Yippee!!

Yippee!  It's published.  The first copies of my book arrived today!

Okay, so this is shameless self-promotion of a sort, but look at it this way: the sooner we sell out, the sooner I'll quit posting about this project.  Hint, hint.

What I really want to promote, though, is the art in the book.  We utilized the talents of 18 artists, ranging from sixth grade through retirement years.  The work by these folks is what really makes the book. 


"Don't Pick Up The Ham With Your Fingers" is a little gift or novelty book; the subtitle is "A Little Book to Do Momma's Naggin' For Her."

This illustration is featured on the cover.  It's by Austin Lane, a student at Socastee High School near Myrtle Beach. 






It's a book filled with the humor and wit of a parent's nagging.  So, why do the illustrations and caricatures feature a pig, a monkey, a ladybug and flip flops?  Find out when you get your copy.

Below are the links to see more about the little book and about the illustrators, including Emily Lyles, whose art is on exhibit at one of the Smithsonian galleries 11/1/11 - 1/22/12.

On Facebook

The Book's Blog

Taking a Break from the Phone????

I don’t like to talk on the phone. Never have. As a matter of fact, I detest being on the phone.

Why? I have absolutely no idea.



That’s the reason it shocked me when Mom and I ended a phone call a few days ago and I realized we had talked for about an hour and a half.



An hour and a half? That’s about 88 or 89 minutes longer than most of my phone conversations.

This was a special situation, though.

I’m getting three little books ready for publication, and Mom is serving as “editorial consultant,” i.e. typical mom.

On this particular day, we were going page by page over the phone, talking about corrections, changes, suggestions and so forth. It was a somewhat complicated procedure because I had made some minor changes, just enough that our versions weren’t exactly alike.

After about an hour, Mom asked, “Why don’t we take a break, go get something to eat, then come back to this?”

And that’s when she realized this wouldn’t work; we weren’t in the same place. We weren't even in the same town!

She said she had been thinking of several places where we could go grab a quick bite to eat before returning to our work at hand.

