AWARD

I’ve been given this award by Jo over at http://norwaynomad.blogspot.com/ though not sure I deserve it for neglecting the blogging world over the last few months, but I accepted it gratefully/graciously, and am ready to pass it on. (bow) I thank you. Oh it’s too much, I’m embarrassed and my ball-gown is getting soiled by my happy tears. Okay, enough of the speechifying, I would like to present this award to the following people, for their wonderful blogs:

BetteJo at http://bettejosbeadcreations.blogspot.com/
Poppy at http://poppyveins.blogspot.com/
Mum’stheword at http://mummywrites.blogspot.com/
Jenn at http://www.jennashworth.blogspot.com/
Tania at http://titaniawrites.blogspot.com/


The RULES for presenting this sought after Award are:

Pick 5 blogs that you consider deserve this award for their creativity, design, interesting material, and also for contributing to the blogging community, no matter what language.

Each award has to have the name of the author and also a link to his or her blog.

Each award winner (upon acceptance) should show the award and put the name and link to the blog that has given her or him the award.

Link to the Arte y pico blog, so everyone will know the origin of this award.
Show these rules.

PROCRASTINATION 3

PROCRASTINATION 2

PROCRASTINATION 1

MORE KD LANG

Hallelujah

PROBLOGGER TIPS

I've just lifted this from my email box because I think it's an important point.

Hi irene,

We are all basically selfish. I know, I know, you are generous to a fault, but think of how you browse websites. You want to be entertained, informed, and so on. It's all about our needs, wants, interests and desires. Common sense? Why then, knowing this, do so many bloggers make their blogs all about THEM?
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What's in it for ME?
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By all means have a personal blog. It's your choice if you write for yourself and you only. But if you want to have a successful professional blog then you are going to need to do a little extra. To get what YOU want you need to give THEM what THEY want! That means creating value and clearly communicating that benefit. Just take a look at Darren's blog title: "Blog Tips to Help You Make Money Blogging" Obvious what the benefit is, right? Compare that to what you often see, "Jim's Blog about things andstuff". Always always have in mind your reader and what they will gain. Do you ask people to subscribe without saying what that is and why they might bother?Here is what it says on Chris' blog "Receive more free blogging, writing and marketing tips to your email inbox or feed reader, plus a free eBook download." Click the link to see more about the free ebook download:

http://clicks.aweber.com/y/ct/?l=BXvvC&m=1jREdVaowEnc4H&b=vF0zQmqpQRI3ygxdH97gbw

That free ebook alone has probably brought more subscribers than any other single addition to Chris' blog, because the value of subscribing becomes self-evident. So create value and communicate it. Put yourself in your readers 'shoes and answer WIIFM.
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Bottom line ... it's about THEM not YOU!
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Until next time ... Happy blogging!
Darren & Chris http://clicks.aweber.com/y/ct/?l=BXvvC&m=1jREdVaowEnc4H&b=P_H9rA6VfJBPdHFG1xwOmA

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AND IN THE MORNING

Last night in my dreams I found the most wonderful stuff on an indoor market stall; there was a set of dishes that fitted together, some kind of condiment or jam thingy. One of them opened like an oyster and had a kind of pop-up detail inside with little ducks and water lilies. I asked the price and was amazed at the £2.98 tag, so naturally I couldn’t wait to buy it. I’d taken a china teapot with a cane handle to use as a bag and had carefully placed it on the table so that everyone around could see that it was mine, that I’d arrived with it – I didn’t want it to get mixed up with the ornaments and ceramics for sale, but I thought I could always show them my money inside. It was gone.
‘Where’s my bag?’ I looked around at the man behind the table and two women browsing. ‘My teapot is missing.’ I felt ill thinking of the £200 I’d been carrying around since pay-day, but then remembered that I hadn’t brought it, only some cash, in the teapot. ‘How am I going to get home?’ No-one said anything or made any helpful suggestions.

I waited for a bus and jumped on the first one to come along, only just scraping the money for the fare from my pocket. So that was alright, till I thought of asking where exactly the bus went; it wasn’t going anywhere I wanted to go – not even through the city centre. It seemed the longer I stayed on the bus the farther I’d go into nowhere but I didn’t have the money for another bus ticket. I wondered about flashing the ticket I had and saying it was a day-tripper.

There is no satisfying ending to this and I have to inform you of the truth, do the Dallas thing – I woke up.

