Aunt Cie's Ornery Newsletter

Image by heidijergovsky from Pixabay

Hello, friends of Aunt Cie's Attic, Good Stuff from Grover, and Team Netherworld Creations/Naughty Netherworld Press! Today I am creating my first-ever newsletter, and I've got to admit, I'm in way over my head. So we are going to do this one step at a time.

The nifty little house designed by Heidi Jergovsky actually looks like a cartoon version of the ole Grover Hotel! It's absolutely perfect. So, we will start with this little graphic to create a logo.

I then took the picture to pixlr.com to make this logo. You can do quite a bit with the free Pixlr X.

I then went back to my MailChimp account to upload the logo.

I've sent myself a test email and now I will wait for subscribers!

I put off starting an email list for years because I was overwhelmed by the thought of maintaining such a thing. MailChimp can do a lot of the heavy lifting for you. I don't have to maintain a list myself. MailChimp does that. A free account is more than enough for most bloggers. 

I have numerous sites and projects and it was becoming cumbersome to cross-post to multiple sites. Now if folks subscribe to my newsletter, they can stay up to date with what's what on all of my sites. Also, you can thank me for putting my subscription option in the sidebar and not in one of those wretched pop-ups. Those things fill me with liquid murder. I hate having that blasted pop-up fly in my face every time I visit a site, even if I've already subscribed!

That's about it for now. I hope to see some of you subscribe soon!

Your Ornery Old Aunt Cie

Ornery Owl

Image copyright Open Clipart Vectors on Pixabay

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Share your World 28 March 2019

Here are some questions I've answered for Share Your World. You can read them if you want. Or not, if you don't want. No skin off my nose either way.

What is the best pick me up that you know of?  To shake you out of the blues?

The Blue Garage

Photoshop Image by The Real Cie

How about the blues? The blues is a goddamn art form! That shitty way I feel when my soul starts crashing in on itself and I feel like I'm lying dead at the bottom of a scummy trench? I think that shit should be called "the gray-green death bile from hell." But that's too long to say readily.

Here is a poem which Pepper, the main female protagonist in Team Netherworld's long-running WIP, Fetch, wrote for her beloved Gerry, the Fetch referred to in the story's title. I think it's kind of a poem about having the blues for the blues. 

What would be the title of your memoir?
Dark Days: Biography of a Self-Professed Cynic

Where do you like to go when you eat out?
Somewhere cheap where the food tastes good and I'll be served quickly.

Do you believe in luck?
Gratitude Question:

Aside from necessities, what is one thing you couldn’t go a day without?
My son

Notes:

I referenced my own work in this post, which for some reason makes me see the need to mention that I plan to participate in NaPoWriMo in April as I've done every year for the past several years. I'm also planning to participate in Camp NaNoWriMo. I might try to participate in the A to Z blogging challenge if it doesn't turn out to be too muckin' fuch. I haven't decided yet if my participation will be official or unofficial.

Compound Carrion: A Poem

Poem written by The Real Cie and Writing Sister Opal Zushaquon for Imaginary Garden with Real Toads and NaPoWriMo. There is no official Crazy Creatives Cheerleading Camp post this month, as we are participating in NaPoWriMo. However, you are welcome to follow all the weird and depressive poetry along the way at poetryofthenetherworld.blogspot.com and starrydemons.tumblr.com

Image Source

Lady in search of peppermint

And sweetmeat

Instead found eyeballs

And rattlesnake hamburger

When she followed the fireflies

To the moonlight schoolhouse

Where the supergiant throwbacks skateboard

She was seeking homemade popcorn

A slice of shadyside honeydew

A sweet morsel of honeycomb

Instead she found an overabundance

Of undercut forefingers

In the underground household

Of the underage bootstrap babysitter

And the weekend watchmaker

With his supersensitive, supersonic pacemaker

And the lifeline, lifeblood keyhole on his forehead

Somehow the sunbathing superwoman found herself in the supernatural underbelly

Behind the bookshelf in the bookstore belonging to the bookmobile bookkeeper

While looking for the washroom in the firehouse

Where she sought a ballroom friendship with the supercool fireman

Her bellbottom daydreams now in upheaval

Her dishpan hands clasp the newspaper

Where she seeks the carefree undercurrent

Along the moonbeam superhighways

Once a moonstruck firecracker

With a crush on a sweetheart schoolboy

She instead found beneath the moonlight

One too many a hookworm playboy

The afterimage of the life that could have been

Reflects mockingly in her stoplight eyeglasses

Everything has been a comedown from her tailspin pinup dreams

So she orders shortbread takeout

And climbs warlike to the housetop

Her tailcoat flapping like a skylark in the wind

On the sunroof in the sundown

She watches the watchman in the watercolor watchtower

The downbeat wastewater waterlogs the waterfowl below

She walks down to the woodshop

To say goodnight to the waxwork scarecrow

She adjusts his sunray bowtie

Before stepping onto the centercut turntable

A blowgun to the forebrain

Nothing to forewarn the foregone horseman in the forecastle foreground

On the moonlit grassland

Her foredoom was foretold

Her washrag fallen in the rainwater

Flows downstream to the uptown washhouse

Where the cardstock newsman reports as an afterthought

The death of nobody and nothing

~Cie and Opal~

This went much further than we ever imagined it would!

Prompts used: