Wednesday, August 31, 2011

Alphabe-Thursday's Letter T


Good morning class.

STOP!

Please read this!


I just want to remind you all that you need to visit at least 10 links. It would be very sweet if you made sure to visit everyone that visits you as well! I think we have pretty good success in this meme with being thoughtful visitors, but please keep this expectation in mind when you link. Thank you!

Also, a big shout out to Becky who has been helping me monitor broken links to the meme! Becky, THANK YOU! THANK YOU! I appreciate this more than you can know!

And now...moving on...

Welcome to round three of Alphabe-Thursday! Today we will be studying the simply sensational terrific letter:



Please link directly to your Alphabe-Thursday URL (if you don't know how to do this let me know!) and please continue to visit the five links before and after your link and leave a comment. Minimum of 10 links visited please. You can visit more if you like, of course, and please try very hard to visit the blogs that visit you for this meme.

I also want to let you know that each week I visit every blog. If it appears I haven't visited your blog by the following Wednesday evening, please let me know!

If you have any difficulties with your link, please make sure to include the number of the link when you e-mail me. It is really difficult for me to find you easily otherwise.

If you have any questions about Alphabe-Thursday or problems doing your link just post it in a comment or send me an e-mail. I'll do my best to help you as quickly as I can.

The McLinkey will be live from 1:00 pm MST time Wednesday afternoon in an effort to assist our lovely "friends across the pond" and continue through 10:00 am MST time Friday morning!

And remember.... link back to this post, you need to be registered as a follower of my blog, PG posts only, and you must visit at least 10 other posts...perhaps consider starting from the last posts and work backwards. The links will stay live after the final post deadline has passed so you can even wait and visit over the weekend or whenever you have more time.

Please link your tremendous link now!


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Small Complications...

So...

The last time I picked up my Grandlittles from school, the little one was pretty anxious to talk to me.

I knew this because she squirmed and wiggled and kept telling me, "I need to talk to you Grandma!"

I told her to go ahead, but she informed me it was a private conversation.

After I got them home and got her sisters settled, we finally got a little bit of time alone.

She climbed into my lap.

"Grandma?" she asked in her squeaky little voice.

"Yes?"

"I have some things I need."

Hmmmm..."Ooookay," I queried, "What is it that you need?"

"Well. Grandma. I have a list."

"Oooookay, sweetie pie, what's on the list?"

"Well. Hmmm...let me think what's on my list. Grandma. I need some of that little kid body wash that doesn't smell like boys body wash," she stated.


"I think I can do that, is there anything else on your list?"

"Well. Grandma. I need some toothpaste that isn't spicy. And I lost one of my pink socks. And you know those things that are like fruit rolls ups but they aren't fruit rolls ups? Those are on my list, too."

I was puzzled. "Do you mean toothpaste that isn't minty? And maybe you should ask your Mom where your pink sock is. And do you mean fruit bits? Like those Sponge Bob shaped things?"

"Nooo...Grandma! You know. The fruit roll up things that aren't fruit roll ups!"


"Well, Morgan," I replied, "I think I'm going to have a hard time remembering all this. Maybe you should go get your list."

"What list, Grandma?" she said, looking all kinds of puzzled.

"Your list. The list where you have all these things written down. Can you go to your backpack and get your list?"

"Grandma! You're joking me, right?"

I was confused. "Huh? I'm not kidding. I won't remember all that, can you go get your list?"

"Grandma! Seriously. I don't have a list. I'm just a little kid. I don't know how to write!"

"But Momo. You told me you had a list."

"Grandma! I do have a list. But it's inside my head."

Hmmm...

Seriously.

And now that I've actually written a list on paper, the only big task that remains is finding out what the thing is that is like a fruit roll up but isn't a fruit roll up.

Geez.

Sigh...

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Tuesday, August 30, 2011

Story-Time Tuesday - Living Fiction

Jenny Matlock
If you missed where this story started just click here to read it or simply click on the Story-Time Tuesday link at the top of my blog to take you to previous chapters.

Living Fiction - Chapter 49

Here's where Chapter 48 left you.

“Bob, I’m fine, thank you. What a good memory you have. This is my daughter, Jessie. Jessie…meet Bob. Bob runs…well, he runs one of the grief support meetings at the Carnegie Library.”

“So listen, Pearl. Let me give you my card. You can give me a call if you want to find out about upcoming meetings, or…well…just call me if you need to talk.”

I thanked him and pocketed the card.

“Jessie, it’s no big deal. I promise I’ll go back to a meeting there soon.”

“It’s not that,” Jessie replied solemnly, “I thought you had lied about the grief meetings, too.”

Obviously the girl DID think I lied about everything.

“Look, can we just get one thing clear here?” I asked her in a firm voice. “I didn’t lie about everything. I already explained that I was trying to protect you. Can we just let this go? Can we just quit with the inquisition and have a conversation?”

“That’s all I ever wanted, Mom. I just want to know how you are. Really. Do you want another coffee?”



And now, Chapter 49 Continues.

You might not be surprised to hear that it took Jessie a mighty long time to get her second coffee. In fact, she didn’t get one. And she didn’t come back to the table either. I glanced over a few times and she and Griffin were deep in a conversation about something that involved a lot of hand waving and giggling.

While my daughter was NOT getting me a coffee, I remembered the ‘things I’d like to do list’ I’d written a while back. I dug through my purse to find it.

I finally discovered it scrunched up underneath a tissue and wedged behind an empty sample bottle of buttercream scented lotion.

I unfolded it, and smoothed it out carefully on the table:

1. Quilt?
2. Write?
3. Take a writing class
4. Volunteer. With kids? Little kids?
5. Research what had happened to Jay.

I looked over my list a few times. Then I dug around in my purse and found a pen so I could scratch out number ‘5’ on the list.

Thinking of Jay made me remember I had left the dog alone in the house. How long can dogs wait to go outside, anyway? I’d only been gone a few hours. Surely Edgar could wait a little longer.

If I knew Jay was going to be gone a long time, I could get someone to come and install a doggie door, but I wasn’t really sure what his plans were.

Hoping Jessie would return to the table soon, I went over the rest of the list thoughtfully.
I crossed out number one. I just didn’t see myself quilting. Maybe I would someday, but right now I suspected it would be just another stress.

