And I Wrote This Book.

Monday, March 28, 2011

Welcome back to Paradise, Sundays in My City

Unknown Mami


Thanks for coming back to Paradise! There's more I'm excited to show you, and I've been standing here in the Town Hall parking lot since Sunday, but Photo Editor wasn't cooperating. Alas, it kicked in. Thanks for your patience.


Paradise Town Hall, where all (two) important decisions are made.

              The COZY DINER felt pretty cozy, once I asked for a booth instead of a stiff wooden chair.
I dined on a tuna melt and fries. Not bad, not great, adequately cozy.


Kind of makes you wonder which came first - the car or the sign - and where's the driver? Gulp.Please note: This is not my car.

Alrighty then, this concludes today's tour of Paradise.
Enjoy the rest of your day!

Saturday, March 26, 2011

The Effects of Moldy Bologna? A Saturday Centus

Jenny Matlock



The Saturday Centus challenges us to write a piece within 100 words, based on a prompt. I encourage you to jump aboard. Just click on the graphic above. It's great practice, and I've met wonderful peers this way. Plus, Jenny's our favorite teacher. I'm continuing the sci-fi series, with apologies to anyone who doesn't appreciate some Spock spoofing. This is a sequel to my last centus right here. The prompt is bolded.

We (Spock, Natashialovarita, and I) are really getting into some deep lunar craters now. This week's assignment involves a chickeny prompt to be captured in rhyme. Um, enjoy.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Effects of Moldy Bologna?

The part of Little Spock is played by Astro Boy and young Natashialovarita (aka Rita), Dora (the Explorer).
----
“Once upon an eon,” James Earl states in rhyme,

“Little Spock and naughty Rita

Explored before their time.

So let’s just watch and listen

as Spock shrieks, 'I’m not a chicken!'”

“Then why’d ya look so sicken, chicken?”

“Uh, my bologna was moldy.”

Flapping her arms, Rita mocks,

“Bach! Bach! Spock! Spock! Bach! Bach!”

“Okay. Give it to me! I’ll be good, you’ll see!”

Spocky grabs her thing with a smirk and a wiggle.

The camera highlights their faces, as the two start to giggle.

Thursday, March 24, 2011

On Why I Choose Celibacy, Reasons # 83-89: That Nosy Jumbo Screen



REASON #83: Im easy going kind of guy lots of codling I don't like to fight with my lady, love the outdoors camping camp fire roasting marshmelows. sexy legs, 4x4ing trailing, sexy legs two sets of ‘em? wathing the sun go doen on the beach I feel I'm pretty much a "Down to earth guy" and layed back. Hoping to find some girl the same way. Well isn't that a how do you do? I've got to babble at least 200 characters. I don't want to sound like a tight wad, but if I have to PAY money to talk about myself I'm in the wrong bussiness. Now if someone wants to pay ME to babble about myself, then I'm all mouth, tounge, and lungs. I'll chat your ears off. Is that enough? It’s more than enough, babe. Plenty more.


REASON #84: are u a angle? well if u are u better have some wings.haha:) Drats! You found me out. Okay, okay, I may tend towards obtuse - especially around the mid section, but I wear a tight belt and loose fitting shirts. PS Are you laughing at your “wings” comment, or did something funny actually happen?

REASON #85: Click here for free chocolates! Of course, I responded to this one last week. “Did somebody say free chocolates?” He wrote back “HAHA, what kind do you want?” I suggested any kind would do; I’m easy (when it comes to chocolate). I’m still waiting on my chocolates and another response. Actually, I'm just waiting on the chocolates.

REASON #86: I am looking for a wonderfull woman to move into my room with me in my folks basement if all goes well she (you ) will take care of me and spend all your money on me rather then bills or anything else. after a while I will let my true colors shine through and let you use my crack pipe and take a sip off my 40 (room temp) momma don't let me put it in the ice chest / fridge.

