My life has descended into a whirl of crisis and drama (and extremely impatient hair-tearing waiting), which I hope is a result of a combination of the full moon and PMS. Considering the amount of backpedaling and soothing and reasoning and apologizing I have done in the last week, I should be well on my way to acquiring a diplomatic certification. I could represent a country by now, I’m so qualified! 😛 Chechnya, are you listening? Go away moon, I’ve had my fill! I definitely have a cold. And a sore throat. Yesterday, I was popping Tylenol like there was...

I’m tired. Tired and sad. Sad and sick. Sick and tired. Things on my mind: My throat hurts. Can NOT be sick right now. I can NOT believe I dropped that GLASS bottle of orange Halloween glitter makeup on the TILE floor this morning Will they EVER call? I don’t deserve some of my friends Am I really going to tell the board that this is my last year as Editor for the AWC? Why can’t I go to bed at a decent hour? Eh, it doesn’t matter. Some nights I could sleep 15 hours and it wouldn’t be enough...

2 beautiful layouts designed and sent to Company A. No phone call yet from Company T. sigh Too busy to think straight, I feel like the White Rabbit: no time to say hello, goodbye! I hate single parenting. Cracking Me Up: Changes planned by George Lucas for the next release of the original Star Wars Trilogy Must Buy One of Each: lowercase tee Gotta Run!

Liz: Put your arms up so I can pull the shirt down over your head Karin: *complies then realizes her hair has done the static-flat thing and scrunches up her face in despair* Mommy, my hair is…gross. Liz: Gross?! Karin & Liz: *giggle madly* Liz: *glues popsicle stick to decorated fabric- and rubberbanded-ball ghost* Okay, Martin, there you go. Martin: *reaches to pick up ghost* Liz: No, don’t touch it yet! He has glue up his butt! Martin & Liz: *giggle madly* It’s only a little mark, but its misuse arouses more bad temper: Possessive Apostrophes

Autumn nights are spooky. The sugar beet factory is pouring the remains of sweetness into the air. The fog is so low it looks as if the road is steaming. Light slides and stretches and all the streetlamps are coronaed stars. The moon lets it all hang out, its fat white belly glows brightly in a black, black sky. I didn’t hear anything yesterday at work, and left a bit early to run some errands. Then I talked with my sister for nearly an hour about upcoming birthday and Christmas present ideas, because we Slaughters are all about doing that...

Still nothing. The suspense is driving me crazy. And people in the office ask me on the average of every 1.2 milliseconds, “have you heard anything yet?” That snapping sound you hear? It’s me. The other reason I’m close to snapping? Drama. It’s everywhere. It pops up when you least expect it. It floors you and flabbergasts you and leaves you stunned and reeling. How do people have the energy for the drama?! Honestly, it’s all I can do to get up in the morning, go to “work,” layout stuff, make copies, throw things away, chat on the phone with...

It’s windy today. REALLY windy. The wind is OUT to get us. It’s trying to blow trees down and our collars up around our ears. It’s trying to snatch things out of our hands. It’s dancing up a storm. An hour and a half of being grilled, but tenderly, as if they wanted me medium well, so I feel pretty good about interview the third. Have been assured that I should be hearing something before Friday. Don’t know what to do about the other job possibility, but wait. Am thinking that maybe my choice will be made for me? Am...

It’s been pouring rain here, the kind that REALLY gets you wet. You and everything else. Giant skating puddles of wetness on all the roads, constant spray of wetness on your glasses, your umbrella, your windshield. This morning, the sun made a brief appearance and then ducked back inside its cloud cover. Green things are flashing their red and orange undergarments. A huge long hill of sugarbeets glows dully in a field. The landscape is pulling out its winter wardrobe. A field near Flyinge is rolled out in chocolate velour. Some are swathed in tawny corduroy, the remnants of shorn,...

Ain’t Too Proud to Beg The September 30th deadline for the next issue of Mosaic Minds is rapidly approaching and the poetry section is feeling sad and lonely. If you’d like to contribute a poem (or two) for our upcoming issue, please send them to: poetry@mosaicminds.net. The theme is Fears & Phobias, but submissions with any theme are welcome 🙂 Crazy busy week ahead. I hope to see you at the end of it. I hope to have a job offer at the end of it. Possibly two. I just got my raise from Ericsson, which is retroactive to April...