Number two still appealed to me. How hard could it be to actually make myself write? I know my blogging had not gotten off to a rousing start, but still…

Maybe I should actually do number three on the list first, though. Do you suppose they have classes aboug blogging? I doodled a note to ask Griffin about it.

Volunteering still seemed like a good thing to do, so I doodled about twelve question marks around that item.

I looked over my little list a few more times and then I crossed out number four. Maybe later I’d find a place to volunteer, but for now I was going to start small.

Jessie and Griffin were still chatting away. I decided that since she was never going to return to the table, I might as well head home.

Before heading up to the counter, I stuffed my list into my purse and then found some cash to leave on the table for a tip. Jessie seemed a little surprised when I tapped her on the shoulder.

“Sorry to interrupt you, sweetie, but I think I need to go home and check on the dog.”

“The dog?”

“Yes, Jess. The dog. Edgar. Remember him? He’s been alone at home for a long time. I don’t want him to be scared or to have an ‘accident’.”

Jessie started to argue with me, “But Mom, we’ve only been here a few…” She stopped talking and looked a little startled when she saw what time it was. “Mom! I didn’t realize! I’m so sorry…I…”

“Jessie,” I said interrupting her again, “It’s fine. Really. Take your time. Call me when you need a ride and I’ll run right back and get you, okay?”

Griffin immediately volunteered that he was off work in an hour and would be happy to give her a ride home.

I was not surprised.

“Sure, Mom, go on, and I’ll just grab a ride.”

As I turned to go I remembered my little doodled reminder. “Griffin? Do you know where I could take a class on blogging?”

The poor guy looked slightly bewildered for a moment. “You mean like how to set up a blog? I thought you had a blog?”

“I do have a blog. I mean more like what to write on it. Can you help me with that?”

Griffin laughed. “Pearl, you can write whatever you want about anything you want. There aren’t any rules. Just write whatever you like.”

Geez, Louise. Does everybody think I’m a moron? “I know that! But I need to know how to write a blog so that someone will want to visit and … you know … leave me a comment.”

Griffin laughed again. I was starting to dislike him a little bit. Nobody should be quite that happy. “Pearl, listen. When I bring your daughter home I’ll take a look at what you’ve got going on and see if I can help. Okay?”

“Okay?” I blurted, “That’s more than okay. That would be great!”

My voice might have gotten a bit loud in my enthusiasm because Jessie looked a little embarrassed.

I didn’t care! Griffin was going to help me with my blog.

The jingle of the bell made me smile as I almost skipped to my car.

As I glanced at the happy face in the rearview mirror, I almost didn’t recognize myself. It had been a long time since I’d seen a reflection with a happy smile.

To be continued on Tuesday, September 6.

(c) 2010 Jennifer R. Matlock
This publication is the exclusive property of Jennifer R. Matlock and is protected
under the US Copyright Act of 1976 and all other applicable international, federal, state and local laws. The contents of this post/story may not be reproduced as a whole or in part, by any means whatsoever, without consent of the author, Jennifer R. Matlock. All rights reserved.

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Monday, August 29, 2011

Quick! Call the National Enquirer!

Are they still in business, anyway?

Well if they are...I have a story.

A big story.

Bigger than aliens abducting my weiner dog, Oskar!

Bigger than a 93 year old woman giving birth to quadruplets!

Bigger, I tell ya.

Okay.

Brace yourself.

Are you ready?

Babies can now e-mail!


I'm not kidding.

Today I opened my e-mail and there was a message from this little, tiny baby...


How could this have happened?

How could this teensy little grandlittle crawled to her Ipod, poked the correct buttons AND sent her Grandma an e-mail?

Seriously?

It is such an improbability that this could ever happen, I'm certain the Enquirer is gonna pay big for this story!

Because I'm totally sure that this little girl was just born...

It can't possibly have been over nine years and three months ago that she was a baby...

Can it?

E-mails from Grandlittles?!?!?

Almost as believable as Oskar getting abducted by aliens.


Sigh...

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Surprise! I'm Pregnant!

This little story is linked to week 69 of Saturday Centus. The three word prompt is in bold and we have 150 words to tell the tale. To read other links using the same prompt, just click here.

AHEM!!!!!




It was tough being the only fat one in a family filled with skinny-minnies.

I had planned to be much slimmer for the annual family reunion. Sadly, my intentions were bigger then the actual results, so it was just a matter of moments before my scrawny cousins were huddled together whispering. Snatches of their conversation drifted over to me… “Omar the Tentmaker…they raised the Titanic?…”

Damn them. I couldn’t help it if I had a slow metabolism. And if they kept watching me how was I ever going to be able to get some slices of Aunt Gertrude’s famous pies?

Suddenly I was seized with a brilliant idea!

I clapped my hands together. “I have an announcement everyone! “Surprise! I’m pregnant!”

My Aunt’s gathered around me. “Oh, what blessed news, dear. Here. Let me get you a piece of pie!”

I squinted my eyes meanly at my cousins. “Take that you skinny …”



Sorry readers. I ran out of words. You will have to imagine the final one. mwahahahahahahahahahahaha!

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Sunday, August 28, 2011

Sundays with Steve - Back to the Beach

These Sunday's segments are written by my husband, Mr. Jenny. Here's what he has to say about his posts:

I’ve been writing these weekly stories about life in Northern Idaho, as a youngster and as growing into a young man, primarily for our family. And I'm delighted to share them with you. Just between us, I’m anticipating being cranky when some whipper-snapper who may not even be born yet harasses me in 30 years or so with 'Grandpa, tell me about when you were a boy.' That will probably be after the mad cow disease has set in and erased whatever memory is left. So these are the not-so-dramatic adventures of a Baby Boomer in the 1950s, 60s and 70s.

BACK TO THE BEACH

We talked last week about driving Miss Daisy to the Oregon Coast for several summers, an annual summer trip for my grandmother and her family to escape the heat of the inland Northwest.

That reminded me of a few other summers on that coast, of the MacDonald’s compound at Seaside, the miles and miles of empty sand beaches, my son’s inaugural pee off the top of the Astoria Column, my brother’s honeymoon Volkswagen washed out to sea, that large freighter threatening to swamp our boat, and a few other stories.