I know that gotcha going. just so you know I have my own place sort of it's me and my kids I would like to meet a nice girl that can also be a lady who can fit on the back of my motorcycle ....no it,s not a hog ITS A HONDA sabre vroom vroom. I think I’d prefer smoking crack in the basement with your momma.

REASON #87: I got friends in low places.. And this is your biggest selling point? Do they smoke crack in the basement with your momma?


REASON #88: Handsome, healthy, happy , looking for someone to pamper, must have positive attitude and love to please your man. Must like outdoor and indoor sports .Still looks good in a bikini. Get real, buster. You are 56 and not a looker.  Still, you insist on a 42-54 year old woman who looks good in a bikini? You know Demi’s taken, right?

REASON #89: I prefer quiet actives, I'm not into nosy things or places. The exception to this would be going to a baseball game from time to time. Yeah, those umpires can really get into your business. And if you shove popcorn into your date's mouth, you’re bound to end up on the Jumbo Screen.

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

Woman on the Verge of Paradise: Cattiness


Sign reads "May you find Paradise to be all its name implies."

Thanks for joining me on the verge of Paradise, as the next chapter of my life unfolds. If you're new to Life by Chocolate, or just madly trying to catch up with your blog reading (Can we ever truly catch up?), this non-fictional autobiographical story begins here. While I strive for accuracy regarding place and time, I am altering a few names as I see fit. This does not include Nora Profit, Mimi or Mojo the cat. Those names are perfectly right and perfectly real.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
                                                                          Mojo in his favorite spot (on my bed)
                                                     Mojo in his second favorite spot (in my kitchen cabinet)

Oops.

A 20-year old college student was shot in the chest at Café Culture just two nights after my excursion there. He was standing right about where I parked my car. Last I read, the victim was - miraculously - expected to make a full recovery. Thank goodness!

But I sure feel petty for complaining about all the non-excitement around here.
**
Three mornings ago, at 4am, the boy rammed his head on the door with enough force to successfully enter my bedroom. You should know that the door was (1) closed and (2) locked. Clearly, I needed to give it an extra shove but failed to do so. He’s been fine since then, intact enough to rip up the bottom of my box-spring mattress, navigate my kitchen cabinets with sufficient prowess to snack on some veggie sticks, and bite me once or twice daily.

Damnit, Mojo! I mean, look sweetie, either you go or I go, and I ain’t going. Furthermore, if any boy’s going to be so anxious about entering my bedroom as to pummel through my locked door and madly tear up my bed, I prefer that boy be human. Got it? Run along now. Go find him for me. Make sure he’s nice and smart too. Okay?
**
“Zeek’s missing.” Her tone was somber as Nora entered The Loft on Wednesday morning. “He didn’t come home all night. He probably got hit by a car.”

Zeek’s a charming black-spotted white kitty, with a dark triangle that uniquely accentuates the left edge of his nose. “Sorry, I'll miss him too,” I shared. I like Zeek more than Mojo. He practices non-violent communication and doesn’t implore my attention at every turn.

I thought to call Mimi, who adores Zeek, but I lacked a free four-hour window. Short of pretending the phone line’s been snipped, it’s not possible to conduct a brief conversation with Mimi. She’s not working at The Loft anymore, since her computer skills are even worse than mine. There's little she can help with, now that I'm there.

Note that the only way for my computer competence to supercede another's is for that other to refuse to touch a computer, as is the case with Mimi. “I was too busy with my rock 'n roll band to learn computers,” she defends. “I can’t learn them now; it’s hard on my eyes. I need to sit 10-15 feet from the screen. The glare causes me headaches. I think it's an aging thing. And I need to squint and take breaks. I don’t know how to move around on the screen. You’re so good at it, Robyn.”

Mimi’s a dear, and we’ll remain friends. She is okay with not working these days, as she’s facing home foreclosure and other stresses familiar to many.

Thus, the two of us (Nora and I) pushed through that day without Zeek or Mimi, and I experienced my usual abundance of computer frustrations.