STRANGE FISH

APOLOGIES

Holy Blog Of Doom, Batman! I just returned from my daily swim on the beautiful Fijian beach and realised I have not updated this since petrol was cheaper than a bottle of Chateau de Neuf! You would not believe that I'd been abducted by aliens, but I'm sorry you'll just have to take my word for it. I am swilling chardonnay, discovering time doesn't stand still, watching Dexter and just generally being an embarrassment to the servants. My day seems to involve the authorities from beach break to running out of alcohol. I am avoiding recapture - can't they see I am blogging? I declare solemnly I will write something that makes sense soon. What? Unless of course the pool with the cocktail bar is heated!

One of the best from the... Lazy Blog Post Generator another pinch from Bettejo.

CONFESSION

My name is Irene and I am a blogaholic! There, I’ve said it. Oh, the loneliness of the serial blogger. I switch on in the mornings, check email, wonder why no-one has left me any comments, then swing right on over there to the blogs; checking stats is also becoming addictive – when I first got a site-counter at Blogger I was all over that map and it was soooo exciting, but I got bored with the non-readers, all those searchers looking for granny-sex.

I set up a new blog with Wordpress last week, BUBBLES IN TIME; working on compiling an autobiography, and it’s great fun – especially the YouTube searching for just the right music and film clips. So, a few days in and I’m twitching, looking at stats, and wondering what to do next – set up another blog! And suddenly the name Fatty McSlob arrives in my head…and within minutes there it is, FATTY McSLOB in the flesh; ten minutes later it has a post and I’m satisfied, for now.

Wordpress is a whole new world of blogs calling to be read; they come to me from tags, I can pop next door, just like at Blogger, and then there is the blog networks in Facebook. OMG I wish I was unemployed or retired or rich – possibly in reverse order! I spent hours in Facebook blog networks yesterday, reading about full-time bloggers and how they make money. I think I want to be a full-time blogger when I grow up. Maybe I’ll just create ebooks and sell them on the blogs! Just think of all those tangents!

So, going off on that tangent, I should do a little ebook research just for the fun of it; I suppose it’s the next step from reading blogs, isn’t it? Mmmmm, and I’d have to blog about the experience and spout opinion, yes, good idea. Maybe I should get a dongle and take the laptop into work – I’ve been thinking of that anyway, taking it with me to work then I can write properly between calls instead of using a pen and notebook. I could stock-pile blog posts instead of the bulk-crocheting I’m doing now; it would be tidier than the craft work; no glitter all over the phone or glue gumming up my desk.

I really want one of those little laptops; it would sit very nicely on the side. This is small but an even smaller one would be much lighter and I’m all about if you don’t need it then get it out of your bag.

Some people can’t read off the screen but I seem perfectly comfortable with it; I know I’d be too miserable to print stuff out. I think the laptop has become my security blanket, and if I got a smaller one I could take it everywhere with me – not that I actually go anywhere these days, but it sounds good. And reading blogs is a bit like having a huge collection of short stories or serials, for free.

WILLPOWER

Sylvia and I had a great night in on Sunday; we spent four hours rabbitting on about our school-days and old friends, family and God-knows-what-else. The only strange thing about it (to some people) is that I was in Glasgow, and she, in the vicinity of Chesterfield. Boy, can we talk on the phone; we had toilet and coffee breaks, and she had a bottle of wine and probably about a thousand fags – we broke off before the call reached the hour limits so it cost nothing. The sensible, older woman – that’s us. Yeah right!

In my hermit stage I spend an awwwwwwwful lot of time watching TV. I was conscious the whole time that I was missing my CSIs – isn’t that terrible? I think that this is my worst anti-social period to date. I enjoy being with my friends, talking and relaxing, laughing, looking at the phenomena of fashion on the high street; I love to hear about people I used to know, finding out where they went and what happened to them, but – I seem to be addicted to drama on the box. I don’t watch soaps or reality programmes or most of the fashionable sit-coms or comedies – DRAMA is the thing. I am losing my will to live.

It’s time to turn the telly off and read, and write, and craft, and think, and LEAVE THE HOUSE! Time to go out among the great washed and unwashed, fashionable and downright real people, in the streets, through the parks and art galleries, over bridges with stops for photo-shoots - to listen and learn. I say this from my comfortable position in my bed, with the lovely laptop upon my knee, and all kinds of refreshments at my right hand – even a cat within stroking distance.