Granby and her family that eventually included my mother and her three siblings, began spending the summers at Seaside, Oregon in about 1910. For 25 years the family would ride steamboats from their home in Lewiston, Idaho, cruising downriver 500 miles to the port of Astoria where they would then travel the 20 miles south to Seaside. After the last steamboat ended service in the 1930s, they drove on the primitive highways to the region. Granby spent her contented summers there every year until she died at the ripe old age of 97.

My family joined them for a number of summers in the 1950s, at least my mother and brothers and I. My father would drive us to the Coast, spend a few days, then return to work in Idaho for a number of weeks before fetching us back to prepare for school. Although in later years it was my treat when I could stay home in Idaho with my father, while the rest of the family was at the Coast.


Those summers were pure: My brothers and I spent most days on bicycles, riding the miles-long concrete board walk, visiting the small amusement park on main street, along with the aquarium, bumper car rides, and Leonard’s salt water taffy stand. We were proficient at finding and catching starfish along the beach, Dungeness crab in the surf, and sea horses in the rocks. My parents would often build bon fires in the beach’s drift wood piles in the late afternoons, where we would watch the sun sink into the sea and eat hot dogs cooked on a stick over the fire.

Granby rented several ramshackle houses from Mr. MacDonald every year from about 1920 through 1960, a block off the beach and within easy walking distance of downtown. The houses were arranged facing each other in a compound with a grassy area between them, so the families could have some privacy but which were still fully accessible to all, especially three young boys who had boundless energy and curiosities to match. There was always trouble in the making.

I’ve returned many times to the Northern Oregon coast, an area of the U.S. unique in its beauty and its ruggedness. Mrs. Steve has become a fan as well over the years, and it is still a favorite of ours.


I took my two small children to visit the Astoria Column one year, a 165 foot attraction that commemorates the history of the area, and over-looks the town of the Astoria and the mouth of the Columbia River where it meets the Pacific Ocean.


Son Chris must have been about 4 years old that year, maybe 5; a little young to climb the iron steps to the top of the column, but more than willing to try, in fact, insisting. So we did. The views from the top of the column are spectacular, it sits on top of a hill over-looking the town and the river, the long ocean beaches running 20 miles to the south, and Fort Clatsop just across the way where Lewis and Clark spent their winter on their Louisiana Purchase exploration.

Chris was not interested in the views, or the history, not in the least. He had to go to the bathroom. Ten minutes down the stairs to where a bathroom was open, or over the back ledge where we hoped nobody was below. Over the edge it was. When you have to go, you have to go.

Since we are telling family stories, I am sure that my brother Gordon is still embarrassed about losing the new car on his honeymoon, some 40 years ago. It was a Volkswagon station wagon, and he was mighty proud of it. He had graduated from college and was preparing to leave for medical school, that preparation included marrying the lovely Mary Bales in Boise. All of our family was drawn to the beach, it seems, and it was only natural that he and his new wife would plan a honeymoon on the Oregon Coast. One of the attractions of the beach is that you can drive on it for up to 15 miles or so, and we all did, often. One afternoon he and his bride drove up the beach to an isolated spot, and parked a ways from the sea. While they were exploring the dunes above the beach, Gordon seemed to forget about the incoming tide that pretty quickly swamped that brand new little car. It was 50 yards out into the ocean when he noticed, ran for a tow truck, and managed to salvage the thing. I don’t recall exactly, but I believe he got a new car out of the insurance company, as salt water in engine parts, the interior, and chassis is never a good thing.


A number of years later, It was also with Gordon, three of his daughters, my father and I when the ocean-going freighter nearly swamped us one morning.

One of the long-time activities on the Coast is fishing for wild salmon. When the alarm clock went off at 3:30 that morning in the hotel room my father and I shared, we were ready to fish. We had both downed Dramamine the night before and again that morning. We knew many stories of how rough the water was crossing the Columbia River “bar”, that area where the river meets the ocean. This was a new experience for both of us, and the last thing we wanted was sea sickness.

We met Gordon and his daughters at five that morning on a dock on the Columbia River where we boarded a 30-foot long cabin cruiser owned and piloted by one of Gordon’s friends, a high school teacher from just up-river, Longview, Washington. Gordon and his family lived in Longview, the town where he set up his medical practice after school, and convenient to the coast, of course.

We didn’t have any trouble with sea sickness that day, but the stories were not exaggerated about how rough the water was. I watched waves going by that were two or three times higher than the boat, I was looking up at the top of the ocean, and I did not like that. The girls stayed in the lower cabin of the boat, hanging on as we bounced over the river and into the sea. The boat owner kept assuring us that all was well, that all was normal, and that there was nothing to worry about. I did not like that trip going out, I didn’t mind the roughness of the sea so much, but it was the concept that these huge waves could tip this tiny boat over in a heart- beat that I found a bit disconcerting.

I knew the fishing grounds, some five miles off the coast, would be smoother and we would have a fine and fun morning catching fish. I was wrong. We got to the fishing grounds where we found the swells were just as rough, with passing white caps to emphasize the point. This was the North Pacific after all, it was suppose to be a rough ocean.

Everybody caught a nice salmon over in the next hour, which was the legal limit at that time, and we headed back to the Columbia River and the dock with six fresh fish in the coolers. The ocean had not calmed at all, and as we turned into the river I watched again the waves that were two to three times higher than the boat. The owner seemed comfortable and knew what he was doing, so I relaxed.

Until I spotted that freighter coming up behind us; it was enormous, it was a giant, and it passed us like we were standing still. Obviously the roughness of the water didn’t faze it, as it was steady and amazingly fast through the river water, at least in relationship to our little boat. It passed us on the right going upriver, maybe a close 20 yards away. As the ship’s huge wake bore down on us, our captain turned the little craft into the approaching waves, but left us broadside to the very rough flow of the river. It was a choice: let the freighter’s wake swamp us, or the river-ocean swells roll us over.

We survived without harm, I’m not sure how, and two hours we were eating one of those salmon fresh off a BBQ grill, maybe one of the best meals I had ever enjoyed: Not necessarily for the scrumptious taste, but the adrenalin- rushing experience those fish represented.


(c) 2010 Stephen J. Matlock
This publication is the exclusive property of Stephen J. Matlock and is protected
under the US Copyright Act of 1976 and all other applicable international, federal, state and local laws. The contents of this post/story may not be reproduced as a whole or in part, by any means whatsoever, without consent of the author, Stephen J. Matlock. All rights reserved.

