Hello Dear Readers! Holy Cow! Guess who’s here again today? It seems The Overly-Creative-Writing Lady has agreed to edit some guidelines for us.

The Overly Creative Writer Lady would like us to take out our Drip Irrigation Guidelines and turn to the first page!

Let’s see how The Overly-Creative Writing Lady edits this sentence from the Drip Irrigation Guidelines:
“These drip emitters for shrub and trees provide full or partial pressure compensation.“
The Maltese Drip Emitters
by
The Overly-Creative-Writing Lady
It was a Wednesday, wet, like Somebody Up There opened these drip emitters on a cloud that had more water in it than a dame’s eyes after finding out the Spanish shawl she just shelled out a hundred clams for went on sale, 50% off, the very next day.
The dame in question? One Lola Richardson, a looker with a torso that, well . . . let’s just say a torso that would never be mistaken for shrubs and trees.
Suddenly there was a knock on Lola’s door — a knock she knew better than the back of her hand which wasn’t saying much as Lola had never bothered looking at the back of her hand.
Lola ran through her tastefully decorated living room like a babbling brook seeking the mighty Missisip — past the grand piano, past the baby grand piano, past the regular piano, past the portable piano keys, past the Fisher-Price Kick and Play Piano until she reached the front door.
But should she open the door and let that bum of an ex-husband of hers Mickey Richardson, aka Mickey the Grim Reaper, aka Mickey the Infectious, aka Mickey the Mouse — if indeed it was he who was knocking — in?
Lola laid one of her voluptuous ears against the door to provide full or partial auditory discernment of the fist from whom the knocking emanated — but she was still uncertain.
So Lola put her other ear against the door, the one that was not quite as voluptuous (more like plain bordering on homely) but could actually hear. She pressed it harder and harder against the door until the pressure compensation allowed for the air-waves to finally penetrate it.
Yup. It was Mickey Richardson alright. So Lola opened the door and shot him until he was as dead as it gets.
Then Lola threw her Spanish shawl over his lifeless body and wept bitterly. If only she could have gotten it for 50% off.
And there you have it, Dear Readers. A word of caution — The Overly-Creative-Writing Lady is here for the duration of the week so you might want to steer clear of this blog.
Until next time, The Overly-Creative-Writing Lady loves you