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Guys will grin, take a sip of beer and nod in silent approval When stroking a guy's dick don't grab it like a bus rail and start jerking it like you were milking a cow.

The male organ is a thing of wonder and beauty, and should be worshipped and held tenderly at all times. The sensitive part is at the top where your face should be , not two-thirds of the way down. Very few female bodies are good to look it so please make an effort to cover up as much as possible with exotic lingerie. Match the outfit to suit your bod.

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A finger up his arse should do the trick. Don't put your mobile phone next to the bed and say: Ringing bells might have turned Quasimodo on but not your average stud with 10 pints of lager inside him.

Don't laugh if your creative male lover gets carried away and says things like "Ride my hard cock you filthy cock-sucking slut" or "Yeah, swallow my man-custard bitch". Laughter at any aspect of the male performance will not enhance it. Just be grateful you've got a guy who can speak whole sentences. If a man is willing to take the trouble to cum on your face, don't close your eyes. He wants you to share this ecstatic moment of joyful union with him. Semen is not likely to cause permanent blindness in most cases - but this is a risk you should be prepared to take for his happiness.

If the man switches the light off, it is for a reason, so please don't insist on seeing what's going on. If he's got a bit of a beer belly or a lovebite from a bonk earlier that day, it is his right to keep such matters to himself.

If he wants it dark so he can imagine he's shafting Natalie Imbruglia, please understand this fascinating aspect of the male psyche. When he is done, you should not kiss and cuddle, he does not want to touch you. You should leave the bed and leave him in peace. If you are a one-night stand you should leave the premises without thieving anything or asking for a phone number. If you don't like it that much, still offer it as you can quite easily play with yourself as he rams away.

You always have tissues in your bag, use them to clean his sheets and any ball bag drippage if you have misbehaved and not swallowed everything. Never ask a man if he likes your body as you will force him to lie. Men don't like fat chicks. Get in the gym and lose some weight and tighten those buns and thighs. Here is no such thing as the perfect body. Never, ever, ever, ever even think of saying: If you're doing a blowie, you'd have to take your mouth off to utter the question.

If you're giving a hand-job, you should have gone to the gym to work your biceps. Of he's shagging you and takes more than 10 minutes you should be grateful. This is not a time trial but a blissful act of union between two sexually aware and gifted human beings. Don't ask him if you're the best lover he's ever had. Most men have had so many sexual partners that it is unlikely that you are. Please don't ask a man to lie about such an important thing.

Don't just lie there, do something. Good sex is not a spectator sport and it helps if both parties move around a bit. I know you expect the men to do all the hard and skilful work. We don't mind that and we're blessed with the equipment and know-how to do it but at least put some effort into the act to show your appreciation. If you are lucky to have an imaginative lover who can satisfy two women at a time don't sneer at or reject his exciting suggestion that one of your friends joins you to make up a threesome.

If he's a real man he's probably shagging her anyway. Plus you might learn something from her to keep your man really happy. Don't shave all your pubic hair off. It makes your pussy look like a piece of poultry past its sell-by date. At best, it looks like the snatch of a ten-year-old. If you want to trim, go for a nice sexy racing stripe in the manner favoured by the Playboy models that your man would rather be shagging. When a man has gone to so much trouble to ejaculate and get his aim right into your mouth, it is rude to spit it out without savouring the taste and gluey texture.

You should play with semen like a block of Hubba Bubba, blowing bubbles, chewing and throwing from side to side. A line like "I love it when you cum in my mouth" makes for a happy finale to fun and games. A man's role in sex is far more demanding than a woman's so it is always nice when one's prowess is appreciated. Never contemplate taking advantage of your man's warm after-sex glow to seek favours or make requests. One evening a man was at home watching TV and eating peanuts.

He'd toss them in the air, then catch them in his mouth. In the middle of catching one, his wife asked a question, and as he turned to answer her, a peanut fell in his ear. He tried and tried to dig it out but only succeeded in pushing it in deeper. He asked his wife for assistance, and after hours of trying they became worried and decided to go to hospital.

As they were ready to go out the door, their daughter came home with her date. After being informed of the problem, their daughter's date said he could get the peanut out.

The young man told the father to sit down, then shoved two fingers up the father's nose and told him to blow hard. When the father blew, the peanut flew out. The mother and daughter jumped and yelled for joy. The young man insisted that it was nothing and the daughter brought the young man out to the kitchen for something to eat.

A blonde woman named Brandi finds herself in trouble. Her business has gone bust and she's in serious financial straits. She's so desperate that she decides to ask God for help. She begins to pray "God, please help me. I've lost my business and if I don't get some money, I'm going to lose my house.

Please let me win the lottery". So Brandi prays again but still she doesn't win. Once again, she prays "God, why have you forsaken me? I've lost my business, my house, and my car.