Saturday, August 27, 2011

Saturday Centus - Surprise! I'm pregnant!

Jenny Matlock
Welcome to week sixty-nine of Saturday Centus.

This week let's go pretty standard! It was 116 degrees here on Friday, so while I'm tempted to make this a five word story so I can get in and out of my office quickly, I suspect you would all stage a revolt...

So, for this week...

WORD COUNT - Up to 100 words AND the 3 words of the prompt (103 total maximum words - For those of you that want more words please feel free to link up multiple stories!)
STYLE OF WRITING - Any
USE A PICTURE IF YOU LIKE
THE PROMPT THIS WEEK IS: "Surprise! I'm pregnant! "


The regular restrictions apply: PG, no splitting of the prompt, play nicely and visit the other entries, any style or genre of writing you prefer.

Please display my link button or just a hyper-link back to Saturday Centus. Be careful to link your SC URL to the Linky and not just link to your main blog.

E-mail me directly with ???'s or ask your question in a comment and I will do my best to get back to you as soon as possible.

Feel free to link up anytime between now and next Saturday!

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Friday, August 26, 2011

Three girls in a bathroom...

So...

Wednesday was an 'early out' day from school.

I picked up the Grandlittles and headed to my parents to visit for a bit.

Apparently the visit went on for too long...

...because...all three girls disappeared into the bathroom, giggling.

The oldest popped out once to rummage in a little cabinet that my Mom keeps stationary supplies in.

"Don't come into the bathroom!" she cautioned all of us.

"Julia? Are you getting into trouble in there?"

"No, Grandma, we're just doing something."

Hmmm...

More giggling.

More giggling.

And finally Julia returned to the living room to announce, "Close your eyes everyone. I have a surprise for you!"

Moments later we could hear some crazy laughter going on.

All three of them cautioned, "Don't peek! Don't peek!"

Finally Julia told us to open our eyes...

and...

...we saw this...



"Ladies and gentlemen," Julia announced, "I give you...Cotton Ball Girl AND The Tissue Queen."

My parents and I looked at each other in astonishment.

"Julia? How did you stick that to their faces?"

"I got a glue stick out of a Great-Grandmas drawer! Isn't it funny?"

It was funny...

After my Mom leaped up to be sure they hadn't used the permanent glue stick!

What silly girls.

We laughed and admired Cotton Ball Girl and The Tissue Queen and then headed home.

I kept telling Morgan (aka The Tissue Queen) that I needed to blow my nose. I think she rolled her eyes at me, but I'm not totally sure.

And every time I looked at Riley (aka Cotton Ball Girl) I just had to crack up.

Before the garage door had even come down, the two younger girls made a bee-line for Grandpa, who hunted me down immediately. "Is that going to come off? What are they doing?"

"Geez, Grandpa. Keep up! Don't you recognize Cotton Ball Girl and The Tissue Queen when you see them?"

He laughed and took a bunch of pictures of the big transformation.





The Tissue Queen was a bit easier to dismantle then Cotton Ball Girl.



Fortunately we all went swimming after that and all the little bits of glue were dissolved.

While we were swimming I asked Julia, "Well, why didn't you get 'decorated' too?"

"Are you crazy, Grandma! Do you think I would let those two stick things on my face with a glue stick?"

Sigh.

Okay, I've missed them.

Just a teensy bit.

And I'm still laughing over their silly antics.

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Thursday, August 25, 2011

S is for ...


Shared joy is double joy. Shared sorrow is half sorrow.

Swedish Proverb

This quote was brought to you by Alphabe-Thursday's letter S. To read other S posts, just click here.


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Wednesday, August 24, 2011

Alphabe-Thursday's Letter S


Good morning class. If you can spare a moment and visit the last three or four links from the letter "R", that would be great! I think I was the only commenter on all of those and it made me sad.

Welcome to round three of Alphabe-Thursday! Today we will be studying the simply sensational letter:




Please link directly to your Alphabe-Thursday URL (if you don't know how to do this let me know!) and please continue to visit the five links before and after your link and leave a comment. Minimum of 10 links visited please. You can visit more if you like, of course.

I also want to let you know that each week I visit every blog. If it appears I haven't visited your blog by the following Thursday morning, please let me know!

If you have any difficulties with your link, please make sure to include the number of the link when you e-mail me. It is really difficult for me to find you easily otherwise.

If you have any questions about Alphabe-Thursday or problems doing your link just post it in a comment or send me an e-mail. I'll do my best to help you as quickly as I can.

The McLinkey will be live from 1:00 pm MST time Wednesday afternoon in an effort to assist our lovely "friends across the pond" and continue through 10:00 am MST time Friday morning!

And remember.... link back to this post, you need to be registered as a follower of my blog, PG posts only, and you must visit at least 10 other posts...perhaps consider starting from the last posts and work backwards. The links will stay live after the final post deadline has passed so you can even wait and visit over the weekend or whenever you have more time.

Please link your silly or somber S link now!

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Lovebirds kind of aren't...


...loving birds.

Actually, they aren't loving even a teensy bit.

They are aggressive and mean and they hate me.

When I head out to water my pumpkins (remember those seeds I planted a few weeks ago? Look how big they're getting already!)...



...they sit in the sunflowers and squawk at me.



Loudly.

It scares me.

But yesterday I made the mistake of going outside in a pink shirt (now that the killer hummingbirds are gone) and they decided to squawk AND divebomb me!

I ran out of the garden, screaming like a moron, and sprinted (slowly) toward the back door.

Panting like a marathoner (hey, it is at least 100 yards...okay, okay, maybe 100 feet!) I told Mr. Jenny that the birds were trying to attack me.

"Oh, they're lovebirds," he said, "Maybe they just love you! And they're pretty."

Yeah.

So, I made Mr. Jenny water the pumpkins for me.

And he thought the squawking was funny. And since he wasn't wearing a pink shirt they didn't dive bomb him.

Lovebirds?


I think not!

But if you want to see for yourself, wear a pink shirt and c'mon over to water the pumpkin plants!

Oh...

And wear your sprinting shoes!

Sigh.

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Tuesday, August 23, 2011

Story-Time Tuesday - Living Fiction

Jenny Matlock
If you missed where this story started just click here to read it or simply click on the Story-Time Tuesday link at the top of my blog to take you to previous chapters.

