Round Here

You can’t quite tell it (unless you can smell it) `round here but Autumn has officially arrived.

It’s a balmy 95 degrees today. I have the shades drawn, the AC turned down to 70 degrees Fahrenheit and some sort of orange-cinnamon-pumpkin-fake-cake concoction baking into thin air.

Lord why don’t they make a more comforting smell to compliment fall? Why?! I can hear the atoms colliding in the space around me! Why is this room spinning faster than the earth?

Whew! I don’t know why I’m in such a state. Maybe it’s the fake cake that’s baking. Maybe my hands cramp too much for typing. Maybe I need another nap?

Maybe? The truth is I am rather erratic today and maybe I lied. I suspect I’m in such a state because…

Well… You see…

Deep breath and confess.

I’m nursing a hangover. A post bachelorette weekend party hangover but I can explain.

You see we went to this place and had some drinks…

And then some more places and some more drinks…

I couldn’t stop `em, the girls and the drinks just kept coming…

And then…

Hmm. I don’t remember much after that but I hear we had fun. 😉

I know! What the heck?! I must be insane, mad as a hatter to party like that at my age but you know what? I do not regret it. Not even if an unknown photo surfaces. Not even with a hangover. And you know why?

It was a great way to end the summer but most importantly …

sniff, sniff. I wish I felt well enough to write 1000 words.

Because the bachelorette just happens to be my baby girl and I will never [never ever never] be too old nor will I grow too weary to make memories with that beautiful soul.

Life on the Farm (With Boudro the Fearless Boar)

While I was away, the husband renamed our dog. Buddy now wags his tail to Boudro.

The truth is, Buddy, ummm — I mean Boudro wags his tail to nearly everything. He is such a social creature. Life on the Farm (9) (1280x1085)

This morning I introduced him to my new pets.

Shhh, I know they may grow up to be BLT’s but let me have my moment, okay? Thank you.

Life on the Farm (5) (1280x931)

As I was saying, I introduced Boudro to Charlotte, Wilbur, Charles and Wilbur II. Now this crazy Chihuahua (who originally told me his name was Patrick) insists on being addressed as Boudro the Fearless BoarLife on the Farm (11) (1280x849)


Well… in this day and age, why not?!

Crazy Conversations (Christmas & Kitty)

Cotton, peas, your friends, your seat, your nose… There are a lot of things you can pick. Family isn’t one of them. Disclaimer: Life is crazy, people are crazier and my family… well they get the crazy award if there is one. This is a work of ‘true fiction’ inspired by family. The names have been changed to protect the guilty

(Ring, ring)

Me: Hello.

Bea: Did you get anything nice for Christmas?

Me: I’m fine thank you. How are you?

Bea: I didn’t ask how you were doing. Did you have a good Christmas?

Me: Yes I did. Did you?

Bea: I got the same old junk I get every year. Why do people ask you what you want if they are not going to give it to you?

Me: Did everyone make it home this year?

Bea: I have house shoes stacked waist high in my closet and enough gels and lotions to open my own Bath & Body Works.

Me: Hey that’s an idea. Maybe you could open a little shop and call it Foot & Body or Bea’s Bath & Slippers.

Bea: Don’t be absurd!

Me: It was just a thought.

Bea: Well it was a tacky little thought and besides they make perfectly good gifts for friends and in-laws.

Me: By the way thank you for the foaming cranberry soap. I love the smell and-

Bea: How is your dog? Did you get the dog anything for Christmas?

Me: Which dog? I have three.

Bea: The Chihuahua! I am not concerned about the ones that live outside.

Me: The dogs are all fine and they each got a bone for Christmas. The kids are fine too.

poor dingo dog (1024x845)

Merry Christmas you poor dumb dingo.

Bea: A bone?! That’s not a decent gift.

Me: They were happy with it.

Bea: Who – the children or the dogs?

Me: Both.

Bea: Well the dogs don’t know any better. You should get a cat. My Kitty would never settle for a lousy bone. Isn’t that right Kitty Kitty? Yes it is. You’re mommy’s wittle princess; her itty-bitty baby. Mommy wuvs her sweet Kitty Kitty yes she does.

Me: Did you ever consider naming her something other than Kitty Kitty?

Bea: That would be ridiculous. Her name has been Kitty Kitty for six years. Her won’t answer to anything else will you baby? No her won’t. She wuvs her name and she wuvs her mommy. She’s not like mommy’s other babies – no she’s not. She’s a good girl. Aren’t you a good girl?

Me: Should I let you go so you can talk to the cat?

Bea: Why don’t you get a cat? They are a lot smarter than dogs and they don’t stink.

Me: You know I am allergic to ninety percent of the domestic feline population.

