Diary of a Woman Crazed

Tuesday, November 6, 2007

Cookies From The North Pole - A Gazillion Recipes!

My friend Rick e-mailed this to me. I thought it was a wicked idea ~ having all these recipes at a fingertip! I love Christmas Cookies and this is the best thing I have seen since I don't know when!

Thanks Rick!

love me later~tj

Saturday, November 3, 2007

Positively NOTHING

Start:	Nov 3, '07 12:00p
End:	Nov 5, '07 07:15a
Location:	HOME SWEET HOME

but cook, clean, eBay, catch up on paperwork, put together shelve, organize my spare 'eBay' room, wash clothes, bathe, groom, and love a cat.

Thursday, November 1, 2007

My Personality Painting!

My personality paints a beautiful image.

love me later - tj

Click here to create your own personality painting.

Wednesday, October 31, 2007

My Lil' Buckaroo! Trick or Treat!

Boog's first Trick or Treat day. Instead of saying the traditional "Trick or Treat", he made his own version. Plainly spoken "Num Nums!"

love me later~tj

Saturday, October 27, 2007

The Hat Box - A Short Story Beginning

There is more to this story, it has yet to tell itself to me, but one day it will. I’m certain of that. I hope you enjoy it thus far. If you see it going somewhere share your thoughts with me. I have a feeling that the lady in the park is going to take Mitchell Carpenter somewhere, I just haven’t a clue as to where ... yet.

‘The Hat Box’

tjs - 10/28/07

The razor lost its sharpness as Mitchell hauls the dull blade over his night’s stubble. He likes to get to the office early since the new policies began. The unisex bathroom, he thought was a bit over the line. He hates trying to share what he considers very private, modest moments with secretaries and woman staff. How this place has gone to seed with the changing times. Mitchell is a man of routine. Change does not come easily to a man with a routine driven mind. Another casual Friday, will the policies never stop. Mitchell sighs as he checks his watch for the time. Where are the days of nylons with seams, heels and hairdos? Where are the men in suit coats and ties, and martini lunches? After a few more swipes at his face, Mitchell is satisfied at the razor’s performance, not that it matters today. He straightens his slacks with a long sigh, and pulls himself up to his full height of 6’4". Mitchell Carpenter is an oak of a man, tall in stature, sturdy with conviction. He has been the very backbone of this office for more than a quarter of a century, closer to a half a century if you round up. His time at the office has seen changes, and change is one thing he could do without. Why today, even the mirror is showing him changes, turning against him. He peers into it and stares at the face looking back at him. When did this happen, he wonders? His hair is ever neat in its crew cut. He declares it salt and pepper, but as he stares, he sees that more salt spilt from the shaker. He is old by anybody’s standards. Now as he looks in the mirror, for the first time the face looking back is old to him. Mitchell has just passed his eightieth birthday. He pulls himself away from the reflection, breaths in a deep breath, and exhales slowly. He is going to need his oak-like strength and strong conviction to see him through this day. Satisfied with his appearance, Mitchell picks up his coffee mug from the counter top. He walks to the door and pulls it slowly open. The office is still quiet. Mitchell, for the past 42 years has used this time of the day for reflection. Generally, the thoughts stay focused on the wheeling and dealings with clients. Today though, he has allowed his thoughts to drift. He walks to the coffeepot to get a refill. As he moves toward the pot, he glances out the huge pane glass window. The sky has taken on a gray tint as the day begins. He fills his mug up and moves to the window, standing still as he gazes out. The weather it appears to him has taken on his mood. Mitchell pans his eyes across the windowpane. His gaze settles on the little park that is situated catercorner from the office. He usually only sees the trees but today he notices that there are buckets hooked to spigots on the big maples, collecting the sap. The seasons go by so fast these days. He glimpses out over the park and notices a woman sitting alone on a park bench. The morning mist is circling her legs obscuring them from his sight. He continues looking at her and notices that she is wearing a floral print dress, an old fashion type he has not seen in years. His interest is piqued and he gazes to the face of this woman. Her age is indeterminable in this light, but she has long flowing black hair that seems to radiate a glow even in the gloom. This woman transfixes Mitchell. She is new to his morning routine. New and intriguing. A body could set their watch by Mitchell’s routine, starting with his first cup of coffee in the morning. Bathroom for eight minutes, refill on the coffee, 3 minutes of reflection and a topper on the java. Always consistent, ever constant this routine of his. Yet this morning, gloomy beginning of a dreadful day Mitchell has found that his attention glued to this lone woman sitting on a park bench at day’s break. Memories dance in and out of Mitchell’s head, just out of reach of his remembering. The woman he sees has leaned over to peer under the park bench. Her hair falling gently off her shoulders. She reaches under the seat and pulls out a box from under the bench. Mitchell had not noticed it at first; the morning has lightened a bit in the past few, moments. He sees that the box the woman has pulled out is now sitting on her lap. It looks like a hat-box. It is a round box with a lid. Mitchell hasn’t seen a box like that for nigh on 40 years, since the time when ladies wearing hats had been in style. . Mitchell shakes his head clear the almost memories cropping up in his mind, at seeing this woman sitting out in the morning mist. The mist had collected into droplets on the windowpane and had begun trickling down the outside of the glass. He sighs. Mitchell takes the last gulp of his coffee, which had turned cold in his mug, he grimaces as he swallows it and goes toward the sink. He meticulously rinses his mug out of habit, and reaches to put it away. He notices that a mouse has been visiting and makes a mental note to write a memo about leaving food out, and to send the janitor a memo to clear the rodents away. He remembers the day and winces. No more memos will be forthcoming from Mitchell Carpenter.

More to come...

love me later~tj

Friday, October 26, 2007

Yup. That's me.

Moi' ♥