My children are starving. I don't often ask for help, and I have always been a good servant to you. Suddenly, there is a blinding flash of light as the heavens open and Brandi is confronted by the voice of God himself Very few countries have statutes limiting horseplay to a designated room. Let yourself go with some sex in the study, bonking in the bathroom and kinkiness in the kitchen. If you're lucky, your man might imagine he's bonking someone sexy and adventurous and he might manage a larger, harder erection.

Whilst it is understandable that you would be excited after receiving a mouthful of cum, do not be thoughtless in expressing your gratitude by kissing your man on the lips. YOU like semen, HE doesn't. A guy's scrotum is a wondrous aesthetic achievement of nature to be treated gently. Don't squeeze the balls like you are squeezing water from a sponge. If you have long nails pull them off with pliers before even looking at a guy's ball bag. When sucking a guy's dick don't just get on the end of the thing and jam your head back and forward.

It's a beautiful instrument; it should be caressed, inspected, kissed and licked from every angle. Never embarrass a gentleman by challenging him to remember your name after he's shagged you. If he thought it was important to remember your name, he would have. Don't be angry if you're lover shouts out another woman's name during the sexual act. Men have much more complicated lives than women and deal with many more people at work, football club, gym, pub, etc. It's probably just a close associate and totally innocent.

Of course, he might be shagging someone else in his spare time and it is understandable that he should make such an obvious mistake.

Don't get him all turned on and the let his proud stiffy whither while you go to the bathroom and tone and moisturise every square centimetre of your body. The male erection can be sensitive to minute delays while you go off to make yourself look presentable. If you must follow a strict beauty regime, do it after he's shot his load and has started to snore.

When we ask you to eat our cock, this should not be taken literally. I know it's hard to resist but keep the tooth action to a little nibble now and again. If a woman is serious about good oral sex as part of foreplay, 20 minutes is the bare minimum required to give the subtle and complex penis a reasonable working over.

Better allow for 45 minutes at least. It's not enough to be a specialist - even in the important skill of fellatio. To be regarded as a successful woman in bed you must have a full portfolio of tricks. These should include a penchant for facial glazing and a familiarity with idiosyncrasies of your man's anal region. If he wants to capture the beauty that is you during those special moments so he can remember the bits he missed because he was drunk , help him by posing in a gorgeous, pouting way for the camera or video camera.

While men are more than happy to lick the pink clam, please give it a bit of a wash once or twice a week. You can have too much of a good thing. The female orgasm is over-rated so don't spoil everybody's fun by insisting on having one every time you have sex.

Of course, if you do have lots, you should feel free to announce them. It's natural for a woman to beg for a good seeing to but please do not a pretend your period has finished or b that it hasn't even started. Just go without and let your man catch up with his fantasies about your friends, his young and pretty work colleagues and the girls he shagged before he met you. Having said that above , just because you're on the blob, it doesn't mean his natural and healthy urges have gone away.

Don't put sex off limits for the duration of your period. Use this special time together to work on your oral and massage techniques.

Nothing is worse than giving a man some encouragement and then not finishing the job. Such encouragement might be the slightest brush against any part of his body. So if he's got a stiffy, you've got to deal with it and take things through to their natural conclusion. Men have busy and demanding schedules so please understand if he should occasionally say three times a week fall asleep while on the job.

You should take it as a compliment that he feels so relaxed. If you have lured a man to bed under the guise of being a sultry temptress with long eyelashes and painted lips, please keep the illusion going until he has discharged his porridge gun or fallen asleep. If you care about him, you will make sure he never discovers the terrible secret hidden beneath your caked-on make-up. Don't make a fuss about sleeping on the damp patch.

If God wanted men to sleep on the messy remains of coitus he would have given us a snatch. The only TV programmes suitable for accompanying good sex are hardcore porn especially involving yourself or a football match.

No chat shows or gardening programmes to be watched. Feel free to forward it to any female you know! A little boy and a little girl are playing doctor behind a barn. They are both bear butt naked. The little boy's mom comes around the corner, and catches them. She grabs her son by the arm, and drags him to the house, spanking him the whole way. When they get back to the house she sits him down, and says to the little boy "Don't be messin' with those little girls vaginas!

They got teeth down there, and they'll bit off anything that get near it". Well the little boy grows up still thinking this. He gets to high school. He falls in love. He's 24, it's he's wedding night, and he's still a virgin. They go on their honey moon, and now they're in bed. When he gets off he rolls over and turns off the light. His wife says "Just a minute Ya'll got teeth in yall's vaginas! So, he turns on the light and she shows him.

She says "Well" he says "No wonder you aint got no teeth, look at the shape your gums are in! The leader says "We are all here today to prove to the world that blondes are not stupid. Can I have a volunteer? The leader asks her "What is 15 plus 15?

Obviously everyone is a little disappointed. Then 80, blondes start cheering "Give her another chance! Give her another chance! The leader says "Well since we've gone to the trouble of getting 80, of you in one place and we have the worldwide press and global broadcast media here, gee, uh, I guess we can give her another chance".

