Come and fill this place

I’m not a very religious person. To be quite honest, I’m not good at religion. Yet I’ve always had a Christian faith. I believe in God and Jesus and the New Testament. I have doubts, of course, and even hesitate to call myself a Christian sometimes because I just don’t think I deserve to. But that’s not what this is about.

In my four years at UNC I was a member of the Baptist Student Union. I was not then, nor am I now, Baptist, but neither were many of the other members. We had a campus minister, but it was really a student-led group of Christians with a passion for the faith and everything that went with it. Some had been in the church since they were born, some were new to the faith, some were exploring; all were welcome.

Seniors at Spring Banquet 2006

We had people passionate about missions or evangelism or leading small groups. We had people passionate about Mario Kart or intramural sports or Carolina basketball. I’m not sure I’ll ever find such a passionate community of peers with such dedication to God and the community.

The heart of the organization was the Battle House, a historic home on the edge of UNC’s North Campus, nestled in the trees. Some members practically lived there, stopping by before, between, after, (and sometimes during) classes to study or, more likely, goof off. I didn’t spend a ton of time here outside meetings, but I have nothing but good memories of it.

The Battle House

For four years I knew where I was going to be on 5:45 on a Thursday. (The weekly worship meeting followed by dinner.) For four years I attended weekly Bible studies and got exposure to the Bible like I never had before. For four years I knew that every fall I’d be at the welcome picnic and that every spring I’d be holed up in a room working on the annual scrapbook. My senior year I was happy to serve as Communications Chair on the Leadership Council, an experience that just reiterated the passion and tolerance of my Christian peers.

Bible Study Fall 2003

There are very few college memories that are not linked to BSU in some way. Watching the 2005 National Championship game in the living room. Watching the final season of “Friends” with a small group in the TV room. Meeting my three best friends, who all came together thanks to BSU. I can’t imagine my life without them. I can’t imagine my college life without BSU.

This only grazes the surface of my time at BSU. So many memories are flooding back right now that it's nearly overwhelming.

Semi-Formal 2006

This was very hard to write because I’ve had difficulty thinking about BSU. Within about a year after we graduated, the organization changed irrevocably. Now it has a new name and is completely unrecognizable from the organization that permanently changed me, my faith, and the lives and faiths of so many others. It’s because of this change that I felt my time there had become tainted. This is wrong. It’s not tainted. It happened. It was good.

Senior ladies acting pensive

The North Carolina Baptist State Convention has announced a restructuring of their organization and an elimination of campus ministry in North Carolina as we know it. It breaks my heart to know that the students who have walked across that rocking chair filled porch, through those front doors, and into the squeaky floored foyer, have not had the same experience and will not have the same experience.

Dancing at Kranc 2004

There are so many things I want to write about this. So many things I could write about what happened to BSU after I left, and things that started before I left. I won’t, though, out of respect for friends that were involved. Not, however, out of respect for those (leaders) who call themselves Christians, proclaim a desire to be Christ-like, and then show anything but Christ-like love and compassion.

Relay for Life 2005

Each spring at BSU we would have a spring banquet. The highlights of the event were the skits the undergraduates would perform for the graduating seniors, and the skits the seniors would perform for undergraduates. Then the seniors would each get a turn to speak about their time at BSU, give advice for those left behind, etc. I don’t remember what I said, only that it was said through happy tears.

Elizabeth as me at Spring Banquet 2006

Finally, each senior is presented with a sketch of the Battle House. We all knew it was coming, had seen the three classes of seniors come before us get the same thing, but it still meant so much. My sketch got a little water damaged during one of the skits, but it’s still suitable for framing.

Door was always open

Except, before I got around to framing it, all the changes happened and looking at it left a sour taste in my mouth. Now I want to frame it and be reminded of four of the greatest years of my life. To be reminded of what a Christian community can and should look like.

Wednesday Words

"I’ll wait for you. Come back. The words were not meaningless, but they didn’t touch him now. It was clear enough -- one person waiting for another was like an arithmetical sum, and just as empty of emotion. Waiting. Simply one person doing nothing, over time, while another approached. Waiting was a heavy word.” 

-Ian McEwan, Atonement

Night at the Gallery

I'm thoroughly exhausted after the brother's wonderful wedding weekend. Full recap to come...eventually. In the interim I have a few [long] posts in draft I forgot about.

