I guess, like a fruit tree, the more mature the plant becomes, the more developed the fruit. I immediately woke Larry to show him the new development. He just smiled a sleepy smile and said, "cool". He doesn't seem nearly as excited as me.
Friday, May 9, 2014
Friday, March 7, 2014
Thursday, October 3, 2013
Two days ago, my throat was on fire and I couldn't breathe very well, so against my better judgement I took one of those four hour Sudafed. I did it again twice more that day even though this is unheard of behavior for me. Sudafed just isn't my friend. It makes me crazy and no matter what time I take it, I know that it will keep me from sleeping. It's a known, proven fact and of course, that's exactly what happened. I was up all night and miserable, just like I told myself I would be each and every time I swallowed one of those little red magical pills. So yesterday, I chose to go without medicine completely. I intended to sleep that night without fail, even if I had to sniff and hack my way through the day in order to achieve it. By the end of my work day, a coworker stopped by my office, stuck his head in and said "Aren't you dead yet?", which led me to believe that my hacking and sniffling might possibly have been bothering him. I decided not to worry about it because I would indeed be sleeping tonight and just the thought of that made everything better.
I made my way down the dark hall, clutching my pillow and dragging along behind me a red Ole Miss throw blanket that I picked up along the way. I'm happy to report that the couch was clean and happy and ready for me to fall on. I was pretty happy even though I didn't exactly fit there and my legs kind of went numb from hanging off the arm rests. It was a victory.
This morning, when Larry woke and asked me how I slept, I began to tell him this tale and right after the part about going down the dark hall, he tried to complete my story by interjecting "and you went into Patrick's room and slept on the bed." .... Here's how the emotions played out. Firstly, dumbfounded and silent as that sank in. Secondly, amazed that I didn't think of that myself. Thirdly, mad as an old wet hen (which as I understand it is very angry). All I could do was look at him and say, "No. No, that's not what I did, but I certainly should have. That would have been a smashing idea."
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
I'm not touching it.
Monday, July 4, 2011
Saturday, June 18, 2011
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
That ain’t right.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
My Mama always told me that if you’re about to make a negative comment about something a person couldn’t do anything about, you should just keep your trap shut. For example, if your friend has spinach in their teeth or toilet paper hanging off their shoe, by all means, let them know politely. Although the initial sharing of the information might be a little embarrassing, the end result is positive. If, however, a person has a scar on their cheek in the shape of a lightning bolt, you should hold your tongue. Nothing can be done about that. Since my unfortunate run-in with a deer, resulting in the destruction of my Barbie Jeep, I don’t have a lot of love for woodland creatures, but even Thumper’s mama told him that if he couldn’t say something nice, he shouldn’t say anything at all. Having said all that, when I tell you I’m moving and you ask me where I’m going, my answer will be Beaumont, Texas. The correct response to this information should not include you scrunching up your nose like you smell something bad, or interjections of “ugh” or “oh man, that’s too bad”.
I might be able to understand the reaction more, if I thought you really believed that Saraland, Alabama is the land flowing with milk and honey, but the truth is, I don’t think you believe that at all. I think you’re just mean.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
The other day at my new job, I was handed a three-ring binder that contained 125 pages. I was told to read it. It was for my own good. I know it’s important because it looks very official and the title is “MAWSS Safety Rules Handbook”. I have to admit that it doesn’t seem much like a HANDBOOK. To me, a handbook speaks of a much smaller thing. You know? Something a little less bulky. Something you might be able to carry in your pocket or stuff into your purse. At any rate, I opened the tome and began reading the letter in the front that told me that I was important enough that they wanted to keep me safe. Just like a mama might do. Then on the 2nd page, also like a mama, there was a little lecture about there being no such thing as fate and that accidents were avoidable. There were some general safety rules on pages 3 through 7, but after that I got pretty confused. I trudged on though, since it was my very safety at stake! I’m happy to say that I’m sure I’ll be safe if I ever find myself welding, using an axe, a hatchet or a concrete mixer. I now know the standard hand signals for overhead, crawler, locomotive and truck boom cranes. The only thing I can’t figure out is what any of those things are. But, no fear! If I can figure out which is which, I can signal them properly and avoid danger!
When I got to page 114, the title made me smile. “Office Safety” is what it said. Now, THAT was something that seemed familiar. And I must say that number 7 made me shake my head in agreement. “Do not lick envelopes; their edges may cut your tongue.”
I knooooow, right?
Thursday, June 10, 2010
I planted a pretend garden this year, all in pots. I started with tomatoes and have since added some squash and zucchini and even some beans! It's fun. I'm feeling my green thumbs and I like it. I love going out every morning and seeing the progress. I get so excited to see my tomatoes getting bigger and a few days ago, to see the first one getting a little pink. I could easily imagine the day I would be able to pick it and make a tomato sandwich with my first home grown tomato. I could almost taste it.
BUT...and you KNEW there was going to be a BUT in here, I went out yesterday to check on my precious tomato's progress and guess where it was? In the mouth of my dog, being chewed in a very irreverent manner. After squirting him with the water hose and telling him off, nearly through tears, I inspected the plants and found a slightly chewed green tomato still hanging on the plant, intact with teeth marks. Squirrels. It's squirrels. There are droves of them here and I feel very outnumbered. The dog was probably not the one who swiped it, but he sure took pleasure in finishing off the job begun by the giant rats with bushy tails. We hates them.
And today, we hates them even more. Two more tomatoes GONE. I'm so sad. I'm so injured. They have robbed me of the joy of the harvest and I will have to kill them all. I don't really want them to suffer, but I do want them dead. And, after their demise I plan to hang them up along the fence by their evil fuzzy tails, one after the other, as a warning to their neighbors and friends that this is not the yard they want to hang around. And what about this "dog" of mine? What kind of dog allows such behavior right under his nose in his very own backyard? My dog. That's who. I realize that he's getting old, but I just can't feel like making excuses for him. I will allow him to live, but buddy, he has been TOLD. He better step up the guard dog duties and quit taking bribes or I'm sending him to a place where they won't let him sleep inside in a cool laundry room at night.
We hates them.
This is the dog I have. A dog of leisure.
The is the dog I need. Squirrel killer extraordinaire.