Tag Archives: humor blog

Life’s Unexpected Drips, Drops, and Spills

It was a beautiful day at the writer's confernece in Edmonds, WA.

It was a beautiful day at the writers’ conference in Edmonds, WA. The Frances Anderson center sits behind the trees.

The “incident” (think theme music from Jaws) occurred last weekend at the Write on the Sound writers’ conference in Edmonds, Washington. Having lived in the Pacific Northwest for many years before moving to Arizona, I missed the Northwest experience of writers’ conferences. So I flew to Seattle to attend the city’s annual conference on the craft of writing.

When I arrived at the conference, I checked-in and then headed straight for the Plaza Room where I planned to meet my friend Janet. I hadn’t seen Janet in five years. Prior to me leaving Washington in 2011, Janet and I had attended the annual writers’ conference together. As an aside, Janet and I became friends at the Fear of Flying Clinic in 2006 where we learned we shared common interests other than our fear of flying. We both liked laughing, talking, slugging down coffee, and of course, writing. With these shared interests we formed our own writing group of two. I proposed we call ourselves the Smokin’ Hot Writers. Janet suggested we get long cigarette holders to be more like real authors. But neither of us wanted to take up smoking. read more

Birthday Card Thief

“What can I bring you to drink?” asked our waiter, Roberto.

“Coffee,” Jerry said without looking up from the menu.

As Roberto sped away, I said to Jerry, “You sound kind of grumpy.”

He said, “My back hurts. I didn’t mean to sound grumpy. I’ll feel better when I have coffee.”


We scooped the warm complimentary tortilla chips into the bean dip and munched as we waited. Roberto returned to our table empty-handed.

“I’m sorry, but we don’t have regular coffee. We have decaf. Would you like decaf?” read more

Do What Jerry Does and You’ll Be Happy

The woodworking plane and its box that I bought in Wales as a souvenir for Jerry.

The woodworking plane and its box that I bought in Wales as a souvenir for Jerry.

When I returned from my journey to the British Isles, I pulled something special from my suitcase to give to Jerry…

The special item came from an antique shop in Llangollen, Wales. I had stepped inside the shop because I hoped to find a butler’s bell, such as the kind featured in Downton Abbey. No butler bells availed themselves, but lots of vintage tools did. I remembered that Jerry loves old tools and knew he wouldn’t appreciate a trinket souvenir, (like a coin bank in the shape of a British mailbox~I bought that for myself.) I knew he’d love one of the shop’s vintage woodworking planes lined up on a table. I picked up a few of the planes and they weighed as much as a car (a small car like a Mini Cooper because if they weighed as much as an Audi A4 I wouldn’t be able to lift it.) read more

What You Don’t Expect at a Mexican Restaurant (or maybe you do!)


Last night I sat at a booth in a Mexican restaurant with two girlfriends, whom ~ for the purposes of their protection ~ I’ll call Sunshine and Sunflower.

We chatted away, munching on tortilla chips, and laughing at our good fortune of enjoying girlfriend therapy, which is so much cheaper than other kinds of therapy. Not to mention, so much safer. (Insanity is not good for the health of others.) Besides, what professional counselor lets you chomp on tortilla chips and salsa during a counseling session? read more

If Snakes Slither Through the Crack in the Cabin Door and Slide into the Red, Heart-Shaped Hot Tub, I’m Outta Here

Prospectors in the 1800s camped at Big Bug Creek in search of gold.

Prospectors in the 1800s camped at Big Bug Creek in search of gold. Giant insects attacked one group of prospectors in 1863, thus the name Big Bug Creek~as the story goes (which I read online).

“I want to go home,” I tell Jerry. “It’s creepy here. I hear monkeys outside.”

“Aw, c’mon. Have fun. I’m having fun. Be adventurous.”

It’s a little before sunset and we’re inside Cabin #4 on Big Bug Creek.

When we checked in at the front desk at the main lodge, I asked the clerk if he knew why the creek is named Big Bug Creek. I hoped he would calm my apprehensions of mammoth bugs waiting for us in our cabin.

The clerk, a sixtyish gentleman wearing gray slacks hoisted by suspenders, answered without making eye contact. “I have no idea,” he said. “We have no big bugs. Now, please read this form and sign it.” read more