Two weeks ago, I took Shana with me to the Cocoran Art Gallery for a flash fiction workshop. This was my first experience with flash fiction and first experience since college writing about art.

The workshop was led by a writer who works at the Corcoran, who previously worked at MOMA in New York, and has published works. There were fewer than 10 of us in attendance, which made for a comfortable and open setting. The workshop was based around a current exhibit, Shooting Stars: Publicity Stills from Early Hollywood and Portraits by Andy Warhol. Here is a portion of the description from the website:

Shooting Stars features promotional photographs of early Hollywood film stars alongside Polaroid portraits and black-and-white images by Andy Warhol. Made half a century apart, these two bodies of work illustrate some of the ways photographers have contributed to our understanding of celebrity and fame.

The purpose of the workshop was to view the exhibit and then write about a work in the voice of a celebrity. It could be from the voice of the celebrity in the photo, the voice of a celebrity viewing one of the photos, or really anything. We read same sample works, either written about a celebrity, in the voice of one, or dedicated to one, and then took an hour to view the works and write. Then we re-convened to read our pieces aloud.

It was so surreal and also serene to have the gallery almost to ourselves. (There was one other group touring it.) We got to sit (but not lean against the wall, as I learned) and just write, surrounded by all this art.

I didn't expect it to go so well, to be so inspired by the portraits. I shouldn't have been surprised because I do admire and appreciate art, especially portraiture, but I'm a very slow and meticulous writer and can't usually think and execute so quickly. There were actually several photos that inspired me and had me creating stories in my head.

The one that grabbed me the most was one of the early publicity stills. The subject was a Richard Barthelmess, circa 1927. I had never heard of him, but just now looked him up and he was a silent film star. This is the exhibit photo:

 
He reminded me so much of George Clooney that I decided to write in the voice of George Clooney viewing the portrait. And this is what I wrote:

Look at him. Look at me. Same eyebrows, same hair -- or same hair 20 years ago -- same eyes. He's a dashing guy. He's a good looking son of a bitch. Thank, god. That's all that matters here, right?

He has the right look, the right car, the right address. Maybe he even has the right pedigree, not too focused on either collar, blue or white. He did his time in the chorus line, so to speak, before jumping in to the lead role. He probably even has a shiny award or two, or at least he's been nominated. It is, of course, just an honor to be nominated.

But let's get to the good stuff. He's got the girl. He always has the girl. Or a string of girls. Women, actually. He's not Errol Flynn. No one should ever be Errol Flynn. So what if he rotates them every 2 years. Doesn't mean he's gay or asexual. It means he's bored or choosey or a dedicated bachelor. It's a thing. People magazine said so.

He doesn't have a stint in rehab, but give him time; his next film will be a flop.

But let's go back to his look. that perfectly tailored coat with its artfully popped collar.

The cigarette, so close to slipping out of his fingers, but so clearly a vital part of who he is, before the surgeon general has a say.

I could do without the pinky ring, but to each his own.

But that stare, wow. What is he looking at? Do I look like that? Could I look like that?

I want to know what he's thinking. I think I know.

He wants them to stop talking about his love life. To stop referring to his looks in the past tense. He wants to write and direct more. He wants to be asked in interviews about writing and directing instead of why he isn't married.

I think he wants a drink, a large drink to fill his brain with fuzzy thoughts. Happy thoughts. Because they aren't always there. He isn't always happy. Money, fame, awards, isn't always enough. He wants a break, a drink. He doesn't know what he wants.



Image source

Wednesday Words

"Please do not be cynical. I hate cynicism. For the record, it's my least favorite quality. It doesn't lead anywhere. Nobody in life gets exactly what they thought they were going to get. But if you work really hard and you're kind, amazing things will happen. I'm telling you. Amazing things will happen. I'm telling you. It's just true." 

-Conan O'Brien, Tonite Show Farewell

Things I Learned This Weekend

Sometimes you just need a Friday to yourself.
I woke up Friday morning very late, with a headache, as it poured outside. So I made the executive decision to work from home. It cleared up as the day went on and I took a long lunch to just be out and run some errands. It was perfect.

Having a craft store accessible by metro is going to change my life.
A variety store re-opened in Bethesda about a block from where one of my close friends lives. I checked it out for us on Friday and OH MY WORD it's got a huge craft section. I didn't have my full list of ongoing craft needs but I did buy fabric, bobbins, embroidery floss, and other things. I'm probably going to be here once a week.

