We met nearly ten years ago, and got acquainted mostly sitting there in the dining room of my old bungalow. He was talented, easy to get along with, and not one of those high-maintenance types.
Of course, we both changed as the years went by, although our working relationship remained strong. I came to depend on him. He was there for me to help me edit my pictures from my first digital camera and my first scanner, and we both developed our skills along the way.
But over the last several months, he’s changed. He’s gotten tempermental and unreliable. He often just quits in the middle of something, and because I’m so used to him and his ways, I’ve put up with it for longer than I should have. I’ve even spent more money than I should have, trying to make things work between us.
But I decided the other day that it’s over. And now I’m looking for something to replace what I’ve lost, and I’m bummed about it.
Yes, finally, after all these years, I am parting ways with my old favorite photo editing software, Paint Shop Pro. Continue reading
“Let it snow.”
That is a silly phrase.
As if somehow we could decide to not let the snow fall. Maybe by radioing a command up the line somewhere:
“Hold off on the frozen precip, Harry. These peeps in Denver are having a hard enough time driving on the stuff left on the streets from Christmas day, and they need to get to work tomorrow.”
“Copy that, Lisa. Will do.”
But WordPress.com has given me this power: Until January 2, I can make it snow on my very own blog. Or make it stop.
Yesterday I went to work.
For the first time in months.
The bad news: working takes valuable time away from blogging.
The good news: my professional skills haven’t deserted me despite my long break from work.
Happy 25th anniversary, George and David.
I would give every damn blog post I’ve ever written, and almost anything else I have, in exchange for the ability to tell stories like Brenda Wooley’s.
Brenda shares some of her stories with us on her blog, One Kentucky Writer. She doesn’t post every day. But everything she posts is worth reading. Not scanning, not glancing, not skimming. If her stories were food, they would be low-glycemic: the stuff that gives your blood long-term nourishment. Not the slam-bam-thank-you-ma’am spike-plunge-vanish junk of empty calories.
Her latest blog story reminded me of how it felt to be a little kid in a big crowd, jostled and spilling my soft drink, and of looking down at my feet to admire a new pair of sandals.
Thank you, Brenda.