Living Fiction - Chapter 48

Here's where Chapter 47 left you:

“Mom, seriously. C’mon, let’s go get coffee and celebrate anyway.”

She started to open her car door. I put my hand on her arm and stopped her. “Did you even hear a single word I just said? There is nothing I feel like celebrating right now!”

“Yes, Mom. I heard every, single world you said. But we are going inside. We are going to order coffee and when it comes we’re having a toast.”


She was really starting to irritate me. I don’t think she had listened at all. “Jessie? Why would we have a toast? There is nothing to toast, believe me.”

She looked me straight in the eye.

“Oh yes there is, Mom. For starters, we’re celebrating the first honest conversation we’ve had since I became an adult!”



And now, Chapter 48 Continues.

I sat in the car. I was a grown woman and I certainly wasn’t going to let my daughter boss me around like this. “I’ll teach her,” I thought and reached down to turn my car back on. Drat! I forgot she had taken the keys.

From the corner of my eye, I saw her digging in her purse. She rapped on the window to show me my keys (what a brat!) and then motioned for me to get out of the car.

Fine! Just fine! I’d go into the coffee shop but I wasn’t doing any celebrating…first honest conversation or not. The bell did its irritating merry jingle as I went through the shop door a few steps behind my daughter. It was crowded in the sunny little space. Jessie was already at the counter looking over the menu board. She turned toward me, “Mom? Whatta you want? My treat.”

“Well give me a second and…” I started to say, when all the sudden the guy behind the counter turned around. It was Griffin! And he gave me a big smile! “Pearl? Right? How’ve ya been? What’s going on? How’s your blog going?”

Geez. I was shocked. How had he remembered all that stuff? I must have looked surprised, because he quickly explained, “I never forget a face…and, besides, any friend of Jay’s is a friend of mine! How’s he doin’ anyway? I haven’t seen him in here lately?”

Before I could answer, Griffin motioned to the short line that had formed behind Jessie and me. “Listen, ladies, go ahead and have a seat and I’ll bring your coffees over.”

Jessie just stood there. I pulled her arm. “C’mon Jess, let’s get a seat, it’s getting crowded in here.”

“But Mom? Who was that? He didn’t even take an order from us. How can he bring coffees to our table if we didn’t order?”

“That,” I said, “Is Griffin. He is going to school from something like…ummm… well…media…ummm…Social…ummm…okay, I can’t remember exactly what he’s going to school for. He likes to guess what people like to drink and…”

“Mom?”

Oh my gosh. Was she already back to repeating my name over and over again?

“Just wait a second, okay. You watch. I bet he’ll pick a coffee drink you’ll love!”

“So…Mom. I really thought you had made up the whole thing about coming to the coffee shop and everything.”

I was offended.

Did the girl think I lied about everything?

Thank goodness Griffin approached our little table then with two steaming coffee drinks and a little plate of tiny muffins. Yum. “Pearl, for you I made a caramel pumpkin latte with a little extra spice,” he said with a wink and an exaggerated bow. I really liked Griffin. If he was older and didn’t have all those tattoos and…well…silly me. Just never mind.

Griffin, however, seemed to be flirting with my daughter, “And for this beautiful lady I prepared a cappuccino with an extra shot of expresso AND one packet of sweetener. And for both of you I brought a selection of our mini-muffins…blueberry, pumpkin and lemon poppyseed.”

He laid our check on the table and gave us another wink. “I’d love to stay and chat, but there’s a line…so just give me a whistle if you need anything.”

Without even glancing at my daughter, I said, “Close your mouth, Jessie. Don’t look so surprised. I know a few people around this town. Is that what you usually order?”

Jessie was still staring after Griffin. “Mom, he’s kind of cute, isn’t he? Does he have a girlfriend? How old is he anyway? What do you think of those tat’s?”

I stirred my latte and spooned up a bit of the frothy topping. Delicious! That spicy pumpkin aroma just made my mouth water. I found one of the bite-sized pumpkin muffins to enjoy with it.

“Mom?”

“I heard you, Jess. I was just thinking. He is cute. And I think his tattoos are kind of pretty. He seems really nice and for some reason I don’t think he has a girlfriend…but I could be wrong. Is that your usual coffee drink or not?”

Jessie grinned and nodded.

We sipped and munched and just enjoyed the murmur of the crowded coffee shop. The sun cast a golden glow over the wood tables.

It was nice to sit quietly. It was especially nice to not have to explain myself. I glanced around the coffee shop and noticed a thin, younger man with chaotic brown hair looking back at me. He certainly looked familiar, but I just couldn’t place him.

As I watched him push his chair back and approach our table, I struggled to remember where I had met him before.

“Pearl? Is it Pearl?”

“Well…hi…ummm…gosh, it’s been so long since I’ve … ummm…”

“You don’t remember me, do you?” he asked in a gentle voice. “I’m Bob. We met at the Carnegie Library. You left in a hurry and I never got a moment to talk to you. How are you?”

“Bob, I’m fine, thank you. What a good memory you have. This is my daughter, Jessie. Jessie…meet Bob. Bob runs…well, he runs one of the grief support meetings at the Carnegie Library.”

“So listen, Pearl. Let me give you my card. You can give me a call if you want to find out about upcoming meetings, or…well…just call me if you need to talk.”

I thanked him and pocketed the card.

“Jessie, it’s no big deal. I promise I’ll go back to a meeting there soon.”

“It’s not that,” Jessie replied solemnly, “I thought you had lied about the grief meetings, too.”

Obviously the girl DID think I lied about everything.

“Look, can we just get one thing clear here?” I asked her in a firm voice. “I didn’t lie about everything. I already explained that I was trying to protect you. Can we just let this go? Can we just quit with the inquisition and have a conversation?”

“That’s all I ever wanted, Mom. I just want to know how you are. Really. Do you want another coffee?”

To be continued on Tuesday, August 30.

(c) 2010 Jennifer R. Matlock
This publication is the exclusive property of Jennifer R. Matlock and is protected
under the US Copyright Act of 1976 and all other applicable international, federal, state and local laws. The contents of this post/story may not be reproduced as a whole or in part, by any means whatsoever, without consent of the author, Jennifer R. Matlock. All rights reserved.