“Nora, does it typically take 5 minutes for an email to get sent? Oh, I shouldn’t have left these things open, huh? Um…Sorry to bother you again. How do I save this file? Oh, the ‘save’ function saves files. Thanks...Excuse me, just one more thing, would you please show me how to switch to your side of the computer to pull up the monthly calendar and re-format it to fit landscape 11 x 8.5 and add a link to it for the next class and then upload the calendar to the website and then send out an email to our folks to invite them to the event? Thank you.”

She left to run an errand (Who could blame her?) and came back announcing, “Look who I found!” Zeek was in her car all night long. My eyes welled. It was a happy ending to a sad day.

Next time I complain about non-excitement, feel free to tell me that I’m being catty.


Sunday, March 20, 2011

Sundays in My City, Welcome to Chico!

Unknown Mami


It's day 20 in my new neighborhood.
                   Welcome to Chico, CA!   I'm so glad you came by!

Butte County Sheriffs' Department. It appears the sheriffs drive tractors 'round these 'ere parts.

This is my living room. Mojo's considering his strategy for getting out to drive a tractor too.

This tour would be incomplete without a visit to beautiful Bidwell Park.
It's always serene here because:



Thanks for joining me in California's true north.
Enjoy the rest of your day. xo Robyn

Saturday, March 19, 2011

Stars Are Us, A Saturday Centus

Jenny Matlock

The Saturday Centus challenges us to write a piece within 100 words, based on a prompt. I encourage you to jump aboard. Just click on the graphic above. It's great practice, and I've met wonderful peers this way. Plus, Jenny's our favorite teacher. I'm continuing the sci-fi series, with apologies to anyone who doesn't appreciate some Spock spoofing. This is a sequel to my last centus right here. The prompt is bolded. Enjoy.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Stars Are Us
 
Prepared for Spock's naivete, Natashialovarita steps sideways towards the vacuous Stars Are Us screen. She extends her right index finger and presses the Power button.
 
With bills still striking him, Spock now stands upright. He crosses his arms and eyes the screen with a peculiarly curious expression. 
 
A regal red velvet curtain is pictured, as the voice of James Earl Jones overtakes the Sirius Chamber.
 
"Know your constellation," Jones instructs. "This educational video is for little dippers and beyond."
 
The curtain parts to reveal a young Spock and Natashialovarita engaged in Junior Explorer.

Friday, March 18, 2011

Divinity


I am so very grateful to the amazingly generous and talented DramaMama for featuring my blog today and voluntarily creating this fabulous button! Here's a little poem inspired by the prompt she provided  for the guest post, "divine." 

PS Happy birthday weekend to my sweet spunky nephew Jeremy!
Auntie Robyn loves and misses you, chocolate cowboy! xo Robyn

Divinity

A child with a lisp

An awkward first kiss

Laughter that hurts and

Hiccups in spurts

A teen who's been jilted

A pink rose that's wilted

An 'ole clunker that runs

Hot dogs without buns


A surgeon who smiles

A friend who's in need

A spider that scurries

Once it's been freed


A kid who asks "Why?"

A mommy's bold cry.

The last piece of chocolate

Left in the box

Polka dots and plaid garments

And Tevas with socks.


A Dixie cup filled with low-end red wine

Goosebumps up the arms

What could be more divine?





Wednesday, March 16, 2011

On Why I Choose Celibacy and Won't Get Lucky Today, Reasons #78 - 82

Taken directly from current internet dating ads, here are reasons #78-82 for my celibate existence - with the usual banter in bold italics.
       May you experience luck in some form today!  xoRobyn 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

REASON #78: I have been single since me and my ex wife got divorced. Um, dude, why did you divorce your ex wife? In CA, you need not repeat the dreaded process. Sorry I didn’t tell you that years ago.

