Tag Archives: Humor

The Plague has Moved On

or at least I hope so. We all have had the crud of various stripes and colors. My hope is that after a double dose of Nyquil tonight any lingering sludge will clear out.

vbpTo give life a lift after my near-death experience, I decided to watch Very British Problems on Netflix. Here’s a link to some of the episodes on Channel 4.

It’s clear that I could be dropped into any British city and go native without much ado.

That must be why I don’t fit.

Actually, this show just proves we are all misfits in whatever setting we may find ourselves.

A word of caution, Series 2 is a more willing discuss the occasional intimacy–which kinds of undoes some of the things said in Series 1. Series 1 is a tad vulgar in that randy Brit sort of way and pretty safe.

Pride & Precedence: Snow Woe

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There is a song from your modern era called I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas. Seriously? Snow has become not my dream but my nightmare.

Granted, a dusting of snow would be charming at Christmastime—if it came and then went away. This year? Snow continues to fall and pile up. It’s like one of those annoying houseguests who will not go.

Our “White Christmas” became a “White New Year’s” and then a “White Epiphany.” If we stiil have snow on the ground at Candlemas, I will lose my mind.

The vulgar expression “Cabin Fever” describes the situation at Uppercross Cottage. We are housebound because of the snow, and let me tell you, it is Too Much.

trees-15For one thing, the cottage is always, always cold. Why not burn a forest of trees for heat? What are we saving them for? I know, posterity. Bless me, since the days of our courtship I’ve been told that the Musgrove wealth is found not in monetary assets but in land. Well then, we ought to plant acres of trees so that we can cut down what we need. Trees do nothing but stand there. Why not make them useful?

And then there is the smoke: from fires, from sputtering candles, and from cigars. I am continually coughing because my husband will not take his cigars out-of-doors as he ought. My father-in-law’s pipe? Insupportable! Smoke indoors is almost bad as the smell of damp wool, which is everywhere.

popula626We have the same dismal callers again and again, and Charles will invite them to stay. And then, of course, I must feed them. The ugly caps and wrappers they wear are painful to behold, not to mention their red noses and  chapped cheeks. Our conversations center around one thrilling subject: the weather.

Our darling boys are behaving like savages. They laugh and screech, and their footfalls pound along the hallways and up and down stairs until my head aches. The nurserymaid is no help. Her solution is to put them in the bath, allowing them to shout and splash water everywhere. Charles bundles them up and takes them to visit his parents at the Great House, but that is no better. The boys run wild there, while my in-laws discuss my shortcomings as a mother.

Next winter, I shall insist that Charles to take me to Bath. My father has a very fine house there; we would be in no one’s way. In Bath, no one minds the weather. There are card parties, concerts, and interesting people. Here we have the same musicians, the same dances, and the same people.

Thanks to “Old Man Winter” every one of our neighbors has a cold and sniffs—continually.  My poor nerves are worn to a frazzle. But do our neighbors care? They smile and wave and say, “Cheerio!” as if they are happy about the snow.

I’d like to give that Jack Frost a piece of my mind. And a good swift kick in the pants, too.

Most cordially,

Mary Elliot Musgrove
Daughter of Sir Walter Elliot
Future Mistress of Uppercross

New Release!
Sir Walter Elliot’s Marrying Well for Fun & Profit is now a Kindle e-book.
More about that tomorrow.

Mary’s “portrait” is Afternoon Stroll by Giovanni Boldini

The day I wore Pajama Pants to Walmart

Thanks to Marianne Hawthorne for this fun meme

Thanks to Marianne Hawthorne for the meme. Click the image to see her Pinterest collection.

When snow and freezing rain hit the Pacific Northwest, we kind of lose our minds.

Snowpocalapse!
Hunker down!
The end is near!

Okay, so we’re not quite that bad. Thing is, we get snow every two to three years in this part of Oregon. It really throws us for a loop.

I ought to add that we do not salt our roads. That’s right; we’re the only state that doesn’t. And I recently learned that the de-icing chemicals we use are not effective when temperatures drop below 28 degrees. Brilliant.

No salt, no plow, no problem. I live on the corner.

No salt, no snow plow? No … uh … problem.

We are all kinds of crazy, yeah.

Which brings me to Walmart, early Saturday morning, just as a snowstorm hit.  The day I wore my jammie pants to go shopping. I did.

The’re black, and they used to be workout pants, but the thing is, I slept in them the night before. I threw on my long down coat (also black), a somewhat-fashionable scarf, and shoes. I was good to go.

walmart-pajamaSo now I am one of the “People of Walmart.” Even though ours is the neighborhood grocery store kind. And everyone there, though harried by the falling snow, was fully dressed. Below-freezing temperatures are helpful that way.

Darcy-By-Any-Other-Name-blogsz-2In other news, a sale and an e-book giveaway.  Tomorrow check out Anna’s review at Diary of an Eccentric and enter to win the Kindle edition of Darcy By Any Other Name. Even if you own this book, you should enter. If you win, I’ll gladly send the prize to one of your friends.

To celebrate, I’ve reduced the Kindle price by $1.00. Because ice and snow season is reading season, right? So let’s get down to business.

Laura Hile (1)

I write like …

and

I put a section of writing containing FW’s pov, and a section of Anne’s pov into the window. So, I write FW like King and Anne like Christie.

Interesting.

Try it: I Write Like

The Exact Science of Life

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There were problems with everything swimming at the Rio Olympics. Swimmers aside, after a week of green water, spokesman Mario Andrada said: “We have learnt that chemistry is not an exact science.”

Now that’s funny.

Apparently, telling the truth is a bit mercurial as well.

Blame_it_on_rio

.

.

I guess this is now a full-fledged life choice.

An Observation

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Mum old man taps bell.
Barely a sound calls help.
Mumness surrounds him.

 

 

We are to blog as writers so that we have a platform. We create a platform so that people find us and read our books. They read our books, we make a living, and the cycle continues.

Except when you hit days like today.

The above lame haiku came about because I was going to describe a trip to the store last week. Down and dirty: Dollar Store. Checkers restocking, checkout empty. Bell on belt for service. Older man gets there before me. I ask him to ring. Startle him. Tiny voice says, okay. His ring is as tiny as his voice. Checker comes and all’s well that ends well.

I was going to observe that people resemble their noticeable traits. He was small, stooped, took up little space. His voice was tiny. His ring of the bell was light, barely noticeable.

Writing that was taking up too much time because I’m a wordy old blowhard. I searched for a picture of an older man to go with the  post so I could shorten it. Couldn’t find a pic of a frail old man so chose to go with a writing prompt of a weird pic I DID find.

Nothing worth reading.

Wrote the above, lame haiku to post. Found a pic of a desk bell to go with lame haiku above.

That took nearly two hours.

Thank the Lord I wrote earlier today and got something real accomplished.

Unless reading this, and seeing that other people have to wade through useless effort,  helps you. Then it’s not a waste. <smile>

However this day shakes out, Happy Tuesday!