The Muffin on January 16, you can read my guest post. It's David Letterman and Chris Rock and writing advice... all rolled into one--and I only used one set of ellipsis.

        That's right, ladies and gentlemen. Just one. I had to slave over the post, paring it down from 147 sets of ellipsis--revising and drafting over and over--until I got it down to a single, solitary set.

         And now for the dark side. (A little Eddie and the Cruisers for you, Val.) One of my stories, "The Handler," had made it to the next-to-last hurdle for Chicken Soup's Thanks to Mom. Well today, it ended up lame. It leaped up, intending to clear with air to spare... only to crash into a mangled heap. The CS people said my story should be sent to the Pulitzer Prize people was being cut.

         What disappointment have you recently stared down? Minds that are licking their wounds want to know...(Hey! I had myself so reined in with those enchanting ellipsis, I had to let loose at some point...)



         

        

Still Into It

(Beware. This topic/title was chosen so I would have a reason to include my favorite Paramore song. Sorry.)

     Okay, these are the things I am still "into":

• Sons of Anarchy (a show on FX that I love and is in its final season...it will take its final breaths this summer or fall, I believe. Think "The Sopranos" on motorcycles.)
• teaching (I still enjoy my job.)
• Crocs (however, one of my pairs--"Blackie"--is going to be autopsied soon, on April 24. Bring your own flower petals.)
• honesty (I got some initial feedback on my NaNo/manu, and even though no one has gotten to the end yet, they are suggesting segues. Are those really necessary?  They also say I probably need to change my point of view, which will result in more snark. No one has ever asked for more snark from me. I love it.)
• a great writing critique group  (Just about every piece of writing I submit has been critiqued by four gifted writers. They each bring a different perspective, they each have their unique strengths, but they're all strong and fierce.)

     What are you "into" these days?  (And now what I've been waiting for. I'm sorry if it's not what you have been waiting for...)

A Death of BUS

       A pair of my BUS (Butt-Ugly Shoes) died a kind of death on Friday. At least they breathed their last breath as work shoes.

        A friend of mine, Darice, had a celebration to mark the occasion. She poppped open a bottle of champagne. She hired a caterer to prepare a delicious array of appetizers. And she jumped for joy.

       You see, she will not go anywhere with me if I'm wearing my Crocs. (The photo below is not a picture of my shoes. I have a tan pair and a black pair. I could only dream of orange ones like these.)

photo by PetiteFamily93

        Before you grab a handful of rocks and threaten to stone her for being unreasonable, I should explain that my Crocs are not new ones. I've had the two pairs for several years. And because I wear each of them 2-3 times a week, they are worn. Run down. Pathetic.

       I should also add that I wear them in the creation of some hideous ensembles. For me, they are not just for the ultra-casual outfits, like jeans and a t-shirt. Oh, no. I wear them with nice slacks. I wear them with skirts to work (because they are as comfortable as slippers) and (skip this next part if you have a sensitive stomach) I wear them without any kind of stockings. Bare legs. Old lady legs. A whiter-shade-of-pale legs, with the only "color" being supplied by the stubble of leg-hair scattered along my not-really-slim calves. However, when the weather gets cold, I wear them with jeans or slacks with socks. (No, even I would not wear them with socks when sporting a skirt! Give me a credit for having a modicum of fashion sense!)

      As I was walking across my classroom before the kids came in, I felt something flapping against my ankle. I looked down, and saw that one of the straps had gotten detached. (I never use the straps; they are always swung to the front, rather than the back.) In vain, I tried to reattach it. Unable to, I thought of stapling it back (that would hurt my ankle when the staple--as it was sure to do--would scratch my flesh) or using a glue gun (I doubted it would hold it permanently). I finally just cut both straps off, since I had no other pair of shoes to change into.

      When I told Darice about my beloved tan Crocs, she said, "Thank goodness they're in the trash now, where they belong."  Not so fast. In the trash?  Why would you assume I threw them away?

       After all, they're still in perfect shape for yard work or a walk in the park. I said they had breathed their last breath as work shoes. They're not completely dead...yet.