REASON #79: 3ft7 384lbs all hairy with warts covering the hump on my back, cross-eyed, drooling, no teef, pimpled faced, peg legged and club footed, hung like a hamster, living in a van down by the river. I'm dead sexxay. Okay okay, not really, but I figured this would at least get a chuckle or two, and if not, then you might not get my cents, since, sense yeah, that's it, sense of humor. No I don’t get it, buddy. Neither do you. You likely never will. I have no tats or piercings, typical clean cut guy. Just ask me anything you want to know, I am an open book when it comes to myself, no need to hide anything. I beg to differ.

REASON #80: I'm a single dad with a 7 year old daughter. Absolute angle and the love of my life. Poor girl. Is she obtuse, acute, or perpendicular?

REASON #81: Have job and teeth
This does bode well, given the competition. Have number?

REASON #82: Hay: I am all that I am because I am not afraid to try (now that’s deep) . (Deep is a relative term. You’re relatively challenged. Aren’t you, babe?) ok now that the bs is a flying lets get real.I am a single father of two great kids . I spend a lot of time with them (they live with me). I like to cook and do so most every day I am not afraid to try new recipes my kids sometimes are . I really try to be a good person all the time no matter how much crap flies. I know that no matter how bad things can be they always get better always. I believe that the cup is three quarters full . Gardening is fun I love to ride my motorcycle turn on the ipod and cruse I take it you like to multi-task but don't like to end a sentence.

Tuesday, March 15, 2011

Confusion, For Japan

photo by me, 3/11

At a loss for words, I turned to the writing of a young adult -- me. I wrote this at age 18 or 19, shortly after my mom died in March of 1985. I'd like to dedicate this to the beautiful people and country of Japan, with my tears and prayers.

I'm outside in the sun. It's so beautiful. The sun, the air. It feels so good; so good to be here. It's really confusing though - like a joke, a puzzle or something. There's so much pain to endure while a person goes through life. So many times of hopelessness, loneliness, loss, agony, disappointment, defeat. I've been through so much pain. And there's so much missing from my life right now - But I'm here sitting outside. Oh - The sun's rays - it's a high. It's such a great feeling. I'm on earth. The trees, the breeze, the birds chirping. The sun's rays beating down on my face. It's wonderful. But bad things happen now; people suffer; tragedy occurs on this earth. It's really confusing. We struggle to understand. Perhaps I should not waste my time. Perhaps I need to figure out, instead: How can I, as a single person, matter?

Sunday, March 13, 2011

Sundays in My City, Welcome to Paradise!

Unknown Mami


I'm excited to join Unknown Mami's Sundays in My City, so I can introduce you to my new hometown and its surroundings. Welcome to Paradise, CA. It's where I work. A leisurely 8 mile drive from my new home in Chico takes me there. Paradise is beautiful and rather interesting. See:

PARADISE ROD & GUN CLUB, INC.
The smaller sign reads "No Trespassing." I did not.



Paradise DIVE CENTER

 Paradise in Paradise, Choco Amatrice

Thanks for coming along. Next, I'll show you Chico.


