Sometimes I just don't feel like writing.  I wonder how Steven King, Sue Grafton, Dean Koontz and the other prolific authors keep it going...

Two writable thoughts today.

I hate those stupid tests on Facebook that ask "what kind of instrument are you?" or "in what era should you have lived?".  They are all so absolutely inane.  Multiple choice is just the most ridiculous type of testing.  Unless of course you were my Biology professor in college.  he was a God of writing multiple choice questions.  A.  a and b, B.  b and c, C.  all of the above, D. none of the above, E half of a, a quarter of b and all of c but not d, F.  write real answer here.  He was a God let me tell you.

Anyhow, I hate those stupid tests on Facebook.  I can't believe each time I try one that I'm thinking the whole time about how ridiculous this is.  So as of today, Jan 4 (oh my God it is Jan. 4 already!) I resolve not to take any more of those stupid tests.

In fact, maybe I'll write my own banal test and put it on Facebook.  "How big of an asshole are you?"  No I think it has already been done.

I just want to know why people persist in giving me Christmas things when I am not a Christian and I really don't like Christmas.  This is just one of the many lovely things I have been given by adoring admirers.

All right then.  My second thought for writing today.  My mother, God bless her soul, yes, the Christian God.  She was a Christian!  She had such a way with words sometimes that could break your heart or blow your brain into mush.

I had this good friend, George.  George had very bad acne and was pretty much overweight.  I loved him though, not in the Biblical (what is wrong with me?) sense but in a one of my best friends ever sense.  I think George very much wanted to be my boyfriend but I was not into that realm of things.  George hung out at the house like all of my friends who were hungry all the time.  My mom had this eating disorder before anyone knew about eating disorders.  She loved to cook but didn't eat in front of us.

George would come over and hang out and my mom would miraculously transpose a hung of meat and some potatoes into a burger and homefries.  I had an overwhelming appetite also and we would devour our food proclaiming it to be the most wonderful we had every had.  My mother bloomed.

So one day George asked me out in front of my mom.  I told him I couldn't go because I didn't have anything to wear.  My mother says and I quote, "George have you ever seen Wilma without any clothes?"  I swear those were her exact words.

George turned 50 shades of red.  I don't know if he had glimpsed me naked somehow and was embarrassed or if he just imagined me naked at the moment and was embarrassed.  Anyhow, I went on that date with George, clothed, thank you.  We went to a lovely restaurant with a ship theme.  (Excapes me.)  I haven't seen or heard from George since high school graduation.  I somehow picture him as that John Candy guy from Trains, Planes and Automobiles, selling shower curtain rings.  I hope and think with my mind's eye that George is really teaching nude sculpture in Venice and has a really hot girlfriend who adores him and feeds him burgers and homefries.

Me and Mommy right after my birth in October, 1950.  She was 32.  I was less than one.