tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-88239547168484678782012-01-25T00:14:58.103-05:00<center>There will be naval gazing.</center>HJRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04934452305832854457noreply@blogger.comBlogger141100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8823954716848467878.post-19243980736330136002011-11-05T21:52:00.002-04:002011-11-05T21:53:44.418-04:00

Here is information about me that I have known for years: I am an excellent procrastinator. If procrastination were an Olympic sport, I wouldn't win. Know why? I'd be too busy procrastinating to actually complete. This post? I'm procrastinating. I'm supposed to be writing some of the 50,000 words to "win" at NaNoWriMo. Earlier instead of writing, I read articles about writing. Before that I

HJRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04934452305832854457noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8823954716848467878.post-12924857069872306592011-10-12T22:00:00.002-04:002011-10-12T22:00:48.396-04:00

I started my highly productive evening by watching The Learning Channel. What did I learn you ask? Well, quite a bit actually. I learned that TLC is effectively the modern equivalent of the circus side show, or freak shows, from the early 1900's. All the shows and the advertisements for TLC that were on this evening were about women who discovered they were pregnant when the baby's head

HJRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04934452305832854457noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8823954716848467878.post-43399322360635808592011-09-22T21:58:00.001-04:002011-09-22T21:58:59.444-04:00

HJRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04934452305832854457noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8823954716848467878.post-24099962728243505452011-08-10T15:39:00.002-04:002011-09-04T15:44:41.321-04:00

The mobile rings and I look at the caller ID. It’s Mom. I debate pressing ignore. I should do that, but sometimes calls from her are actually important. Really quite terribly important. Not this one. Nor most of them. But sometimes… She called to tell me that the floor in the upstairs bathroom near the tub has wood rot (which I have known and been complaining about for MONTHS) and that when

HJRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04934452305832854457noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8823954716848467878.post-68722876491398802332011-06-27T15:48:00.001-04:002011-06-27T15:51:42.690-04:00

I have a confession to make: I hate Bridal Showers. Actually, I hate non-watery showers in general. Oh, the idea is good: a bunch of people get together for a party to celebrate some big event in a friend or family member’s life. Hold the party at a local hall like the American Legion or the Polish Club: you know, some place with a bar, a bartender with a heavy hand, and really low prices. And

HJRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04934452305832854457noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8823954716848467878.post-85500557880232607492011-05-12T12:14:00.000-04:002011-05-13T16:31:41.212-04:00

HJRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04934452305832854457noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8823954716848467878.post-91797354002976772922011-04-26T11:13:00.001-04:002011-04-26T11:13:19.603-04:00

HJRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04934452305832854457noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8823954716848467878.post-5084772108504961882011-04-24T22:18:00.001-04:002011-04-24T22:32:36.218-04:00

Marie sat on the hard plastic bus terminal bench, staring. A man sat across from her. He looked at the floor. Marie wondered if he was curious about how all those little speckles got into the tiles too. “Don’t stare Baby,” her mother said then ruffled her magazine and continued reading. “I’m not.” Marie continued to watch the man. His hair was dark. Greasy tufts stuck out in all directions from

HJRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04934452305832854457noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8823954716848467878.post-17557501185493548812011-04-22T19:22:00.001-04:002011-04-22T19:23:25.109-04:00

HJRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04934452305832854457noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8823954716848467878.post-82188168637528835002011-04-20T22:56:00.002-04:002011-04-24T22:34:19.471-04:00

HJRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04934452305832854457noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8823954716848467878.post-12570454273213168742011-02-10T09:42:00.002-05:002011-04-21T22:43:01.360-04:00

I may not have the patience of a Saint, but I do have the self-restraint of one. I woke up at 10 minutes to 2 this morning to the sound of someone pissing on the floor outside my room.  I thought maybe I’d been dreaming since I did have to go.  I got up, went to the door, and opened it to find Jamie standing in the hallway in his underwear.  I asked, “Did Lady piss on the floor?” “No.” I

HJRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04934452305832854457noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8823954716848467878.post-17866067598253393472010-03-27T01:39:00.001-04:002011-04-21T22:43:25.233-04:00

Dayva dragged her feet repeatedly across the entryway carpet. Her damp shoes left slimy trails of mud with each scrape. She kicked the clunky heels against the closet door, then turned to her left and headed up the short flight of stairs to the living room. Carelessly, she tossed her keys onto a side table and began rifling through the mail. “Bill, bill, resident, bill…delivery?” Dayva furrowed

HJRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04934452305832854457noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8823954716848467878.post-50585936572305921752009-12-17T19:05:00.006-05:002011-04-21T22:58:47.111-04:00

Heather Randolph stubbed out her Camel unfiltered, tossed back the last of the Johnny Walker Black straight from the bottle, then grabbed her tattered faux leather purse before heading to the door. As she closed the beaten oak monstrosity behind her, she patted her bag to check for the reassuring bulk of her mother-of-pearl handled six shooter. ''Today is gonna be a good day,'' she muttered as

HJRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04934452305832854457noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8823954716848467878.post-44407425376075140532009-11-18T21:50:00.001-05:002011-04-21T22:45:01.479-04:00

Her verde eyes glistened as tears rolled down her cheeksShe smelled his sweat mingling with hersShe felt his heart beating with hers She sensed his longing joining with hersShe heard his moans caressing hersShe felt his warmth (flushing) surrounding her (cheeks)She felt his blood intermingling with hersShe felt his heart beat slowingShe heard his moans recedingShe smelled his sweat evaporatingShe

HJRhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04934452305832854457noreply@blogger.com0