Ooops . . . I took too long before posting.

Once again, this is my main flaw with blogging: I don't blog daily, nor weekly, and barely would it count as monthly. And I am not sure what to do about it. Most times, I am either not on the computer when I think of something to say, or when I am on, I'm not blogging. Like I said, I'm not sure what to do about it. I will probably attempt some convoluted blonde-logic of a solution. So we shall see if it works. :-)

My parents' Wedding Pictures.

Happy together.

At the bridal shower, Mom's good humor shone. When they received a set of crocheted potholders that stack to resemble a hamburger, she tried to feed it to Dad. I think that's how a shower should be: lots of jokes.

 Classy bride pose.

 Smiles between mother and daughter on this special day.
Family feuds have no place at a wedding.

 The look on the groom's face at the front of the aisle. I hope someday my groom looks equally smug and contented.

 "I now present to you: Mr. and Mrs. Chowning!" (And the crowd goes wild! "Yay!" Standing ovations! Rice and bubbles! Pride and contentment! Happiness and delight! That's what I dream
of for my wedding day.)

 Within the family, this is nearly as famous as the courtship. They were in such a conservative church that not only did they save their first kiss for at the altar, the pastor didn't even include it. They snuck away to 'seal the deal,' and just afterwards, the photographer came running up. "Hey! I didn't catch that! Do it again!" So, behold: their second kiss.

 Fleeing the scene of the crime quite contentedly.

 New technology:
Scrapbook the photos
Then take pictures thereof with a smartphone or such.
Upload to Internet.
Post on a blog and comment inanely.

 The next generation: The granddaughter looking at her past and her future.

My Parents' Wedding Album

My grandmother sent my parents' wedding album. I'm creating a digital copy. In this case, that means taking pictures of the pictures on my tablet, connecting my tablet and transferring them to the comp, fixing the tone, tagging and labeling, and then uploading certain ones to the social media.

It also means crafting an update and a biography combined into an email short enough for people to read and once again sending it out, 5 people at a time so that it doesn't clog. No stress; the family's financial security is only on the line. 'Just tell them what they want to hear,' is basically what my Dad says. Never mind that not even he knows what that it. Heaven help us, I don't think even 'they' know what 'they' want to know.

I probably should share some sort of celebratory blog on the family's official site, but I have no clue how I'd reduce 33 years of marriage into something like that. Therefore, I'm grateful that neither of my parents have thought of assigning me that task specifically.

And, worse yet, I still keep wandering off to goof off, often playing Solitaire or Sudoku. At least at this time of night I'm less likely to start on a new book; thank the Lord for small miracles.

It sounds like a parrot.

Earlier, I mentioned that I had a joke but had forgotten it.

Then, I heard it again.

To a girl who has been in the Amazon rainforest as a missionaries' kid, and later as a grown-up missionary, it's a fairly well-known sound. It starts with a gulp; then there's a squak, followed by an almost-hiss. It's an Amazon Conure, a predominately-green parrot with either a yellow or red spot of marking.

So why am I hearing it at a house in Missouri? I keep looking around.

Finally, I spot it:

An exotic automatic air-freshener! Geesh, you really had me going.

Creating a Blog for . . .

I am now in charge of sending my mother the blogs for the family ministry's blog. I won't tell you the name of it, because I don't want you to know that I have failed that often to blog on it. But I also want a channel of my own for people to read (or not, as the case may be.) I used to have one on a hosting site called Xanga. Then, they updated it and updated me out of existence. Also, I found out that my Mom received it directly. Sort of intimidating to know that your mother is reading everything. Admittedly, my normal solution for that, either online or in my journals around the house, is to use a foreign language when possible - preferably Korean, because she doesn't care much for it. I also think one came with my Hotmail email address. But I changed my password to match my new boyfriend-candidate, and wore out the relationship so fast that I can't remember the ingenious password I had chosen. I'd normally have it send a reminder to my cell phone, but it's still trying to find a Colombian network in the USA. (I'm here on furlough before returning to the Amazon jungle.)

Anyhow, since I'm on the computer, it's somewhat difficult to jot these things down on a spare sheet like I would any other time. Besides, someone might (improbably, but hey ) care to be in on the joke. Now, let me see if I can remember what it was. (By the way, if you didn't know, I'm blonde with brunette undertones; I'm scatter-brained, though maybe not quite as bad as some.)

So, here's a new blonde joke: A blonde goes online and creates a blog to share jokes on. Then, just when she's finished creating the blog . . . she forgets the joke.