This room, prison and necessary evil has everything I need within easy reach, for instance, upon my table: TV with video & DVD player; slow cooker; little grill; kettle; phone x2; coffee & Earl Grey; water; Slimfast; (milk & butter that needs to go back in the fridge – what an effort) bread; scissors and accumulated letters – it’s a big table. There’s also a baking-cooling tray that the laptop sits on. Why do I need anything from the outside world? I can be perfectly sociable from here. Just remembering an EM Forster short story called, I think, The Machine Stops, where life is reduced to an existence in a tiny room. What’s wrong with that?

I’ve been to the doctor and asked for help to lose weight before I kill myself with type 2 diabetes or something and he suggested a SPORT’S CENTRE!!!! My God, the very idea of it! But I suppose I have to force these things on myself; it’s an awful imposition on my horizontally-creative lifestyle, and I resent the time it will take – maybe I should create a whole new character to experience these vile activities…yes, I’ll give her a name and let her get on with it.

MORE PSYCHIC PAM LETTERS

Dear Pam

If I sent you something belonging to someone, would you be able to tell me who they were and what kind of people? I’ve bought something that was supposed to have belonged to Dean, on that ebay place, but I need it confirmed before I’ll really believe it. Oh, maybe I shouldn’t have told you that it was his. Well never mind, I trust you, and you’d have known it anyway I’m sure. I’ve enclosed it with this letter.

Also, Sonjia said something the other day that really got me all wound up; she said that Dean was seen with a woman in a London restaurant...she’d read it in one of her stupid magazines. Is it true? He told me that he wasn’t going out, that he spent all his time reading up for the next show, or just watching TV. We like a lot of the same things; he loves Midsomer Murders too! I realise that he is a man and will do all sorts, sometimes, but I got the feeling that he had kind of grown up, and therefore learned something since his divorce. Sonjia still doesn’t believe that I’m working for Dean Webster Live! She is very old fashioned though, and doesn’t keep up with modern technology. I’m taking a course - a computer driving lesson thingy, and then I’ll be able to email you instead of waiting for the post...though I do love the postman bringing letters to me: not just bills.

I was startled by your photo on the website yesterday and felt very close to you because of the resemblance to my mother. It always worried me that I looked nothing like her and she’d say I was my father’s living image; he died before I was born. It was also very interesting to notice that our dates of birth are close. Are you sure that yours is right? And do you know if you were adopted or not? I think it might be possible that we are twins. I know that might sound pretty mad but if you look at this picture of my mother (which is also included) you’ll see what I mean. You really could be her daughter. Maybe we were separated at birth...or maybe had the same father, but that wouldn’t explain why you looked so much like my mother, would it?

There must be an explanation. Maybe we could meet and talk about it. I’m free pretty much all the time so could make any date you suggest, though I suspect you’re madly busy. So, if we were really sisters, maybe that explains my interest in the Tarot and all that stuff – maybe I could be psychic too!

Ooooh, this is getting exciting. I can’t wait to hear from you. Now, don’t be afraid of my feelings, I can take it; I would love it if we were sisters, but it isn’t the end of the world if we aren’t. But maybe we could get a DNA test to make sure.

Love Isabel X (sis)

LETTER FROM A MADWOMAN

Dear Psychic Pam

I was waiting for my little yellow bus today but a white one turned up instead. Things like that throw me off balance. Do you think it means something? Is it a sign that things are moving on without me? Our usual driver sat behind the wheel and spun my ticket out of the machine but there was someone in my seat. Somehow, the day is getting out of control. My hands keep attracting my attention; they look different – much, much older than they were yesterday, though I haven’t really noticed them for a while...so maybe it all started weeks ago, months even. Do you think it’s possible that I’ve been abducted or something? I mean surely I would’ve noticed these changes.

It’s all driving me crazy and I’m annoyed at myself for being paranoid, but when I saw that the big clock on the Pearce Institute was obviously new I nearly fell off the pavement; it was smashed before, wasn’t it? I’m scared to look in the mirror in case there’s a stranger there. So I’ve locked myself in my room – I don’t have a mirror in here but I need to avert my eyes from the glass doors of the unit. The news is normal, I think; it’s only me who’s a bit bonkers. I watched Who’s Line is it Anyway and got a shock when they put on the alien masks; there was a flicker of recognition in the back of my mind. If I’d known I was mad when I was over at the hospital visiting my friend I would’ve popped into A&E for a quick brain scan. Do you think I need one? Should I just get a taxi over there now, do you think? 

I know you can't really answer that.

