This blog’s former name (Cracker Jacks) doesn’t have anything to do with anything (as my good friend Elaine is fond of saying when conversations take detours), other than it makes me think of popcorn and excellence, both of which I adore.
It may have been crazy to rename the blog, but it was even crazier to fire it up in the first place, given all the other stuff I already do (see below).
Not of lost mittens or keys or caps or a single red shoe. Nor of the “lost and founds” one must call in search of them. No.
“Lost and found” makes me think of amazing grace:
Amazing grace, how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me
I once was lost, but now I’m found, was blind, and now I see…
three cords deep
awaits your arrival.
Like the seasons before you,
it will go up in smoke
leaving feather-like ash
to mark its passing.
A thought bubbles to the surface:
across my consciousness
forcing me to stir.
I burrow deeper
into the folds of the duvet.
I will bury myself
alive today, tomorrow
and the next.
She first tried at age 28 in 1975.
She failed. She made four subsequent attempts in August 1978, August 2011, September 2011, and August 2012.
Veteran comedian Kate Clinton describes herself as “a faith-based, tax-paying, America-loving political humorist and family entertainer,” and “fumerist” (feminist humourist). She’s a lesbian. She’s also witty and funny.
She celebrates her 66th birthday today (November 9, 2013). Read More…