But Next Week is Thursday

Hey, where are you? *looking at self*

Hanging out with Worry. *nodding to invisible chair*

Is that why you forgot?

Forgot what? *looking blankly at Worry and back to self*

Forgot that it was Thursday?

*eyes rolling* It's not Thursday. What's wrong with you?

I'm confused. I thought it was Thursday.

No. *laughing at silly remark by self* Next week is Thursday.

But if next week is Thursday that would make today...

Yup. Today is a blur. Next week is Thursday.

Oh. Well, then. I guess you won't have to worry about posting until next week.

That's what I was trying to tell you all along.

Yup, this week I've been worrying about life and stuff (and yes, my current wip). Next week I will post something that actually has to do with writing. Or food. They are both deliciously good.

Have a great week everyone!

Tending My Word Garden

I love my flower garden. It’s mostly perennials with a few annuals thrown in for color. Perennials are awesome. They come back every year (fingers crossed) and don’t need a lot of tending. A little fertilizer, some water and they’re good to go. Friend-husband and I love the unusual ones. We can’t resist perennials with a bit of texture and funky shapes or colors. We like adding new ones and watching them grow.

This morning when Friend-husband and I stopped to admire our garden we were a little shocked to see that weeds were taking over. When did that happen, I’d like to know. Did I put the welcome mat out or something? I’m pretty sure I signed up for the weed-free zone. Did my paperwork get lost?

Well, Friend-husband is awesome and he usually does most of the weeding. I like yard work, but I’m a little time-challenged. He works so hard, though, and the weather was delightful. Weeding with my best friend is not a chore. Together, we got rid of the worst offenders. I promised to finish the job tonight in the cool of the evening when he is off to a meeting. I hope I remember.

While pulling weeds I thought about my writing. Some days I think I’m pretty good. Things are blooming in my word garden. I have an unusual variety, and I am especially fond of the words with texture, or unusual shape or color.

I can get carried away with the fertilizer,though…and the weeds. Where do they come from? It’s such a shock when I find out that my word garden has been invaded by unwelcome guests. Honestly. Who put them there? It’s not as if I would fill my garden with such riff-raff.

I truly think that someone sneaks into my computer in the dead of night and messes with my words. I have some serious weeding to do.

Linda Garner

Must Keep Going...

Shhhh....busy revising....

Must unplug for week..... must keep eyes opened...

Must stop saying must...

Have a great week guys! If you haven't seen me around, I'm busy revising (and trying not to down that bag of chocolate chips). See ya next week!

Now About That Floor

Ever have one of those days when you’re itching to write, but everything gets in the way? I’ve been dying to get to my computer, but there are dishes to do, and my floor needs mopped. I have phone calls to make and laundry to do, and the flowers need weeding… And on top of that my phone keeps ringing. Everyone needs me. I need to write.

It’s true. I need to write. Writing satisfies me. I love the magic of words, the sound of words, the flow of words. I love to shape and twist words and make them dance. I love to roll them around in my head and spit them out in new patterns. I love the music of words. I love to listen to the sound they make as they sing in the corners of my mind.

Rewrites. I love rewrites. I really do. I sent my publisher a picture book. They liked the idea, but not the story. They wanted a different perspective. I completely rewrote it. They loved the changes, but… They want less tension. They want less mystery. All the things I love about the story, they want me to change. Okay, not all.

At first I wanted to say, “Whose story is this anyway? By the time we’re done with this story will I even be able to recognize it? Do you get how much this will change the story?” But I thought it over and decided what a great problem to have. They like my story and they are willing to help me make it better. I decided to make it an adventure. Am I a good enough writer to make it work?

I think I am. I hope I am. I can’t wait to try.

Now about that floor.

Linda Garner

The Sweetness of the Interview

The Awesome February Grace (Bru) of Pitch Slapped has been gracious enough to interview me on her blog. (click here) (or here)

She is full of wisdom and humor. I like her a lot. Go check out her blog! She rocks! Plus you can find out a little about me and my ms.

What a great way to start the end of the week and the (almost) middle of revisions (okay, kind of the start).

Thanks again Bru! You are amazing!

Have a great week guys. (or you can even click here.)

Dumber than Dirt Conclusion

I had a great time at my 40th class reunion. It was great to reminisce with old friends. I was the shortest one there (as usual) and when I stood to take the mic, someone shouted "Stand Up." So I stood on the chair. It was a good laugh.

I hope you enjoy the conclusion of Dumber than Dirt. If you haven't read part one and two, it won't make much sense. Scroll down a bit to read part one and two.

Dumber than Dirt part 3

As you can imagine, the warthogs had a pity party over this. You might say that they wallowed in pity. They were getting perturbed about their rights being pignored and the persecutions that had been piled upon them. They often heard gossip about things like Pork Bellies and Makin’ Bacon. Finally, I guess you could say they had a snoutful and they decided to make a pig point.

