In November, I will be participating in an act of complete insanity. No, I’m not talking about wearing a ballerina tutu to Sunday School — where do you come up with stuff like that? — no, I’m talking about writing a 50,000 word book in one month as part of National Novel Writing Month 2010.
Yes, that’s right. Fifty thousand words, the average length of any IRS rule. That works out to about 1,667 words a day. And that is – figuring an average of 250 words per page – 6.67 pages a day. Doesn’t sound like much, does it? Well, you try it, bucko. You’ll soon find it’s as difficult as getting a Republican to give to a charity without him/her getting a receipt for the tax deduction.
Not impossible, just difficult. I’ve done it three times now. Particpate in NaNoWriMo, I mean. (I don’t try to get Republicans to be generous; that’s as hard as getting a Democrat to be moral.) I wrote Murder by the Acre, Tin Man Dark, and Darkness, Oklahoma during NaNoWriMo.
Notice that the emphasis during NaNoWriMo is for quantity, not quality. It’s words you want; editing comes later. For instance, Murder by the Acre turned out very well. But Darkness, Oklahoma has flaws I’m still trying to fix, and Tin Man Dark is as badly written as Obama’s healthcare plan.
I just noticed I’m being very political during this column. You can blame it on the myriad myriadmyriad political ads playing on TV right now. I can’t wait until the November elections are over, and TV can get back to airing all those lovely constipation relief and male enhancement ads. Anything beats listening to lies, misrepresentations, and general all around bitterness. (Which is yet another reason you shouldn’t talk to any of my former girlfriends.) I think the worst part of the elections is that either of the parties has to win. I’d like to vote for a third party.
Anyway, I’m not the only one who participates in NaNoWriMo. Last year, over 165,000 people gave themselves over to literary abandon. This year, they expect over 200,000 people. If insanity it be, it be a growing insanity.
You’re welcome to join us. The more nuts in the bowl, the better. Perhaps you’ve longed to tell a story for some time, perhaps a lovely story where a young innocent teenager falls in love with a creature of the night who makes her into an evil creature of the night who runs for public office, but enough about Sarah Palin’s biography. If you like to know more (about NaNoWriMo, not Sarah Palin) go to http://nanowrimo.org where you can find out more information than you probably wanted to know.
You’ll also meet people there who will enthusiastically support your writing efforts and share with you many writing tips as well as their original plots about a young innocent teenager who falls in love with a werewolf, vampire, zombie, cyborg, alien, ninja and/or wizard. Stephenie Meyer has a lot to answer for.
I recommend NaNoWriMo to anyone who has a literary impulse. Even if you don’t reach 50,000 words, just the attempt and all the cool people you meet — people who thinking writing is not only fun, but even noble and uplifting — makes it worth the time commitment. So join up! I’d love to have you writing with me. Unless, of course, you make the 50,000 words and I don’t, in which case, you will be disemboweled. Which won’t hurt a bit. Well, it won’t hurt me a bit. You’ll be in terrible unending pain, rather like attending a Justin Bieber concert but not as bad.
So now you know what I will be doing in November. I will be pitting myself against the pitiless white page, or really the terrible blinking cursor on my computer screen. When you think of me in November — and you will because I’m in your thoughts always — think of my bravery. And send cash. Or cookies. Cash and cookies would be best.
Copyright 2010 by Stephen B. Bagley. All rights reserved. No copying without prior written permission.
Walked a slow 1.5 mile today at the fitness center. I had to go slow and careful because of my back -- and I had lost a bit of my drive since I walked last, but I feel confident I'll recover as my legs get used to it again. And surely I haven't lost everything I gained yet.
That's about the only productive thing I've done today. Looked through some job listings and tried to work some enthusiasm for them, but couldn't. Remember when people used to ask you what you wanted to be when you grew up? I still don't have an answer.
My sleep patterns are all disturbed. Got to figure that out. It's messing up my entire day.
Well, speaking of sleep, it's that time. Pleasant dreams. Night!
I wasn't sure if I'd like Masterpiece's updating of Sherlock Holmes, but it was good. Not great. They need to slow down the dialogue and give Sherlock a bit more humanity. They also need to be clever. In this episode, the serial killer's "trick" was disappointing. But overall, I liked it, and I'll be watching to see how the series develops.
Not much else to tell you. Back is somewhat better, and I intend to try to walk at the fitness center tomorrow if I can. I've suffered a setback with this, but I'm not giving up.