Oh I don’t know what to do for the best so that’s why I’m writing to you Pam; you always help me to see the real world. I think I’m going blind – I have to keep rubbing my eyes to get rid of the film that makes everything blurred. I know I’ve asked you before but do you think it’s possible that I might’ve been taken? I don’t know how else to explain all the goings-on; I can hear music too – it comes from all directions at once...that must mean that it’s really on the inside, doesn’t it? My feet tap to it, honestly they do – when they think I’m not looking. When I catch them they freeze. It’s just occurred to me that it might be a circulation problem; that affects the extremities, doesn’t it? Are your eyes extremities too?

I know you’ll forgive me rambling on (you always do) and I hope you can recognise all this as something – hopefully nothing serious, and offer some advice. Even the coats hanging up behind my door seem to be twitching, and the cat has totally disappeared...and this is the tenth floor of a flat! Though I hear her sometimes. She wouldn’t take food from me the other day; do you think she recognised that my hands were those of a stranger? Who am I Pam? Do I sound different to you?

Signed:  Very Worried in Glasgow (Isabel)

Ps; I’ll be waiting by the door for the postman.

WHAT WILL BE LEFT?

If you throw away my words after I’m dead I’ll disappear completely. I want to leave something; need to be more useful than a flash of selective memory in the minds of family and friends. I’d love it if some future relative unearthed my scribblings and were entertained and hopefully stimulated enough to make changes in their lives, because of me; I hope to be more than an image in a scrapbook (of my making).

The other night, I watched the dead body programme; a new Horizon for the future of our parts, where medical schools can put in an order for a bunch of knees or a clutch of forearms, with hands attached. Apparently there is a huge market in human spares; the actual parts are not for sale – the cost is for the work involved in the butchery process.

So, do you want to leave your body to medical science? Yes, I think I might. There was a mention of a website at the end of the programme, www.bbc.co.uk/horizon. I popped in there and eventually found the site I was looking for, with the information on how to put yourself in the hands of probing students. This is the link to The Human Tissue Authority. http://www.hta.gov.uk

It’s not just the working, warm parts that are useful and necessary:

After you die they can strip skin to be used as grafts

A spine costs $900 and is used for testing orthopaedic implants

In the US corneas are worth $6000 a pair for transplanting

Forearm & hand is only worth $383; used for surgical practice; learning techniques, like keyhole

Tendons can be up to $1000 each

Shoulders are complicated to remove, $510 each. They’re used for orthopaedic research and surgical practice

So, treat this as a kind of living will. My body doesn’t really matter to me. Of course I might be too old, or riddled with something that would make them reject me when the time came; there might be a glut of cadavers. In that case just stuff me in a rented coffin, straight from the morgue to the fire...with no services or witnesses. I won’t be there - I’ll be in the pub with you!

Though, wouldn’t it be great if, by then, there’d be a way to extract thoughts and memories from our brains; complete productivity.

PENISES ON SHOW

I watched this guy the other night, working his way through a tv programme about penis size, penis envy and fear of what’s normal. He himself had come to terms with his 3 ½ inch member and even had a plaster cast made of the little beast. Apparently, he’s a comedian, so is dealing with his problem in public and trying to force other men out of the woodwork; there are thousands of them willing to chat, complain and moan about it online, incognito.

No-one would talk to him, well women did when asked what they thought about the question of size; there were mixed answers but most of them imagined a minimum of five inches. The men he tried to involve in conversation about their prize possessions were astounded and too embarrassed to seriously take part. But by the end of the programme he had over a hundred men send him photos they’d taken of their ‘chaps’ with their mobile phones, which were then mounted on a white-walled space and shown to the public.

Can you imagine this room, wall-to-wall penises; all shapes and colours, close-up and very personal? He had to coerce the first group into the room; they’d been huddling in the foyer with drinks, scared of being in the same room as a multitude of naked dicks/cocks/chaps/members, whatever you want to call them – they didn’t want to face it or each other. But, by the end of the showing he had persuaded quite a number of these visitors to enter a little curtained booth and take Polaroid snaps of their BITS which were also pinned up alongside the main exhibits.

All the way through this, every time the interviewer mentioned his little package, I was remembering two brothers that Carrie and I had in the 80s; when we compared notes the next day we were astounded to realise that in their case it ran in the family. In those days I measured dicks by doing one potato, two potato; a female fist might only be about 2 ½ inches high – these brothers only reached half a fist! I have to say that in a case like this SIZE DOES MATTER.

I think the end result of this programme was very arty; what a stunning thing is a room full of penises...they were so cute!

