NOTE: I have had a more-than-usual amount of crappy tech snafus in my blogging and personal life the past few days. Rather than bore you with all the bytes that bit me, I decided to reblog one of my earliest posts--written shortly after I began this blog two years ago. I'd like to think I've become slightly more technically adept since then, but... Some of the explanatory material about WP was necessary because at the time I had more email subscribers than fellow bloggers. I had fun writing this piece, and I hope you'll have fun reading it.
The timing is eerie--and not because I wrote the original post admitting to my commission of Murder One: Beetlecide so close to Halloween. No; my unease is due to the fact that the episode that occurred just days ago is pretty darned close to the anniversary of my previous offense. Surely that has meaning...
Though we had ample warning, I--ostrich-like--wasn't quite prepared for the move to the new techie demands.
Dribble is a silly word.
Maybe not when we’re talking about the Harlem Globetrotters—or kids in a schoolyard testing their prowess by bouncing, bouncing, bouncing that ball on unforgiving asphalt, then arcing skyward toward a topless/bottomless structure seemingly stitched by a gargantuan spider.
Or a baby’s slo-mo Vesuvius after imbibing squished bananas and squashed squash from a teensy spoon dipped too generously into a tiny glass jar by a harried automaton-a-mama whose patience is now pandemic-thin. In such instances, the word bib, found conveniently nestling within the word dribble, is very useful indeed.
Ah, the image: I am seated at a magnificent golden harp, my flowing blonde tresses resting on my shoulders, my tall, slender body leaning slightly forward, long fingers playing glissando after glissando. I am just warming up, but I am already enraptured.
Oh, the reality: It’s true that I’m thin and have long fingers. The rest of the description is more problematic.
The Attorney General for the People Person of the US Receives Scrutiny
Once again I must turn to Bill-Barr
To examine behavior bizarre;
This is not the first time
That things seem to skirt crime
And his antics sink less than subpar.
In the world of the lovingly kind
I’ve found myself caught in a bind:
Consumed by my hate
It made my gut ache
’Twas a matter far over my mind.
We often see them in airports, sniffing around for drugs and other questionable substances. Now, it seems, dogs are being trained to use their powerful sniffers (aka snouts) to detect the coronavirus.
I’m not about to write of food
Or remembrance of repasts
My blog is clogging up right now
And I need your help real fast.
I used to have a sub-menu
That offered all my oeuvre
But a WP Engineer warned
Its growth was a SNAFUer.
I reallyreallyreally do not like inanimate objects talking to me. I avoid Siri, preferring to do my own research than to hear her voice—or to have her record my every Internet search (though I hold no illusions about privacy anymore…). I am not tempted to invite Alexa into my home to find that old Sinatra record for me, thank you very much.
And back in the day when we actually got into cars and drove places, I always resented the high-pitched voice of that GPS woman, who on occasion directed us to dead-end streets and once recommended that we exit sharply to the right when we were in the middle of a bridge. I’m not accusing her of malicious intent, but her satellite-guided bumbling was not a confidence-builder. I am perfectly capable of bumbling on my own.
Why then, do I invite the man-in-the-box into my life practically every day?
I guess I'm making a large leap in assuming that a) you haven't seen this photo before; and b) you've had the Zoom experience that so many of us have been introduced to in this time of social distancing.
Please don’t get me wrong: I am appalled, shocked, infuriated, and beyond sadness at what’s become of our country and world.
But I also know that laughter is the best medicine, and even smiling has been shown to have a positive effect on our immune systems. As we all need our immune systems to be as strong as possible now, I thought I’d tell you some fun things—a few real, others of undetermined origins that have found their way to my inbox. (I hope you haven't seen them already!)
I’ve often said that I’m one happy blogger: I love to write and to research new topics; I’m grateful for your feedback; and—this was one aspect of blogging that I hadn’t anticipated but is becoming one of the most valuable—I feel personally enriched by meeting so many extraordinary, talented people from all over the world.
The most recent is Judy Dykstra-Brown, a poet, writer, artist, and lecturer who blogs at Life Lessons. She’s a prolific blogger, posting something—sometimes several things—every day. That energy alone boggles my once-or-at-most-twice-weekly blogger mind!
How about this?
The WordPress Happiness Engineers are cheery;
They respond as best they can.
But a SNAFU is making me weary;
What you're reading is not what I'd planned...
I am a fairly verbose writer who’s long been wedded to my nonfiction status and believed myself incapable of writing fiction. But on just my second try, my bite-sized piece of fiction has been accepted by The Drabble, a blog featuring fiction, nonfiction, and poetry of 100 words or fewer. That’s quite nice, so I’d like to tell you about it.
Last night, I committed premeditated Murder One.
Specifically, it was beetlecide. Doing so was not my first preference. If a nearby window had been open, I would happily have deposited the little being where it belonged. That is my normal modus operandi. Albert Schweitzer had an influence.