So he asks "What is 5 plus 5? The leader is quite perplexed, looks down and just lets out a dejected sigh. The leader, unsure whether or not he is doing more harm than damage, eventually says "Okay! Just one more chance - what's 2 plus 2? Throughout the stadium pandemonium breaks out as all 80, girls jump to their feet, wave their arms, stomp their feet and scream After a while the preacher asks anyone with needs to be prayed over to come forward to the front at the altar.

Larry gets in line, and when it's his turn, the preacher asks "Larry, what do you want me to pray about for you? The preacher puts one finger in Larry's ear, and he places the other hand on top of Larry's head and prays and prays and prays. After a few minutes, the preacher removes his hands, stands back and asks Larry "Larry, how is your hearing now?

A blonde and a lawyer are seated next to each other on a flight from Los Angeles to New York. The lawyer asks if she would like to play a fun game.

The blonde, tired, just wants to take a nap, so she politely declines and rolls over to the window to catch a few winks. The lawyer persists and explains that the game is easy and a lot of fun. He says "I ask you a question, and if you don't know the answer, you pay me five dollars, and vice versa". Again, she declines and tries to get some sleep. This catches the blonde's attention and, figuring there will be no end to this torment, agrees to the game.

The lawyer asks the first question "What's the distance from the earth to the moon? She asks "What goes up a hill with three legs and comes down with four legs? Frustrated, he sends emails his friends and co-workers, tweets and posts it on Facebook to no avail.

The blonde thanks him and turns back to get some more sleep. The lawyer, who is more than a little miffed, stirs the blonde and asks "Well It's the done thing.

He can and will do it and he won't even care. Because that's what really fat people do. Oh how fat is he? Put it this way - Ray is so fat that his bathroom scale shows his weight as 'LOL'. Until next time be good, stay off the chems and avoid the comedown. Fuuuuuck and just like that the holidays are over. Obviously that's no reason to overextend oneself so, of course, I'm going to skip the whole couple of hours writing something up the top here and just focus all energy on producing the awesomeness you guys are about to feast on below.

So let's get moving. I am so much in debt, I can start a government. After his check-up, the doctor called the wife into his office alone. He said "Your husband is suffering from a very severe stress disorder. If you don't do the following, your husband will surely die".

Be pleasant at all times. For lunch make him a nutritious meal. For dinner prepare an especially nice meal for him.

Don't burden him with chores. Don't discuss your problems with him, it will only make his stress worse. And most importantly, make love with your husband several times a week. If you can do this for the next 10 months to a year, I think your husband will regain his health completely". On the way home, the husband asked his wife. Drin-king, smo-king, and fuc-king. I said "How's your new bloke? She looked so beautiful. I felt my knees go weak, my heart began to race and my stomach turned to butterflies.

That's when I realised I'd drugged the wrong glass. When the time came for the little kids to give their reports, the teacher was calling on them one at a time. She was reluctant to call upon little Johnnie, knowing that he sometimes could be a bit crude. But eventually his turn came. Little Johnnie walked up to the front of the class, and with a piece of chalk, made a small white dot on the blackboard, then sat back down. Well the teacher couldn't figure out what Johnnie had in mind for his report, so she asked him just what that was.

Then Daddy had a heart attack, mummy fainted and the man next door shot himself". I converted to Islam, and we're stoning her in the morning. I said "Son, that's three schools this year! You'd better stop before you're banned from teaching altogether". The man and woman meet the pro and head onto the driving range. The man goes up to hit first. He swings and hits the ball yards.

The golf pro says "Not bad. Now hold the club as firm as you hold your wife's breasts". The man follows instructions and hits the ball yards. The golf pro says "Excellent! Her ball goes 30 yards. She swings and the ball goes 10 yards. The Bad Side Of Cuckolding Maybe Not In Germany! How Is She Still Alive? Because She's Preeeeetty Gorgeous! And For Good Reason! A girl pulls a guy and they are in his car and he starts fingering her. Finally it was his turn to be summoned.

He entered the office to find the chairman and the ten other directors seated around a table. He was invited to join them, which he did. As soon as he had sat down, the chairman turned to Bob.

Looking him squarely in the eye, with a stern voice, asked "Have you ever had sex with Mrs. The grandson picks up a toy and the grandma shouts: The grandma replies "Yes. I sent his mother to the university Eating a bowl of rice and seeing the last one crawl away. An Indian, a Maori, a Muslim and an Australian were walking along an Australian beach when the Maori stumbled over a bottle in the sand. He picked up the bottle, rubbed the sand off it, and Pointing to the Maori, he said "Since you found the bottle, you may have the first wish".

The Maori thought for a moment, then said "I wish for a fleet of ships so that I can gather all my people and take them back to our homeland of Aotearoa".

The Indian said "I wish for enough aircraft to take all fellow Indians back to our homeland! The Muslim said "I wish for a hundred thousand camels to take all of my people away from this horrible country infested with infidels so we can live in peace in Muslim countries and serve the Prophet Allah".

The Aussie watched as the loaded aircraft began moving toward the runway, then looked out to sea and watched the loaded ships sailing out into the sunset, then he looked at all of the Muslims getting on top of the camels and riding off.

