Sooner, rather than later

So, I had this great idea for a new blog.

But I already have a blog. One where people have joined in and leave comments. I find it rewarding and fulfilling. But it's purpose is not to entertain as it is to document the stories of my life, past and present, for when I'm not around anymore.

The trouble with my blog is that I have ex-in laws and an ex-husband, not to mention other relatives, as readers. This occurred, of course, just as I got to the part in my life where I was documenting their shenanigans.

So, I had to stop with what I need to write about and go in another direction.

This isn't the first time my blogging has taken a turn for the worst. Several months ago, a popular blog I was following, always asked for her readers to send her their horror stories of their mother's in-laws.

So I did. She essentially stopped blogging.

I felt bad, as her readers kept leaving comments inquiring to her whereabouts... I figured I had killed her with my story.

So, I opened a "closed blog" and told my story to some people I invited to get their general reaction. I also used this blog to mildly bitch about my sister, yeah..also another of my blog followers.

But through that closed blog, we were able to assist a fellow blogger save his blogging ass from getting fired. Someday, he will write a book and we will all want six copies.

So, back to my newest great idea. A humor blog with short entries and NO COMMENTS needed. Just a laugh for the reader with no pressure to comment.

I've been gathering my stuff, for this blog, but I can't find the disk for the stupid camera. But I will and then this blog will be a real creative outlet... for me anyway.

I'm wondering if I occasionally steal a post from here and put it on my other blog, will it leave bread crumbs?

You may have noticed a flurry of writing lately, after I made a big deal about not being able to think without my cigarettes. Well, I live in a small town, when I went up to the store the other day to get some change for the yard man, the clerk saw me coming and went to the back and went through the bother of unlocking the ciggie case and bringing a carton of cigs to the register. He, with a carton, was waiting, when I walked in. I told him my daughter only lets me have one pack a week... he said "Wow, that's expensive to buy one at a time".... I said "I know". So I bought the carton with full intentions of telling my daughter and giving them to her.

Instead, I hid them in the car.

Yesterday she said: "Wow, that pack of smokes has really lasted you a long time." and I said: "Yes it did." But I didn't mention "which" pack.


And I said to myself: What in the hell is wrong with me.

Sled dogs

I was a really fat kid. Back home, the winters were long and hard. We had an old sled with a cracked and broken rudder.

One year, when I was about seven, the snow had come early and never left. By mid winter it was packed hard on all the roads. I was playing with the sled, trying to get one of my older sisters to pull me. They refused.

Out in the back my daddy had a couple old coon hounds. When dad had time to take them hunting, their excitement knew no bounds. Normally, they are very laid back animals, but any chance to hunt and they are fireballs of energy. Given the chance, these dogs will run and track for days on end. They don't bark, they bay, and when they are running and tracking they bay constantly. Just like a modern GPS device, you always know where they are, provided you can keep up and stay within hearing range.

Suddenly I was struck with one of my ideas. I found some pieces of rope in one of dads sheds. I made a harness for each dog. Then I tied each dog onto one of the metal sled runner. The dogs were very excited to be my new sledding friends. I barely had time to hop on before they took off. Later, I would be disappointed that I had not had the opportunity to yell "mush" at them.

Sadly, my mechanics were faulty. I had not tied the dogs to each other, nor given myself anything to hold on to other than the sled itself. I guess in the picture books of the great Yukon sleds, the man in charge didn't have a lead on his dogs, he was only holding onto the sled.

Dogs are smart. Those old coon hounds took off at top speed at the path of least resistance, the road. They were both trying to run in different directions to find a scent to track, but the sled held them together. They were a lot faster and stronger than I had anticipated.

A few blocks from our house was a highway that ran through town. I remember that even when I got older I always marvelled at the signs. "US 71 Does Not End". How could this be, I wondered, a highway that never ends, can I get to China?

As the sled flew down the road, heading straight for "US 71" - the dogs were baying at top volume, calling for dad to bring his gun and join the hunt. I was hanging on for dear life.

Suddenly, there was my dad, in nothing but his shirt sleeves, calling his dogs. But they weren't listening. Dad was trying to run them down and hollering at me to pull the rope. I got a hold of one of the ropes and was able to slow them down enough for dad to rescue us from the highway.

And my dad looked at me and said : What in the hell is wrong with you?

Got Milk?

Once, when I was four, I got hungry. My sisters were in school and my mother told me to leave her alone. So I went out back to the old shed where our dog had some puppies. She wasn't there so I just crawled into the box with the puppies to wait. There in the dark I soon fell asleep. When my sisters got home from school, they told my mom I was nowhere around. After a frantic search, Mother found me in the dog box. She asked me what in the hell I was doing. I told her I was hungry and was waiting for Poochie to come back so I could get me some milk.

And then my mom said: What in the hell is wrong with you?

It is my first memory of being asked this question, sadly, it was not to be the last.