If you want to be a writer, then you have to write. This isn't great wisdom, but you'd be surprised the number of people who don't get it.
Money can destroy you and your relationships faster than drugs. Either lack of or too much with no wisdom is equally as deadly.
True friends support you. They are rare. Cherish them.
Have a relationship with God. Don't get this one wrong. Your life will be better -- your life will be better if you do. Don't let other people and what they believe and/or do get between you and God.
There's a lot to be said for being silent.
If you can laugh at your problems, you've taken the first step to defeating them.
Have a savings account. Put money in with each paycheck.
Have some time for yourself. Quiet time. A cup of tea and a book. Walking in the park. Watching the sun rise. Or set. All of these can renew your soul.
Watch your back. Some people are there because they're supporting you. Other people are looking for the best place to slip in the knife.
Science can only take us so far. We've let our technology outrun our wisdom. A slow, steady rise is better than a catastrophic fall. At the same time, we shouldn't close our eyes to what science can offer us.
Don't throw the baby out with the dishwater. Every single worthy thing has its problems. It's not a perfect world, but we can make it better.
We are not the most important things in the world. Our children and their children and their children's children and so on -- they are. We simply rent this earth. We do not own it, and we shouldn't make decisions thinking that they only affect us.
Life is too short to live in bitterness.
There is always hope. It is the single most indestructible thing in the world. That's what makes it so dangerous.
Every kindness we do to our family and friends is worthy, whether it's appreciated or not.
What you get isn't as important as what you give. But what you give is often what you get.
Okay, things went wrong at the gym today. I was on my 7th lap, stepped wrong, and hurt my back in a major way. I tried to walk it off, but was unable to do so. My roomie could barely get me into my car. Now, I'm on Advil, muscle relaxers, deep heating rub, and heating pad. I'm very unhappy.
And weirdly enough, I'm unhappy that I didn't get to finish torturing myself at the gym and worried that I won't be able to walk tomorrow. I am committed to this process. I have goals, I've been reaching those goals, I don't want to stop. It's important to me to accomplish those goals.
My back has been fragile ever since my last week of work. I did a lot of carrying things and moving things that I shouldn't have done and that -- all things considered -- I wish I hadn't done. But I was trying to be helpful and a good sport and was mostly a chump and being taken advantage of, although I didn't know it then. Water under a burning bridge now.
Since then, I've tried to careful with my back. It takes a long time to heal when it gets injured, mostly because my excess weight -- the very thing I'm attempting to get rid of by walking and dieting -- puts constant pressure on it. And now my back goes out and threatens the exercising that would help it most of all.
Yeah, I'm frustrated. Sorry. Think I will call it a night now. Maybe it will be better tomorrow. Either way, you have a great night and wonderful tomorrow. Talk to you then.
Today at the gym, I walked 2 miles and 4 victory laps ... which makes a total of 2 1/4 miles! Yeah, I'm excited about it. Admittedly, I was worn to bits when I got done, but just the fact I was able to do that shows I'm improving. I couldn't walked that far a month ago.
I hope to be walking 4 miles a day by the end of the year. Then I'm going add in some other exercise. Won't that be cool when I achieve it? I'm so looking forward to being healthier.
Anyway, I'm worn completely out so I'm going to bed now. Hey, have I mentioned that I really like Sunrise Earth on HDT? I've been recording the shows on my DVR and watch them whenever I need a bit of peace. I highly recommend them.
Good night! Hope you're doing well. Talk to you tomorrow.
A friend mentioned that I'm not talking about my job search much. I'm not sure, but I think he might have been wondering if I was trying to find a job. Perhaps I'm over-sensitive, but after I thought about it, I could see why my silence could lead someone to that conclusion.
But rest assured I am. I'm not talking about it because ... well, it's been quite embarrassing. I had never really thought about me leaving my old job -- and naturally never considered it might leave me -- and thus I was completely unprepared for any type of job search.
My resume was outdated, my interview skills were nonexistent, my job search instincts atrophied almost beyond resurrection. So I had to learn everything again.
I send out resumes and cover letters, respond to newspaper ads and online job listing sites, keep my ears open and my eyes peeled. So far, the silence that has greeted my announcement that I want/need employment has been deafening. Photocopied rejection letters, curt voices on the phone saying the positions have already been filled, and a couple of interviews that should been less awkward than they were since I was talking to friends. Or people with whom I had always had a friendly relationship.