A LITTLE FLASH FICTION

The Archangel smelled of Guinness and home-made steak pie. Eurythmics pumped ‘Sweet Dreams’ into the air and Delphine found herself sinking into the music, all the way to the bar.
‘What can I get for you?’ the man sitting behind the counter must have spoken.
‘You sent for me,’ she looked into his face; his eyes had tears hanging in them.
‘There’s only me, I don’t know...’
‘No, but I do.’ She let him pour a drink and took it with her around the room. ‘Do you mind if I have the arch? And this little space behind…yes, this is it.’

He stood up and heaved his shoulders back but his mouth wouldn’t work. Delphine put her hands on his, held them together and shook him awake.
‘What did you say your name was?’ he looked surprised that he’d spoken out loud.
‘I’m Delphine. Call me Del. I’ve just got to get some things from the car. Are you any good at DIY?’ She was out of the door before he understood what she’d said. And back again with her arms full of fabric.
‘I’m sorry, who are you?’ he rubbed his face.
‘Don’t worry about a thing Bruce, I just need you to nail some of this up for me.’
‘Look, Del is it? This isn’t the kind of place for you. Nobody comes here, it’s dead.’
‘Nothing wrong with dead; I like dead.’ She handed him lengths of purple voile, and told him where to pin it. ‘Can’t you feel it Bruce? Isn’t your hair tingling at the roots?’
‘Only ‘cause you’re scaring me shitless,’ but he laughed.
‘I’ve got needles and pins all over,’ she glanced up at him and they both shivered.
‘I don’t know what the hell I’m doing…or you for that matter.’ He said.
‘Go and open the doors.’ She spread black velvet on a table under the arch; her hand swept tarot cards in an arc, images up. They lit the room. Delphine stood up and switched on a lamp that sparkled stars across the ceiling. Bruce returned and sat at the table with her.
‘Why are you here?’ his face trembled.
Delphine selected a card and placed it in front of him.
‘I am…the answer to all questions.' A jangle of horns, braking cars, slamming doors and shouting clamoured outside.
'Let the President and Prime Minister in first.’

SING-A-LONG

I’m singing Abba’s 'I do I do I do' as I write this. One of the guys from my writing group got married on Tuesday so he brought in a box of favours today, with cake and everything. I chose a CD of the music they had at the ceremony and party; it’s classic cheese, including YMCA, Shania Twain and Amarillo – of course it was a civil partnership. So, a great start to the day; cake and favours of chocolate pretending to be sugared almonds, and now relaxing on my bed with the lovely Shania wailing (with me) ‘From This Moment On’, and twiddling with sunset photos I took from my window the other night…ooooh, and just as I speak there’s another one just beginning. Life is nice tonight.

Oh, and I think I've managed to change the settings of comments so anyone can leave one without all that hassle.

I got a new job; going back to the psychic world of tarot reading. I start on Tuesday so will be spending the next few days pouring over my books to refresh my memory. And the only job application I haven’t missed the deadline for is that of the lollipop lady; my colleagues from the call centre job voted and said that they want me to do that anyway, so it’s kind of serendipitous that I’d missed all the others. It’s only temporary, till Xmas I think so it would be an interesting experience…maybe a little wet, but I quite fancy it for a laugh. God, my life is just a barrel of laughs – I’d be dead by now if it wasn’t.

I picked up my ordered books at the library; The Hours, The Awakening and The Quiet American so am looking forward to browsing. I’ve just finished reading Margaret Atwood’s Penelopiad; and I didn’t love it. It was okay, but it didn’t evoke any laughter or tears – maybe a little smile, once; but it’s only small and I read it in a couple of days.

Actually, the next few weeks is looking good, and I’m going to give myself a right good talking-to….oops, I’ve gone off, singing along with The Hucklebuck’…a little bit of that …a little bit of this….’

I went off a little while ago with, ‘you spin me right round baby right round like a record baby right round…’ I LOVE THAT! Not sure if I can remember who sang it.

I am loving all this forum stuff with Susan Hill’s writing course but it’s all just more procrastination for me. But then it’s all about writing and literature so it’s allowed, but I really need to take myself in hand. I should announce a deadline; that usually works for me. A map would be better. I’ve found a nice big table for my room so maybe I’ll work on a plan. When I hear of all those writers who sit down at a certain time and make themselves stay in the chair till they write something I want to do that; I want a more ordered life – things would move on if I was more regular in my habits…but people wouldn’t recognise me, I might disappear. Maybe I like being a whacko.

Also today, I discovered that some of my writing group have been hiding the fact that they belong to a craft group! I NEED to join; I’m only ever happy if I’m spread farther than cheap margarine.

Doing the Time Warp now.....