Hello, there! Thanks for stopping by. This is a short, drafty intro and index that will be pinned to my profile because I can. Eventually.
When I click on a writer’s profile page I’m only allowed to see a few stories. I have to click for more, wait…then more, wait…more, wait…
Back in the days that were, we could read a list of clever titles and subtitles — scrolling far beyond the realm of where we should really be going.
Will I really read them all? I want the option, and I’d like it with ease.
Sadly, that is no…
Let me live in my cave.
I do most of my shopping online. I grocery shop at the crack of dawn on weekends when nothing else is open and there are only a few other weirdos out like me.
Needless to say, but I will anyway because it’s my story, there have been a few purchase ‘mistakes' over the years.
A 'beach wrap' arrived recently, so unrecognizable to me that I thought I had either taken drugs when ordering or that someone’s Great Aunt Bertha was using my Amazon account for their wonderful pastel satin pineapple themed house dress purchase.
Long ago, stumbling into my 22nd year of life, I woke up one morning with a squirrel face. I had gotten a front tooth implant the day before, and was fairly sure my face was reacting to it. The area from my sinuses to my upper lip had swelled just enough for a solid Cats performance, but I had to go to work instead.
Also, I had a lunch date.
I worked at a jewelry store in the only mall for 300 square miles. This is before internet, before online dating — all I had to do as a single…
My black dress slacks are so extremely comfortable and pleasing in every way possible that I have memorized the brand, buying 6 pair. They don’t shrink, don’t wrinkle and don’t fade. No button or zipper, just pull them on like an elegant yoga pant for the office — say what!?
These pants feel like I’m wearing soft butter. I’d like to think they also transform my butt, but I like to think I can eat donuts and cheesecake because God wants me to be happy, so…
As you can see below, they would look nicely paired with my black open…
We wake up super early every day of the week regardless of any decent factor so that we may enjoy all of the benefits of waking up super early every day of the week.
Sunday morning, 5:30 a.m., Tim left on the boat to fish for a few hours. The time between that and my 9 a.m. grocery shopping is lost to the air. I did things, but the ADD was…present? Also, reading causes hours to disappear. “It could be heroin.”, I tell him.
We hadn’t shopped for quite some time and were out of important things like Amaretto flavored…
Churning out stories that continue to entertain, amuse and possibly arouse, these writers are not always given the accolades that I physically want them to have (a stadium of enrapt readers, a Ferrari, a bedazzled crown? probably a hundred million dollars).
I was excluded from the recent select given the $500 golden ticket. Just when I comfortably keep my pennies in perspective, I feel the need for an additional $500 pat on the back? Yes. Ridiculous? Of course.
But some of the best humor writers in the universe were excluded. Not all, God Bless America. And I don’t really know…
“When I’m dead and gone you’ll get married again and he’ll get all this stuff and the land."
“I’m not getting married again.”
“Yeah right. You’ll need to.”
***silence (and some counting to ten)***
“What I need is to live alone. I have no interest in being married again, I don’t want to pick up after a grown ass man.”
“You’ll just screw around.”
“See what? And you’re not dying.”
“It could be cancer.”
“But it’s a pulled muscle.”
This was just a couple of days ago, while we tossed around the merits of land buying-packing-storing-building…
There’s never been a better time to sell our home than in today’s home buying market. Our location, modest size and affordability is what’s considered “prime" in this area. Unfortunately, we are too busy (lazy) to fix what could or should be fixed before selling.
Also, we have nowhere to go.
Ever come back home after an extended stay away and smell the putridness of your dear abode now that you have a fresh set of nostrils? Living among these ruins is similar.
Our house isn’t old. The ruins of which I speak of are non-structural, highly functioning issues since…
Sometime back in my kid years, the advice to ‘always wear clean underwear' since 'you might get hit by a car' or 'you might wind up in the hospital’, formed a foothold in my brain’s cortex.
I still make my bed because I might get hit by a car or somehow wind up in the hospital, an influence never completely replaced with the inclination for being tidy.
I catch a view of my toenail polish, it’s winter shade: disappearing color, and decide to reapply soon since sandal weather is coming. And wouldn’t my cadaver body appreciate cute toes?
Yammering bits and some blathering. Humor is my first language, my second skin, and my hello.