Archive for April, 2015

She had a three-day weekend with big plans to get a lot of things accomplished.  One of those things was to go to the grocery store to pick up seven items, the exact number of items she needed to prepare a hot dish and some home baked cookies.  On Thursday evening she worked the short and uncomplicated trip to the grocery store into her schedule.

Friday, Day 1:  The plan for The Master and her husband’s day: A) talk to a tech savvy person to learn about smart TVs because cable is such a burden, B) buy some foam to re-seat a chair, C) visit Half-Price Books to sell and buy, D) have lunch at a place for which they had a 20% off coupon, E) stop at the grocery store for the seven items she needed.  By the time they were done eating their enormous (but delicious) hamburgers The Master was in no mood to go to the grocery store and instead went home and took a nap.  “I can go tomorrow after I visit my parents,” she said.

Saturday, Day 2:  With her shopping list of seven items in her back pocket The Master headed out to her parents’ house, after which she would stop at the grocery store.  She spent time catching up with her parents while simultaneously developing a massive headache.  (This wasn’t a cause-effect thing, just a coincidence.)  By the time all the chatting was done The Master couldn’t bear the thought of going to the grocery store with a screaming headache, so she went home and took some drugs to ease the pain, once again neglecting her seven grocery items.  “I can go tomorrow morning before the church-goers pile in to buy their Sunday morning doughnuts,” she said.

Sunday, Day 3:  The Master opened her eyes at 7:30 a.m. and thought about beating the Sunday morning rush at the grocery store.  She laid in bed and visualized herself fixing her hair, getting dressed, and heading to the store to buy her seven items.  Then she visualized herself staying at home all day relaxing, because she’d been taught from a very early age that Sunday is Fun Day.  There was no pressing need to go to the store so she thought, “I’ll stop at the store tomorrow on my way home from work.”  She subsequently spent her day doing exactly what she wanted to do and nothing more.

Such is the life of The Master Procrastinator.  She did eventually go to the store and bought her seven items, but forgot what recipes they were for.  “I’ll figure that out tomorrow,” she said.

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Let me say this right from the start: I very much dislike what the word community has become.  It’s too touchy-feely for the hermit I am and I rarely find the need to belong to a “community.”  Alternately, I’m a social creature simply due to the nature of my species, so there’s a tiny bit of me that likes and needs to belong to something.

When I started blogging I discovered it was quite satisfying to belong to the many (millions?) people who take to the page and write, despite the fact that I’m unknown and invisible to most of them.  But there are those fabulous people, many whom are bloggers, who actually read my blog, and many magnificent writers and photographers whose blogs I follow.  There’s a connection there and it feels good.  So what can I call this instead of the blogging “community?”

Because the word community rubs me the wrong way I took to my trusty Thesaurus to find a synonym, a word I could use that didn’t make me feel like I was a blind follower or someone less than completely independent physically, mentally, and psychologically.  I am independent in all of those areas, because in case you didn’t know, I’m totally awesome.

I liked the word confederation, but that sounds too Civil War-y.  Then there was clique, but that was just way too uppity.  How about affiliation?  I belong to the blogging affiliation?  That doesn’t sound right.  I decided on collective.  I am a member of the blogging collective.  Yes, that sounds right.

Where am I going with all of this verbiage?  I’ve been nominated for the Very Inspiring Blogger Award by the author of La Audacia de Aquiles, an excellent member of the blogging collective.  It’s a very sparkly award and I accept it with great humility.  It’s these moments I’m happy to be a part of something (a collective) and to be recognized.

Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.  And being part of the blogging collective I’m paying it forward to some bloggy friends of mine, as well as some people whose blogs I read even though they don’t even know I exist.  Because they all deserve it.  Check them out and let me know what you think.  And let them know what you think.

Miniscule Moments of Inspiration
Cindy Ricksgers
Lorna’s Voice
Uncle Spike’s Adventures
She Walks Softly
Drinking Tips for Teens
Tongue In Cheek
Butterfly Mind
15 Minute Lunch

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I was breaking up with Alex. We’d been together for nearly four years when he started doing weird things, like giving me pasta containers for Christmas. I didn’t need pasta containers and I didn’t want pasta containers. Then he went out and bought a car and a house without even telling me he was in the market for either. Red flag, right?

We agreed to have a date and break up like civilized people. We met at an Italian restaurant in Uptown Minneapolis, had a lovely dinner, and discussed the demise of our relationship. No one was angry, but I was a little sad. Not heartbroken, but a little sad. I’m not sure if he was sad or not, but if he was elated he had the good sense to keep it under control.

As synchronicity would have it the song Sara by Starship played quietly throughout the restaurant. I put my hand on Alex’s and said, “you’ll think of me every time you hear this song.” He said yes, he would.

I haven’t heard the song since that night. I can only assume Alex hasn’t either, giving him no reason to ever think of me again. It was the perfect break-up song, at least.

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Mixed Feelings

She wore all black to reflect her mood

Then added polka dots to brighten her day

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