My Facebook and Apple News algorithms are always coming up with ridiculous products they think I need to purchase.
I’m passing on all three of these.
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#1…. Swimsuit season is not approaching quickly in Maine, unless you count the Polar Bear plunge in February and I’ve never be crazy enough to do that.
#2…. My derrière is awake as it’s ever going to get. No caffeinated butt cream required. 
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No.
Just… no.
While I spoil Lord Dudley Mountcatten far more than my husband thinks I should, even I have limits.
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Do I want to carry around a 28 ounce gelatinous pouch of my own urine? I most assuredly do not.
Also, I spent my teenage years on an island in Maine where there were no public restrooms. I’m completely familiar with pissing in the woods if necessary.
This is an easy one for me. Calves liver with onions. My parents were fans, but I’ve been known to run screaming from the room at the mere sight of it. Basically any organ meat will elicit a similar reaction, but my mother cooked this on a regular basis so I had lots of practice avoiding it.
Liver tonight? Gee mom, I can’t. Softball practice.
Liver? Sorry mom, art club meeting.
Dessicated cow organs? I’d love to… but the circus is in town and they need a new elephant handler.
Any excuse would do. But she got wise after a while and decided to force me to eat it one night. Silly woman, thinking she could out stubborn 10 year old me.
She served dinner… I ate the potatoes and vegetables and left the liver untouched. She told me I would eat it. I told her I would not. She said I couldn’t get up from the table until it was gone. I said no problem and settled in for the night. If I wouldn’t eat it freshly cooked and hot did she really think I’d eat it cold and congealed?
The war of wills had begun, but after an hour and a half my father… ever the peacemaker…. let our notorious food stealing beagle in the back door and I ( accidentally, of course ) dropped my plate on the floor.
Bye bye liver.
My mother lost that battle and never tried to force me to eat it again. She did continue to serve it though.
🤢
How about you? What meal haunted your childhood dinner table…
Dudley does well on his harness/leash and knows his limitations, which in actuality is 30 feet. His chest to my wrist. His Lordship chooses the direction and we walk, stroll, sit and occasionally sprint. What we don’t do is climb trees.
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Until the other day when he sat at the base of the Bradford pear watching a bird one minute….
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And jumped onto the bark the next. Problem is, his lordship does not have any tree climbing experience and literally just hung there.
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He scooched a little farther up, with me trying hard not to laugh …
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And finally made it up on a lower branch. Which is when he looked at me as if to say, what the Hell do I do now?
One aborted climb later..
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It was over before it really begun.
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I give him an A for effort, but a D for technique.
River's world..... 