A clean home is a happy home. Unfortunately.
I hate cleaning. Hate hate hate it. But sometimes you just have to. So I picked up a bunch of things on Friday night, made a mess again on Saturday, and then re-cleaned with broom and vacuum and swiffer and spray all over again on Sunday. It sucks but it is nice to come home to.

My first writer's conference was awesome.
On Saturday I attended my first writer's conference. It was held at a Johns Hopkins building in Dupont Circle and was created by Barrelhouse literary magazine. It was an all-day conference with a keynote speaker and three breakout sessions. I learned so much and got a lot of inspiration for my own work. It was very reasonably priced and so close to home that I couldn't not go, and I'm glad that was the case.

Working out and crafting are great ways to end a busy Saturday.
I was very tired on Saturday after a 9-5 day of conferencing, but I still made myself exercise and do things. After a brief nap, of course.

There's just no good way to spray paint indoors.
In this week's installment of Bonnie Attempts Spray Painting In Her Apartment, this is what I tried:

I saw on Pinterest where someone created a sort of spray tent using a cheap hanging garment bag. I attempted the same thing only I didn't want to pay for a bigger one so I got this smaller one. Which, as you imagine, didn't quite work since there wasn't exactly a lot of room to spray. I also didn't take into account how I would hang it. Thank goodness for (UNC) duck tape and bungee cords. On the upside, I haven't been able to spray paint in awhile but I got to use my sprayer and tarp and mask. Yay!

D.C. is confusing, maps suck, and spray paint might hurt your brain.
I was meeting Brandie for brunch and a movie on Sunday and got so turned around and kept going in the wrong direction in roundabout ways. She blamed my spray painting from the previous night. I blamed maps and D.C. and the fact that I move so much faster than the little blue dot on my map app.

All restaurants should be housed in former fire stations.
Whilst hunting for brunch options, I came across Sixth Engine, a restaurant near Chinatown that is housed in a former fire station. 

It had such cool ambiance and decor, not to mention delicious mimosas and chocolate chip flapjacks. (And they were flapjacks, not pancakes, as the waitress corrected Brandie.)

Ryan Gosling is attractive even with tattoos, bad hair, and bad clothes.
But it can't make up for the depressing, heavy handed, and long winded "A Place Beyond the Pines." B and I had to see it, of course, as we do all Ryan's movies, but this was not a good one.

Don't get angry at Barnes and Noble when you can't find the book you're looking for. When it hasn't been released yet.
I have a B&N gift card that I keep forgetting about and thought on Sunday I'd use it to buy the new Audrey book written by her second son. Well, after fruitlessly searching the store for it and about to haughtily ask for it and mention that Amazon had it in stock, I realized it wasn't out yet. Oops. At least I realized it before huffing and puffing.

When you find yourself hand painting the horns on two ram figures Carolina blue, step away from the crafting.
They look adorable though and are going to make awesome bookends eventually. I have no regrets.  

Detour

On Thursday morning I had a meeting downtown. On the way back to my apartment to work from home for the afternoon, I decided to take a detour and swing by the Mall to look at the cherry blossoms. I made the trek the first few years I lived here, but haven't done it the last few; the crowds are just too tortuous and I get too frustrated.

It's no secret the Mall is spread out and requires a lot of walking. Let me say this, when it's 85 degrees and you're wearing black dress pants and carrying a laptop, the distance seems to multiply. And since I really didn't have more than 30 minutes to spare, I decided to snap a few photos of the blossoms near the Hirshorn and call it a day. I mean, it's the same tree, same blossoms as those on the tidal basin, so technically I succeeded.

On the walk to the metro I saw that one of my all time favorite D.C. sights, the fountain at the National Gallery Sculpture Garden, was on. Yay! My first few summers in the city I used to attempt to satiate my need for water by heading to the fountain on the weekends. Since moving to an apartment complex with a pool, I don't go to the fountain as much. While I felt a little silly hiking up my dress pants and setting my laptop bag beside me, I still dipped my weary feet for a few minutes.

What Not To Say To Women

This is a long post with lots of words and no pictures. It's very important to me so I hope you'll read it anyway.