That’s something rather difficult to do when you’re over 100 miles apart, don’t you think?


~~~~~~~~~~~

Exam Time - Ugh!

Tomorrow morning I'll be taking the MPRE - Multistate Professional Responsibility Exam.  It's a legal ethics exam and required for admittance to the bar. 

I've been studying a lot, which is why I haven't posted much lately. 

We have to pay rather hefty fees to take the exam.  Once the fee is paid and the future lawyer has registered for the exam, a "ticket" for admission is e-mailed to each hope-to-be attorney. 

When I received mine, I decided to save it on the computer instead of printing it right then.  That's because I knew if I printed it several weeks ahead of time, I'd certainly lose it before exam time.  Know what I mean???

So, here it is around 8 pm on Friday, just about 12 hours before exam time.  I just printed out my ticket. 

It's a good thing I didn't wait until tomorrow morning to print it.  I thought I was taking the exam at a site in Charleston - just about 30 minutes from my house.   No, I have to drive two hours to a different location in the morning for the exam! 

Looking at this new information (to me) in a positive light, at least I will have two hours to listen to lectures on CDs while driving!

Where Do You Earn THAT Degree?

Every once in a while I get e-mails about job openings from various sources. Last week, there was one that really interested me. Good job, good benefits, good pay and really interesting work.

And it seemed that I met all of the requirements and had the right qualifications. Then I saw a section about “preferred qualifications” – above and beyond those required. One preference was for an advanced degree, which I have in law, but several possibilities were listed. One of those concerned me and made me really wonder about that job.

Listed at two different places was this advanced degree: Masters in Pubic Health.

What school offers THAT degree? What all do you study to earn such a degree? Perhaps there’s a course in anatomy, maybe one involving human behavior or social behavior. I actually took a course called Human Sexuality in college but not because I was working toward a degree in Pubic Health. 


(I hate to admit it but I almost failed Human Sexuality. Which, of course, is crazy because, by exam time, my husband and I were expecting our second child. I told the professor I knew what to do but just didn’t know what to call it!)

In earning a Masters in Pubic Health, does a student have lab work? Does it involve independent study?

Forget those job listings. I think I’ll go back to school to get a Masters in Pubic Health. Since I’ve given birth to three children and been married more than once, maybe I can start off ahead of the game with credits for life experiences. I ought to be able to get this advanced degree in almost no time at all!

Gov. Mark Sanford: Number One Songs, Then & Now

When Mark and Jenny Sanford got married on Nov. 4, 1989, the number one song in the U.S. was “Listen to Your Heart” by Roxette.

Sometime later – about 12 or so years later – the heart he was listening to was saying "Argentina." And, as far as we can tell – and based on what the SC governor says – his heart is still in Argentina.

Where his heart is, though, is not the concern of our state’s citizens. Where his head is – now that is of concern to the citizenry.

Based on his actions, his heart and his head - and all of the rest of him - have been in Argentina lately.

His personal life is his business. We’ve never had a perfect elected official and we never will. We elect them, imperfections and all.

But when we elect our officials, while we may not expect perfection, we most certainly expect them to carry out the duties of their respective offices.

That is where Mark Sanford failed the state of South Carolina.

His betrayal of his wife, his absence from his four sons on Father’s Day – those are not impeachable offenses, although they most likely brought to a standstill his presidential ambitions.

His failures as husband and father are the business of the Sanford family. His failure as governor is of public concern, and rightly so.

Some officials claim that Sanford is so head-over-heels “ga-ga” in love with his Argentinean soul mate that he is not thinking clearly and can’t effectively govern even with his return to the state. A few are suggesting a chemical imbalance and mental instability, among other things.

Does being “ga-ga” in love mean the governor is incapacitated to the extent that he cannot effectively govern? I don’t know.

But he was definitely incapacitated geographically and unable to govern when he left the country for five days, slipping away from his own security and making himself unreachable by any living soul in the United States. There is reason to question his judgment, his decision-making skills, his concern for the state.

Some pundits say, “Oh, well, there was no emergency, so everything is okay.”
That there was no actual emergency does not excuse Sanford.

South Carolina has faced emergencies before: several hurricanes over the years, riots, the recent Myrtle Beach wildfires, for example. Anything could happen without notice: a train derailment, an airplane crash, a disease outbreak.

Maybe Sanford, who still declares that Maria in Argentina is his soul-mate, is thinking about that famous line from the movie Love Story: “Love means never having to say you’re sorry.”

He might do better to quote Marlon Brando in the 1954 movie On the Waterfront: "I coulda had class. I coulda been a contender. I coulda been somebody, instead of a bum, which is what I am, let's face it."

Or perhaps he should just go by the title of this week’s Billboard chart-topper. It’s by The Black Eyed Peas: "The E.N.D."

Where Do I Start???

Have you ever had so much to do that you just didn’t know which to do first?
Have you ever been so busy that you just didn’t know whether you were coming or going?

