HIIII!!!! I’m so excited.

Here’s my new logo for my murder mystery party planning pop-up. 😀

mcm logo mysteries.jpg

It is 2 Ms for my name Martha Maggio. Then the middle character is actually a question mark in the font AR BONNE. So it’s M?M for Martha Maggio Mysteries. BUT, fun fact, my middle initial is C. So, to me, it looks like a backward C. Happy accident. I love it! So the actual company is called M&M Mysteries. I finally settled on a name.

What do you think??! Can’t wait to throw my first party. 😀

Do something stupid.

Okay, I’m about to do something stupid!

I’ve said this way too many times in my short adult life. But I’m going to try and start my own business.

I haven’t been able to find a job down here in Florida. Nothing. So I’m going to try and start a small event planning company and throw murder mystery salon/spa parties for rich retirees (I wrote an adult role-playing game for ladies that takes place in a spa. It’s a murder mystery, The Updo Salon and Spa!) And try to drum up business for my graphic design as well.

I’m going to a women’s business and professional dinner next Tuesday. I’m scared to death.

I think I’m good enough and smart enough to do this. I just don’t know if I have the energy. I was sick for so long. I’ve been sick for 5 years. Where did my moxie go?

At 44, I don’t know if I have the stamina to keep up with a growing business. Can I throw a party? Can I handle the emotional toll it will take? I’ve tried to start my own endeavors before, but not something this big and not something this important. This would be my income. But what do I have to lose, right?

Wish me luck! Mainly with the women I will be leading. It will be like trying to herd drunk cats through an adult costumed role-playing game. Lord, help me!

Soap and Cigarettes

His office smells like:
and cigarettes.
Like a dentist with a habit.

He shares a building with a lawyer who is never in.
Yellow legal pads
On top of a big desk
In a dark/cluttered/slightly-open-doored room.

Everything a-soak in cigarette smoke.
Even the paintings.
The open area that could be construed as a tiny lobby is neat, but dim.
Ashtray on every surface.

Perfumed with solace and solemnity.
I stare at a picture of a stream inside a wood.
Looking for any sign of reason, beauty or good.
Radio softly plays country music.

It’s cold outside.
Wet snow.
But it’s warm and dusty here.
The fabric on the chairs is stiff and speckled.

I’m waiting in the waiting room
For nothing but myself
I simply want to be around
Spending minutes off the shelf.

There are old editions of:
Field & Stream
National Geographic
Something tells me
I’m outside his demographic.

No. I’m waiting for him.
Just for a friendly face.
When he sees me, he says, “Hi!”
He seems like he likes me.
That’s unusual.

When you grow up in a rural area,
Any excuse to see people,
Whether you need their services or not,
Is a reason to put clothes on and be seen.

I want to be seen.

He’s like a dad.
The kind of dad you want your dad to be.
But he isn’t.
But it’s enough.

“I’m fine, Doc. Thanks for asking.”