Remember the Covid piñata I bought for the Christmas in July party?
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It was a huge hit. Everyone got in the spirit and had ideas on where to hang it.
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Not wanting the contents to spill into the pool, I recommended a nearby tree.
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A little lower please.
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Blindfolds were acquired and the swinging began.
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Poor girl had no idea my evil husband was messing with her aim. She managed to knock the germ off its hanger but didn’t break it… so it was rehung and more turns were taken.
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The pre med boyfriend finally bashed it open … (although it was against someone’s car, oops!) and pandemic appropriate goodies spilled out.
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They were quickly scooped up and examined. At first people laughed, because how often do you have portable toilet paper in a piñata?
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But then everyone was stuffing their pockets for the next apocalyptic run on Charmin.
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The Covid ball?
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It looked rather like a dirty Pac Man and was claimed as well.
Remember when I damned my SIL for bringing lobster to our get together last weekend? And then mentioned the pain of seeing leftover lobsters I can’t eat in the refrigerator?
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Turns out that was nothing compared to watching my husband pick them….
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( On the barn porch because Dudley was going absolutely insane )
We drove a little over an hour west to reach our friend’s house for the Christmas in July party I mentioned last week. And when we left our town, the weather was not cooperating.
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Thankfully it was drier in her neck of the woods and let me tell you, the property she recently purchased definitely qualifies as out of the way.
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After a long ride on a bumpy dirt road, her place came into view.
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As you can see, her main reason for buying this place was ample room for horses.
The house is a bit odd. It looks large, but isn’t…. with a surprisingly small kitchen and bedrooms.
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Numerous outbuildings are scattered around, as are decks and staircases.
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One of which….
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Lead to goats. Boots, Buckles and Gypsy to be precise.
It seems that I, the annoying person who posts too much your favorite blogger, has finally run afoul of the law. Yes, ladies and gentlemen… the authorities may soon be kicking in the door to Casa River and hauling her prolific ass away.
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What was my crime you ask? Apparently it’s blogging, and I currently have two outstanding warrants.
The first came in the form of a cease and desist email. And when I saw the reason, I had to laugh at the lengths our resident red rodent bitch would go to for revenge.
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Yes, the owner of the red squirrel calendar whose photos I’ve been featuring on the first of every month has made it clear I am in violation of reproducing her material without permission. How did she find my piddling inconsequential little blog in the vastness of the World Wide Web? There’s only one answer.
She was tipped off. Damn that varmint!
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My second offense was posting about that awful jewelry made from dead relative’s teeth last November. I’m not sure who spilled the proverbial beans on this one, but the creator of those hideously macabre pieces sent a message saying I had 30 days to remove the post or I would be sued for copyright infringement.
To this I have to say…
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In my defense on count 1:
I bought the friggin’ squirrel calendar. Paid good money for it and hung it on my kitchen wall. If anything, I would think me blogging about it every month would drum up interest and spread the word for future sales, but no. The photographer was pissed… so there will be no more first of the month red squirrels.
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Sorry. Take it up with my lawyer.
Regarding the second count:
The story and photos of the uber creepy jewelry made from our dearly departed’s teeth were taken from an article on Facebook. I figured if the pictures had been floating around that platform grossing people out, why not this one? To be honest… I think if I had raved about how beautiful they were she would have been fine with it. But I was told in no certain terms I would be sued unless I removed my post. So remove it I did. Bye bye great grandmother’s incisor necklace, can’t say I’ll miss you.
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So there you have it. If I should suddenly disappear from the blogosphere? You’ll know I’ve been railroaded and am residing in the cross bar hotel. Please be a pal and post my bail so I can continue to bring you the mindless drivel quality content you’ve come to know and love.
Lord Dudley Mountcatten is a good cat…. for the most part. When we first adopted him he had an annoying habit of scratching the furniture but my purchase and rapid deployment of a tiny water pistol solved that problem lickety split. His highness does not like to get wet.
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Well, it wasn’t swift. But lately, I have to say…. it’s been quite thorough. Instead of scratching the furniture? He’s decided to unravel our Berber carpet one loop at a time.
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Every morning I wake up to new section of destruction….
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And I have to say, I am not pleased.
Lord Dudley?
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He denies everything and points at my husband.
We don’t have a dog… the cat has to blame someone.
River's world..... 