Many of us have those days, those weeks.

Sometimes at night I make a list of things I need to accomplish the next day. Then, I just hope I can find the list the next day. And if I do find that list, I often just stare at it, wondering where to start.

Occasionally, I’ll start one thing on a list, then jump to another, then another, never really getting anything done.

Well, I think Mom has had some of those days recently.

Earlier this week, Mom said she made a list for the day, but it had only one thing on it: “Finish something.”

Doesn’t that just say it all? Get something done on this day.

Way to go, Mom. Hope you were successful!

You Have to Ask the Right Question!

Sometimes, you just need to ask the right question.

Several years ago, I was presiding over a hearing in a courtroom, when I apparently asked the witness the wrong question.

After getting his name, age and address, I queried: “Marital status?”
He just gave me a blank look. Then he said, “Ma’am?”

So, to further explain my question, I asked, “Married? Separated? Divorced?” I was just trying to let him know what “marital status” meant.

After thinking just a minute, the man replied, “I guess we’re separated. She’s dead.”

Well, yes, that would indeed be a separation. The man must have thought he had to choose one of the three options I had given him, and I failed to name every single possibility in the world.

Yep, sometimes getting the right answer means asking the right question.

I Really, Really, Really Hate Red Tape!

I hate red tape. When I say I hate red tape, I mean I really, really, really hate red tape.
Right now, my frustration is aimed at IRS.
I’ve been getting letters saying I didn’t file with IRS or pay my taxes in 2002, 2003 and 2004.

But I did. Not only did I file my returns, I got refunds each of those three years.

So, either IRS received what I filed, or, out of the goodness of its heart, IRS sent me money each year. Did I say “heart” when referring to IRS? Poor choice of words.
I’ve written back saying yes, I did file returns. Yes, I got refunds. Please check your records, IRS.

Now I’ve gotten another letter from this particular bureaucratic agency. It seems that IRS is not going to send my refund for this year because the nice folks are deducting it from what they say I owe for 2002, 2003 and 2004 – the same years for which they previously sent refunds.
And with each passing day, interest and penalties are being added.

Does anyone at IRS actually read the mail? Has anyone thought to look at the letter I sent, or did it just get filed as correspondence without being read?

Although I’ve changed names (that happens with marriage and divorce, you know), I haven’t changed social security numbers. I’ve even notified IRS about the name change and reminded them that the social security number is the same.
If I go bald, it will be from pulling out my hair! Maybe I’ll just cover my head with red tape. Red tape seems so fashionable. Apparently it’s the “in” thing – at least at IRS.

You're From WHERE???

Someone asked me who in the world reads my blogs? (I think it was Mom.)
The truth is that, unless people let me know otherwise, I don’t have any idea who the readers are, but I do know where you’re reading from, or at least the general area.

As most bloggers know, there are several services that help us track our readers, not by name, but by geographical location. We also learn how long someone is on the site. This information has been totally amazing to me.

When I first started blogging, I had no idea if anyone at all would read the blog. I was really doing this for myself, to make me sit down and write on an almost-daily basis. Yet, I thought perhaps some family members and friends might occasionally look at it.

It’s exciting to learn that people from all kinds of places drop in on occasion! And I’ve “met” several fantastic and interesting people through our respective blogs.

Within South Carolina, there are routinely readers from Summerville, Charleston, North Charleston, Chapin, Greer, Greenville, Myrtle Beach, Columbia, West Columbia, Lake City, Lexington, Ladson and more.

Readers come from all across the United States. The states with the most visits, other than South Carolina, are Pennsylvania, Ohio, California, Colorado, New York and Washington.

More amazing, though, is that there are readers from all over the world. The one place with the most visits – and those longest in length – is Waterloo, Ontario, Canada.

Others have come from Paris, Ile-de-France, France; Kegalla, Sri Lanka; Pretoria, Gauteng, South Africa; Viladecns, Cataluna, Spain. These are just a few of the most recent readers.

There have been visitors from the Philippines, Malaysia, Portugal, Thailand and Germany and many others from miles and miles away.

There have been lots of readers from various places in the United Kingdom.

So, aside from writing and making on-line friends, I’m getting a geography lesson.

To all of you, thanks for visiting, for reading, for leaving comments.

I appreciate you!

Don't forget to check out Wordless Wednesday (below) and leave your caption!

Don't Call Me Sweetie!

I was in a store the other day when the lady at the counter said to me, “Hi, sweetie.”
I detest being called “sweetie.” Especially by another woman. Especially by someone who doesn’t know me.

Although I don’t know exactly why, this has always bothered me.

One time at a restaurant, the waitress kept calling me sweetie. I was dressed professionally and was definitely quite a few years older than the waitress. I started not to leave a tip, but then decided to leave one. Her service was good; she was friendly. I just didn’t like what she called me. (Oh, yes, I’ve been called much worse than “sweetie.” After all, I’ve been a politician, so perhaps I ought to appreciate being called sweetie or honey or sugar.)

