A Novel Woman, AKA Pamela Patchet, was unwittingly born and raised in Toronto instead of Paris. She worked her way from A&W carhop to political advisor to advertising executive where, on any given day, she was called upon to soothe disgruntled clients, cajole temperamental artists, juggle multi-million dollar budgets or locate trained penguins for television commercials. She married a handsome dentist for love and a lifetime of free dental care, raised three kids, and established a freelance writing career, not unlike her earlier jobs, minus the penguins.
6 comments:
Yup, reality bites. Literally. We've awakened to that every morning for the past week. *sigh* What happened to fall??
And I don't blame you for reminiscing about Hawaii. It might help to keep you warm this winter.
Shouldn't that be frost bites?
Sorry - warming up here, so I will send a little your way when it gets too much.
(The gale we had of late would've put paid to that frost too)
Oh dear... snuggle into those memories! (And darn that Jeanie... great line!!)
:-)
BB
Ah, Jeanie, where were you when I needed you? Titles are not my forte. Every time I submit a story, the editor changes the title. Every. Time.
I think I'm developing a title complex.
BB, at least I'll have my Aussie friends who will keep me warm. But no more dust storms!
That was a very clever line, Jeanie. How does a short sleeped pregnant woman come up with stuff like this?!!! She must be a Jeanie-us.
brrr! I don't blame you in the least! I want sunshine and sand and waves!
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