And The Winner Isn’t…

I found out yesterday that I didn’t win the Erma Bombeck Writing Competition. I have attended the workshop conference four times but this year the only way I was going to afford it was to win this contest or rob a bank and then kill off all the people in front of me on the wait list. Despite not winning I have decided not to proceed with my second option. It seems like a lot of work and I really need my beauty rest.

In an effort to make lemonade out of lemons I did learn an important lesson and will pass it on to you. Don’t go to Target after getting some disappointing news. It won’t end well. 

There is a double-secret Facebook page for people who have attended a workshop. I posted my sage advice about not shopping and also spoke of my disappointment. The feedback was fabulous and I discovered numerous other people who also shared my non-winning disappointment. We are considering forming our own triple-secret Facebook page to share recipes, mixed drink ideas, and coupons for fast food places. (Take that you winners!!!!)

The bottom line is that I got out of my funk and all the food is still unopened except the jelly beans that are in a quadruple-secret candy jar in my home and the cake bites that I tried but they tasted horrible so I tossed them out. The other items are actually for my get together with Annie tonight.

Continue reading

Travel Is Not My Thing

The view from my balcony. I am suffering

The view from my balcony. I am suffering

I am now in San Diego for the Social Media Marketing World conference. Over 3,000 people will be attending. After the wonderful time at the Erma Bombeck conference I am afraid it may not be as warm and welcoming a group — but you never know. I am adorable and cuddly.

I have been lucky to be able to do some traveling in the past few years on my employer’s dime — San Diego, Las Vegas, San Jose, Chicago — but I just want to go back home.

Not sure why I don’t get into it like other people do. Of course I am at these places on my own and I think that makes a difference. I’m pretty sure if I have a travel companion (are you paying attention Keifer Sutherland) I’d be more excited and adventurous. I did find a number of web sites about the single traveler but the people in the picture looked much more together than I am. I’m thinking after I retire I would like to get in the car with Daisy and drive around the country visiting friends — I already know where you live so don’t try moving now.

Of course leaving Daisy behind does not make it any easier. Today I watched as the nicest person at Now Boarding was dragging her off — should would not walk. He finally picked her up. I felt like I was sending her off to the Bataan death march. Perhaps if I could travel with her I would have more fun — or at least feel better.

Okay I’m rambling a bit — sorry. Had to get up early (for me) to get to the airport. Of course now that I’m in San Diego I am 2 hours younger — I can see it in my face.

I’ll keep you posted on Social Media Palooza (as I call it).

Life Without A Name Tag

erma2I’ve spent the last three days wearing a name tag around my neck. It didn’t just say my name; it said I was part of this wonderful group of people. Mostly women of all ages from all parts of the country and some from other countries. It also said “I don’t have to remember your name because I can just look at your name tag.”

I know there was a Seinfeld episode where one of them suggested that everyone in New York wear a name tag but there is something nice about being in a place where you don’t have to have that awkward moment of not knowing someone’s name but that someone knows your name.

Continue reading

Sleeping Single In A Gigantic Bed

daisyGetting ready for my first full day at the Erma Bombeck Writer’s Conference. Great dinner last night with nice people. average food, and Roy Blount, Jr.

The Dayton Marriot gave me a gigantic king sized bed but it doesn’t matter — I’m still sleeping on the edge holding on for dear life. Why? Because Daisy has trained me well. No matter how big the bed I only get 10% of the space. Sure, she’s in her Junior Suite at Now Boarding in Minneapolis and I’m in Dayton, Ohio but she still owns the bed. In fact, I took one of the pillows — the big fluffy pillows — and put it behind me. It’s the only way to sleep. (And speaking of pillows (yes I was about two sentences ago), I am amazed at how pillows can be big and fluffy. I’m use to pillows that look like they have been run over by a UPS truck. I wonder if they would notice one is missing — of course I’d have to leave my clothes here in order to pack it into my suitcase but that would be no great loss.)

Of course the pillow doesn’t get up in the middle of the night and start walking around trying to find a new position only to lay right back down where it started — all snuggly next to me; making sure I don’t use anymore than my allotted 10% of mattress space.

Boy do I miss that girl.

 

Hello Dayton

I have been saying “I’ll get back to writing my blog” since, well my last post was August of 2015. Hey, at least I didn’t wait a whole year. Good on me!!!!!!

So here I am at the Erma Bombeck Writer’s Conference where I paid a lot of money to learn about writing and what would be a better place to return to my blog than here and now.

erma2Here I am in lovely Dayton, Ohio. At the Minneapolis airport I was stopped at security and patted down and felt up. Never happened before. I am even prescreened for god’s sake!!!

I looked at the screen — which apparently is a no no because I was immediately told to turn around — and there were squares around my neck. I can’t figure out what was in there that would have set off an alarm. Perhaps I have too many skin tags and if I rub them together I could create some kind of spontaneous fire? I was asked to remove everything from my back pocket — I had no back pocket so I’m thinking butt cellulite perhaps showed up. They also rubbed something on the palms of my hands and then scanned it. Cootie checker? Perhaps I had rubbed Daisy’s belly one too many times. I don’t know.

Continue reading