Good Intentions



They say the road to hell is paved with them. If that's true, then I need to add 'Road Paver' to my resume.

I apologize to the real NaBloPoMo-ers, who blog every day for a month and take this seriously. I tried, really I did.

And, to my 6 readers, a big huge THANK YOU. I don't know what brings you back here time after time, but as a writer, there is nothing better than knowing someone reads your stuff- willingly. So, since it's the thought that counts, here's a virtual hug and a big bouquet of flowers for each of you.

Much love,
the Slacker

Comments

  1. TangledLouOctober 15, 2013 at 9:09 AM

    Oh, darling. I am paving right along next to you. Not just with blogging, but with so many things. I'll read whatever, whenever you write. "The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak..." Right? Silly weak flesh. Hallelujah for willing spirits, though!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Julie DeMilleOctober 15, 2013 at 1:25 PM

      I believe we get points for those willing spirits, don't you?

      Delete
  2. DebOctober 16, 2013 at 1:27 PM

    I love to read your blog. You make me smile, and sometimes laugh, to where my kids ask me what the heck is so funny. i have good intentions of blogging more too, yeah...

    ReplyDelete
  3. meegzOctober 18, 2013 at 9:40 AM

    Hey I hope I'm one of those six- I read I just don't always comment. And good intentions is my middle name( said from my bed at 10 am)

    ReplyDelete
  4. MarianneOctober 25, 2013 at 3:24 PM

    I get behind in my blog reading, but I ALWAYS come back to you, baby! Love your style.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Are you one of the three? Stand up and be counted!

Popular posts from this blog

Illusive Peace

Image
Her house is stifling.  The fan above her clicks a rhythm and she lays as still as she can, hoping for relief. She pushes herself up, forcing movement that reverberates in her head. Walking through the rooms, she checks windows, praying for the breath of a breeze. She loves this house. Here she nursed and nurtured her babies.  The walls show signs of life-- fingerprints and smudges.  Smiling faces, captured and framed, adorn the walls. But, the walls are closing in and she retreats to the sanctuary of her room.  The thoughts are pressing, intensifying the pain in her head.  She tries with all her might to force them out. You're not welcome here . Still, they come. Persistent, they are. The fan beats in time with the judgements- ' not e-nough, not e-nough, not e-nough'.   She puts out the welcome mat, hoping for sleep.  Instead, she cries, curled into herself. But, the day is like any other, demanding, not to be ignored.  Amazing how you can function when you&#
Read more

Caps and Gowns-- Endings and Beginnings

Image
Friday found me in a large auditorium.  Purple seats with no leg room or padding.  The Handy Man was at my side, my daughters and parents down the row. This is the day we'd waited for.  This was the moment that spurred on our flurry of make-up days and long nights of study. And, yet, it seemed sad, to have it all end.  How could the time have gone so quickly?  I watched as Jacob made  his way into the hall and found his seat in a sea of silver caps and gowns. He didn't look around, there was no triumphant fist-pump as he entered. Suddenly, I saw my child in a different light.  No longer was he the loud and boisterous boy whose laughter carries through the floors and walls of our home.  He wasn't the confident Scout, who leads songs and skits without abandon.  Here, he was 'school-Jacob', shy and unsure.  In a crowd of over 500, he has a  handful of friends.  The images he's painted for me- lonely school lunchtimes and sitting alone- came crashing in.
Read more