Monday, August 20, 2007

Note from The Editor

The fact that this weeks issue is a week late is a fine tribute to this week’s theme: Differences.

The differences between where I used to live and where I live now are huge and yet the longer I live here the less I notice them, until that is, something like a tree falling in the forest and knocking out the power and internet connection to the whole village happens.

My first reaction was one of horror. Whilst everyone else around me merely sighed, shrugged and changed their plans for the day, I was outraged.

“What do you mean the power won’t be back on until the evening? Don’t you realise I have things I need to be doing?!” Hours later, when the electricity came back on but the internet connection was still not working, I was even more outraged. Somehow being able to turn on the computer and not be able to use the internet was infinitely worse than not being able to turn it on at all.

After an hour of pacing around the house, sighing deeply, clicking the firefox icon, sighing, closing it and continuing pacing,

click click,

I had finally driven The Farmer nuts and I could tell from the look in his eye that I was in trouble.

When he yelled through the window for me to come outside I did so grudgingly, dragging my feet like a sulking school girl. He gave me a pair of wellies, a couple of buckets and
sent me off to the bottom of the garden with strict instructions not to come back into the house until they were both full.

Four hours later I staggered home; back aching, arms bleeding, red sticky fingers clutching full buckets of strawberries and a deep sense of peace and tranquillity radiating from within.

Bemoaning the differences between here and there is all very well, but one must not forget that differences can also be good.

When the internet failed to work the next morning I simply shrugged and changed my plans and when it finally came back on line yesterday, after a week of berry picking, jam making and other rural housewife type activities the feeling was a strange mix of joy and disappointment.

Our Editor, The Farmers wife, can also be found at her blog Running in Wellies.


Mama Zen said...

My internet was down recently, and I did the same "pace, click, pace, click" thing. As if I could help it along! Infuriating.

The Farmers Wife said...

isn't it just. I highly recommend berry picking as a much healthier alternative to the pace-click-pace thing.

Featured Post and Blog of the Week

You Are Here

by Amie from

You did well in school to get into college. You tried to get by well enough in college to be attractive to an employer or graduate program, and along the way you may have opened your heart a time or two. Maybe you even found true love.

With a foot in the door, the first years of work were the time to
prove your mettle once again. Promotions, raises all with the goal to secure your future will allow you to settle down, buy a house, travel, commit to a relationship, have kids or not. In what feels like a blink of an eye, your future is here.

And now what?

Read the full post...

Chance Favors Only Those Who Court Her

by Debbie from Missives from Suburbia

After a less-than-friendly divorce, I was on the market again. Seizing the opportunity, my friends scoured their address books and Palm Pilots for single men and set me up on blind date after blind date. My reaction to most of those dates was, "I call these people my FRIENDS?" One of my real friends suggested, and given how much I love the Internet, I gave it a go.

A couple months of e-dating passed by in a blink. It was fun, but so far nothing meaningful had hit my radar, and my match inventory was starting to run low. You see, "matches" you to people based on a list of your requirements, and I'd pretty much run through all my existing matches who didn't seem psycho or stoned, based on their profiles.

Then, one day, I got an email from a guy who was not a match by my standards...

Read the full post...

A Lost Opportunity

by John from Altjiranga Mitjina

Trying to break in as a writer in the comic book industry can be a bit like the one legged man in a butt kicking contest. Every step forward you make means you land on your butt after your kick forward. Comic books are a visual medium. An artist can bring a portfolio to an editor at a convention and said editor can sit there and look at it within minutes and decide if this artist is worthy of working on the newest issue of Stupendous Man or not. Trying being a hopeful writer handing over a script to this same editor at a busy comic convention. You’ll be lucky if the editor agrees to take the script and promise that they’ll look at it later. Most times the hopeful writer is told to send for their submission guidelines and mail in their proposal.

The best way for a writer is to find an aspiring artist and hook up...

Read the full post...

Jesus Toothpaste!

by Karen Rayne from Adolescent Sexuality Today with Karen Rayne, Ph.D.

This weekend I went out of town, leaving my family to fend for themselves. On Saturday, my darling husband took my two darling daughters – 6 and 3 years old – to what he heard was a fun new toy store in town. Great, right?

They walk in the door, and the 6-year-old pipes up with “Look, Daddy! Jesus toothpaste!” He takes one look, puts one hand on each girl’s shoulder, and does a 180 out of the store. It may be a fun new toy store, but it’s intended clientele does not include the under-13 set.

When I got home on Sunday, the first thing the 6-year-old says to me was, “Guess what! We saw Jesus toothpaste!” I blinked, figuring I hadn’t heard her correctly. Regrettably, I had...

Read the full post...

A biker, a green thumb, a cracked hand, and a Queen.

by Megan from Velveteen Mind, originally guest posted at Queen of Spain

A random biker on a Harley-Davidson took my picture last week. What I wanted to do was take his picture, but I hesitated. Now, instead of a photo of some random biker holding an i am bumper sticker, all I have is a lame photo of me holding the bumper sticker and the mental picture of him riding off into the sunset, never to be seen again.

Okay, it wasn’t as romantic or dramatic as that. It was nine in the morning and there was no sunset.

This is not the first time that I have hesitated to seize an opportunity. I don’t expect it will be the last. However, I hope with each lost chance for something intriguing, I will lose a shade of that hesitation for next time...

Read the full post...