There’s something important everyone should know about D.C.: Despite it being a town built by, for, and around politics, its inhabitants don’t like to talk about politics. There are exceptions to this, of course, perhaps if you are a devout employee of the Hill or K Street, but even then, for those who have their working hours consumed by partisan maneuvering, many want to think about anything else during their remaining hours.

Several weeks ago, Karey and I were on the metro going back in to the city after watching the UNC v. Villanova game at a bar in Alexandria with some friends. Three men, probably a few years younger than us, boarded and began loudly discussing taxes.

Another important thing everyone should know about D.C.: We don’t talk on the metro. If you’re talking to a friend at a respectful decibel level that’s fine, but we don’t engage strangers in conversation. There’s no need. We all spend a scary amount of our lives commuting on this thing and prefer to use this time to read, sleep, respond to email, or just sit.

As these three men loudly discussed politics on the metro, Karey and I had our own quiet conversation. Until the Cutie turned to us for our opinion. (For the purposes of this retelling, I will name them Ugly Teeth, Angry One, and Cutie because he had a cute face but also because he was petite.) He was trying to seem polite and reluctant with his “so sorry to interrupt your evening” and “if you don’t mind at all” when of course he was interrupting our evening, of course we minded, and of course he knew this.

He asked us for our thoughts on tax brackets. We both told him and the others our opinions and I added that it was kind of pointless to talk to me about this because I’m “borderline Socialist,” thinking this would deter them. But of course it didn’t.

Ugly Teeth moved closer to us and began asking us about politics in general, including who we voted for in the last election. Which you should never ask in D.C. or anywhere. I was just not in the mood and threw Karey under the bus a little when I told them what her political persuasion used to be, thinking they would engage her more than me. Which they did.

Then they had the audacity to ask us why we believe what we believe, why we vote the way we vote. Here’s the thing: I’m not in politics but I love politics and under the right circumstances I will gladly discuss and debate them with you. The right circumstances are not likely to be found at 10 on a Friday night on the D.C. metro with three strange men who clearly aren’t from here and clearly are a little drunk. (Full disclosure: I’d had two glasses of wine so while I wasn’t drunk, I was definitely at a point where my mouth acts faster than my brain.)

It becomes glaringly obvious to me early in political discussions if it’s a discussion for the purposes of edification or a discussion for the purposes of changing someone’s mind. Since I’ve always believed what I believe and always voted the way I vote, I have no interest or patience in engaging those with such divergent views out to change yours. It was clear to me that the instigators fell in this category.

As Karey began explaining how being a woman has informed her current political choices, and they questioned this, I jumped in. Gender equality and believing in, supporting, and advancing Feminism is probably my most passionate belief. So perhaps you’ll understand why this next statement, from Ugly Teeth, caused to me begin yelling and nearly leap from my seat: “Feminism hasn’t been relevant since 1993.”

In just the past month we’ve seen a slew of state legislation aiming to shutter abortion clinics. We’ve seen a high-profile rape trial that victimized the perpetrators and attacked the victim. We’ve seen various institutions try to restrict access to birth control. We’ve seen politicians believe in the existence of “legitimate rape.” We’ve seen updated statistics that women are still paid only 77 cents for every $1 a man earns. But Feminism hasn’t been relevant in 20 years? Feminism is more relevant, and needs to be even more relevant, now more than ever.

In far less eloquent words than I feel I’ve captured above, I said this to the metro instigators. It was the pay statistic that they latched on to. Ugly Teeth said that wasn’t true. Angry One stood by the door, violently shaking his head and declaring, “That’s not true. You’re wrong. You’re wrong. You’re wrong.” Never providing a reason as to why I was wrong, however.

When Ugly Teeth questioned my source – Sheryl Sandburg’s new book – because “you can’t believe a book” and then sneered that I “probably got it from Wikipedia,” I was done. I yelled that they were not respecting me or listening to me and that they could leave now. We were done. Ugly Teeth backed away, not believing how quickly it got out of hand, and began conferring with Angry One. Cutie tried to apologize. Karey had her arm out ready to block me if I tried to jump at them. I just stewed and tried to shoot daggers out of my eyes.

They exited at the next metro stop, leaving us and our metro car to breathe a sigh of relief. (I was too occupied by the verbal battle to notice, but Karey said everyone in our car was listening and the women seemed particularly engaged.)

I was angry then and I’m angry now. But I’m also proud that I defended my beliefs and stood up for Feminism, even if I didn’t do it as eloquently as I wanted. (That would be the wine in me making my mouth work faster than my brain.)