He said "Look mate, just give me a cold beer. It really doesn't get any better than this! Two young lovers go up to the mountains for a romantic winter vacation. When they get there, the guy goes out to chop some wood. When he gets back, he says "Honey, my hands are freezing! After lunch he goes back out to chop some more wood and comes back and says again "Man! My hands are really freezing! She says again "Well, put them here between my thighs and warm them up". He does, and again that warms him up.

After dinner, he goes out one more time to chop some wood to get them through the night. When he returns, he says again "Honey, my hands are really, really freezing! She looks at him and says "For crying out loud, don't your ears ever get cold? An unemployed man goes to apply for a job with Microsoft as a janitor.

The manager there arranges for him to take an aptitude test. Let me have your email address, so that I can send you a form to complete and tell you where to report for work on your first day. Taken aback, the man protests that he has neither a computer nor an email address. To this the manager replies "Well, then, that means that you virtually don't exist and can therefore hardly expect to be employed". Stunned, the man leaves.

And thus it dawns on him that he could quite easily make a living selling tomatoes. Getting up early every day and going to bed late, he multiplies his profits quickly. After a short time he acquires a cart to transport several dozen boxes of tomatoes, only to have to trade it in again so that he can buy a pick-up truck to support his expanding business.

By the end of the second year, he is the owner of a fleet of pick-up trucks and manages a staff of a hundred former unemployed people, all selling tomatoes. Planning for the future of his wife and children, he decides to buy some life insurance.

Consulting with an insurance adviser, he picks an insurance plan to fit his new circumstances. At the end of the telephone conversation, the adviser asks him for his email address in order to send the final documents electronically.

When the man replies that he has no email, the adviser is stunned "What, you don't have e-mail? How on earth have you managed to amass such wealth without the Internet, email and e-commerce? Just imagine where you would be now, if you had been connected to the Internet from the very start! After a moment of thought, the tomato millionaire replied "Why, of course! I would be a floor cleaner at Microsoft! Bob Hill and his new wife Betty were vacationing in Europe They were driving in a rental car along a rather deserted highway.

It was late at night and raining very hard with thunder and lightning. Suddenly, the car skids out of control! Bob attempts to control the car, but to no avail! The car swerves and smashes into a tree.

Dazed, he looks over at the passenger seat and sees his wife unconscious, with her head bleeding! Despite the rain and unfamiliar countryside, Bob knows he has to get her medical assistance.

Bob carefully picks his wife up and begins trudging down the road. After a short while, he sees a light. He heads towards the light, which is coming from a large, old house. A minute passes and a small, hunched old man opens the door. Bob immediately blurts "Hello, my name is Bob Hill, and this is my wife Betty.

We've been in a terrible accident, and my wife has been seriously hurt. Can I please use your phone? But my master is a doctor. Come in, and I will get him! A few recipes have this grade: Occasionally, you see this for a "grade": People's preferences in cookbooks can let you know who they are. You get a sense of who the author really is when you use a cookbook. The gold standard is Ann Hodgman, who offers laugh-out-loud commentary in all her fabulous cookbooks. But even the little individual comments in church cookbooks put together by groups of people for fundraisers are little windows to people's personalities: I particularly like the ones that sound like parts of letters from your Aunt Myrtle: Made this for my daughter's birthday, and holy smokes, was it good.

Call me old fashioned. I am old fashioned. I always like the feel of a real book in my hand. And cookbooks are no exception. When you've had a hard day and can't face another challenge to your brain, can't even face reading from a novel you are loving because you're too out of gas, pick up a cookbook. Look at the lovely photos and read the descriptions. Eat with your eyes.

Smell with your imagination. You'll go to sleep happy, and if you're lucky, popovers will show up in your dreams. I know there were a lot of you on the waiting list who didn't get in, and I hope next time we can find a way to accommodate more people.

We had a great time. We drank sangria, ate mini meatloaves and macarioni and cheese and mini apple pies. I was so happy to meet so many wonderful women and two men , some of whom came from as far away as Indianapolis.

And then I worried about you who had chosen this weekend to visit Chicago when, in the middle of the night, we experienced a terrible thunderstorm. The lightning just wouldn't stop--you could practically read by it. Today's weather isn't going to be a whole lot better, so I hope those of you who are visiting will have a good time indoors--at the Art Institute, say, or at Manny's Deli.

Today I'm going to get sized for a ring that Augusten Burroughs is making for me. I can't stand it. He is the coolest friend: I should be making him a ring for all the things he's done for me. Only he wouldn't want to wear a ring I made.

Then again, he probably wouldn't have to, because it would fall off due to poor construction. But next time he's in town, I'll make him a mini apple pie. Here is a writer that picks you right up by your lapels, the kind of writer who gets you very excited about reading. Full report on completion, but for right now, the idea of stretching out with that book and a glass of lemonade is so compelling I think it's all I'll do today.