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Monday, August 22, 2011

Excuse my breakdown please...

So...

Sunday I had to drive into the big city to go visit someone.


Usually Mr. Jenny goes along as my chauffeur, but since I know how hard Mr. Jenny has been working and because I am such a sweet and wonderful wife, I suggested he stay home and enjoy a day filled with relaxation.

He agreed to my plan.

And quite quickly, I might add.

"Okay, I'll stay home, but let me fill the car up with gas before you go."

I agreed to his plan.

And quite quickly, I might add.

If you live in a big city you know what the roads are like...lots of lanes...lots of traffic.

There I was...driving west and listening to Car Talk on the radio. I can't help myself, those guys just crack me up.

As I approached a six-lanes-in-one-direction tunnel, the car did a little lug-down thing (Yes, huh, that is a perfectly good car trouble description!). I turned off the radio and slowed down. It didn't happen again so I continued into the tunnel.

Suddenly the car started to sputter. I was in the middle lane. Acccckkkk!

My speed dropped dramatically and amidst much honking I limped across three lanes of traffic only to find there was no berm.

The car stalled out and I turned my blinkers on. The other drivers were obviously offended by my blinkers, because they continued to blare their horns at me as they passed.

I started the car and managed to drive a few more feet toward the exit, before the car stalled out again.

At this point I was seriously afraid for my life. Drivers on these freeways are crazy. I started, lurched and stalled myself almost up to a major exit and halfway onto a gravel berm before the car refused to go any further.


Darn.

Darn, darn, darn.

I called Mr. Jenny. I said, "Get in your car and start driving toward the big city - NOW! Call me on your cell when you're on the way!" Mr.Jenny said, "Huh?" The reason he said "Huh?" is because I have laryngitis and can barely speak. I repeated myself several more times, hung up on him and then I dug around in my wallet to find my Triple A card.

All the while, vehicles were whizzing by blaring their horns at me.

I called Triple A and told the lady I needed help IMMEDIATELY. She said, "Huh?" It took repeating myself about five times before she could understand me. The whole time I was trying to make my voice loud enough to be heard, there was another cell phone ringing somewhere in the car. It was Mr. Jenny's. He had left his phone in the console after he went to fill the car up with gas. He said, "I can't leave, I don't know where you are."

I whispered as loudly as I could until he could finally understand where I had broken down.

With me so far?

Okay. Now understand that I live in a desert. I had been driving west in the early afternoon. It is a bazillion degrees outside. And the car won't start so there's no air conditioning. I am on a berm with no place to go and no possibility of shade and the sun is blazing into my car.

I have to pee.

I am freaking out.

I start freaking out even more when a guy on a cell phone driving a big truck almost rear ends me.

I call 9-1-1.

I try to tell the nice lady on the phone that I am in a trouble. She can't understand me. She keeps saying, "Give the phone to someone else in the car, I can't understand you." I say "There is nobody else in the car...I need help, please!" Finally she understands me and tells me to stay in the vehicle and she will dispatch a patrol car to help me. I tell her that the car is turning into an oven. "I understand, we'll send help as soon as we can!"

By this time I am not only freaking out but I actually think I am verging on heat stroke. And not in a good way.

It is now like a broiler in the car. I pour some of my drinking water over my head. It doesn't really help. It now feels like I am sitting in a sauna waiting to be rear-ended and unable to call for help because of my laryngitis.

I am annoyed.

A slight understatement.

And I still have to pee.

Geez.

Finally, finally I see Mr. Jenny pull up behind me. He parks a few feet back and puts his blinkers on. He comes running up to the car. "Quick, go get in the air conditioning."

I try to tell him he can't park there because we'll both be rear ended, but he can't understand me.

Then the police pull up and turn their flashers on, so I get in the air conditioned car and about swoon with relief. My face is beet red. I feel like I am on fire. And not in a good way.


Geez.

The tow truck pulls up. The big, burly guy tells Mr. Jenny, "I can't tow you from here. You'll all have to back up so we can push the car back."

Geez.

Finally the car is loaded. "You need to follow me back to the repair shop," the big burly guy says.

By now several hours have elapsed. I tell Mr. Jenny, "I have to be in the big city before 4 pm!" Mr. Jenny says, "Well, I don't think it's gonna happen."

I say, 'Okay', but I think, 'We'll see about that'!

So we drive all the way back past where we live and another 10 miles East to get to the repair shop. Mr. Jenny finally stops to let me ... ummm.... tinkle... and we wait for the big, burly tow truck driver who, when he finally gets there, wants to tell us some long story about my trouble ticket having the numbers '666' in it.

Geez.

Finally the car is unloaded.

I tell Mr. Jenny, "I'm dropping you at home and going to the big city before 4."

And he says, "No. You look horrible (hmmm...what's up with that anyway?) and you look sick from the heat and you are still bright red. I'll drive you."

It was a little after 3.

Geez.

So we finally got to the big city with 20 minutes to spare. And I did my visiting thing. Which didn't work out super well because the person I was visiting kept saying, "Huh? I can't understand you."

Sigh...

And the moral of this story is...

Heck. I don't know.

I've just been through a major trauma here. I can't possibly be expected to think up story morals.

Geez.

Sigh...

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Sunday, August 21, 2011

A winner AND an SC link for 'If I Die Young'

Happy Sunday afternoon!

Mr. Random Org told me the winner from last weeks LOL Saturday Centus was:
Here's what he told me:

Random Integer Generator
Here are your random numbers:
18


Which corresponds with Becky's LOL post. Congratulations Becky! I loved hearing Ryker's laugh! Becky, please e-mail your address to me at: jennymatlock at cox dot net and I'll get your prized ordered up and send right off to you!

Thanks for participating everyone!

And now...

Here is my link to Saturday Centus, Week 68. The prompt is in bold. For other links to this difficult prompt, just click here.

TEENAGERS

If I die young, you’re gonna regret being so mean!”

Patiently I tried, yet again, to explain. “It’s my job to protect you, to give you boundaries, to set limits. It’s …”

“Seriously, Mom, you totally don’t get it! It’s just a party! All the other kids are going! Didn’t they have parties 100 years ago? If I die young, you’re gonna feel bad you made my life so freakin’ miserable!”

“Listen, I understand you want to go…but I need the address and the phone number so I can call her parents.”