I've had friends duck me now. They act like my unemployment was some sort of social disease and look uncomfortable if I mention it. Or they heartily tell me that I should work full-time as a writer. Well, heck, I'd sure like to, but I'm not sure my creditors are going to wait for me to make it.
Anyway, that's why I've not been talking about it. If you want details, let me know. I could go on and on for hours. But I won't.
At the gym — Yes, I was at the gym; don’t faint — I was asked what my fitness goal was. And I answered promptly, “I want to be one of those obnoxious skinny people.” You know the ones I mean: they eat like starving pigs, but they never gain weight. In fact, they are so used to their incredible metabolism that burns fat like a Congressman spends money that they are baffled by people who are overweight.
My brother-in-law has that metabolism. Despite being married to my sister who can cook the way Pavarroti can sing, he remains amazingly thin. Obnoxiously thin. Not that he would ever brag about that. He’s long since learned we Bagleys may be plump, but our heavy arms can slap a person’s ears back faster than the women on The View can talk.
And truthfully, he wouldn’t brag, anyway. He’s not that type of person. He just goes fecklessly through life, eating burritos and whole sides of beef without gaining an ounce while I can just smell a steak and gain five pounds.
Anyway, back at the gym, we had a long discussion about metabolism and dieting, exercise and other ways to torture people, low fat recipes and healthy food, and why Anna, one of the gym’s fitness instructors, doesn’t shave her legs. (She thinks shaving is unnatural. The other ladies think she is unnatural. I think she’s furry. Just think about how warm her legs will be this winter.)
You’re probably wondering who are the “we” who are having that discussion with me. I have my own walking team: Kyra, Eric, Lafern, Jennifer, Jeanette, Kathy, Kay, Dustin, Ricky, Sister Francis Mary Margaret Mary Celeste, Buffy the Fat Flayer, Valley View Hospital Cardiac Unit, Rudolph the Pot-bellied Pig, the Emergency Medical Response technicians, and a partridge in a pear tree.
Okay, I’m exaggerating a bit, but it is quite a group of us who walk together around the track. We tend collect slower moving people and sometimes small children and the occasional compact car, although we always make sure to return everyone and everything. Eventually.
I also have my own cheerleaders on Facebook. (They won’t wear the outfits, though.) Every fitness goal I reach is heralded as if I had discovered penicillin. (Which I didn’t, although I certainly have plenty of moldy things in my fridge, including a bottle of pickled pig feet that I don’t throw away because they’re such a conversation piece. Although a lot of those conversations seem to be about botulism and stomach pumps.) My cheerleaders post comments on my Facebook page like these:
Kyra: Good job, Stephen! Jennifer: You’re awesome! Eric: Keep up the good work! Pam Anderson: Why won’t u call me back? Miss u. P.Obama: Wish my health care plan was as successful as your walking is!
And I appreciate all those comments, because privately I can tell you (and you and you and you, but not you) that it’s been quite hard. I dread it before I go, I dread it while I’m doing it, and after I’m done, I start dreading the next time I have to go.
Yes, I know that’s not the proper attitude, but I’m working on that, too. In fact, I have trained myself to yell, “Woohoo!” every time I hear about walking. My minister, however, was surprised last Sunday when he preached about Jesus walking on water, but when I explained later that “Woohoo!” was my personal and special way to say “Amen,” he was so pleased that he was speechless for several minutes. He even had tears in his eyes, which he often does when he talks to me. I must be such a blessing to him.
Truthfully, the walking isn’t that bad while I’m doing it. What I dread is how my legs feel afterwards. After the first day, I came home and sat down in my easy chair. Thirty minutes later, I tried to get up, and my legs actually reached up through my throat and screamed. I had stiffened up so much that I seriously considered starting life anew in that chair. But my roomie attached a cable to me and was able to extract me with no more difficulty than moving a barge and toting a bale.
My roomie even gave me a compliment the other day. He said, “You’re walking and barely whining at all.” I appreciated the words, although not the astonished tone in which they were delivered. Sometimes I think he’s jealous of me, but who can blame him?
So I’m going to get thin (healthy) and brag about it to everyone who will listen. But you have time, probably a year or three before that happens. Now let’s all say “Woohoo!”
Copyright 2010 by Stephen B. Bagley. All rights reserved. No copying without prior written permission by the author.