Saturday, March 12, 2011

A Naive Spock, A Saturday Centus

Jenny Matlock
The Saturday Centus challenges us to write a piece within 100 words, based on a prompt. I encourage you to jump aboard. Just click on the graphic above. It's great practice, and I've met wonderful peers this way. Plus, Jenny's our favorite teacher. I'm continuing the sci-fi series, with apologies to anyone who doesn't appreciate some Spock spoofing. This is a sequel to my last centus right here. The prompt is bolded. Enjoy.
~~~~

A Naive Spock 

"Let's do it!" Spock instructs, bills launching at his mid-section. "Utilize your instrument, Natashialovarita."

"Patience, Spock." She pivots, her backside now facing him. Natashialovarita slides her hands up along the sides of her body and then appears to navigate her cosmological cellulitic asteroids. She spins back to face Spock and struts his way.

"Here," Natashialovarita says, offering Spock her Promiscuity Instigation Neutralizer (PIN) card.

Dollars smack his face again, as Spock receives the implement. "Wh-wherein and h-how do I insert this thing?"

He had never been accused of being intelligent in this arena.

Woman on the Verge of Paradise: Working my Quaker-Jewish-Nun Attire

Sign reads "May you find Paradise to be all its name implies."

Thanks for joining me on the verge of Paradise, as a new chapter of my life unfolds. If you're new to Life by Chocolate, or just madly trying to catch up with your blog reading (Can we ever truly catch up?), this non-fictional autobiographical story begins here. While I strive for accuracy regarding place and time, I am altering a few names as I see fit. This does not include Nora Profit, Mimi or Mojo the cat. Those names are perfectly right and perfectly real.
~~~~
My dilemma lay in finding an outfit apropos for both worship and salsa. I couldn’t slip into my new shirt that dares to display cleavage. Oh no, I can never wear that one, especially not for prayer. I even bought it on my second day here for a new image thing, but insecurities triumph. It’ll just look cute on the hanger until I die and thereafter. Yeah, the only safe option was my modest standard Quaker-Jewish-Nun garb: a black skirt falling below the knees and an equally black shirt with neckline so high it threatened to prevent inhalation, topped by my Star-of-David pendant. Perfect.

Properly decorated for my first Friday night on the town, I headed for the Congregational Church, meeting site of the Chico Havurah[1]. They’re a nice group of Jews, not too woo-woo, not too traditional. I didn’t need to frolick around embracing everyone, nor was I – on the other hand- required to hide my elbows from the men lest said elbows arouse their lustful desires. There are no eligible bachelors in the group to crave my elbows anyway. I’ve made friendly connections with some cool women, though. So it goes.

We chatted after services and Laila inquired about my writing.

“It’s humor mostly, my dating nightmares, stuff like that.” Without hesitation, I launched into the Mr. Cemetery pitch. I’ve got it down to 14 seconds by now: “It’s outrageous what these men put in their ads. There’s Mr. Cemetery, who’s given me the best reason for celibacy. He’s looking for shared cemetery in a relationship. He believes that if the cemetery’s there, everything else can fail. Yep. It’s pretty morbid out there.”

With that, I bid the Jewish gals “Shabbat shalom” and headed to Café Culture. My night would surely get exciting. I just knew it, until I pulled into the parking lot. Why did I get a space directly in front of the club? Note to self: You are not in the Bay Area anymore. Yet the place emitted Berkeley beatnik. With African masks spotting the walls, yoga retreat postings, and fliers advertising drumming circles, I was at home.

Plus, I danced with some cute, sweet partners during the salsa lesson. I wasn’t happy about this, though. They were women. A total of 12 females and 3 males attended. Reminder note to self: You are not in the Bay Area anymore.

Alas, Javier won my heart, the dark and sexy instructor with an ivory smile and manly physique. Wow. Less than a week here, and I'd already found my dream man. Could it be so easy? I knew he felt it too, since he approached me for a dance right after the class. “You’ve done this before,” he told me. That clenched it. I began planning our wedding song list. But the dance ended, and Javier proceeded to ask every woman (one by one) for a dance.

I sat for hours or minutes pretending not to sulk. But wait! Javier was darting my way again. Slowly and methodically, he reached for a glass of water that rested on the table in front of me. And then, he took a sip. He then placed it down, and then walked away. I could almost hear an obnoxious man’s voice over the microphone announce: “Would the woman who’s dressed in Quaker-Jewish-Nun attire, the one who’s sitting alone at the table – as in, all by herself – please report to the losers’ section. That’s 'losers'' with a capital ‘L’ babe.” I pulled my right hand up from my lap to flip him the bird, just as Rory asked for a dance. Then, there was Juan. Next, Luis.

Finally, I departed with pride, though I could best describe my night as “not exciting.” Reminder of reminder note to self: You are not in the Bay Area anymore. Get used to it, self. Non-excitement abounds.