“Mom, seriously, AS IF! You are totally freakin’ out of control! If I die young, you’re gonna be standing at my grave saying ‘oh-boo-hoo-hoo, I should have been nicer to my daughter when she was still alive’.

I turned away and muttered under my breath, “If you keep this crap up it won’t be “IF!” because I’m going to kill you first!

“Hey! I heard that Mom! I’m calling CPS!”



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Sundays with Steve - Driving Miss Daisy

These Sunday's segments are written by my husband, Mr. Jenny. Here's what he has to say about his posts:

I’ve been writing these weekly stories about life in Northern Idaho, as a youngster and as growing into a young man, primarily for our family. And I'm delighted to share them with you. Just between us, I’m anticipating being cranky when some whipper-snapper who may not even be born yet harasses me in 30 years or so with 'Grandpa, tell me about when you were a boy.' That will probably be after the mad cow disease has set in and erased whatever memory is left. So these are the not-so-dramatic adventures of a Baby Boomer in the 1950s, 60s and 70s.

DRIVING MISS DAISY

One of the rights of passage, one of the summer jobs each one of us brothers were expected to do, was to drive Miss Daisy the 450 miles to the ocean beach each summer.

Miss Daisy, in this case, was my grandmother Alice Alford. That year, she, her daughter Eugenia, and her granddaughter Connie, were packed into the 1958 Cadillac for the 12 hour drive, with me at the wheel .

I was 15 years old, I had been driving a year, and I was nervous about driving the relatives to the Coast. It was a long drive with a car full of female relatives, and I wasn’t real confident as where I fit into the pecking order, other than being on the bottom.

It was early June when the car was packed. Aunt Eugenia had been packing for weeks, as she always did, and shipped most of the family’s summer beach clothes and effects ahead using a commercial trucking line. These were the days before UPS or FedEx. I would be sent to the truck line offices in Seaside, Oregon, the next day to retrieve the piles of trunks and suitcases.

Granby and her late husband had been making this summer trip to the Coast since the 1910s, to escape the summer heat of the inland Northwest. For many decades they took a paddle-wheeled steamer down the Snake River from their hometown of Lewiston, Idaho, to the Columbia River and then on to Portland, and finally to Astoria, Oregon, where the river met the sea. The last steamer blew up and burned in the 1930s, forcing the annual journey to the primitive highways of the region.



I was nervous about being the chauffer that year, but also excited. I had never driven a long distance, and the change from being a passenger crammed in the back for numerous trips over the years, to the steersman guiding the ship of state, was exciting.

The ship of state was a 1958 Cadillac, one of either the ugliest automobiles of the era, or one of the most classic, depending on your point view. It was a 5,000 pound monster that was crammed to the roof and fully overloaded for the long journey.



Granby was a kind woman: gentle, intelligent, thoughtful, decisive, and forceful when needed. I was close to her growing-up; we lived a mile away from her which became comfortable bicycle range when we were in grade school. I spent hours at her house whenever I could, knowing that there was always a bottle of Coca-Cola in the refrigerator and a peanut butter sandwich for the asking. Years later when I came home on college breaks, her house was always my first stop, and always, there was a Coke in the fridge waiting for me, and hours of discussion that followed.

That year I drove the family to the Coast, she was 81 of the 97 years she would live.

Aunt Eugenia -- known as Genie to most and my mother’s sister -- was not quite so kind and gentle. She was a bit more critical and controlling, shall we say. She had a sharp tongue, and she knew how to use it.

Her daughter Connie, the third in the car that day, and my cousin, was about 30 years old, and had suffered a stroke years earlier when attending college. She had never fully recovered, and it became Aunt Genie’s burden to care for her for years to come. Connie had always referred to my brothers and me as “brats”, and she still did that year. There was no love lost between us.

The day was warm, and my mother delivered me to Granby’s house early for the long drive. We were on the road by eight, with Granby in back-seat passenger side, a position she had occupied for years. Genie was in the passenger’s seat front, while Connie was behind me in the back seat.

I had seen or read jokes for years about “back seat drivers”, and I learned that day what that term meant: My aunt was a dictator in the front seat. “You can go faster, you are going too fast, you should be a bit closer to the truck up ahead, you are too close to that car, be careful passing here.... “ It was going to be a long, long day, not for the distance, but for my Aunt’s propensity to control, my Aunt who had never learned to drive.

These were two lane roads most of the 350 miles to Portland, then the last 100 miles to the Coast. There was very little traffic for the first 120 miles, until we came to the Columbia River highway. There the traffic was heavy with trucks and cars, but traveling at pretty good speeds of about 50 mph. We finally hit a four-lane “super highway” at The Dalles, then roared into Portland at a high speed of 60 (Genie wouldn’t let me drive any faster than that).

Aunt Genie and Cousin Connie had to stop about every 30 or 40 miles to use the facilities at a cafe or gasoline station. There were a couple of lunch breaks during the day, and a nice diner near Portland. It was tedious, I thought we would never get to the Coast.

Granby was kind and sweet the entire drive, even though I could tell she had tired of Genie’s banter and non-stop talking. Granby napped a bit through the day, but mostly she watched the river pass by and occasionally told stories of her and her husband taking the steamboats to the Coast, with my mother as a child along with the rest of the siblings, in tow.

Driving down the western slope of the Coast Range, I could smell the salt in the air 20 miles before we came to the Pacific Ocean. It revived me, it woke me up, it gave me new energy . We finally arrived near sunset, and found the condo they had rented for the summer ready for occupancy.

They put me in a motel across the street from their condo, and I assured them I would be fine and would see them the next morning. I took a long walk that night along the sandy beach of the Pacific, hours and miles up to Fort Stevens, then back. I decided then I that I loved the ocean, which I already knew, and that I loved long-distance driving but that I hated driving the family for that long distance.

The next day I drove Granby to some of her favorite places, places she had been visiting for 50 and 60 years, while Genie and Connie stayed in the condo to rest from the long journey.

Granby found her favorite clam chowder for lunch, the giant Haystack Rock at Cannon Beach still standing, and the fishing wharf at Astoria busy as usual. The Naval mothball fleet was still upriver from Astoria, the Crab Broiler was still serving fancy meals out on Highway 101, the Bell Boy market was still pushing local sea food, Leonard’s was still pulling salt water taffy, and the “turn-around” at the end of the main street, where the highway met the sand, was still there and operating.



