Frustrations

I'm frustrated over subordinating conjunctions. I tried to read an excerpt from some new book on writing, but my eyes crossed. If I had to read all the "how-to" and "don't-do-this" articles written for writers, I'd never get any writing done.

I tell great stories, I work harder than most, and I labor over words and paragraphs until I'm dizzy and sick. Do you, as a reader, care more about a misplaced comma, or that you've not wasted your time reading a dull book?

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House Hunters. I'm sick to death of watching twenty-somethings buy a 4,000 square foot first home. They travel around with their real estate agent and complain about things like the color of the walls and laminate counter tops. My first home was a single-wide that we plugged up the holes to keep the mice from getting in. Olive green kitchen, purple bathroom, and red velvet bedroom. I didn't have the money to worry about chic and designer this and that. I was grateful for a roof over my head. But HGTV sometimes gets on my last nerve. I don't begrudge these young folks wanting a nice home. But I think we've gotten way to big for our britches in America. We want it all up front. That frustrates the hell out of me.

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And last, but not least ...

I'm frustrated I haven't seen my baby granddaughter yet. I've seen pictures, sent via email, of her. Of everybody else holding her. But I've not even laid eyes on her yet. It's no ones fault, I'm just wanting to hold her. Naturally. She's beautiful, and I'm so proud of Annie and Aaron, but I'm really ready to be a grandma, whisper in her ear how much I love her, and snuggle her up to my neck. I'll see her soon, but it's not soon enough.

Blessings to you and yours.