Anne B. Walsh - Do you believe in magic?
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Just one little problem
The Jewels of the Goddess
Introducing Why Do I Work Here Wednesdays!
My un-vacation
Important days

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Anne's Randomness

Just one little problem

So for those of you who may not have seen my post last week introducing Why Do I Work Here Wednesdays, my day job title is that of administrative assistant. This combines secretary, receptionist, floor mom, and coordinator of various things which happen in an office, including, quite recently, a move by one of the teams I support.
 
Now an office/cubicle move isn't quite as much fuss as moving from one place you can live to another, but it's still got a good bit of annoyance attached to it.

The Jewels of the Goddess

Good morning, everyone, and happy Fiction Friday! The short-short story I have to offer you today is based on something I tried writing lo, these many moons ago, but which never quite gelled into an acceptable piece of work. Sometimes it can be hard to find the flaws in your own writing, simply because you're a little too close to it.
 
But in any case, I've tried to make this a fun little story, amusing and a bit thought-provoking, like most of what I write. Let me know if I've succeeded, won't you?

Introducing Why Do I Work Here Wednesdays!

So since my first post this week was on Monday, apologizing for my lack of posts last week, I feel the need to post again today. Perhaps this would be a good time to debut another day of the week series: Why Do I Work Here Wednesdays! (And to all those literalists who will point out little things like paychecks, I have only this to say: MEH.)
 
For anyone who doesn't know, I have a day job in downtown Pittsburgh, in a big old office tower belonging to a company I like to call Glass Bathroom Bank.

My un-vacation

Well, I knew I needed time off from the office, but a migraneous head cold, or a head-cold-induced migraine, was not the way I wanted to go about it! But for most of last week, starting shortly after my last blog post, that was what had hold of me, and that is why I have been less active than usual online and haven't posted a chapter.
 
Now, before you start tossing sympathy, be aware that my migraines are not (usually) terribly painful. They do, however, mess with both my vision and my balance.

Important days

I am too lazy to actually go and look, but I think it has been approximately a year since I got this website started, and this blog along with it. I may be very off, and if I am, then you, O readers, can enjoy a chuckle up your sleeves at my inability to remember dates. I'm always happy to provide you entertainment, even inadvertent.
 
A far more important date is coming up -- the tenth anniversary of the Dangerverse, by which I have said multiple times that I would have the main story completed.

The sea-bride, part two

As I said a few weeks ago, the continuation of the tale of Maeve and Richard Laverty was a story for another day...and that day is today! Yes, O readers, today is a first for Fiction Friday, as I look back to an earlier post and go on with the story of the courtship of Richard and Maeve. Only this time, the lady gets to speak for herself.
 
Will there be more of this same story after today's posting? Well, why don't you read to the end of what Maeve has to say, and then you tell me what you think.

Sounds of silence

This will not be a long blog post. I have very little to say at the moment that is not either depressive, whiny, or self-deprecating, and you, O readers, have no need to hear any of that from me. I am sure you get plenty of it from the insides of your very own minds. Or, if you don't, be grateful. It's less than fun to be your own best enemy.
 
Writing on Chapter 65 continues, when enough energy and a few free minutes coincide. In between times I'm just trying to keep up with the demands of life.

Of music and martyrs

Seem like an odd title for a blog post? Well, the church I attend, and in which I am active in the music ministry, is named for a third-century martyr. Ta-da! I will not reveal the name of said martyr, but we have an ongoing, mostly joking, feud over how to say it. Thus, I fictionalize the parish as "Our Lady of the Mispronunciation".
 
We had our parish feast day recently, and sang a hymn about our patron saint, for which I am both proud and embarrassed to say that I supplied new lyrics.

Click, click, hiss

And no, that is not what you hear when you scare a cat wearing tap shoes. Though I will have to remember that as a punchline for one of my signature really bad jokes. It is, in fact, part of a song from a Broadway musical of years gone by, which is about workers at a pajama factory who go on strike to get a seven and a half cent raise.
 
What's that you say? Making it up? Perish the thought. I would never do such a thing. Well, actually, I do it all the time. But on this occasion, it's gospel truth.

How do they find me?

Not only a quote from one of my favorite movies, the identity of which I shall reveal further down, but the title of my post for today is an honest question. How do you find me, O readers? What, or who, led you to the writing of Anne B. Walsh, and what is it that keeps you around through my strange and often infuriating twists and turns?
 
"They come here, they all come here. How do they find me?" So spake Max Bialystock, producer of guaranteed Broadway flops, right up until the one he intended to be.
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