I landed home to an email from my new gal pal, Donna. Though her spare room wouldn’t suit my needs, Donna and I get along splendidly. One month after moving to Chico, she has a new beau. They met through plentyoffish.com. “It’s your turn to place an ad now,” she wrote. “I need someone to swap stories with.”
-------
[1] A community of Jews that meets for worship and socializing. 

Thursday, March 10, 2011

My Slice of Paradise

My slice of Paradise

Thanks to Ken, owner of Coco Amatrice in Paradise, CA, for taking this photo in front of his haven. It's only 4 minutes from The Writing Loft, but I'm pretty sure I can get there in 2.5 when necessary.

Tuesday, March 8, 2011

On Why I Choose Celibacy, Reason #77: The Pigeons! The Pigeons!


It was painful to witness, like watching Quagmire get hit with a seizure attack. The guy’s fingers were trembling so erratically, he could barely lift his coffee mug.

How I wished to ease his pain. I envisioned myself graciously raising the cup for him, then tossing the hot coffee at his face. But I restrained myself, classy as I am. I’m not sure why I was so irritated. Perhaps it’s because Deanna billed him as the idyllic keeper. Or maybe it’s because he was blind date number 12,462.

“Robyn, I was thinking of setting you up with Todd,” she had declared two weeks earlier. “He’s attractive, intelligent and very kind…The only reason it didn’t work out is because I wanted him to take me to fancy dinners and buy me jewelry and things...I’m accustomed to being treated that way.”

No false pretenses on her part; Deanna’s a Beverly Hills prima donna through and through. I’m not, so I figured this might work. She neglected to mention Todd’s awkward weirdness, though. I guess she hadn’t noticed, being awkwardly weird herself.

So there we sat at Java Rama, engaging in the typical first (and last)-date-with-the-friend’s-ex conversation: “How do you know (Deanna)? She’s great, isn’t she? Yeah, and hot too. Really hot. God, I miss being with her…”

After 32 minutes of this, we walked down Park Street to the Alameda Beach. Note that a woman was too polite to end a date when a woman wanted to. The beach stroll was actually peaceful, as we meandered through the sand, making small talk and glimpsing at the glistening water. Suddenly, Todd--towering at 6 feet of lanky cowardice--criss-crossed his arms overhead and mad a made dash back towards Park Street. “The pigeons! The pigeons!” he screeched in holy terror.

Uh, those birds flying overhead would be called “seagulls”, you dumb *bleep*, I wanted to shout as I wandered far behind. And they aren’t likely to crap on you, but if they do, it won’t kill you. You are embarrassing me and the entire West Coast. That includes Venice beach. And folks down there don’t embarrass easily.