That was when the warthogs invented a game called phootball. They challenged the pretty pigs to a tournament which they called the Pigskin Classic. The pretty pigs bought phancy uniphorm shirts and since they thought they were pretty sharp, they called themselves the Razorback Hawgs. The warthogs were too poor to buy uniphorms, besides which they couldn’t stand to have any sort of phabric rubbing against their warts, so their uniphorms were plain pigskin. I think that’s where the term shirts and skins phirst started

Well, the handsome razorbacks were pretty proud of their uniphorms and they were pretty proud of their looks and it was clear they planned to win. However, the warthogs were phed up and they also planned to win. The Razorbacks were pretty but the warthogs passed, punted, persevered, perspired, and prevailed. Phinally – respect for the underhogs.


This was the beginning of better days for the warthogs. Eventually the Razorbacks and the warthogs came to accept their differences. Over time there was peace in the place. They learned to work together and managed to keep the wolf away from the door, and they even looked aphter the little piggee who had none. Though they never quite understood the little piggee who had roast beef, they lived pleasantly ever aphter.

I’m not sure what the moral of this phable is, but it is probably one of the phollowing. You pick.

*Warthogs are people, too.
*Don’t judge a pig by its cover.
*Iph you follow your dream, you might have the last lauph.
*Pvegetables are good for you.
*Warts are only skin deep.
*Don’t do stupid things.
*Try the simple things first and don’t get involved in any hogwash.

Now I think I know what you would do if perchance you were a pig in a spider inphested phorest, but these particular pigs, (warthogs) were not exactly the sharpest blades in the razor.

What do you think of the silly pigs who thought it was easier to put up with warts than to munch on the pigweed? Some would say they were perphectly silly. Others might think them lazy.

What do I say of these preposterous pigs? I simply say….they were dumber than dirt. Do you agree?

That’s all folks!


**glossary**
Pvegetable: pronunciation – pa/ veg/et/ a/ bl. (Root word: vegetable) Meaning: Edible plant that begins with p.

Because You Rock!

Okay, I’ve learned a couple of things about my awesome bloggy friends:

1. People do not like the word “Loser”. It’s true, it’s kind of a downer. I shall be erased from my blog terms. I will use anti-winner instead. That’s a little more positive.

2. I don’t write great blog posts at 5:30 in the morning. Things are misspelled and some things don’t even make sense. At least not to most people. That weird lady with the superhero cape doesn’t count (oh wait, that’s me).

3. I have super bloggy friends. Have I told you lately that I love you? (Remember that song?) Anyways, I do, I totally love having bloggy friends and I need to thank a few of you for the awesome blog awards that I have procrastinated posting (sorry about that). But I appreciate you all and all your great comments. *super hugs*

4. Strangely, you guys are okay with me posting about stinky shoes, football boy’s hemorrhoids and my chocolate cravings. Because you’re cool like that. I like that about you.

5. And finally, I get to glean from other awesome blog stuffs. Wow you guys are wise. I love reading about your writing goals, things you’ve learned and writing tips. It keeps me motivated and encourages me to move forward. Thanks guys! YOU TOTALLY ROCK!

And because of that, I want to pass on this award to all of ya! Woo hoo!





So tell me, what do you love about bloggy friends?

Dumber than Dirt part 2

I hope you had a great Fourth of July. We enjoyed hiking in Bryce Canyon. I love celebrating my country's birthday. I love the USA and I'm glad this is my home. If you're looking for part 2 of Dumber than Dirt, read on. If you missed part 1, you might be a little confused. Scroll down to last week's post. It's a short trip.

Dumber than Dirt continues

Did I phorget to mention one tiny detail? There was, phortunately, an antidote for the spider warts. It was a tasty variety of piggweed, and it was plentiful in the Phorest of the spiders. All one had to do when tickled by jumping spiders was to eat a handphul of the pigweed and the spider warts would disappear completely. Now, what do you think? Is it worth the risk? Pears? Warts? Pears? Warts?....Pigweed?

Piggweed. Now it happens that the pigweed was not unpleasant. In phact it was phairly tasty. Even desirable. So, when the Piggcouncil met with the three little pigs, and put the plan to a piggie vote, it was unanimous. The people, (Oops. I meants pigs) of Pigville were on the prowl (I mean move). They picked up their possessions and paraded oph toward their new home near Swine Lake. They were positively tickled pink, if you’ll excuse the pun, or about to be.

When the pigs arrived in Piggsburg, their new home, they had a picnic in the park. Phor the phirst time in ages they pheasted on pears. There were Persian pears and paisley pears. There were prickly pears and purple pears. There were pretty pears and pinkish pears. There were pears of every description.

Soon the pigs began building their homes and planting their gardens. They planted potatoes, parsley, petunias, peas, and even pickles, iph you can imagine. They were careful to avoid the spider Phorest, but it wasn’t long before the spiders got curious and began leaving the phorest and phollowing the pigs around Piggsburg. By late aphternoon the first spider warts had appeared.

