Good news first: I now can mow my lawn!!! With the help of two well-meaning neighbors, I finally sorted out what I was doing wrong and my lawnmower started last weekend on only the second try. One of those neighbors even asked me if he could trim the edges with his new trimmer.
Um. Sure?
Then he GAVE me an old manual trimmer which I love love love to pieces. I wish I had more edges to trim.
I know this will all get old soon enough but it's still new and wonderful. And my garage smells like fresh mowed grass which is a nice smell anyway and now makes me feel successful and victorious and like a growed up woman.
And, even better, I now feel a little more at home because I have nice neighbors. Which helps because last week when the pit bulls attacked us nobody came to help and I was starting to wonder if there was anyone out there anymore who actually gave a hoot about people.
On another note, I've read several blogs recently about writers who create fictitious online persona so that they can go onto sites like Amazon and Goodreads and dis the competition. Now let me explain why I am shocked and horrified by this news. You see, I've always kind of thought of writers as MORAL. Because there is so little money or fame for most of us, I figured we did it out of a kind of hopeless, if loving, compulsion to create. How much more of the already paltry money or fame could one really obtain from giving one star reviews to every other writer of similar genres on goodreads? Or how much of the creative time it takes to write a fictitious scathing review is really recompensed adequately? Wouldn't it be more useful just to work on the book at hand and let the process out there take care of itself? I don't get it. I thought, in this cold cruel world, that other writers would be my FRIENDS.
Of course, I DO have friends of the writerly persuasion. Thank goodness. They talk me off the cliff. They kindly point out the places where my book goes awry. I couldn't survive without them. I hope they aren't the exception to the rule, like the neighbors who came over unasked and helped me out of a jam this weekend.
Um. Sure?
Then he GAVE me an old manual trimmer which I love love love to pieces. I wish I had more edges to trim.
I know this will all get old soon enough but it's still new and wonderful. And my garage smells like fresh mowed grass which is a nice smell anyway and now makes me feel successful and victorious and like a growed up woman.
And, even better, I now feel a little more at home because I have nice neighbors. Which helps because last week when the pit bulls attacked us nobody came to help and I was starting to wonder if there was anyone out there anymore who actually gave a hoot about people.
On another note, I've read several blogs recently about writers who create fictitious online persona so that they can go onto sites like Amazon and Goodreads and dis the competition. Now let me explain why I am shocked and horrified by this news. You see, I've always kind of thought of writers as MORAL. Because there is so little money or fame for most of us, I figured we did it out of a kind of hopeless, if loving, compulsion to create. How much more of the already paltry money or fame could one really obtain from giving one star reviews to every other writer of similar genres on goodreads? Or how much of the creative time it takes to write a fictitious scathing review is really recompensed adequately? Wouldn't it be more useful just to work on the book at hand and let the process out there take care of itself? I don't get it. I thought, in this cold cruel world, that other writers would be my FRIENDS.
Of course, I DO have friends of the writerly persuasion. Thank goodness. They talk me off the cliff. They kindly point out the places where my book goes awry. I couldn't survive without them. I hope they aren't the exception to the rule, like the neighbors who came over unasked and helped me out of a jam this weekend.
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