Now too, of course, I really do have to laugh a little. I mean, these guys were probably just trying to hit on us (or so a few friends of mine think) and they happened upon two well-educated, politically-minded, pro-equality women who love speaking their minds. I nearly feel sorry for them.

What this incident has showed me is that these people really do exist, out in the world, on the metro. I’m not naïve, I know they’re out there, I see them on TV, I hear stories from friends, I’ve just never run in to any this serious before. And it makes me angry. How dare men try to tell women that what they believe about being a woman is wrong? How dare they exclaim that Feminism is no longer relevant, i.e., that it’s no longer necessary?

We’ve not seen a woman president. We’ve not seen more than a handful of women at a time in the House or Senate. We’ve only just seen women admitted into Augusta. We’ve only just seen women become more educated than men.

We, women, just have so much still to do. And we’re going to do it. Because you can attack our beliefs, you can ignore our arguments, you can disrespect our stances, but we aren’t going anywhere. Good luck out there, metro instigators, your kind can’t last forever.

Wednesday Words

"I don't want formal and easy and simple. I want painful, difficult, devastating, life-changing, extraordinary love."

-Olivia Pope, Scandal

She had an affair with the president so I'll say she's accomplished all of this. And all whilst wearing the most fabulous coats.

On the Left Coast: LA Adventures

Since this was my second visit out west to see the lovely Jan, I'd knocked out most of the touristy things the first go round. But there were still a few things to do in the city before we embarked on a few road trips.

First, since my first full day was a Friday, I went to work with Jan. She works at a studio so I got to explore the lot while she did a few things in the morning. It was so cool to just walk around the lot and look around. I covered lots of ground, went in the studio store, had lunch at their cafeteria, and watched them set up a scene they were filming for a series.

I spent a lot of time exploring their "legends" section where they have plaque after plaque of people from all walks of the company that they have deemed "legends." I nearly cried when I saw Peter's.

The main building was quite impressive. (And maybe a little creepy, being held up by dwarves and all.)

The real stars.

Later that night we went in to Hollywood to check out a Southern-influenced bar and hang out with some of Jan's friends. The bar was really cool, the drink only ok, the company excellent, but jet lag hit me fast and hard so we called it an early night.

On Saturday we got pedicures with some of her friends and then spent the day shopping in Burbank. Saturday night I helped Jan with a few crafts. It's stuff like this, just shopping and doing crafts, that I miss the most when we're on separate costs. It sucks, actually. But I'm glad to have had the time this trip to do this.

On Sunday, before church, we made a quick trip to right a wrong from the last trip. A visit to the Hollywood sign when it actually reads HOLLYWOOD. (On my first trip they were trying to save the land around the sign, thus it read SAVE THE PEAK.)

 

Us with the sign! Success!

After the sign, church, and lunch it was off to Anaheim for...Disney Land! My first trip to a Disney park.

Things I Learned This Weekend

Being in charge of a Happy Hour is a bit stressful. But also kind of awesome.
It was my work friend Shana's birthday and since she is the usual office HH organizer, I organized this one for her. I got really irked that people replied and didn't go, or went to a different bar instead/first, but it ended up being a good small group celebration for the birthday lady.

You're never too old for balloons.
I don't know exactly how it happened, but one minute a guy was carrying a bundle of the bar's balloons followed by a young girl, and the next minute the young girl was bringing three balloons over to Shana. It may have had something to do with our group yelling, "Look, Shana, balloons for your birthday!"

I can go to the thrift store and only spend $4.
After not going for more than a month, I went and only bought a loaf pan, two books, and a pair of shoes.

Drills are just freaking amazing.
I got a drill two Christmases ago but only just used it for the first time on Saturday. Before I had it I always needed one, thus the asking for it, but then after I had it was afraid to use it without adult/Daddy supervision. Well, now I'm a drilling machine and just want to drill holes in everything. (Which the roommate is thrilled about, naturally.) I even broke a drill bit! Like a bad ass.

There's something very fulfilling in finishing a craft project started six months ago.
I bought and spray painted these keys way back in October, and then lost them. I found them a few weeks ago and finally found a shallow frame and voila, I have this handy bit of artwork to hold keys. With hooks HAND DRILLED BY MOI and keys secured with ribbon threaded through holes HAND DRILLED BY MOI. 

