Worth

 Today was busy. We had a call with the finance guy. Bless him. I also dug in and built a website. The blog will now live in a sweet little house I built myself. www.hunnihoundbooks.com. It's a work in progress. Like my writing. And me clearly. But I got it done. And now people can hire me to write things for them. or about them. Or about their enemies. Which could be fun. 

So here I am, sitting in front of a computer screen, asking strangers to hire me. Or just subscribe to the blog and read about my weed garden. Both are good.

Tomorrow more about Heather.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Holding Hands through Hell

   We’ve been tied up in a shit storm the past few months. My husband had serious spinal surgery. Then he got an infection. Then he got pneumonia. Then I had heart failure. Then my mom died.  Am I missing anything? In the midst of it all, I’ve cried and laughed and tried to make sense of it all with my friends and family. At one point I said, “Well, at least we’re all holding hands through hell.” It kind of resonated with them. Because that’s kind of all we have isn’t it? Life doesn’t really care sometimes. And all you can do is grip tightly to the things and people around you. And hope they grip back. Thank God I have people that have not only held onto me tight, but dragged me through the flames of these seasons in my life.  I know there is a light ahead. The path out of Hell is near. But honestly I’m not even looking anymore. All I can do is close my eyes and hope for the best. It’s my friends. My friends have me and will pull me through and back where I belong. 
Read more

Mediocre

  It’s been a while. Mom died. Things kept getting messy. Work, family, kids. All of it needed to be sorted and sat with a bit. So now I'm home with a baby and my Rob trying to nurse a new little life, spend time with the one year old, keep the tween from growing up too fast and  my almost out the door seventeen year old son talking to me.  But I'm just mediocre. So why would he want to talk to me? I mean that in the most wonderful way. I do. I love my kids. I fail but I try. I work at my sweet new marriage. I know how precious it is. I try to write daily, but sometimes I don’t. Or I just can’t. Sometimes life is all just too real. Too mediocre. Too messy and painful. But then I start to write anyhow. And it makes me feel better. I am not wildly talented. I may never publish a book or do anything world altering. My son tells me the house is chaotic. And it is. Four kids, two dogs, one cat and a bird. Two adults running between them all. I get it. It’s chaotic. But it’s life. We
Read more

Own

  My life isn’t really my own. People see me as flighty. Scattered. Not the brightest bulb. Someone who isn’t one to count on. One who is disorganized and discombobulated. I don’t dress well and I can’t make much work. But I am funny. So I’m good for a laugh. But don’t ask me about anything important. Because I will fail.  It’s wearisome. And frustrating. I feel the dirt under my nails from  trying my damndest to make my little life bloom. But somehow I’m stuck in this place. Some seat in the corner. And I know I need to just stand up and get out of that corner and back to digging in the dirt planting my own damn life. 
Read more