The first pigs to be tickled ran immediately for the pigweed and were soon cured. Aphter a time, though, pigs began to take their time before gobbling up the pigweed. Some even said, “Does it really work?” Others said, “I don’t really have time to go gather the pigweed right now. Maybe tomorrow.” And still others said, “I’ve never acquired a taste for pigweed.” And so it happened that while some pigs were very clever about the pigweed and knew exactly where it grew and had plenty on hand, others found it easier to just put up with the ugly, itchy warts.

Some of the pigs stayed pretty and smooth, thanks to the pigweed, but others were soon covered with warts. These wart-covered pigs eventually became known as wart hogs. The wart hogs were not very popular with the pretty pigs, as you can imagine, but they didn’t seem to know what to do. That was when Pork E. Pigg saw his chance. Being a particularly enterprising pig, he decided to go into the phast phood business.

Pork E. opened a place called Piggweed Palace. You could get pigweed any time of day, prepared any way you like. Piggweed salads were all the rage, although pigweed steamed and buttered was also popular. Piggweed pizza became popular with teenagers. The little piglets preferred pigweed frosties and shakes. Leave it to Pork E. Pigg. He phound a way to please every pig palate.

There wasn’t much competition, as the only other phast phood place in town was owned by Pandora Pigg. Pandora called her place “Pandora’s Box” but it wasn’t much. In fact she never opened it. She said she had a bad feeling that it might be more trouble than it was worth. It was probably just as well as it seems that most pigs prepher to eat out of the box.

The Piggweed Palace was such a huge success that everyone was puzzled when Pork E. sold his Palace to Prosperous Pigg and took his wife and piglets off to Hollywood. Imagine their surprise when Pork E. and Petunia became big stars, or would that be pig stars? Pork E. brought many a movie to a successful conclusion. In phact he often had the last words. I guess you could even say that he had the last lauph.

Despite the convenience of Prosperous Pigg’s Piggweed Palace, the wart hogs simply did not partake of the pigweed. They did, however, spend a small phortune trying to save their bacon, or in other words, trying to make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear. Some of them spent every penny in their piggee banks at the Piggee Parlor and not just to get a perm in their pigtails. They would try anything to get rid of the warts. That is, anything except piggweed.

In the Piggee Parlor cellophane wraps were sometimes tried in the hopes of removing the warts. The participating pig was wrapped in cellophane and lightly toasted in a tanning bed. This popular technique was called “Pigs In A Blanket”. It rarely worked. One poor pig was left in the oven too long and he cried, “Wee, wee, wee” all the way home. Another pig tried a peculiar smelling potion, called hogwash, which she purchased at the Piggee Parlor. She used a lot of it on her wart-covered toes. She unphortunately ended up with pickled pig’s feet, and she was still covered with warts. She even had them on her pig knuckles. One pig tried pills. She popped so many pills, she almost porked out, but still the warts persisted.

About this time a no-good pig by the name of Predictable came up with a plan. He began circulating a petition to get the warthogs moved into a place of their own. He wanted to relocate all the offensive warthogs into pigpens. He wanted segregation on the ballot. Now, I’m sure that you will get the picture if I tell you that Predictable was a contractor by trade, and that he owned a patent on pigpens. Yes, he stood to make a small phortune on pigpens if he could influence pig politics and sell the pigpublic on the idea of pigpens for the warthogs.

Had prejudice found a home in Piggsylvania?

Linda Garner

Be sure to come back next week for part 3 of Dumber than Dirt.

Learning you're a Loser

Photo from flickr.com

What do you do when you lose? Point fingers, throw a temper tantrum, or do you try to get better?

I heard on the radio this week about a jr. sports team where they didn’t take score of the game. That way, no one would have his or her feelings hurt and no one would be called “loser”.

I found it very interesting.

Not that I would want people to be called loser, but I think losing builds character. People learn how to cope with one another, even when they feel bad about the way they have performed. They learn to be gracious winners, good sportsman or sometimes that they are jerks when they win and need to learn to be a little more humble.

The same thing goes for writing. We write, we get critiqued, we get rejected, we quit or we improve and start writing again. But this time, we learn what we are doing wrong in the craft and build upon that. See? Character building.

I just think losing gives me the drive to try harder, to improve myself to be the best I can. If I lose, I hope I’ll try again (Yeah, my mom had this try, try again rule in our house. I guess it stuck with me).

So the next time someone gives you that good old finger and thumb on the forehead, remember, it’s a good thing. It just means you are getting better and better. Sweet!

Have a great week guys, if you don’t hear from me much in the blog world, it’s because I’m using my super powers to conquer the pile of laundry overtaking my basement (I’m a little scared)!

JFYI: I’m going to start posting the same post from my personal blog as my group blog (at least through the summer). It just gives me more time to write. And I love the writing! =D