Bea: Well you need a cat. Real writers have cats. Surely you could find one in the ten percent of the populace you are not allergic to. Have you ever tried?

Me: The other ten percent smell worse than dogs.

Bea: Malarkey! Cats do not stink.

Me: Dead cats do.

Bea: That was a cruel thing to say. She was just being facetious Kitty Kitty. She’s jealous, that what she is. Dog people are mean aren’t they? Yes they are. They are meannie weenies but mommy will protect her pretty Kitty oh yes she will. Do you want mommy to make her apologize? You do? Okay I’ll tell her –

Me: Put the cat on the phone.

Bea: Here she is.

Me: Kitty Kitty are you there?

Bea: She can hear you, go ahead.

Me: Did you ever watch a sitcom called Friends?

Bea: She has watched every single rerun at least once.

Me: Kitty Kitty do you know the song Phoebe sang?

Bea: ‘Smelly Cat, Smelly Cat what are they feeding you?’ We laugh at that every time we hear it.

Me: Well Kitty that song was written about your mother.

Bea: Don’t tell her that! Now you really need to apologize.

Me: Forgive me Smelly Jr. – I mean Kitty Kitty. I’m sorry you’re a cat – it’s not your fault.

Bea: Ignore her baby; she’s just a nasty ole dog hugger. So did you get a lot for Christmas?

Me: Are you talking to me?

Bea: Of course I am talking to you! Who else would I be talking to?

Me: I got everything I wanted.

Bea: That’s good. Listen dear, I’m already working on next year’s list and I have you down as a size 8/9 in house slippers. Do you have a color preference? I’m thinking red, blue or leopard print.

Me: The red or blue either one would be nice.

Bea: Hmm. I thought you would prefer the leopard print?

Me: I would but isn’t that what I gave you last Christmas?

Bea: Hello? Hello? The reception here is terrible. I haven’t heard a word you’ve said since your apology to Kitty. I’m sorry sweetie I’m going to hang up now – call me back in a day or two. Oh and Merry Christmas.

Me: Merry Christmas Bea.


Weekly Photo Challenge: Happy

This weeks photo challenge is Happy.

What makes me happy? This gallery could go on forever with an endless list of small things that bring the greatest joy. It is probably a good thing that I am away from home right now, saving you from a trillion gigabytes of what makes me smile. I’ve narrowed it down to five from my hard drive.

Follow Me to Fame (The Numbers Game)

Everyone who is anyone has a twitter account, right? Well that’s what the promotional experts say. I want to be somebody, after all I am trying to sell books. But (for me) it’s not just about the selling I actually like people. I like to interact with them from time to time. I understand that is an outdated concept so call me old fashioned.

Anyway I opened a twitter account and for the most part I have met some interesting people and enjoyed getting to know a little bit about them and the work they do. A few of them just run naked down the twitter isles yelling buy my_____.

I suppose I am like any other tweeter who wants to be famous; I get a warm fuzzy feeling over new followers. As a matter of fact I check my mail first thing every morning to see if I have a new follower. This morning low and behold I do and there is more than one!

Yippee! I am pumped. From their profile [at least what shows up in my inbox] they look interesting. They’re acclaimed authors, bloggers, writers, photographers, anchormen, comedians, media moguls etc… so I hurry over to twitter to have a better look. I could click follow from the inbox but that would be too impersonal. I must go over in person and say hello, make them feel welcome and thank them. I mean, my gosh! These awesome upper echelons with thousands of followers want to follow a nobody like me?

My fingers are trembling against the keyboard as I log in. I nervously wait those 2.2 seconds for the page to load and all the while thinking Yes! Oh lardy yes, I already know I am going to follow them too!

Then the ‘hmm’ moment. I glance to the left at the double digit numbers that are the same as they were a week ago. That can’t be right so I hit the follower’s tab and guess what? They’re not there!? I’m devastated! My awesome followers have disappeared. How can that be? How could I have offended them before even saying hello?  Is this a cruel joke? Should I search them out and ask them what changed their mind? Should go back to my inbox and hit follow???

I seriously consider laying my head on the desk and crying but I can’t stop laughing long enough.

The numbers game that is being played to make one look important just strikes me as funny. To look good on twitter, to seem ‘sought after’ the number of people following you must be significantly higher than the number you follow. So how do you do that? You follow someone just long enough for the notification to be sent and then you un-follow them. Most of them will never notice because they’re too busy running naked down the twitter isles hoping you will buy something and follow them to fame.

[heavy sigh]

In closing let me say, thank you for that beautiful millisecond we shared but sorry Joe, Jim, Lisa, Dianne and all of you other fabulous, possibly famous, most popular peeps on the world wide web. I’m gonna sit this one out.