Life Among the Never-Winged

Once upon a time I was writing a book called, "Just Another Love Letter", about angels behaving badly. Now I just quietly ask myself each day, "What the hell am I doing?"

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Location: The Rocky Mountain Empire, United States

My friends always knew I was going to hell. My only hope is that God likes good jokes and bad redheads.

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  • Thursday, September 21, 2006

    So It Begins Again

    After much debate, second-guessing, third-guessing, rolling the bones, consulting the stars, the flowcharts, the lay lines and air-eating gurus, the bookstore will continue, and in a new location.
    September 30th is the last day in the old location. After that, we’ve got a month to move.

    There’s a sign above the register that reads: A friend will help you move. A real friend will help you move books.
    Boxes of books weigh more than boxes of lead. They really do.

    And, my parents are coming out here next week. They’ll be staying with us, because nothing says “I hate you” like “Would you mind staying in a hotel?”

    Sorry. Stressed.

    As I type this, Jack is actually talking to my mom on the phone. She called twice today, then the third time left a message asking if I was all right, or wondering if perhaps something had happened to me.
    She was dying to talk, because my mother-in-law called her last night, asking a favor.
    Not a good favor. And not asked in a good way.

    Sorry, O.

    Esereth, I’ll write you a story shortly.
    For those of you haven’t visited Esereth’s site, she's asking some damn fine questions about parents. Check out the current post, and the previous one.

    Timing. It’s all timing, isn’t it?

    I’m going off to find aspirin now.

    8 people left me a love letter:

    Blogger Bud wrote in a love letter...

    Nancy, I feel a migrane coming on. Don't you? Damn! Just pile on the stress! I would never stay with my kids. That's some cheap ass trick their mother would pull. Nothing says, "This is an obvious invitation to eventually put me in an old age home," like inviting yourself to stay with your kids. Ugh!

    6:34 PM, September 21, 2006  
    Blogger Stucco wrote in a love letter...

    You know I'd help you guys move bodies (or books), and as it happens, I own a truck. Color me there. And, you know, should the WWI books all "get lost" in the move, I don't know the first thing about it :)

    7:41 PM, September 21, 2006  
    Blogger meno wrote in a love letter...

    "because nothing says, “I hate you” like, “Would you mind staying in a hotel?”"

    Ha ha ha, i'm wiping my eyes. Thank god my parents live close enough such that they go home after a few hours.

    8:13 PM, September 21, 2006  
    Blogger Me wrote in a love letter...

    Take two Super strength Motrin and a shot of bourbon. Things will look better in the morning.
    Of course I can say that because my parents are safely on the other side of a large body of water and a huge chunk of land and I won't have to deal with them again for at least another year or two.
    I was trying to be helpful.
    Breath deeply. You'll be fine.

    11:59 PM, September 21, 2006  
    Blogger amusing wrote in a love letter...

    a) my mother recently told me I've wasted my time getting this masters degree

    b) I own a large vehicle and all the seats go down for vast cargo capacity. I also possess a vast resume of book-carrying experience that runs from 1981-1997. Everyone else called the mailroom guy; I wanted it done NOW so hauled box after box myself. (Publicity gals learn early on, if you don't nab your books, they get pilfered...)

    c) Are we painting the new place first? What colors? I've got my brush at the ready. Eudora wants a pale yellow, but Candace rants it should be lime green with hot pink accents. I think it would be fun to do a mural. Angels, biker boys and whatnot....maybe some twin cherubim for fun.

    7:45 AM, September 22, 2006  
    Blogger Popeye wrote in a love letter...

    Dear God. Moving sucks enough by itself.

    I will work to help levitate them from here.

    10:12 AM, September 22, 2006  
    Blogger Nancy Dancehall wrote in a love letter...

    You aren't kidding, Bud! Strangely though I've been spared that little unpleasantness. Not even the hint of a headache today.
    Heh. Since I'm the only surviving child, you'd think my parents would be a little more careful.

    Woot! Thanks, Stucco. SO about that moving-bodies thing; I might have a few to dispose of Sunday morning if this party continues to careen down its unholy trajectory. Bring popcorn Saturday night. Should be prime entertainment.

    Glad to give you a laugh, Meno. Lucky lucky you! I realized I moved too far too late, and that my husband didn't move nearly far enough. Same city, God help us.

    Thanks, Me! I'll be drinking port in the basement with Schmoop. Maybe I'll do some Motrin chasers at your suggestion.

    A) Let's hear it for loving support!

    B)Moving starts on Oct. 1st. I'll even let you stay at my house. ;-)

    C) Mural, definately. I have to continue my series of 'bookstore patrons' and they need to be captured in paint as well as words. Angels, bikers and cherubim...these are a few of my favorite things...

    Hey, Popeye, arn't you due for a visit? You've got a suitable vehicle. ;-)

    2:04 PM, September 22, 2006  
    Blogger Irrelephant wrote in a love letter...

    So what did the sheep's entrails, the newts down the pond and the four-legged chicken have to say about all this? My stars and garters, woman, you have to be THOROUGH about this sort of thing! It's not like it's a party game or such!

    Makes me wish I lived a bit more Northerly of here. Stucco could help move the WWI books, and I could, er, help with the science fiction, Nero Wolfe, Lovejoy, anything by Heinlein or Bradbury, and whatever else might, erm, fit in the truck. Yeah, that's it!

    8:01 PM, September 24, 2006  

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