I've recently been dealing with the Pennsylvania Department of Revenue as anyone who follows me on Facebook no doubt has heard. The good thing about it is it provided me fodder for today's post at Working Stiffs . Come on over and join the rant.

It’s January 23 rd in southwestern Pennsylvania and the thermometer reads 50 degrees. And the sun is shining. There’s something very wrong about this. Not that I’m complaining. We had single digits, snow, and ice last week. This is much better. It’s just wrong. It’s in my nature to complain vehemently about winter weather. That’s hard to do when you can wander outside without a coat. But there’s something else about this time of year that I can still grumble about. Tax season. If I wanted to spend my life adding columns of numbers, I’d have been an accountant. But I’m not on good terms with math. I prefer words. So I’m a writer. Except this time of year, I’m a writer trying to balance my spreadsheets. It wouldn’t be so bad if I only had one business to keep tabs on. Silly me. I have three. Writing. Yoga. And Avon . That last one is the most involved, so I’m doing it first. Oh, it would be much simpler if I kept up with income and expenses as they happen instead of l

We’re halfway through January. So how are you doing with your resolutions and goals? Do you still remember what they were? Last week, I crossed off a big one. I finished this round of revisions and sent it off to The Agent on Thursday. Sound the trumpets. No, it’s not “done” yet. But I need a break. I need to clean my house and get my stuff together for my accountant. While I’m taking that break, I figure The Agent might as well take a look at it and give me her thoughts and suggestions. Because right now I feel like I’m bumping around in the dark and could use someone to shine a light on things for me. Hopefully, the comments I get back will involve only revisions. ONLY revisions. What I’ve just spent the last six months doing was a rewrite more than a revision. What’s the difference? Well, here’s my distinction: Revising involves tinkering with words, moving scenes around, fixing odds and ends. Since I live in Pennsylvania , the home of the orange barrel, I compare

Kensi's new favorite game is to burrow into the folds of the afghan we keep thrown over the back of a chair. From this vantage point, she thinks she can observe without being observed. 

Today, over at Working Stiffs, I'm offering one of my favorite rants regarding parking lots. I also share one of my all time favorite movie moments. TOWANDA!

Yes, it’s that time again. Time to make my New Year’s resolutions. In other words, time to set myself up for failure yet again. In looking back to the goals I set for last year , I did fair. I’ll give myself a B-. I bought a used treadmill and was really good about using it up for most of the year. But then I got into this heavy duty rewrite thing and all my treadmill time got converted into writing time. But I kept up with the yoga and the weights until about a month ago. For some reason, when winter sets in, I can’t seem to drag my weary butt out of bed when it’s still pitch black outside. And the only time I can get a good workout in is before breakfast. The treadmill stuff comes later in the day for me. But the yoga or weights have to be done first thing in the A.M. It’s just the way it is for me. So I always slack off around mid-November. However, for most of 2011, I did really well with the fitness stuff. As for writing every day, I did well with that, too. Whil

New Year has never been one of my favorite holidays. I remember when I was a kid I couldn’t wait until I was grown up and could take part in the merriment. I watched Dick Clark’s Rockin’ New Year’s Eve and observed the partying from the quiet of my living room. But when I did grow up, I discovered those parties weren’t all they were cracked up to be. I remember getting grabbed and kissed by a lot of guys (generally drunk) I wouldn’t ordinary kiss for a million bucks. Yuck. One year we spent a lot of money for tickets to a swanky party at some hotel. The food was bad. The dance floor too crowded. And again, at midnight I was surrounded by drunks. Maybe the problem is that I don’t drink. At least not in the quantity to numb me to the madness. I’m a cheap drunk and would fall asleep long before I hit the proper level of intoxication to be considered a “good buzz.” So I always took the job as designated driver. And therefore I was the sober witness to my friends making asses of t