Last Thursday, I was invited to speak at the OLLI (Osher Lifelong Learning Institute) monthly birthdays and books get together at a local restaurant. This is a national organization with chapters at major universities across the country. A group of 12 to 16 members assembled for the luncheon, and I could tell they were hungry to learn.
Fortunately, they were in the right place at the right time and I was able to enlighten them on the following topics;
Everyone left with their appetite for knowledge fully satisfied, and I sold three books. Overall, it was a very successful encounter for all parties.
If you’re new to Friday Flash Fiction, the dean of our growing college of writers is Laverne De Fazio Wisoff-Fields. If you’re interesting in trying to make the Dean’s List, head over to her blog for step-by-step instructions. To view the FFF Hollywood Squares Authors Block click here.
I grew up working on a farm. My job was to round up the livestock. You know, cows, sheep, goats, gerbils, whatever.
We’d get up before dawn and get after it. It didn’t matter if it was Christmas or Ivan Pavlov’s birthday, the chores had to be done.
Many times, I’ve come in wet and chilled to the bone, and curl up in a ball by the fire, shaking like I was trying to pass a peach seed*.
Finally, we sold the farm and moved to town. Now, I’ve been reduced to herding humans.
I swear. They’re worse than cats.
*Yes, I know the correct terminology for the seed of a peach is “pit.” But “pit” doesn’t fit with the expression commonly used in the South when describing someone who is shivering to the point of convulsion.
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This is the blog of a woman who is seriously on the edge and I mean right ON the edge…no, not there… just a little bit further… further than that…no, further still…just a tiny bit more… just move slightly to the right a little…no, that’s too much…just move a tad to the left…that’s right, just there…now you’ve moved too far to the left… Damn, what part of the ‘on the edge’ do you not understand? Oh, and her matricidal boy genius, come devil spawn.
Or the three people I guilted into reading this blog, whatever.
Growing older is inevitable. Growing up is optional.
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I may make you feel, but I can't make you think.
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AS I TOLD THE GIRL THAT I LOST MY VIRGINITY TO, THANKS FOR LAUGHING AT ME HERE TODAY.
I don't write, I touch without touching.
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