Oh, that and walk the dogs ten thousand times in blistering heat. Good thing I love dogs. Recently, I went to Boston to see my granchildren, ages 5, 3 and 19 months. I squirted them with the hose, played monster and Mother May I?

I got to be the teacher when we played school, and I was so relieved. May my grandchildren always honor my need to control. I read lots of books to them too, and even the youngest is so appreciative of them.

When you finish one, he points to his stack of books on the dresser and says, "Xisutsleyx? If you would be so kind, I'd love to hear the one about when cake invites ice cream to her party. At first, I was all upset.

Then, two things happened. One is that I found out she only chewed the edge, so the crime was not so great--rather like someone biting just the very edge off your chocolate chip cookie--still plenty left for you. Then I decided that rather than getting the pillow repaired, I'd keep it as a reminder of when Gabby was a puppy. There is a dog pictured on this website, a golden who was named Toby and was the best dog in the world.

I know you think your dog is the best dog in the world and I'm sure he or she is a close second, but in fact Toby was the best dog in the world. And will be evermore. Even my friend Phyllis, who hates dogs which begs the question how she can possibly be my friend but we'll get to that on another occasion loved Toby. Anyway, when Toby was a puppy, he chewed up one leg of my fancy French pedestal table. And I was furious.

I thought, Now I have to get it repaired and that will cost a bundle and I won't have a table for as long as it takes and I'll have to eat off a tv tray which is no longer fun plus who knows if they can really fix it.

I needed the table for the next night for a dinner party and then I just kind of never got around to fixing it. My sister saw the chew marks not long ago and said, "What happened here? When he was a puppy. Toby's still here, in a way. Just look under the table. The cook was trying to make chocolate cookies quickly, and thought the chocolate would melt into the dough. What if she had tossed those cookies in the trash?

The trash would have been happy, but we all would have been deprived. Gabby chewing the pillow was a lesson in priorities. But Gabby, if you're reading this, I cannot emphasize strongly enough: Chew one of your bazillion toys, not my pillows, okay? Last night I called a good friend and asked what she was doing.

Soon we were having a wonderful time. She told me she'd grilled a peach the other day, topped it with a dab of non-fat Greek yogurt and agave nectar and almonds and it was as good as a custard peach pie. I was so grateful for the change in psychic weather and I said to her, "Boy, what would we do without food?

I sat on my front porch the other night, realizing that I hardly ever do that, even though it's such a wonderful summer thing to do. It came to me that it's as important to "schedule" things like this as anything else. Read an hour a day. Sit on the porch on any nice summer's eve for at least half an hour. When I sat out on the porch, I saw three teenaged girls walk by in cut-off jeans and t-shirts and flip-flops, engaged in intense conversation.

For one moment, I felt again what that was like, being a teenage girl in the summer. I remembered the feel of soft cotton shorts and t-shirts, and the delicious urgency of sharing everything with my best friends. I saw an older man fly by on what looked like a new bicycle, and it made me want to get a new bike, too.

Nothing like a buying a bike to make you feel like a kid again. I heard voices from near by houses floating out the screen windows, and I heard the pounding of sneakers on pavement and the short, fast exhalations of the runners. The dogs lay with their front paws hooked over the top step, panting, their ears up in the high alert position. And then the fireflies came out. And I thought, ah, who cares what you see in them mirror? Look out at the summer night, and the coming and goings of your species, and the enchanting sight of the fireflies blinking on and off, on and off.

I never think of them as insects. I think of them as Tinkerbell, which is why I will never be a responsible adult. If I could hire someone to be the adult in the house, I would. Spring is like living inside a poem: I love walking around the neighborhood at this time of year, looking at all the gardens. Today I saw a rosebush on a boulevard, not planted where anyone who lived in the house it was by could see it. It was an act of such generosity, to put a rosebush where only passersby could see it.

I stood there getting all verklempt spelling? So much for the poetry in the soul of a dog. I am torn, these days, between wanting to get work done and wanting to be outside watching everything grow, watching kids play, watching people go in and out of shops and restaurants. Today I decided to take the day off and catch up on things I need to do around the house, but also to sit on the porch and read.

One is Vaclav and Lena by Haley Tanner. Read the first two pages; you won't be able to steop. It, too, draws you in with the first brilliant sentence. Books like these give me hope in humanity. They're the kind of books you want to keep forever. On your shelf , not in your kindle, I rush to add. Gotta have books like these on your shelf because they're kind of alive and they keep you company like dogs only you never have to let them out or feed them--they feed you.

I'll be being interviewed tomorrow at noon on Center Stage. Please come if you can--you may have questions the interviewer doesn't get to, such as, "In that recipe for pulled pork that's on your website It's always fun to come to Chicago.

Just think, you might catch sight of our new mayor! Finally finished with my tour, and I'm easing back into my regular routine. Yesterday, I worked on the two things I'm writing now: I walked the dogs in the pouring rain. Then, since I felt sorry for myself for walking the dogs in the pouring rain plus it was really cold , I quick made a pineapple upside down cake and had two 2 pieces of it.

