Friday, September 26, 2014

T.G.I.F. (Pink Slip scrounges up a last minute post.)

The unthinkable has happened.

Pink Slip, which always has enough posts stockpiled for at least a day or two ahead, has skated out onto thin ice that finds me sitting here at 11:14 p.m. on a Thursday with nothing to post for Friday. Which would break a pretty long and mostly unbroken streak of daily posting.

Oh, the horror.

I have some excuses.

  • A client who asked me to help out with an extensive editing job on a piece written by a fellow-freelancer who, I can only imagine, will not be doing much more fellow-freelancing for that particular client. (I punched the clock on that one at 11:13 p.m.)
  • Combing through my slush pile of topics that I’ve begun noodling around with – and may well fully get to so day – and finding myself meh, meh, mehing one after the next. (Meh.)
  • Ending up the first anniversary of the glorious week I spent with my husband in NYC last fall. Our last trip together… And a glorious one it was, with Jim, even while in the midst of what turned out to be the last chemo gasp, with enough energy to take long walks every day, explore new restaurants, and even introduce me to a place in The City that I’d never been to: Gracie Mansion. A week or so after he got home, up popped the met to his brain. Our last trip together…And a glorious one it was. But one that makes me so damned sad when I think about it. So this week I spent a bit of time letting myself feel sad, listening to soppy music, staring off into space, just plain missing Diggy…

Thus, in the long dark night of the blogging soul, Pink Slip got nada, zilch, zippo.

Other than this litany of headlines – ripped from today’s online news – that might have made for a post. If I’d had the willingness to do one.

Haspel's New Take on Seersucker Is Tailor-Made for Fall. (Bloomberg/Business Week)

Sorry, no. Unless you’re in the tropics, seersucker, like straw hats, linen, and white shoes, should only be worn between Memorial Day and Labor Day. And if you don’t believe me, go ask Brooks Brothers.

Twin Peaks: 'Hooters Just Wasn't Racy Enough' (Bloomberg/Business Week)

Well, seersucker might not make the cut. (After all, it’s after Labor Day.) But a post on a restaurant chain that strives to outdo Hooters. Coming up shortly. (Never having heard of the Twin Peaks chain, I clicked on this one just to see what the connection was being Twin Peaks the TV show and Hooters. It’s tough living in a blue state that doesn’t have a ton of breastaurants. There are things we just can not know.)

Polaroid Goes After GoPro With a $99 Action Camera (Bloomberg/Business Week)

I didn’t even know Polaroid was still in business? Or did I? I’ll have to look back through the Pink Slip archives.

Apple Rebuts Charges of Bending iPhones (WSJ Online)

Bend me, shape me, anyway you want me, but I remain unbending in my commitment to keep saying ‘no’ to the iPhone. Seeing last Saturday’s colossal line outside the Apple Store on Boylston Street did nothing to budge me here. (Let’s see what I end up doing when my trusty Blackberry bites the digital dust.)

Misdirected script text from Walmart drove guilt-ridden killer to drive across US and confess to woman's 1997 cold-case murder (Daily Mail – UK.)

Huh? I say, huh, huh?

12 Seriously Underrated Perks Of Being Single (Huffington Post)

I don’t think I’m quite ready to go there yet. All I can think of are two: more closet space, less trash. Other than that…

A couple of months before Jim died, but when we knew he didn’t have long, my wonderful friend Marie and I were talking and she said, “Just think of all the times you were sitting there wishing that you had the house to yourself. And now…” We shared a melancholy laugh – the kind that I think that only 50-year friends can. Fast forward a few months after Jim’s death, and Marie was gone as well. What a rotten two-fer this has been.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m actually someone who likes being by herself. (Good thing.) I’m not afraid of being alone, of going places by myself, or sitting here in the quiet. Still, the joys of being single remain, at least at this juncture, seriously overrated.

Now, post accomplished!

It’s nearing midnight.

Gotta get into bed with a good book.

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