I’m Taking a Survey

Each of the photos in the attached PDF represents a biography that I either have written, am in the process of writing, or intend to write (sometime before I die, but that’s as precise as I intend to get regarding the timeline). Here is the question. Looking at the photos and knowing nothing about these people, which story would you be the most interested in reading?  (Yes, this is all an elaborate way to help me end procrastination. Thank you for your assistance!).



Accidentally Published

I wrote about Soile almost two years ago, back when I nurtured the illusion that there was such a thing as an anonymous blog. Ha! Not long afterward I had a message from my friend Hoss in my email inbox. He had deduced that the post had been written by a Washington based, female Esperantist. Knowing that it wasn’t Ellen, that pretty much meant it had to be me (we are a microscopic demographic, we are)! So, at his suggestion, we reworked that post into a version for more polite company, and he published it in American Esperantist Magazine (did I mention that Hoss is the editor?).

Be careful what you write, people. You never know who might be listening…

Real Estate Follies

Brady Bunch HouseI spent Saturday morning looking at houses, because I don’t have enough frustration in my life. Same old story: the houses available were drunk and derelict and listing badly to port—buying one of those would be as foolish as marrying a man in the hope that you could change him. The best of the bunch had the sort of ugly-puppy-in-a-shelter appeal that’s hard to resist. I could work with this, I thought. But that one, as it turned out, already had an offer on it.

The only house that was both truly available and livable was the sort of soulless 70’s rambler that was so generic as to make the Brady Bunch house (the seminal icon of 70’s architecture as far as I’m concerned) seem as ornamented as an Italianate mansion. The only visions it brought to mind were of television commercials for prescription depression medications. The cessation of joy. The extinguishment of the will to live. “So that’d be a no?” my still hopeful relator asked. That would certainly be a no.

Isn’t this supposed to be a buyer’s market? 

I’m not ready to give up the hunt yet. Something is out there, waiting to be found.


Look what I found posted on Facebook today:

Well. Maybe under different circumstances…