So I ended the date immediately. Well, it ended itself. But note that a woman has some standards.
~~~~~
Follow-up: I never saw Todd again and terminated my equally irritating friendship with Deanna shortly thereafter. Within a year, Deanna and Todd were married. They now have two kids. I ‘m not sure how he managed that one, but a woman does not want to think about it.

Monday, March 7, 2011

Coming Together for One of Our Blog Families

Dear blog friends, our beloved Jenny Matlock has asked a small favor. Her blog friend Betty's (at Daydreamn World) son, Reid, is fighting Hodgkin's Lymphoma. Jenny has asked that we flood him with cards. The details are here. If you can take a moment to send a card, that would mean so much. Thank you.

Have a good Monday!
xoRobyn

Sunday, March 6, 2011

The Promiscuity Instigation Neutralizer Card, A Saturday Centus


Jenny Matlock
The Saturday Centus challenges us to write a piece within 100 words, based on a prompt. I encourage you to jump aboard. Just click on the graphic above. It's great practice, and I've met wonderful peers this way. Plus, Jenny's our favorite teacher. I'm continuing the sci-fi series, with apologies to anyone who doesn't appreciate some Spock spoofing. This is a sequel to my last centus right here. The prompt is bolded. Enjoy.
----
The Promiscuity Instigation Neutralizer Card

Dollars launching at him from every panel of the Sirius Chamber, Spock maximizes bodily storage space.

He pauses, placing his right index finger on his chin. “A thought enters.”

With that, Spock retrieves the Sirius Seduction Emergency Back-up Kit. Star-studded Galactica-strings of various glow-in-the-dark hues fall out.

Determined to bundle and wrap the bills, Spock’s efforts prove fruitless. He is clearly uncomfortable manipulating the strings, and dollars continue to smack his face.

“Abort! Abort!” he shouts, peering at Natashialovarita.

“The Alternative Temptation Matrix (ATM) can only reverse with my Promiscuity Instigation Neutralizer (PIN) card, Spock.”

It all depended upon this single card.

Saturday, March 5, 2011

Woman on the Verge of Paradise: Getting Adapted

Sign reads "May you find Paradise to be all its name implies"

Thanks for joining me on the verge of Paradise, as a new chapter of my life unfolds. If you're new to Life by Chocolate, or just madly trying to catch up with your blog reading (Can we ever truly catch up?), this non-fictional autobiographical story begins here.

While I strive for accuracy regarding place and time, I am altering a few names as I see fit. This does not include Nora Profit, Mimi or Mojo the cat. Those names are perfectly right and perfectly real.  
~~~~~~~

Isn't he getting hungry? Doesn't he need to empty his bladder? How can he sleep for so long? It's almost noon. Damnit. It's been 5-1/2 days. I need to get adapted already!

Before the move, I asked Steven if he would kindly help set up my computer when I first arrive. "No problem. You'll just need a USB adapter. We'll have you connected in no time." Within an hour, I tossed a new adapter into the ginormous box that would house my computer.

Now, I wait. It is 12:15pm on my first Saturday in California's true North.

Connections are weird in Paradise. I can't blog or use my cell phone - except as a paperweight. Thus, my first week at The Writing Loft was pleasant, quiet and fairly productive. Nora's taking good care of me, and so is Mimi. Still, I've missed you.

So, I wait. It's 12:20pm, and I'm anxious to catch you up. I want you to know I'm adjusting pretty well so far, minus this adapter-connection thing. The move went smoothly --until I arrived. I'd assumed they'd get to the house first. I was wrong. "That's strange," I told Steven. "I didn't speed too much." He chuckled.

My phone rang ten minutes later. "We'll be there soon. We got pulled over and cited for not having the proper stickers." I didn't know (or want to know) what that meant. I just wanted to see my belongings. Plus, I was paying them by the hour, so any dillydallying (e.g., getting stopped by the cops) didn't bode too well with me.

Fifteen minutes or so later, they pulled into the driveway and proceeded to complete the move fairly quickly. They also deducted the time it took to get cited, plus time "to pick up drinks." I'd given them water, and they appeared well equipped with Snapple when we departed Alameda, so I didn't know (or want to know) about said "drinks."

There were a few casualties, including a scraped up bed frame and a broken glass cover for a shadow box that displayed my Brownie memorabilia. But they were cheap - the items and the movers - and my Branding Bee 1974 badge remained intact, so life continues. Sort of.

I just wish he'd arise already so I can update you, get back into the writing routine, continue creating a home here, and get adapted. 

It's 12:29pm. I'm lounging in apprehensive fashion on my couch.

Hark and hallelujah! Steven just said "Good morning" and offered to help with my computer.

It's 2pm, and I'm connected, with a new virus protection program too.

I sit at my desk in my new bedroom, with the adapter excitedly blinking its pretty little orange beam of light. I imagine that if that orange beam could speak, it'd say "Mellow out, lady. Adapting doesn't happen so quickly around here." Or does it? 

I'm feeling as much at home as I could have imagined, after less than one week on the outskirts of Paradise. And I even ventured out on the town last night...