The only thing better than finishing a project begun six months ago is to finish one in the works since a year ago.
I bought this vintage dancer brooch from an estate jewelry salesman in Eastern Market on President's Day weekend with my sister. In 2012. It was chipped in places and had some missing jewels and pearls. (I don't have a before picture but these look like mine did expect for different colors: Etsy 1 and Etsy 2.) I wasn't crazy about the random mix of colors anyway so I bought a variety of blue and green crystals, cleaned her up with some silver paint, and here she is, finally.

The best way to procrastinate doing taxes is to watch a movie and organize paperwork.
I watched "The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel" while clearing out all my files. (Pay stubs from jobs held 7 years ago? Bye!) Then I did my taxes. In less than an hour. And the movie was really good, too.

A beautiful day plus a Pier One store closing sale is a dangerous combination.
As a reward for doing my taxes, I set out for a walk on our first real Spring day. (Finally!) Unfortunately, my walk took me right to the Pier One in my neighborhood that is closing. Since I have no self control/really did need fake flowers, I walked out with these beauties. (40% off!) I still have some arranging to do, though.

Top photo: The vase is a Waterford vase I selected as my 5 year anniversary gift at my job. It's so heavy and lovely.
Bottom photo: Please also note the amazing calendar Karey got me and the other ladies for our birthdays. She went way back into the photo archives of our friendship and put together just the best calendar of memories. Each month is like opening a time capsule. I love it.

Standing five rows back at a concert is awesome.
Sunday night I went with three friends to a Frightened Rabbit concert. Shana gave me a bunch of random CDs as part of my bday present and theirs was one I really enjoyed. Since the tickets were cheap and it was Shana's birthday, I decided to see them live. They were really good and being so close to the stage was a first for me and made it all the more intense and enjoyable.

Some people still wave actual lighters.
Ok, I hate when people hold up their cell phones for light at concerts, it just seems so yuppie or something, but, honestly, the lighters made me nervous. I wanted to scream, "Fire hazard!"

Standing five rows back at a concert for 2 hours, in new boots, when you have a bad back and a propensity to feel faint after standing for too long is not awesome.
So I left before they came back for the encore. And I have no regrets about that.

Here I Am

I’m alive! I’m alive! And I should be alive for a while since my crazy project is (more or less) over. It was so much work and so much stress, but overall I was happy with the product and thought it was a good experience. Until this week when it came crashing down a bit and now I want to use certain people’s names/faces as targets on a dart board.

But I’m trying not to think about that because it really is just the nature of the line of work I’m in. I sound very adult saying that but truth be told there was some holding back tears, biting my tongue, and partaking in comfort shopping the past few weeks.

I feel like it's been so long since I wrote anything substantial, I almost don't remember how to do it. I hate that. So I'll start small. Very small. And I'll start selfish.

This is what I wore today. I ordered new boots on Monday thanks to a crazy sale at Bloomingdale's and the assistance of my Mom. They were delivered yesterday and I love them like a child. (Also wearing a Gap dress I bought at a consignment store and clock hand* earrings I made.)

Can I brag about the boots? They were originally more than $300 and I got them for just over $100. I'm more of a clothes person than a shoe person but, seriously, I get why people spend hundreds on shoes now. (Though my feet are quite sore now, I hope I just need to break them in.)

Now to counteract some of this vanity. I spent so much time on the computer and typing on the crazy project that my left wrist started hurting. I've self-diagnosed myself with a little carpal tunnel and had to buy a wrist brace. Yep, I've been rocking this super sexy thing most of the work day. And then at night for the bowling league I joined.***

*For the wedding shower my sister and I threw for our almost sister-in-law -- which I will blog about -- I ordered 60 clock hands off Ebay for use in one of the favors. They were delivered late so now I have 60 clock hands to work with. So if you have a desire for some clock hands, let me know.
**Wow you can tell how torn my earring holes are. They've been like that since I was a kid, I think because I slept in earrings one night and got them caught on a pillowcase. I'm so used to buying mostly post earrings and never buying heavy ones that I forget how bad they are. I'll get them fixed, one day.
***Ha, no. Have I ever written about my disdain for bowling? I should.

Wednesday Words

"It doesn't make any difference how good what you write is, if nobody reads it---or understands it."

-Val Lauder, The Back Page: The Personal Face of History