Yes, I am still working on the “false allegations of child abuse question.” Please be patient.
In the meantime, I give you this:
Please click on that link and visit me over at Writer Beat. Writer Beat is a collection of work by all sorts of people.
Some of it is pretty good. Most of it is not.
I always get a lot of wacky comments so if you’d like to see me eviscerated by anonymous nut jobs, give a click over there and check it out. If you want to leave a comment you’ll have to join the site.
Finally, I am gifting you with a preview of a book I decided just yesterday needs to be written by yours truly.
Robin’s New Book!
“The Parsimonious Guide to Piquant Pabulum: Meals to Impress Your Friends, Feed Your Family, and Fit Your Budget.”
Boy, that’s a mouthful. Ha ha.
Part memoire and part cookbook, this will be a delightful fish-out-of-water romp with valuable insights and delicious recipes. Readers will join me in my transmogrification from a pampered bitch who never considered the prices of groceries to a struggling writer determined to save money wherever she can.*
I jotted this down on Facebook yesterday and made a few changes just now but don’t consider this the final product.
Sneak Peek of Chapter 1: Robin Discovers WinCo and WinCo discovers Robin:
“Tottering” and “doddering.” I think those are the best two words to describe my first WinCo Foods experience.
I chose the wrong shoes, to be sure.
Elegant and stylish footwear has always been my Achilles’ Heel, so to speak.
Up until recently, my shoe “problem” (as Mr. Patience and Understanding refers to it, although I see no problem at all) resulted in my accumulation of dozens of sexy sandals, beautiful boots, pulchritudinous pumps, and fetching flats.
I say “up until recently” because as you should know if you bothered to read the blurb on the back of this book you’re holding, times have changed. I’ve dedicated myself to an austere lifestyle as I follow my new career path to fame, fortune, and the eventual ruin that befalls those who achieve everything they ever dreamed of.
I wonder who will play me in the Lifetime move? But I digress…
I may not buy those fancy shoes anymore, but I wear the ones I have. And I’ll be damned if I’ll sink so low as to shop at WinCo in cheap shoes. One can only fall so far so fast, you know.
Still, 4 inch-heeled sandals aren’t ideal for grocery shopping in a scrum. Hence the tottering.
The doddering was due to the overwhelming nature of it all.
I wobbled and careened around the place with my neatly-typed list in hand and a shopping cart large enough to house a small family or one-half of a Kardashian ass. As I zigged and I zagged from aisle to aisle, questions arose:
“How could so much food be in one place?” “How could it be so inexpensive?” “Why have I never been here before?” “What is ‘menudo?'” and “Why am I so much taller than everyone else?”
After almost 90 minutes of doggedly-purposeful price and quality analysis, I found my way to the checkout station. As I carefully balanced in my ridiculously beautiful but impractical shoes waiting to pay for my prizes, I organized the food and engaged with the lovely cashier: an owner-employee of Winco who likely has more money in her retirement accounts than most anyone I know.
“Hello!” I twinkled, shifting my weight from side to side as my left pinky toe went numb.
“Could you be a doll and separately bag the items that need to be refrigerated from the ones that do not?”
The cashier looked at me and blinked twice. Her mouth went slack with a strange sort of piteous look.
“Oh Sweetie,” she said, “I don’t bag your groceries. You’re at Winco. Haven’t you ever been here before? Are you lost or something? Hey, cute shoes!”
A lesser woman would have chided me derisively and mocked my unfamiliarity with it all, but she was so kind. She spoke to me with a gentle soothing voice remeniscent of how I speak to especially stupid children, really old people, and my brother John.
…to be continued
*Until the new gig starts paying big time, which is any day now. Then I go back to being a pampered bitch.