Today it was two miles and two victory laps. My legs are really feeling it. It's not so bad while I'm walking, but after I've sat down, they really hurt. Well, I don't know anything good that doesn't require pain as a price at times. I'm committed to health now. Let me tell you something weird. I keep getting this feeling that this is my last chance to get healthy, to live the life I believe I was meant for. So that's that. I'm not going to miss this chance.
What about you? What have you been waiting on and waiting for? When will be your time? Why not now?
So ... for reasons that are clear to me but perhaps not to other people ... I'm going to participate in National Novel Writing Month in November. That's right, I'm going to write a whole 50,000 word book in November.
Because I need a win. As most of my regular blog readers know, it's been a hard year for me. Several things I thought would work out ... didn't. Some not only didn't work out, but actually did damage to me, my finances, my spirit, my mojo, as they went down.
Well. If that just doesn't suck green swamp water, I don't know what does.
I'm not one to take setbacks lying down. (I prefer to lie standing up.) But I've had a lot difficulty in getting my feet under me this time.
So NaNoWriMo is going to be a win for me. I'm committed. Bought a NaNoWriMo t-shirt and pen. I'm set. Wish me luck and Godspeed.
After my recent ejection from the world of customer service, I thought I could share a few points about it that might save your sanity if you ever venture into that zany and terrible place. Thus, a few highlights from my 251 Tips to Save Your Sanity (If You Work with the Crazy Public).
Customer Service Tip #1: Not only is the customer not always right, sometimes they are batweasel, blindgator, ratfrenzied, methmonkey crazy. When this happens, take a deep breath and remember they’re not worth you going to prison.
Customer Service Tip #7: Once in a blue moon, you’re going to be wrong. Admit your mistake up front and customers will like and respect you. If they don’t, whack them with a two-by-four and move on.
Customer Service Tip #13: Do your job correctly. Then when you get mistreated — and you will be — you can righteously complain — and you will.
Customer Service Tip #22: Your boss will not understand your side. He just wants you and the complaining customer to go away. Let us pray that as he drives his Mercedes away, he doesn’t discover someone has cut his brake lines.
Customer Service Tip #33 The best looking customers will always expect more from you. They’ve been that way since kindergarten. They’re not going to change now. If only you hadn't been known as "The Kid Who Eats Paste," your whole life might have been different.
Customer Service Tip #44 If your boss’s boss has to get involved in a problem, pack your things at the first chance you get so you’ll be prepared when you're fired to cover his gutless self. Be sure to take what office supplies you need, particularly that stapler you’ve become so fond of.
Customer Service Tip #56: It’s not your customer’s fault he/she is loathsome. That’s what happens when first cousins marry. Be kind.
Customer Service Tip #78: Sometimes the customer is right. Always check this remote possibility first. It will keep you from having to dine on crow later.
Customer Service Tip #82: When a customer swears at you, close your eyes and call upon your inner strength. Do not let his/her bad behavior steal your self-respect. Then open your eyes, pick up the nearest blunt object, and bounce it off their slanted forehead.
Customer Service Tip #97: For some customers, you are their social life. I suggest bringing a thermos and a few snacks so that you’ll always be prepared for a conversation lasting longer than many people’s marriages.
Customer Service Tip #134: In most social circles, it’s considered impolite to leap the service counter and snatch your customer bald-headed. Remember this, and you’ll be welcome everywhere.
Customer Service Tip #149: If the customer has money and you’ll do anything to get it, you will succeed in the business world. I suggest a career as a lawyer or Congressman.
Customer Service Tip #176: Bad breath and body odor will only drive away the most sensitive customers. It’s not worth the risk of tooth decay and disease. So go ahead and brush your teeth and shower once in a while. Deodorant is, of course, optional.
Customer Service Tip #211: Bitterness is never attractive. Learn to fake sincerity, and your customers will love you until you turn on them like a mad badger and gnaw their legs off.
Customer Service Tip #236: Never tell a customer you’re going to have him/her hunted down and killed in the street like a dog. It will upset them. No, let it be a total surprise when it happens.
I hope these help you retain your precious sanity. If not, you'll probably do great in management, particularly if you can jettison those pesky morals.
Copyright 2010 by Stephen B. Bagley. All rights reserved. No copying without written permission from the author.
So I'm sitting down here at Autumn Days in downtown Ada, Oklahoma. I'm thinking this may have been a mistake. Not that it isn't nice -- there's a lot to do down here and the crowd is growing -- but folks aren't stopping at a booth selling books when there are so many other things to do. Some avoid my booth by such a wide berth that you'd think it was on fire.