I used a recipe I found on cookinglight. Also not SO very light. I just tried to provide a link, which failed, so I'll just direct you to the webiste. I, who for years have decried the use of such social networking sites, am now on one. A necessary evil, I suppose, but when I saw a lot of dear friends popping up asking to "friend" me, well, I felt like I was in seventh grade and the most popular boy had asked me to dance. His name was Binks Franklin.

I still remember how gracious he was, when ladies' choice was called and I made a beeline for him. I wonder what ever happpened to old Binks. Memorial Day weekend is coming up, and I really want to go to a family picnic and eat burnt hot dogs and burnt marshmallows. When I was a kid, I used to go to our family's annual fourth of July picnic. I ran around in a towel and bathing suit and jumped in and out of the pool and in addition to the hot dogs and marshmallows, ate plenty of other delicious things that my aunts had brought: That was a time when you really felt a whole day, start to finish.

You'd get to the park early so as to secure a good spot; and you'd leave late at night, after the fireworks were done, happily worn out, your nose and shoulders burned by the sun, your hair smelling of chlorine. I used to like to watch the division of labor: My grandparents enjoyed what seeemed to me to be a kind of royal status: My grandfather also listened to his pocket-sized transistor radio.

There were so many of us, then! Now many of those aunts and uncles have died, and the tradition of that Independence Day picnic has all but gone. And we'll see where it goes from there. Maybe next year the three of us will have grown to Don't ask me how. If she can't do it, I'll grill a hot dog for myself, load it up with mustard, and sit on the porch to eat it. In other news, my new puppy is figuring things out. She's housetrained, knows the commands come, sit, shake and lie down but doesn't always see the need to honor the request.

She likes to dig in the garden, much to my dismay. She grows about ninety inches an hour. Homer and she play well together, and they play often.

The other day, a friend asked, "What's all over Homer's coat? And Homer spit is on her. With a new story, called "P. How can you go wrong with dogs and apple pie? I suppose you could go wrong if the dog ate the apple pie. But you would have to admire his taste in desserts. Off to buy cascading petunias for my deck planters, and tomatoes and basil for the back yard. I'm late, but that's okay. The tour is alllllmost over, but until it is, there are a million things to attend to. That's a good time to fly there; air fares are lower.

And it's still warm and beautiful in Italy. The class will offer personal guidance in writing from me, and cooking classes from the wonderful people who inspired my award-winning! Please go to cooking-vacations. As for now, I need to go to the cleaners, walk the dogs, pack for a 5: I'll probably be one of those people on the plane sleeping with my mouth hanging open. Or, worse, one of the over-caffeinated chatterboxes who keeps showing the lovely pink clouds out the airplane window to my seatmate, who only wants to sleep with his or her mouth hanging open.

I'll be doing two readings in Minneapolis--check the "Appearances" part of this website. Thanks to all of you who have come to my readings and said such swell things to me So why did I get a puppy NOW? Well, I saw her online I look at petfinders. Homer is not so enamored of her, but he's already come around from doing the equivalent of smacking his doggie forehead when I walked in with her to demonstrating a resigned tolerance of her. Plus my guilt is making me give him a lot of dog treats.

I've hired a pet sitter to live in for the days I'm out of town, and yesterday we had a looooong conversation about her care. So I must be out of my mind. This review just in from Library Journal: Berg is a prolific writer, but some might say her last few novels have veered toward lighter fare. Her new book leaves that designation in the dust, tackling varied meaty topics with grace, and a pacing that makes it hard to put down. John and Irene are messily divorced, but their shared love for their teenage daughter, Sadie, is a bond that cannot be broken.

When Sadie goes missing, they are reunited, like it or not. John's new girlfriend and Irene's serial online dating all fall to the wayside as the exes hunker down to try to find Sadie. Will the forced closeness cause a natural reconciliation?

As Sadie's disappearance brings new issues for the couple to deal with, for the first time they examine their past marriage and what it meant to them. This addictive read shows anew what a wonderful writing talent Berg is: So nice to get a review like that before I enter the wilds of touring.

I hope I'll see some of you on the road. Right now, I've got to check on the new baby. I stopped by to pick up my mail before I took myself out to dinner and was gifted with these letters: She sent out an essay to a magazine, "then got mad because I didn't hear from them.

They bought my essay for actual money. The aftermath of emails, Face Book messges and even phone calls has been astounding. It is as cathartic to read your books as it is to share coffee and converstation with my friend. A woman from Bayville NY, sent a most extraordinary letter. She and her partner were trying to have a baby with the help of a sperm bank. The woman was reading Open House when she discovered she was ovulating--time to call the sperm bank.

In Open House , the main character, Samantha. But he only does that so he has time to take in and enjoy life--Samantha learns he's an astrophysicist who went to MIT. But this time, she decides to use him and then learns that he is a very sweet man just like King , everyone at the clinc loves him, and he an astrophysicist! The couple now has a beautiful boy, aged seven. I LOVE this story! The last letter came from P. She was writing on behalf of her friend and colleague, Sue, who was a breast cancer survivor but recently died from another kind of cancer.

