Buying & Selling (Happy Fifth Birthday)

To sell something, you need to provide something people want. “Don’t give away the store; 1% of something was better than, 1% of nothing.”  The relationship between buyers and sellers was tenuous at best.

Where were the hidden gold mines that enticed on the net? Engineered to appeal to insatiable appetites for excessiveness–“real deals,” “hidden money,” “little-known paths to prosperity.”

New!  Improved!  With less hyperbole, more content!  Congratulations are in order on this blogs fifth anniversary.  I’m more surprised than anyone.  I have plenty more to say, so keep reading and commenting.

A Night To Forget

Thanks FB for bringing it up.  This night three years ago, was one I’d as soon forget.  Stayed up all night bailing water to prevent flooding in the rest of the house.

It rained nearly 24 inches in eighteen hours.  “Please God, make it stop,” was said frequently, as the lightning, thunder, and rain pounded unabated.

Things went downhill considerably after this picture was taken.  Before the night was over, the entire backyard was underwater.  Water lapped against the outside glass doors of our enclosed sun porch.  Water was fifteen feet from the front door.

Brand new recliners and smaller furniture were hastily moved to dry ground.  “I wasn’t going to have my new recliners ruined–no matter what it took.” A sofa-bed was propped up on stainless steel kitchen bowls turned upside-down.

Just before dawn, the rain let up.  Water that had been three inches deep, was mopped up and the drying out process underway.

 

 

Screaming Four-Year-Olds

The anniversary is a little over a week away, but who’s counting?  Four-year-olds are not known for patience or restraint.

Blogging has been a love/hate relationship.  At this point, I don’t hate it enough to quit. On good days everything comes together.  Then, come the days, when ideas stay hidden.

When I get too comfortable, format changes come along.  Daily Prompts disappeared and returned.  Some bloggers I followed, mysteriously disappeared.  The latest; can’t re-blog my posts from previous years.

My favorite thing is to write short stories.  Fake fairy tales, fake tabloid stories, fake news stories–fictional stories, that could be real.

None of this should come as a surprise.  Typical four-year olds, don’t want to go to bed; sometimes don’t want to get out of bed; don’t want to go home when having a good time away from home.  Perhaps their worst characteristic–related to the other ones, is–they don’t like to be told, no.

Which could explain the temperamental nature of this blog.  Maturity has never gotten in the way.  The author has no qualms about offering unsolicited, curmudgeonly advice.  Flattery, bribery with incredible edibles–candy, ice cream, cake is tolerated.

If lightning struck twice, with over 500 hits on one post; I would probably faint.  Popularity is fleeting and overrated.  Success breeds more angst for continued success, and contempt, when success isn’t forthcoming.  Blogging late into the evening and I can’t get to sleep.