Spatter Painting with The Compost

Since I became aware of blogs, I’ve had one. Always anonymous because I had guck, and I wanted to be free to splatter that guck any way I wished to fling it. I can’t do that freely anymore. I’m real now, accountable for my whines and prejudices and selfishness. But just this once…I’m just gonna…

Accountants are frowny

The relationship budding between me and my accountant bares similarities to that between my beloved Pam, and her own very talented accountant, Cyril. Let’s watch, shall we?¬†   Once again I sit in Mike the CPA’s office to talk about why I should have to pay taxes on the art and information I offer the…

Therese vs. The City of New York

My husband’s Uncle Shep is a doctor and surgeon and has probably saved more lives than most towns have people. Yet he¬†believes home based technologies peaked around 1993, and his home, which he graciously opened to my family for our stay in Pennsylvania, reflects that belief. Specifically, he had no internet. No computer even. His…

Sometimes the damn money bags ARE heavy.

I was right. It took about a week for the baffle-coma to wear off. Or maybe it was two weeks. I don’t know actually – time doesn’t penetrate a coma state. I counted time in congratulations and people’s praise of me. And in the rare backhanded, seething compliment. But since I’ve stopped desiring to tell…

“no one needs to knoooowwwww”

I have a manila folder that, a year ago I scawled “BOOK REC.S” across, crumpled in my lap. I realize that in my slump of despair I’m resting my bosom on my accountant’s desk, and it is overflowing it’s pretty push-up bra into the v neck of my blouse. Bless his studied eye contact. I…

Go ghoti, you geurck.

  I had my birthday, and my friends left me long wonderful messages both on my Facebook wall and in private. And I noticed something. After sooo many of the messages, there would be another typed below it quickly. *meant “their” not there *my autocorrect is awful, sorry *forgive my spelling I make money by…