Sue who was an award-winning professor who taught general biology, genetics and microbiology, and P. I told an author friend today that sometimes I despair of the publication merry-go-round, the anxiety over reviews, the worry that you won't sell enough, the constant grinding need to feel you must always top yourself.

It's so far from the innocence and pleasure I got when I was a nine-year-old girl, sitting at a card table and writing poems that I crafted for the joy of creation alone. Not that I'm not gratful for my success, I am so extremely grateful. But when you go to the mail box and you find letters like this, well That makes it all worth while.

Thank you again to all those who bother to write to me. I so appreciate your words. And your penmanship, a rare thing to see these days, but such a pleasure when you do see it. Another cloudy day here in the city that might as well be renamed Gray. I saw a circle of robins over on the playground, and the air is warmer, and there is the smell of dirt in the air, which is the scent of spring.

Buds are on the otherwise bare branches, poised to make a most welcome appearance. I am just back from having moved my parents into an independent living facility. They were in their house for 45 years, so the move was The good news is that this is a wonderful place, kind of like a dorm for older people--all kinds of things going on. On the day of the move, I took my dad over to the new place to await the delivery of furniture and belongings.

The only thing in the place was a TV tray holding the parakeets, Freida and Fritzi. I came upon my dad standing before them, his jacket still on , his hat in his hand, and he was bent over his beloved budgies, saying, "So do you think you're going to like it here? I intend to visit often, because for one thing, they have ice cream socials every week. I have added more events under "Appearances," and with the exception of a few details under one event, the tour is now complete.

I would like touring a lot more if I didn't have to pack a suitcase, if I could show up wherever I'm staying and there would be clothes to wear, books to read, music to listen to. This is my next business idea: Makeup you've requested be there. Snacks you want around. No shoving bags into the overhead or dragging them around airports or worrying that you'll be arrested if you leave your bags "unattended" while you search out a coffee or a magazine or a bathroom.

If you're a venture capitalist and you're reading this, call me right away. We'll discuss this new enterprise which I think I'll call "Here, There. And my other excellent idea: I have nearly completed listing events for the new novel under Appearances. I hope if I'm coming to a venue near you, you'll come to a reading.

They tend to be fun, and a lot of times people make friends or form writing groups. I'm still waiting for romance to happen--you know, "I met my husband at an Elizabeth Berg reading" --but so far no dice.

I am recovering from the flu that ate Cleveland. I feel like one of those cartoon characters with asterisks floating around his head. The only good thing I can say about this illness is that I've been confined to bed so much I've vacummed up lots and lots of books.

Most recently, I read Blood, Bones and Butter, which was fabulous. Ah, the last day of February. I'm going to call March 1st, spring.

I know it's not, but I'm going to call it that, anyway. This morning, when I went out to get the newspapers, I found a plastic bag looped around my door knob, holding the Girl Scout cookies I ordered.

The girl who left them and I never had any contact: I could place an order, she said, through "my mom's email. When I took the cookies from the bag, I saw that they had been tied with ribbon featuring--what else? You hear all the time about the decivilization of people: I confess I complain plenty about all this. I confess also that I am part of the problem, what with the way I walk my dog in pajamas under my coat , though; under my coat! When you open your door to find that, first of all, a young woman has kept her word and delivered what you ordered, but also has done it with a such charming extras, well, then your day has had a quite wonderful start.

And you feel happily compelled to pay it forward. Which I intend to do. It will be a pleasure to think about how. We're undone by each other. And if we're not, we're missing something. If this seems so clearly the case with grief, it's only because it was already the case with desire.

One does not always stay intact. Since I was a child, I have found consolation in writing; more importantly, I have found truth. Yesterday, I got a call from a very good friend who, knowing I'm going through a poignant time after a death in the family among other things, suggested I write something happy.

I told my friend that when I was diagnosed with cancer no worries; I'm fine now , I kept waking up in the night. My doctor wanted me to take a pill to help me sleep, but I wanted to keep waking up in the night. I wanted to respect the process I was going through, to learn what I needed to learn and pass out the other side.

I think that to deny your feelings about something is only to make them stronger. To deny your feelings takes a terrible toll on you, and often on those whom you love and who love you. But when you are going through a sad time, you are doing other things, too.

Thus it is that I made a good dinner last night and ate it while I watched American Idol and I said to my dog, who also seems to enjoy the show, "Did YOU think he should have been cut? Because nobody knows what it is. I like to sit amongst people who recognize the mystery and celebrate the fact that it is a mystery. Then I'm going to have dinner with a girlfriend and I know that we will spend a lot of time laughing. Life is nothing if not a mix, and I want always to acknowledge all sides of it, I want always to admit to it.

If you're curious to see it before I get it on here as many of you know ever so well, computer skills are not my forte you can see it on amazon. It's a very different jacket.

