Sometimes

... in the dark of the night

when the scary thoughts come

Sometimes when you are laying
 face down on hot pavement
 feeling foolish and broken...

Sometimes when you feel all alone,

Friends are there.

They bring you  fresh berries.

They help with your pain.

They offer solace in a pub over tacos and beer.

They call  and send  emails concerned about your well being.

They stop in  to see how you really are.

And sometimes

the world is just a little brighter,

and softer, 

and gentler.

And that concrete wasn't so hard after all.

Pssst! - Max Here

Come closer-

No. No. NO.

That's TOO close.

That's better.  I'm down here now.

There's only 3 more days to use the coupon code

BLOGGERBUDDY2011

You get 20 percent off.

For every dollar spent

a carrot will be purchased for me.

I get ALL the carrots I can eat...

Shhhhhh...

Here she comes!

Everyone JUST ACT NATURAL!!!

Hmmmm...

That's weird.

Wonder how that rabbit ended up on here?

Don't forget.

It ends June 30th.

Say this to yourself,

"Max needs carrots."

"Max needs carrots."

Where's Alice?

It's the day of Vanessa's Fanciful Twist Tea Party!!

Tea party plans had been made.

Max the Bunny and I went on a search for Alice.

Max asked the stone white rabbit

on the front porch if he'd seen Alice.

He just remained stoic.

And silent.

Max thinks he's a snob.

She doesn't appear to be in this pot

said Max.

Of course not, I said.

That would just be ridiculous.

And besides.

Alice in pot sounds so 70's.

Do you think she's in chains somewhere?

said Max.

Har-de-har-har.

Alice in Chains.

Very funny, Max.

Says I.

I'll look in here.

PEE-U

It smells awful.

Boy-oh-boy.

If she's in here she's sure gonna smell ripe.

That's not a very nice thing to say, Max.

What about here?  At least she won't stink

 if she's been in the flowers,

said Max.

Keen insight, Max

says I.

You gonna help 

or are you just going to stand there

making astute observations?

Let's ask the Hedgehogs.

Say, you fellows seen Alice?

.......

No. huh?

Well, you keep munching on those bugs 

and thanks for the offer but we've already eaten.

ewwww....

C'mon Max.

Let's get out of here.

Excuse me.

Have you seen Alice?

No.

Well, you certainly are invited to the party anyway.

Just follow us.

Howdy-Do Mr. Cheshire Cat.

Want to join the

WHOA

Where'd he GO?!

That's creepy.

Well, let's get this party started.

Alice or no Alice.

Out of the cup, Max.

And where was Alice after all of that?

Why in Paris, of course.

She went to see the Eiffel Tower.

And bring back macarons!

For reading all the way through

I'm having a give-away.

I'll pick a winner

for this necklace:

One week from today

July 2!

Am I entirely mad?

I'm afraid so.

You are entirely bonkers.

But, I'll tell you a story.

All the best people are.

The Princess And The Frog

Once upon a time,

a beautiful, intelligent, self assured princess

wandering through the royal gardens

happened upon a frog.

The frog looked up at the princess and said,

I was once a handsome prince until an evil witch put a spell on me.

She turned me into the frog you see before you.

The frog prince hung his head and sighed.

One kiss from you and I will turn

back into a prince!

Then we can marry!

We'll move back into my castle with my mom!!

You can prepare my meals, bear my children, clean up after me,

launder my clothes, nurse my hangovers, maintain my golf clubs,

and forever feel happy doing so!

That night 

while the princess dined on frog legs

she kept laughing and saying

"I don't think so!"

The End.

Thank you for everyone's well wishes.

It was appreciated.

She Flies Through The Air

...with the greatest of ease.

This must be what Hyacinth Hippo felt like in Fantasia.

That's what I was thinking.

Right before,

"Holy cow!  This is REALLY gonna hurt!"

and then

"$KJ%LK@#JKL@#$JK@L#"

Boom.

Good.  I've stopped.

Wait!

No!

No.

No we aren't stopping!!!

Yup.

I'm going to hit that concrete with my face.

My teeth broke my fall.

Luckily, my teeth did not break.

But,

let me tell you.

They hurt.

And I was not smiling.

And now I'm laying face down here.

But instead of noticing

"Wow.  We really need to scrape and paint that trim on the door."

