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Say my name…

Day 18 of #HAWMC: Open a Book

Choose a book and open it to a random page and point to a phrase. Use that phrase to get you writing today. Free write for 15-20 without stopping.”


I just finished orchestrating “Operation Reception Seating Chart from HELL.”


I can assure you that the only thing to be “read” at this moment is how far my father is from my mother, and where on earth we’re all supposed to stand for the receiving line*.

*Receiving line? You have got to be shittin’ me.

[enter *headdesk*, stage left]

I’m “reading” through any of the 144 people named on little pieces of paper perched precariously at the edge of each circular round drawn to represent the tables at which said people will dine and feast together in our honour.

[enter *delirium*, stage right]

I swear I just heard a brain cell pop.  I only have four at any given time…the loss of one could be detrimental to the safety of all humanity.  You’ve been warned.

However, I can certainly be appeased by chocolate.  Don’t let me know it’s from you, though, ‘cuz if my I’ve-earned-this-ass gets bigger as a result of consuming said chocolate, sleep with one eye open.  You’ve been warned.

I “read” round tables and square tables and head tables, OH MY!

I “read” dance floor and open door and whatthehellisthatfor, OH MY!

I “read” family and frivolity and anxiety, OH M….what was I saying?


After the “sticky-note dance” and sending out copies of the ceremony to participants and scheduling all but two outstanding details…

….I “read” by the light of my delirium falling sharply onto the white bristol board map of all things reception related that I’ve damn well up’d and did something so bloody epic, I shall write about every chance I get:

I am a woman who has spent the last 18 months managing five children, a job, a household, raising awareness for invisible illnesses whilst in the throes of the longest flare my carcass has endured to date (December, 2010), blogging and dagnammit…I planned a mo-fo “Handfasting Huzzah of Epicness”, to boot.

THAT, my dear readers, is precisely why they CALL me:


[enter *Pumbaa voice-over*, centre stage]


Damn proud of myself.


Very much, YES. 😉

This post was written in participation of WEGO Health Activist Writer’s Month Challenge, April 2012.

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