It looks like somebody threw something out and tried to rescue it "It looks like somebody shoved it into his pocket wanting to save it, without even knowing why," said my friend Phyllis , which is exactly the right sentiment for this book. Because this is a novel about the moth-to-flame aspect of love.

And about other aspects of love, too, including self-acceptance. I'll say more about it under the books section on this site as soon as I think of something smart and alluring that will make you want to rush out and buy it. The tour is being put together now; I'll list where I'll be under "Appearances. For now, I'm going down to have peach cobbler for breakfast and think about how spring isn't that far away.

It never is, really. I feel a bit like Mark Twain when he said "Accounts of my death have been greatly exaggerated. I am not married. I repeat, I am not married. I was married, from until , but I have not married anyone since, nor do I intend to.

I just added a new recipe under, well, recipes, of course. It's low guilt mac 'n cheese and you might as well make it tonight. You will not be sorry. For one thing, if there's any left over, it's heavenly for lunch. And if you let your dog lick the pan, he'll appreciate it. I'll put a description of the book and a quote from it on the website once we have a jacket--we still don't have a jacket.

It comes out April 5th. Today is one of those drab winter days with little flakes of snow chasing themselves around, first slanting to the right, then to the left, then just kind of hanging in the air like they're at a bad party. The best thing would be for me to go for a brisk walk. So what do I do? Eat two 2 pieces of Boston Cream pie. If my doctor is reading this, I'm just kidding. I really ate a spinach salad with no dressing. She has a new book out called "Picture This" which is ostensibly about drawing, but to my mind says a lot about creativity in general.

She urges people to "trust the back of your mind. In addition to that, Lynda Barry is the queen of the evocative phrase. Garrison Keillor once said, "All you have to do is say rhubarb pie and the reader does the rest. When you're next in the bookstore, take her book into a corner and start at the beginning and see if you don't get charmed pretty quickly. We don't know each other, but I feel that we are friends. Your books are friends to me.

If only I were Oprah, I would send her a Cadillac convertible for that. She also talks about how many of my female characters feel stifled in traditional roles, and asks if I ever felt that overwhelming desire to run away.

Oh, honey, don't we all? I think all of us, men and women, have days when the open road holds particular allure. I used to find it so odd that sometimes when I was feeling really terrible, I would go to the mall and buy a new book or some red lipstick and feel so much better.

It seemed to illegtimize my feelings. But the truth is, sometimes it just doesn't take very much to bring us out of our despair. Sometimes it does, but that's another story. Virginia writes, interestingly, "I'm given to jumping in the car and taking spontaneous mini-trips.

Isn't that a good idea? And with testimonoy about continuing to love people close to us when the going gets tough. Tell all your friends! Short stories are great! I wanted to share more letters, but Homer just came up and put his nose on my knee, and looked up at me. What's so great about typing? Pieces of I-don't-know-what gross stuff stuck to the ground for me to quick gobble up before you can yell at me or jerk me away!

Then I'm going downtown to the great city of Chicago to see a play and have dinner with a girlfriend. This is even better than red lipstick. This was in part because the literary festival was full of such first class writers and poets and audience members. I sat in a darkened auditorium and listened to Jane Hirshfield and Billy Collins, for example, and thought, well, here's a peak experience. I also enjoyed the chickens that run all over old town, and in fact witnessed a chicken domestic squabble--a hen was running down the sidewalk making pissed off clucking sounds: Or so it seemed.

Calvin Trillin was there, and Roy Blount Jr, so you can just imagine. Maybe we can arrange that. I had such a fantastic time and then wrote about it for National Geographic Traveler.

You can see the article online. And if you go to: So sorry; I still don't know how to add a link The 6 night program will provide you with my writing workshop focusing on character, place, and dialogue, and the way to liven up prose by adding interesting details.

There will be cooking classes with meals, and accommodations at the villa style hotel featured in the movie Under the Tuscan Sun.

Oh and more, more, more. Read all about it, and if you have any interest, let Lauren know right away--there are only about 7 places. This is a perfect opportunity to write something you've put off, to have guidance and feedback from me in an intimate group, and to have a wonderful time in Italy at the same time. You can call Lauren at , or at and talk to her about it.

Maybe you and your best friend could come together, or maybe you can come alone, as I did, and see what there is to discover about yourself. It is no exaggeration to say that my solo trip to Italy changed my life; I can't wait to go back. As for now, I can't wait to make a sandwich and eat it. Then, as it is nearly 2pm, maybe I'll get dressed. You know what's best about being a writer? Staying in your pajamas until 2 pm, that's what. Coming nex to the blog: And the very popular Mailbag. So here's my resolution: The rain has washed almost all the snow away, and there is an eeriness about the day, which always happens when the weather is not what it's "supposed" to be.

Later, I'll take Homer for a long walk, and we'll both come home muddy. I used to love to get muddy, but that was in the good old days when I bore no responsibility whatsoever for the mess it created. When you have to clean up your mud, well, that's like baking your own birthday cake.

It's one of my very favorite books.

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