Tag Archives: blogging

Staking his claim.

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You never know what part of the house cats will gravitate toward. We’ve had desk felines..

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Bed felines….

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Chair felines….

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Bubba on chair (2)

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Even motorcycle felines.

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And now it looks like our newest addition has chosen my mother’s old bookcase.

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Yes, Lord Dudley Mountcatten has laid claim to this spot in our bedroom window.

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From it he can recline in the warmth of the sun….

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And hover over the birds who seek shelter in the bushes directly underneath.

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I think I’m going to have to remove that planter. It seems to be migrating closer to the edge everyday.

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Time Traveler Part 2.

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More words from the year of my birth.

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Clearly I was born in a strange year.

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Consigliere?

Leave the gun, take the cannoli’ Best movie quote… ever.

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Cryoprobe.

I don’t know what it’s used for, but my sphincter is tightening just thinking about it.

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Delete key. Now we’re talking! I’ve been correcting my husband’s reports and letters for 37 years… it is my very favorite button.

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Diddly squat. A strange turn of phrase if ever there was one.

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We’re gaining.

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Two full days in and we managed to get the new kitty out from under the china hutch.

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Granted it was just to under the coffee table, but that’s progress.

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I don’t think he was thrilled to have a close up portrait taken, but I’ve got news for him. You can’t be camera shy and live in this house. Momma’s got a blog to write.

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At the end of the third day he made it out into the open.

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And he really is a love bug once he feels comfortable.

I think it’s going to be a good fit, he just needs a little time.

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They keep on coming.

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Because the ball wash ads weren’t bad enough.

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Now I’m seeing this on my Facebook feed.

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Butt incense and polite bacteria?

Sorry, I find them both rude.

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Oh, look. Bright colors and assorted flavors.

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My privates do indeed go everywhere I go (except my uterus which I left at the hospital 5 years ago) but they will continue to go without butt incense for the foreseeable future.

Of this I’m sure.

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I think we need a wombat, because the goat thing has already been done.

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Meet Frankie Rae.

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Apparently he’s becoming a rather famous goat.

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How pathetic is it that a goat has more fans than I do?

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On second thought, he’s more photogenic, so it might make sense.

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So maybe the husband and I should get a wombat, and when we feel comfortable traveling again… I can feature the cuddly creature in my posts.

Could I share my dinner with a wombat?

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Sure.

Could I share my bed with a wombat?

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I don’t see why not.

Could I stage wombat-centric wilderness pictures?

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Of course.

Granted, the goat will one up us during the holidays …

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But uniqueness is key. And I dare you to find you another blogger who has a traveling wombat.

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Talk to me.

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And answer a question if you can.

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As some of you know, I injured my knee while staining our deck last fall.

It ached for weeks, but when I stepped off our kitchen porch one morning in October… something snapped like a rubber band. The pain was so excruciating I dropped to the ground and may have called for my dead mother. ( This from the woman who had a full abdominal hysterectomy, went home the next morning and took Tylenol for a few days. My pain tolerance is high.)

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So my knee swelled up like a balloon and I couldn’t move my leg without cringing. The pain sent me to the doctor, who sent me to the orthopedist, who sent me for an MRI. I was diagnosed with a deep root meniscal tear and a damaged MCL. Wanting to avoid surgery, I opted for a cortisone shot that didn’t help, rehab exercises that didn’t help, and ice with ibuprofen which reduced the massive swelling but didn’t help the pain.

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It’s now three months later, and while I manage to walk without a limp (sometimes) it still hurts, still feels unstable and still makes walking or standing for long periods of time intolerable. Stairs? Hate them. Treadmill? It’s collecting dust.

My SIL tore her meniscus a few years back and told me it took her almost 12 months to fully heal.

So my question is this: does anyone out there have experience with this? Because while it’s winter in a no travel Covid era, where my main exercise involves popping a top and raising a glass…

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I’m wondering if avoiding the hospital is going to be possible going forward.