It looked more like this:

After assessing the damage done to my body.

I ascertained if I could actually get up and make it back inside.

My husband works nights and he was upstairs getting ready to leave.

If I was laying on the concrete in the back he wouldn't notice it.

He'd assume that I was next door at my neighbor Susan's house.

I had to get myself back inside.

I'm telling you.

I HURT!!

And my foot was bleeding.

I busted my lip.

Scraped my cheek.

Because.

Because I tripped off of this!

A six inch stoop!!

A child can step off of a six inch stoop

and not injure him or herself.

Not me.

All I wanted to do was take some photos

of a pair of earrings I had made.

One trip and

I'm flying through the air.

It was a lovely swan dive.

And my first thought was-

 I wanted to protect my beloved camera.

So I twisted my body to cradle it's fall.

I came down hard on my knees and side 

and then smacked my face full force

into the concrete.

Good news.

The camera

is fine!

My right foot is fine.

My ankle is sprained a bit.

But my left foot?

Well, let's just say that

any chances I may have had

of being a foot model

are over.

I wrapped my poor bleeding foot up in a towel.

I headed to the couch to lie down.

I had my leg sticking straight up in the air.

You know.

To elevate it higher than my heart.

I'm crying.

I hurt.

I'm humiliated (because it was STUPID)

My face is scraped.

My lips are swollen.

And,

I look like someone wailed the tar OUT OF ME!

Now.

Hold that picture in your head a moment.

WHEN

my husband went upstairs to get ready for work

he left me in the kitchen washing dishes.

The next time he sees me

just a short 30 minutes later.

I'm laying on the couch.

A blood soaked towel is on my foot.

The visual I just gave you is before him.

He stands and looks at me.

Incredulous!

It must've been a sight.

"WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU?!!!!"

So.

What would you do, if your husband asked you?

The Last Dance For Mary Jane

It wasn't the blood that stunned the well seasoned female detective 

when she first viewed the crime scene.

It was the number of times the gun had been fired.

Twenty-one.

The exact number of years that Mary Jane

had spent on this earth.

Someone's mighty mad to pull the trigger

twenty-one times.
Not to mention the number of times
that person had to reload.

The diamond engagement ring was still at the crime scene, too.
That was odd.
You'd think that the perpetrator would've taken that with him.
Sort of a souvenir of the entire incident.

Bits of Mary Jane's red corsage were scattered
all over the back alley of the dance hall
where her body lay.
Well,where bits of her body lay.
There were flower bits and Mary Jane bits.
With the red flowers it was not easy
to tell which bits were which.

The detective took a cigarette out of her case.
She put it to her lips and looked around for a match.
Ted's Billiards.
That's what the matchbook said.
Mary Jane didn't seem like the kind of gal
that hung out at a billiard joint.
And yet, that pack of matches
was lying right next to the body.
Someone had thrown the book of matches
at Mary Jane as the ultimate insult.
"Why you're worth no more than this pack of matches."
"And they were free."
But then, thought the detective,
maybe Mary Jane had been too.

One thing's for certain.
There'd be no
Bride Bingo being played at
this girl's party.
No sir.

Someone had meant for Mary Jane
to dance her last dance
and cover her last bingo square.
Someone
had wanted
Mary Jane
DEAD.

Mary Jane may not be dancing or playing Bride Bingo anymore
but the detective was sure
 there were enough clues left
to find out
just who was
the last person
to see
Mary Jane Hopkins
ALIVE!

(Mary Jane's Last Dance Necklace available in my Etsy Shop)

Don't Call The Fire Department

This is just a quicky blog post.

My husband has been threatening.

To call in the fire department that is

 for an intervention.

Apparently, they do that sort of thing.

Let you know that your house

has the potential for a

hazardous fire.

Naw.  I just made that up.

But, I do need to weed.

That's what we call getting rid of books at the library.

Weeding.

So I'm trying

Really.

To get rid of some of it.

Baby steps.

For me.

I love my paper stuff.

Some day, I'll tell you why.

It's in my blood and DNA.

I was raised in a paper store.

And that is a true story.

Well not IN the paper store, exactly.

That would just be weird.

I have some really cool stuff.

Some of it is in my Etsy shop.

Just 1 pack so far.

And it can be yours.

Baby steps...