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You never know when Lord Dudley Mountcatten will feel like playing. One minute he’s sound asleep on the couch while you’re watching Ken Burns’ documentary on Ernest Hemingway. The next?
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He’s nutty as a fruitcake and flinging his toys across the room.
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Maybe it was all the talk of Hemingway’s romantic entanglements that got him frisky. Ernest did love the ladies…
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*Title is an archaic reference to a classic game show. Kudos if you know which one.*
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Oh, be quiet.
The point of this blog? WordPress followers. I know most of you probably don’t pay attention to your list, but I do and conduct daily removals of all businesses and bots. I don’t need car insurance, yoga pants, a kale soufflé recipe or a 5 step program to be a better me. This me is as good a me as I’m ever going to get. Someday someone will explain to me why so many of these people/machines feel the need to follow me over and over again.
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Dairy products? Perhaps she/it wants to hug a cow…
Furniture? Clearly someone/thing enjoyed my leather chair shopping saga.
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Same face, three different names and sites. Zap. Zap. Zap.
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And back she/it comes. No matter how many times I delete…
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The next day they’re back.
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So here’s my question.
What are they getting out of this? And why can’t they take the hint?
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Nice try with the alcohol Paula. At least you’re getting to know me better.
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Don’t groan, I know you enjoy these… even if you don’t want to admit it.
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I’ll get things rolling….
My rap name is LIL Cellulite Cream. Making slightly pudgy menopausal women over 50 shake their groove thing like they did before their thighs resembled cottage cheese.
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And before you store a disturbing mental image of my marbled thighs, summer is coming and the lotion I bought is more of a tightener. I’m not cheesy, just jiggly.
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Since hugging friends and family has been a definite no no for the past year, I’m offering an alternative.
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Bovine cuddles!
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I wish I’d known about this when we were in Arizona. Giving a cow a belly rub has to be better than the 3 days I spent in bed with altitude sickness. And in case you didn’t know, this is apparently a trend. Shortly after I read that article I found the following on my town’s Facebook page.
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I may not have to travel after all.
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No cows were available, but the goats are booked solid. Who knew livestock was so lovable….
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Or a Dik Dik as the case may be.
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Ever since I bought Poetry for Neanderthals from Facebook ( which we still haven’t played because Covid has killed game night with friends ) I’ve been getting ads. Some are interesting, some are ridiculous. I think this one falls into the latter category.
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And while I’m sure having a handful of Slippery Dicks can be delightful, I think I’m probably going to pass on this one.
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I’d like to think my sense of humor is a tad more advanced.
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Though I am blogging about this… so the point might be moot.
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Lord Dudley Mountcatten is getting used to being photographed.
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Though he’s not above showing his displeasure at my interrupting his nap.
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Sometimes none too subtly.
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He was also quite befuddled when it started to rain and the husband put the required bowl under our annoying soon to be repaired roof leak.
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Neither does chasing your tail….
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But it’s cute all the same.
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My husband went to breakfast last weekend and met up with his old cronies for the first time in almost a year. They’re a group of men who commandeer a large table at our local restaurant, drink endless cups of coffee and solve the world’s problems. Since he hadn’t seen them in a while, the husband filled them in on our storage barn to man cave transformation. When he got to the part about the pool table, an 85 year old gentleman said he loved to play…. so naturally he received an invitation.
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Husband won the first game and I’m sure he was thinking he should take it easy on the older man.
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Which was about the time this delightful senior citizen began to whip my beloved’s ass.
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85? Maybe so. But he had no problem running the table for the next three games.
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The fifth found my husband in a pickle. Because that sly senior plays a good defensive game as well.
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The husband had stripes.
🤣
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This month’s calendar squirrel is a duet.
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And really, for all the aggravation our resident red bitch causes us …. I think a concert with rodent sized baby grand and vocal accompaniment is the least she can do.
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I read an article the other day that made me chuckle.
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The list was long, but here are a few highlights.
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Yikes. I am in no way, shape or form a penny pincher…. ( the jury is still out on arse ) but I always box up my uneaten goodies. This has nothing to do with being cheap and everything to do with not wanting to cook dinner the next day. Of course we’re talking about English food here, so it really isn’t a surprise no one wants to bring that home.
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Okay, I’m doomed. We spent 18 years in the south.. and smothered with sausage gravy is my very favorite way to eat biscuits.
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Fanny means vagina? I had an aunt named Fanny. (crazy, but true) Then again, she was a nasty old biddy who should have embraced her latent homosexuality instead of living alone and miserable all of her bitter loveless life… so, okay.
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It’s beginning to look like I won’t be able to cross England off my bucket list. I drink fresh brewed unsweetened iced tea every day, winter, spring, summer and fall. Why do Brits have such an aversion to ice?
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Oh good grief. I’ve always used spunky as an adjective. Looks like I’m going to have to rethink that…
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Uh oh.
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Today we can finally say the barn construction is complete. After breaking ground (not to mention our backs) in April 2012, the last pieces were just put into place.
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Said pieces being soffit under the eaves. For years they had been open…
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But now they’re boxed in, vented and painted.
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And also impossible to photograph without massive sun reflections.
If I had my druthers, I’d finish off the porch ceiling as well….
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But for some reason the husband draws the line there.
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I think it’s because people compliment us on the new paint job… the one I wanted and he didn’t. It ticks him off everyone loves it and he has to take his revenge where he can.
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River's world..... 