All was good in Granby’s world that day, all was as it was suppose to be.

Several days later I boarded a Greyhound bus that would take me to the Portland airport to catch a West Coast Airlines flight home, a flight that was almost as long as the drive to the beach had been. Granby would do the driving around the beach town for the summer -- slowly, oh, so slowly -- but she did not enjoy highway driving and would not drive far. So I would be back in early September to drive the family home again, after they spent another summer at the beach. And I would make the long summer drive once more the following year in my passage to adulthood, passing the true test of long distance driving: Enduring Aunt Eugenia for endless hours in a closed automobile.

(c) 2010 Stephen J. Matlock
This publication is the exclusive property of Stephen J. Matlock and is protected
under the US Copyright Act of 1976 and all other applicable international, federal, state and local laws. The contents of this post/story may not be reproduced as a whole or in part, by any means whatsoever, without consent of the author, Stephen J. Matlock. All rights reserved.

Saturday, August 20, 2011

Saturday Centus - If I die young...

Jenny Matlock
Welcome to week sixty-eight of Saturday Centus.

I post these on Friday night (do you really think I get up at 3 am to make this live?) so the drawing from last week won't happen until Saturday evening or sometime Sunday. I'll notify you by e-mail AND put up a post.

It's a little bit cooler this week (barely hitting 105) so I thought I would quit being quite so penurious with words.

WORD COUNT - Up to 150 words AND the 4 words of the prompt (154 total maximum words)
STYLE OF WRITING - Any
NO PICTURES ALLOWED
THE PROMPT THIS WEEK IS: "If I die young..."


The regular restrictions apply: PG, no splitting of the prompt, play nicely and visit the other entries, any style or genre of writing you prefer.

Please display my link button or just a hyper-link back to Saturday Centus. Be careful to link your SC URL to the Linky and not just link to your main blog.

E-mail me directly with ???'s or ask your question in a comment and I will do my best to get back to you as soon as possible.

Feel free to link up anytime between now and next Saturday!

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Friday, August 19, 2011

What big eyes you haven't...

I got to pick up the Grandlittles after school on Wednesday.

Yeah.

I miss them.

My house is so quiet and tidy.

But...

We're not going to talk about that. We're going to talk about blind dinosaurs.

Because...

It's a sad thing...

Don't you think?

After I got all the girls home and we did homework and had a lot of cuddles, Morgan suddenly remembered something important she had to ask me.

"Grandma! What would happen if a dinosaur was blind?"

"Hmmm," I replied, thoughfully, "I don't really know. Why do you ask?"

"Think about it," she insisted in her squeaky little voice.


"Hmmm...gosh, sweetie I just don't know what would happen if a dinosaur was blind. Why are you asking?"

Instead of a reply she ran off full speed to her room. "Quick, Grandma! Come Quick! I have to show you something."

And she did.

She showed me one of her favorite stuffed animals.

A little blue dinosaur.

That was missing two eyes.


And part of an ear.

"Did your dog chew his eyes off, Mo?" I asked.

"Yes! See! See! The dinosaur is blind. What can we do about this?"

I told her I would take the poor little blind dinosaur home and fix him.

"Okay, Grandma," she said, "But be careful. I'm pretty sure he can still bite."

So I carefully took the blind little fella home...


And dug through my button jar...

Too creepy...



Too weird...



Too big...



And, finally, just right!



I think I'm going to have a happy little five year old when I see her next.

And I'll have to warn her that now the dinosaur can see her to bite her.

And yessirree Bob...

I am missing those little girls something fierce.

So badly, in fact, that I'm sharing pictures of a temporarily blind dinosaur with you today.

But at least I had him to keep me company.

Sigh...

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Thursday, August 18, 2011

UPDATED! Spreading the word on a lost brother...and...does anyone...

Good morning! The brother has been found! Hooray! He is not yet back on US soil, but on his way! If you want to read the update, just click here!


Hi!

I know a lot of you know Amy over at Involuntary Smiles.

I had an e-mail from her this morning asking if I could post a request from another blogger about her brother being missing.

If you could help spread the word on this I know Amy and her friend would be grateful. To read the information for the Lost Brother post, just click here. Thank you.

Also, I know some of you do website and blog design but, of course, I can't remember who does it now.

I'm looking for a very basic HTML website for my husbands company. We need a homepage, about us, products and services and contact pages. Currently the website is built in flash and I cannot maintain it.

I'm also looking for a basic wordpress blog and related button.

I am price driven on this work...darn recession anyway.

But if you do this kind of thing or know someone who can do it quickly and fairly inexpensively please e-mail me at: jennymatlock at cox dot net and put "Website Design" in the subject line!

Thanks!

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R is for Rap


Rap music... sounds like somebody feeding a rhyming dictionary to a popcorn popper.

Tom Robbins



PS. This made me laugh. I wanted to write a quotation about a raisin...just a sad grape in need of botox...but I couldn't find one...sigh...

This quote was brought to you by Alphabe-Thursday's letter R. To read other R posts, just click here.


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Wednesday, August 17, 2011

Alphabe-Thursday's Letter R


Good morning class.

Welcome to round three of Alphabe-Thursday! Today we will be studying the ridiculously radical letter:



Please link directly to your Alphabe-Thursday URL (if you don't know how to do this let me know!) and please continue to visit the five links before and after your link and leave a comment. Minimum of 10 links visited please. You can visit more if you like, of course.

I also want to let you know that each week I visit every blog. If it appears I haven't visited your blog by the following Thursday morning, please let me know!

If you have any difficulties with your link, please make sure to include the number of the link when you e-mail me. It is really difficult for me to find you easily otherwise.

If you have any questions about Alphabe-Thursday or problems doing your link just post it in a comment or send me an e-mail. I'll do my best to help you as quickly as I can.

The McLinkey will be live from 1:00 pm MST time Wednesday afternoon in an effort to assist our lovely "friends across the pond" and continue through 10:00 am MST time Friday morning!

And remember.... link back to this post, you need to be registered as a follower of my blog, PG posts only, and you must visit at least 10 other posts...perhaps consider starting from the last posts and work backwards. The links will stay live after the final post deadline has passed so you can even wait and visit over the weekend or whenever you have more time.

Please link your "R" post right now:

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