Skip to main content

I Am Sorry, Orlando

I was going to write the weekly blog about something funny.  Maybe about husbands or diets or my allergy to milk and what it does to my social skills.
I was going to write the weekly blog about TV shows, summer reads, or how to write a steamy love scene in your next romance novel.
I was going to write the weekly blog about my persnickety ways, my attempt to be alluring, my dislike for boiled okra.
I was going to write the weekly blog on something outrageous, maybe about how nothing over a size 16 should be called petite or iffy body piercings for women over fifty or a dozen nifty things I found on Pinterest to do with old pantyhose.
But I usually write my blog on Sunday mornings and post it on Mondays at 6 am and I woke up this Sunday to find the world had gone crazy again.
Some lunatic took it upon himself to rid his part of the world of people he did not like and took the lives of over fifty people just because he deemed himself  better than them.
Some loser who aspired to a radical group that didn’t know he existed, some wife beating, egotistical nobody who grew up to be the epitome of the school yard bully went into a bar/night club and took the lives of others just because his soul and mind were full of hate and loathing.
He should have pointed the gun at himself first.
I was going to write the weekly blog on some silly nonsense, a play on words, a jumble of sentences to make my readers laugh or giggle or ponder the world around us. 

I just couldn’t find my funny this morning. 

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Dating Challenged

I stink at dating – always have.I sputter.I hyperventilate.I fail miserably every time. I blame a pathetically underdeveloped gene that got little use before I married in my early twenties, then atrophied, gathering dust and rust, until I became single again in my fifties. I decided to use this defect to my advantage when I needed to do some investigative reporting a few years back.While on a newspaper writing assignment on Boomer-aged dating, I sacrificed my dignity and my vanity for the sake of the story (and I got several).

Thank goodness, HoneyBunch saved me from all this when we married.  (He comes up with the best dates.) I’ve decided I will “show you mine if you show me yours.”I will swap dating horror stories with you, but you have to promise to play along. The trick here is to tell about your worst date in 25 words or less.You must keep it clean and you cannot name names. Our little contest will run only this week and before my next blogger posting. Me first: The facts:My mom f…
8 comments
Read more

Happy Breastday to Me!

I gave myself a very special birthday present this year – I had surgery. Before you think it was to increase, decrease, or “lift” something, let me tell you it was not cosmetic (though I could probably use a few nips and tucks at my age; the infinite number of creams I buy OTC are not working their promised magic). About four or five months ago, I discovered a hard lump about the size of a large marble in my left armpit.  I had been feeling small pangs of pain in my left chest for several months, but I figured it was just my turn to dance with heart disease.  Everyone in my immediate family is diabetic and suffers from strokes or heart attacks, so I thought – here we go; my turn. I was going to tell my internist about the pangs during my next visit, so imagine my surprise when I discovered the lump. The Drama Queen in me immediately manifested herself – cancer, I thought.  I have cancer. I searched some more and found that the texture on the left side of my left breast felt different t…
9 comments
Read more

Grandma’s Dining Table

Twenty five years ago my first husband and I bought a new home with four bedrooms and three baths, but my favorite part of the house was the enormous room you walked into from the front door. It had no dividing wall but the design was to use half of it as a formal living and the other half as a formal dining. From the beginning I decided to make it into one huge dining room that would catch the eye when everyone walked in through the front door of my home.   My three children were very young, but I envisioned them grown and married. We counted five at the time, but one day we would grow to eight, maybe more if we factored in grandchildren, so I bought a table that sat a family of twelve.  My husband thought it silly to look that far ahead and convinced me to buy only ten chairs. The room looked magnificent – the long, majestic table, the ten chairs, the buffet, a couple of real ficus, and a few other nice pieces of furniture – I was pleased. The table lasted longer than the marriage, a…
6 comments
Read more