A lot of tattoos out and about. Hadn't realized my town had so many people into tats. Mostly young people, but a few older folks. I've thought of getting a tattoo, but then I'd think about how mother would rise from the grave and tear me up like a sow's bed, and the notion flees for its life.
The lady in the booth on down from me is having a slow day. She's kind of perturbed about it. I'm determined to have a good day no matter what sales end up being. I think that's how you have to approach things. Let's see how long I can maintain it before I start tripping people.
It's a nice day. Sunshine and a breeze. There are worse things to do than sit in the shade provided by my booth's canopy -- supplied by my lovely friend Kyra -- and watch the people walk by.
There's going to be a parade at 1 p.m. The local college's homecoming parade.
Hey, this may be the first signing where I sell nothing. Kind of depressing, but at least I will know how it feels and be prepared should it ever -- God forbid -- happen again.
I really need a second person here so I could walk around a bit. Maybe a friend will come by and I can rope them into watching the booth while I do that. My friend Kyra were here earlier, but she left for a trip to Texas to watch a Ranger game with her daughter and friends. Kind of lonely here by myself. I'm also kind of bored. Yes, those are two dangerous states for me, but I have no lasers, explosives, chemicals, etc., down here, so people are safe. For now.
A man just passed by with a beard down to his waist. I'm sure he enjoys it, but it seems like it would take a lot of care. Also, things could get caught in it. Like pets or small children. I guess you give it a good shake at the end of the day and let everything drop out.
Woohoo! Just sold a Murder by Dewey Decimal so I'm halfway to having my booth paid for. That also means I won't be skunked this time on sales. Maybe next time.
I brought my laptop with me and attempted to write on it, but the sun washed out the screen almost completely. I couldn't see the screen well enough to type, so I'm writing this on a notepad and will type it in later.
A few people are nice enough to stop and at least talk to me for a few minutes. I appreciate that. Right now, a clown is talking up and down the sidewalk. He's making evil balloon animals for the unsuspecting children as part of the Evil Clown Plot to Take Over the World. I glare at him coldly so he walks on by, looking nervous. No easy victims in this booth, Evil Clown!
It's an hour later, and I've sold two more books. The booth is paid for, which is good because I'd hate for the booth fee check to bounce, although probably not as much as the event organizers would.
Adam and Ria Huckeby and their lovely daughters brought me a cupcake this morning. Delicious! Ria baked 240 cupcakes for the First Baptist children's booths here. Wow. That's a lot of cupcakes, or as I like to think of them, baby cakes of happiness. Ria is an exceptional baker.
It's 11:40 a.m., and remember when I said I was bored? I should have kept my mouth shut because I've had some excitement here. The wind caught my canopy and lifted it straight up and then to the side. The legs of the canopy skidded across both the front and back tables and send books flying everywhere. Two men rushed over and helped me catch the canopy and move it back into position. Several people helped me pick up the books.
Three books got ruined, all my plastic sign holders got cracked, and during the confusion, someone made off with a hardcover Murder by Dewey Decimal and my nice pen. Sigh. I have so few of the Dewey hardcovers left, and I can't order any because the hardcover files were lost, and Lulu.com (my publisher) doesn't offer the book any more. I'd have to reload everything, which I guess I could do, although it's a lot of work.
Sold another book. So far, I've sold two Murder by Dewey Decimal, two Murder by the Acre, and two Floozy and Other Stories. I had actually thought about not bringing the mystery books and focus on Floozy, but now I'm glad I did.
The streets are filling up. People are gathering for the parade. Some people have already staked out a spot, which seems a bit early to me because the parade doesn't start until 1 p.m. The vendor booths are in the parking spaces so we're between the people on the sidewalk and the parade when it starts. Not sure how that's going to work out.
My roomie Eric is going to bring me lunch! Good, I was getting hungry. He's going to get us barbecue sandwiches from one of the food booths. Eric is working the fitness activities for kids that the hospital is sponsoring, but they're already shut down because they ran out of goodie bags to give to the kids. Apparently children won't do fitness without goodies -- a position I totally understand. The rest of the kid activities are still going on.
Parade is starting!
Parade is over. It was nice, several floats from the various Greek organizations, three or four local marching bands, and various other groups. Naturally there were a few "floats" and consisted of a truck and one or two decorations and a few people riding in the back. Not much effort put out there. But otherwise, a nice parade.
