Jul 8, 2017 |
by Molly Jo Realy (@RealMojo68)
How many of you are fist-pumpin’ to the beat? C’mon. That song. That go-get-’em, conquering, sports-theme-y, you-got-this song . . . DundundunDUNDUNdunDUN. Yeah. That one.
Yeah, we got this!
Well, anyway, in your head, I want you to imagine the greatest celebratory music you can conjure. Got it? Awesome.
Keep it playing in the background, and read on.
It’s no secret that I have a new website. But I’m not sure all of you know FMD and NIP are undergoing some cosmetic surgery as well. A little NIP, a little tuck. (Ooh. NIP. See what I did there?)
Frankly, My Dear . . . : Nippers and Bruno and Molly Jo Realy
Now, I don’t know how soon y’all can see it, but it’ll be soon. Real soon, I promise.
So here’s the thing. I’m changing the way I do things, too. And one is how I send the email notices whenever there’s a new post. For the foreseeable future, I intend to have posts every day. WHAT?! You ask? Isn’t that a crazy lot of blogging to do? And This Girl would have to agree with you. Here’s the awesome part. I’m bringing on board some really great contributors to help. More about them later.
Right now, I want to make sure you don’t miss a thing. So. First, check back every day. ‘Cause you don’t want to miss this.
Second, if you’ve been a subscriber for any duration, keep an eye on it in the next week or so. I’m changing from an RSS feed to email-only subscription. That doesn’t mean much to you, but what it means to me is I’m transferring my subscription list for easier management. Right now, I’ve got two lists going on and that’s just a little unkempt.
So help This Girl out and if you realize you’re not getting the email feed, resubscribe. If you want to hedge your bets and subscribe now using a different email, just click here: Subscribe to Frankly, My Dear.
I hope you’ll stick around. And, you might want to take a look at some of my very first posts. Those no longer fit with the new scheme, and I’m thinking it’s time to clean out those closets. Translate: Getting rid of the old to make room for the new.
With an air conditioner and delete key,
~Happy reading.
Molly Jo
And Frankly, My Dear . . . That’s all she wrote!
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Oct 22, 2011 |
by Molly Jo Realy @MollyJoRealy
Will Power and the Haunted House
This is the true story of Will Power. Will was given to me by my mom one year. I keep Will with me at all times, always within arm’s reach. Even so, sometimes I forget about Will Power.
I used to take Will Power to work with me every day. Will would keep me company as I drove to and from errands, took care of the house, spent time with my family, and faced things I’d rather run away from.
Will Power Close & Personal
This is Will. No, not the ghost who looks a bit like Casper. Look again. See, there he is: a tiny thing, to be sure. But just like Jiminy Cricket, his little presence certainly packs a punch.
Will is my reminder that I can do anything, be anyone, take care of whatever needs taking care of… and if I can’t, I can find someone who can!
This particular day, Will Power faced a deep internal struggle. There was a very scary place that he didn’t want to go to, but knew, for his healthy future, he had to… it was that Haunted House of a place known as
The Dentist’s Office. (insert terrifying horror-movie scream, here.)
As with any terrifying upcoming event, Will Power began to shake and wonder if maybe there was a way out of it; if perhaps, going to the dentist wasn’t as necessary as he was being told. Past experiences being what they were, this wasn’t the treat he was looking for. It didn’t take long before Will’s Hallowe’en costume resembled that of an ostrich with his head buried in the sand.
“Sand is okay,” he thought. “It’s earthy. It’s beachy. I can live with sand.” Until it got in his mouth. And aggravated him. A lot.
It wasn’t long before Will Power was faced with the determination that two hours in the chair was better than three months of endless pain. So he bit the bullet… or, would have, if his teeth had let him.
Will Power and I set the appointment. He thought it was apropo that, upon entering, there were cobwebs and scaries about. Yes, it had been a while since our teeth were professionally cared for. But we fought our way in and decided to stay. At least for a while.
We were asked to come back, and while I didn’t care to, Will Power told me it was necessary, and he would not leave me alone. He went with me. He sat with me in the chair of noise, under the bright lights and creepy things. He whispered in my ear and held my hand; assuring me it would be over soon. I listened to nothing but him, saw nothing but him, and hummed a lullaby, just for him.
Until finally, the cobwebs were cleared out and we could exit the Haunted House with a feeling of conquering, of accomplishment.
Like any good Haunted House, we’ll be back next year. But at least next time around, we’ll know what to expect. And we’ll floss out the cobwebs before we get there. We may even go in the off-season, only to find there’s nothing to really be afraid of.
