Hello. I'm Marsha Kearns, and I'm an Internet Idiot.

I got a website itch —

A dream-pie in the sky.

It's been a real bitch;

And, therefore, so have I.

As you know, I'm 60. I know I'm both creative and logical, a pretty good left/right brain cross for the most part. But there's a black hole in my left brain that sucks in anything relating to databases, spreadsheets, and research. And to me, the Internet is one big database.

I have spent much of the Internet's existence cursing it for most things and loving it for one: e-mail. So you regular blog followers — who know me more than from the blog — will understand that embracing the Web is a Big Deal.

So I decided to conquer my fear of the dreaded unknown — and the impending doom of no retirement unless I act now — and learn how to set up websites that can sell stuff (information e-books) that my friends and I write...in case my songs don't become hits right away. As if.

So far, I have been Holly Hunter in the movie "Raising Arizona" — bawling my heart out every five minutes. She was funny; Jim doesn't think I am yet.

So I'll keep you apprised of the latest adventure and trust you will sign on to my opt-in lists just because you love me. Thanks!

First Snow

Snow makes whiteness where it falls.

The bushes look like popcorn balls!

The places where I always play

Look like somewhere else today.

Marie Louise Allen

I can still hear my little sister, Polly, reciting this the Christmas she was about three years old. For several years, we had to write and/or recite a new poem at Christmas. This one is written in my mom's handwriting in the back of one of my old poetry books that I still often read.

I like snow. I like fresh, white snow. I like falling snow. I like fallen snow. For a while. But we've had the same dang snow on the ground since before Thanksgiving!! I'd really like it to melt off (as in warm up a bit for a while) and make way for new snow. Fresh snow.

A great book about winter is "Winter," by Rick Bass. I read it frequently; it's one of those you can and still enjoy. It's nonfiction and tells about his first winter in the Yaak Valley of northern Montana. Wonderful read.

Snow. Toe. Did you see my poet followers' fun rhymes in the comments? Thanks, one and all -- er, both. It is beginning to look less like a rotten, canned Vienna sausage and more like a swollen toe. Swell. It's getting well.

My Left Toe

Everyone knows when they've broken a toe —

It gets a good whack, and you know.

The pain is so great

You think you will faint

And all you can say is, "My toe!"

Sorry. I really wanted to talk about snow, but then I hauled off and broke my toe. That seemed to take precedence over the other inconsequential subjects on my mind.

I'm not sure I really broke my toe, and I'm not sure anyone who thinks they did, really did. Unless they see bone or get an x-ray, of course.

But the conventional wisdom (is that an oxymoron?) has always been: you can break a toe easily; there's nothing "they" can do about it but tape it to another toe and let it heal; and it will heal. That's always worked for me when I've broken a toe, except I could never stand the tape, so I skipped that step. It always healed.

The more fascinating thing to me with body damage is the bruising and pain. It is amazing sometimes where body damage shows up through bruising, especially when it felt like a bone being damaged.

I now have a bright-purple pheasant-neck-ring bruise around the top joint of my toe. It's the second toe, which is also strange, because my second toe doesn't even stick out farther than my big toe. (I have cute toes, relatively speaking.)

The paler purplish-blue bruise extends to the middle of my foot. I know, so what? The weirdest thing is...nothing hurts. Unless I bend the toe weirdly, nothing hurts. It about killed me when it happened, but now, the toe doesn't hurt to touch it; the bruises don't hurt; the joint connecting the toe to my foot doesn't hurt.

In fact, this blog entry is probably more painful to you reading it than my toe is to me!

Into the Wild, Wild Web

To market, to market, to buy a fat pig;
Home again, home again, jiggety-jig.
To market, to market, to buy a fat hog;
Home again, home again, jiggety-jog.

To market, to market, to sell on the Web;

Home again, home again, writing my blog.

Time for new ventures before time runs out. Yes, I'm obsessed with the clock ticking down to my oblivion; I admit it. It's fascinating and terrifying at the same time. I can actually see it in my mind...and let's face it, 49 years left is not much!

So I've decided to go ahead and embrace the market economy by creating a nice stream of income that will see Jim and me through to the end...while still having fun without working too hard. It can, and shall, be done! (This is in addition to selling a song.)

I've embarked on a training program that will have me up and running on the Internet very quickly. I'm an Internet idiot, but I can learn and I can do. Stay tuned for e-books that you will want to buy and recommend to your friends.

HGTV Dream House

Since I got the lucky dime in my black-eyed peas, I figured I'd just go ahead and enter the HGTV Dream House Giveaway. Every day. My husband, too. How could we lose?

We're HGTV junkies...because of me. The Frantsens have always been house builders and house lovers and home improvement people. Besides, there's nothing else good on television. This is the first time I decided to enter this or any contest.

Anyway, the house is in New Mexico. The views are forever. I love forever. It's southwestern style. Not really our style inside, but...we can cope. It's got fireplaces inside and out. And it's only a day's drive from heaven on earth — Fort Davis, Texas.

The house is full of furniture and artsy-fartsy cool stuff. Figured we can sell most of that and bring what we want from our own house. And at the same time, sell what we don't want from there, too. We get a vehicle. Figured we can sell that. We get $500k in cash. Figured that would hold us awhile.

Then I read the rules. They give you a Form 1099 along with all these goodies worth about $2 million. That means, depending on what tax bracket a sudden $2 million puts you into, we'd have to pay at least $500,000 in immediate taxes. Bye-bye cash. And then some.

Figure we'd have to auction off all the home furnishings and maybe even the house — or ours in Colorado — to break even and pay the taxes. Then when we sold a house, we'd have to pay capital gains. And the housing market is not good.

I quit entering. I think it will cost too much to win. There's probably a lesson in there somewhere, but right now, I'm just worried about all those entries I sent in. I could end up in the poor house.

Don't Should on Yourself

I should do this

I should do that

I should work out

And shed my fat...

I should dress better.

I should cut my hair.

I should call my family and friends more often.

I should be more patient.

I should clean the house.

I should forgive myself and others.

I should write my congressman.

I should get up earlier.

I should bathe the dog.

I should stop drinking.

I should save more money.

I should work harder.

And on and on. Sound familiar?

I think I'll just relax and relish the fact that life works. How about you?

Carpe Dime. Seize the ... Dime!

You have to eat a black-eyed pea

To have good luck all year.

But if you get the hidden dime

You get more luck, my dear!

Our friends brought over a black-eyed-pea salad on New Year's Eve...complete with lucky dime stirred into it. Southerners know and follow this tradition; Mom sure did. We had black-eyed peas and cornbread every new year. Not always with a dime, though. Maybe that's why things went wrong....

But this year, I got the dime! I was the last to scoop out salad, and there it was. My bright and shining sign that this year will be different. This year, I'll accomplish things. This year I'll....oh, I know! Get too thin and too rich. Can't wait!

When you're young, you don't really realize that "the first day of the rest of my life" really means "the beginning of the end." I'm wondering how I'll live the rest of my life now that I see the end in sight. Some people say not to think about it, but so far, it's hard not to, when the time left is shorter than the time here.

"Such a long, long time to be gone

And a short time to be here."

The Grateful Dead

I still feel like I'm climbing up, though, not sliding down a hill. In fact, I think the end will be the peak. The toppermost of the poppermost. And it'll happen when it happens, but even so, it'll be too damn soon for me.

So I'm all carpe dime this year; y'all go ahead and carpe diem. That's good too.