The wind picked up after the parade, but my roomie Eric tied a table to the canopy on one side, and he's holding down the other side. No more up up and away.
Oh, during the parade, I sold another book, a Murder by the Acre.
I just got back from talking to a self-pubbed writer in a booth a couple down from me. She wrote a children's book and has sold several here. It's a well made book, a good story, and nicely illustrated. People like to say that most self-published books are badly done, but the ones I've seen at the Chisholm Trail Book Festival and here are good looking, well-written books. Maybe there the cream of the crop, but I'm beginning to think the conventional wisdom of self-pubbed versus traditional pubbed has changed.
Sold another book. A Floozy this time. Yes, I was on the street selling Floozies. I think I'm a book pimp.
And sold two more Floozies. Despite a slow start, sales have turned out okay. I'm glad I was here. My books were exposed to a lot more people, I made a bit of money, I talked to several friends and new people, ate some tasty food not on my diet, and generally had a good time.
Autumn Days in downtown Ada. I wish you all could have been here. Maybe next time.
Woohoo! I'm going to be at Autumn Days in Downtown Ada selling my books this Saturday! If you've already been to one of my signings, come by and say hi! We can gossip -- share -- talk about other people -- the news -- life. Register for the big drawing in November! This Saturday, Downtown Ada, at Autumn Days where there's more stuff going on than you could shake a stick at if you're a stick shaking person, and who isn't?
I’ve always enjoyed warm weather. Bright sunshiny days lift my spirits and inspire me to break into happy songs, although I try to not do that at funerals or in court – anymore – because I’ve been told it’s disruptive.
However, we’re experiencing a run of hot weather here in Oklahoma that has daunted even me. Going outside and hearing your sweat sizzle can take the spring out of anyone’s step. And if you’re heavy like me, you realize that you have enough fat on you to fry yourself if you’re not careful. You’d only need to add sides of mashed potatoes and collard greens to make a meal fit for any southern cannibal king.
Not that I know if tribes that practice cannibalism have kings. Perhaps they’re called chiefs. Or maybe chefs. But why do they say that a tribe “practices” cannibalism? What happens when they become experts at it? Obviously they become French chefs, but do they get a certificate and perhaps a celebration feast? Although that is one dinner invitation you should probably decline.
And not that I was saying that there were more cannibals in the south of France. I’m sure France allows them to live everywhere – after all, we’re talking about a country that eats snails – but when I think of cannibals (and apparently I do more often than I thought I did) I associate them with hot, steamy jungles where ape men who didn’t make the NFL draft swing on vines and hunt for girls named Jane, although Jane is not a popular name these days and perhaps they should be looking for a Buffy or Angie.
It’s certainly been hot here. Days of nearly unbearable heat. The water in my swimming pool has actually reached over 96 degrees. Any warmer, and it wouldn’t be a pool anymore; it would be a soup bowl. It’s weird to get into your pool and break into a sweat.
The sun is so piercing and bright that you have to wear sunglasses, even at night. The glare from car windows can start fires, and recently a whole flock of ducks were cooked as they flew over the parking lot of our local shopping center. Okay, I’m exaggerating. It was only two or three ducks and one goose.
We’ve also had several weeks of high humidity. You can get drenched with sweat walking five paces from your car to your house. Actually, you can get drenched just by breathing deeply.
The humidity does make the warm weather harder to endure, but I’ve grown so tired of people saying, “It’s not the heat; it’s the humidity” that I want to strangle whoever does so. I would, but it takes too effort to do that right now. I’m making a list, however, and come sweet blessed fall, I will be busy.
The funny thing – no, not funny ha ha; funny as in peculiar – is that I don’t like fall, but I’m looking forward to it. I don’t like fall because the leaves fall off the trees, the plants die, everything turns brown, the weather gets cold, and winter is peeking around the corner, and I don’t like winter the way I don’t like politicians. The only redeeming quality fall has is football, and I think it would be more enjoyable in the spring or early summer. Despite my animosity toward autumn, I’m ready for the cooler weather it brings.
Mind you, I reserve the right to complain loudly when the temperature falls too low. And if it snows, the whining will be truly tremendous. You might as well be prepared. At least people won’t be going around saying, “It’s not the cold; it’s the humidity.” But if they do, they’ll be on my list. Maybe I can see if the cannibal king wants to have them over for dinner.
Copyright 2010 by Stephen B. Bagley. All rights reserved. No copying or reposting without written permission.