As a matter of fact, I left this waitress a generous tip – along with a note telling her that I had started to leave without tipping just because of being called sweetie. I explained that, as a professional woman, I thought being called sweetie was demeaning. Maybe I was wrong leaving the note; I don’t know.

Over the years I’ve wondered about this and have talked about it with a few other women. Our collective belief is that women who call other women sweetie or honey might feel empowered by doing so or by somehow putting down other women.

One “sweet young thing” who called me sweetie recently explained that she had moved to the South after growing up in the North and that this is just “a southern thing.” I told her I’d lived in the South all of my life and had never called another woman sweetie.

Someone help me with this. What do you think? Is it sexist when a woman says “yes, sir” to a man but “yes, sweetie” to a woman? Am I just too sensitive? Is it a southern thing? Does it bother you?

You've Been WHERE????

With the start of the school year, teachers brace themselves for all kinds of excuses about homework not getting done. Some are old, some are new. Some of the excuses are hum-drum and some very creative.
When my son, Tree, was in elementary school, he didn’t have his homework to turn in one day. The teacher told him he would stay in at recess and do the work.
After recess, she asked him for his work; he told her he hadn’t had time to do it, explaining that he had instead gone to Mars, had just gotten back and hadn’t had enough time to get the work done!
Some imagination, huh? I believe the child was day-dreaming.

Work!!!!

The following was sent by a friend. It is SO appropriate! It hits home!

Ponder this:

A bus station is where a bus stops.

A train station is where a train stops.

On my desk I have a work station .........

Why Are Those People Staring at Me?

One day, I decided to dress up for work. Navy business suit with a red sleeveless sweater underneath and conservative navy pumps for a professional look.
During the day, however, I felt that people were staring. Maybe I was being paranoid; I didn't quite know. A visitor at work looked at me funny. At lunch, folks seemed to gaze at me with funny looks on their faces. I knew my old suit wasn't a perfect fit as in "tailor-made" but I didn't think it was so obviously a misfit. I kept checking; there were no rips or tears or spilled food, as far as I could tell. Throughout the day, the looks continued. Maybe it was my imagination.
After a while, though, I started to put my hand into my jacket pocket and - voila! I knew what had been wrong all day. Here's the story:
My ex-mother-in-law (the first one) told me to always wear matching underwear and nice lingerie. Well, I never could sleep in "nice" lingerie but I have tried to wear the matching stuff. This particular morning, after showering, I decided to wear bright turquoise underwear. I was running late and, after putting on the bra, couldn't find the turquoise panties. So, after searching a little, I just put on the regular whites.
As I was rushing out of the house, I spotted the turquoise panties on the floor of the laundry room. Perhaps I had dropped them when unloading the dryer. Whatever. Anyway, I picked them up and put them in my jacket pocket. That was a mistake. Apparently they didn't go all the way into the jacket pocket. Most of the day, it seems the panties hung out of my jacket pocket -- at work, at lunch, everywhere.
So, little Miss Professional, in the navy suit with navy pumps, walked around all day with lacy turquoise panties hanging out of the jacket pocket.
Upon discovery of the pocketed panties, I immediately took those things out of my pocket and stuffed 'em down into my pocketbook.
Later, at the grocery store, when I went to get my checkbook out to write a check, guess what came out of my pocketbook with my checkbook?

Copyright 2008 Sherry Martschink

Are You Part-time?

If you’ve ever looked at want ads/classified ads in the newspaper, you’ve probably seen one advertising an opening for a part-time person.
Do you know anyone who is a part-time person? If so, what is he or she the rest of the time? Couldn’t the ad be worded for part-time work instead “Part-time Person Wanted.”
Sometimes the wording of things makes me laugh – or just wonder.
I was at a doctor’s office one time, sitting on the examining table, when the doctor, ready with stethoscope, said, “Breathe in and out.” I said “Okay, I will, but tell me this: what other ways are there to breathe?” He said no one had ever before, in his many years of practice, asked him that. I was just curious. After all, isn’t a request to breathe the same as one to breathe in and out, or have you ever known someone who breathed some other way? Side to side, perhaps? Up and down? No, I believe we all breathe in and out.
Still another wording oddity that caused me to laugh out loud was a sign on a roadway. In fact, it was so funny that I turned the car around, went back and took a picture of the sign. This sign was an official one from the highway department, and it read: “Men Working When Flashing.”
Now, I never knew people got paid for flashing! Actually, I even thought flashing was considered a crime. Can you imagine the mental images that sign provoked? I pictured men on the side of the road in khaki-colored trench coats, hats on heads, sunglasses covering eyes while they opened and closed their coats to expose themselves. And getting paid for such!
It’s my guess that there were supposed to be lights nearby that turned on and flashed when men were working nearby. I couldn’t find the lights; perhaps they had not yet been installed or maybe they had already been removed. Regardless, it was a funny sign.
If the state really needs to save money, maybe it could advertise for part-time people to do the flashing. Just a thought, while I sit here breathing in and out.

Copyright 2008 Sherry Martschink