Someday we’ll be able to travel again and getting up out of the chair without groaning like a ninety year old would be preferable.

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F*** you Jamie Rosko.

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I’m getting so much spam right now I rarely read it like I used to. But as I was hitting the delete button today? This one made me laugh.

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Jamie Rosko

 

an hour ago·extraproxies.com/buy-proxies/2000-proxy-pa

 

The very next time I read a blog, Hopefully it won’t disappoint me as much as this particular one. After all, Yes, it was my choice to read, nonetheless I really believed you would have something helpful to say. All I hear is a bunch of complaining about something that you could possibly fix if you were not too busy seeking attention.

 

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Well, that was uncalled for… not to mention downright rude. And on a perfectly respectable post about our visit to the Grand Canyon no less. I mean really, who doesn’t enjoy a nice hermit reunion?

There’s just no pleasing some people.

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For me? It’s a definite no.

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I recently commented on a blog friend’s post about my dislike of the ever popular photo Christmas card. After voicing my opinion, I was asked “Are you… Scrooge?” To which I answer most emphatically… no! 

But for me… the joy of the annual Christmas card exchange is knowing that someone far away, someone I may not have seen for 15 years, someone I don’t communicate with on a regular basis, took the time to sit down and think of me. To actually pick up a pen and jot down a message of holiday cheer…. in good old fashioned ink. In the virtual, digital, and (don’t get me wrong I love my tech) impersonal world in which we live? That still means something.

So when I get cards like this –

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They leave me cold. Want to include a family photo in your card? Great, I’d love to see you and your hoard of grandchildren. But not like this –

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Where I have absolutely no idea who’s who or from which loins they sprung.

Nope. You have to do more than format some photos online and stick it in an envelope with no handwritten signature or bon mots for me to feel that merry tingle.

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Old fashioned? Probably. But then I still send handwritten thank you notes like my momma taught me.

And if I’m the only one who feels this way? So be it. You do you, I’ll do me. My cards and envelopes always have been… and always will be… hand written. And if you’re lucky enough to make the cut on my ever dwindling Christmas card list (deadbeats who haven’t reciprocated in 5 years are history) you won’t get a typewritten letter detailing the mind numbing minutia of my life in the past year. (Do not get me started on those! I neither need, nor want to know the results of your step son’s colonoscopy or how great aunt Edna is dealing with those pesky cysts.) But you will get a few words from someone who thought enough of you to take the time to put pen to paper.

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*Disclaimer – the post to which I refer is this one by Swinged Cat.

And while my dislike of photo cards stands, I’d like to give him a shout out for at least going the extra mile and doing something humorous.

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A Merry Christmas to all.

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Wherever you are and however you choose to celebrate, I hope it brings you joy. There’s been a decided lack of that this year… and I doubt I’m alone when I say I’m ready to kiss 2020 goodbye.

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Our holiday will be small and quiet, and in true 2020 fashion the only thing Santa saw fit to bring me this year was a torrential rain storm with 65 mph winds that will melt the snow, cause a power outage, and make our ceiling spout water like the Bellagio’s fountain. Good times!

But my husband and I have our health… and each other. I can’t ask for more.

So instead of boring you with some sappy Christmas post, I’ll leave you with two pictures.

1. Is it any wonder this was one of the Christmas cards I sent out this year?

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I think not.

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2. A little blast from the past…. yours truly on Santa’s lap.

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It’s the only such photo I have, as my mother told me I ditched St. Nick at a very early age and refused visits after this one. To those who know me well, this shouldn’t come as any surprise.

Ho! Ho! Hmm….

Pass the eggnog.

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As good an explanation as any.

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There was a post on our local Facebook page the other day and I thought it warranted a second look.

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Strange signs appearing on your lawn?

My town has an answer.

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Makes sense.

Pee here! Not there…

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I think we all know a few candidates who should have been left far, far behind.

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Bub.

It’s a Maine thing… never mind.

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Aliens!

That’s a blog worthy answer right there.

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Even Google doesn’t have a clue. How often does that happen?

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