Grand Slam Communication
Her hips are wonky.
I bought a little doggy stepstool so she can continue to get up to her favorite sofa perch.
Meanwhile we have started her on some CBD supplements.
Wrigley does not like the stepstool at all.
With much newfound CBD-based bravado, she has been leaping over it.
Also, she has been listening to a lot of Sublime.
I guess the CBD supplements are working.
I never remember my dreams.
I am always aware that I had a vivid dream.
But it disappears before I can recall it.
Today was different.
I was at a dinner party.
Where they were serving Burt-Reynolds-shaped pasta.
Seriously?
This is what my subconscious gets up to when I’m not around?
I am very disappointed in myself.
I was certain that I could do better than that.
If anyone knows how to analyze dreams, please just pass this one by.
I don’t want to know what it means.
My only hope is that it was young Burt Reynolds.
Sigh.
I guess I really am as lame as my kids say.
July has some crazy holidays.
Today is National Kissing Day.
Which is a nice idea.
But tomorrow is National Dive Bar Day.
Aren’t these in the wrong order?
Once the kissing has started, the dive bar seems kind of unnecessary.
Moving right along, July 10 is Don’t Step on a Bee Day.
Seriously?
They need a special day for that?
I’ve been celebrating that holiday all my life.
I really think Don’t Step on a Bee Day should come first.
Because once you’ve stepped on that bee, there won’t be any dive bars on the agenda.
Or kissing either.
It is wonderful to be getting out of the house and seeing people.
My Toastmasters club is finally meeting live again.
We’re so excited to see each other that we’ve been making social plans outside of Toastmasters.
Hiking.
Listening to live music.
Fight Club.
Fight Club?
Turns out someone misheard that.
It was supposed to be Bike Ride.
But Fight Club sounds like fun too.
I’m in.
I got my darling husband to confess.
When we first moved in, there was a rat snake in the big tree in the front yard.
Bob jiggled the branch with a broom and the snake slithered away.
Oh. My. God.
A snake.
In a tree.
That’s much, much, much worse than a snake on the ground.
I’m reworking that old 80’s song in my head.
“It’s raining snakes…”
If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go and have a little heart attack now.
Rat snakes are good.
They control the rodents around the property.
Supposedly.
They are doing nothing about the rabbits in my yard.
All of the neighbors have seen rat snakes recently.
I think my husband is holding out on me.
He’s afraid I would pack up and leave at the sight of a snake.
I guess I don’t mind rat snakes so much.
In theory.
I guarantee that I will scream bloody murder if I ever see one.
I just wish they weren’t so snake-y.
I was reading two books at the same time.
And then three books I had on hold with Overdrive came in all at once.
Now I’m juggling a bunch of books.
I have several other items on hold.
I hope they don’t come in this week.
Too many books is a very nice problem to have.
I keep a pile of brush in the side yard that I let sit in the sun.
When it’s dry, I crumble it into the compost.
However, we had a ton of rain in May.
Probably 10 inches or more.
Grass has grown like crazy over the brush pile.
Now it looks like a grave.
I really hope none of the neighbors goes missing before I can get that thing shredded up again.
A new crime scene, just in time for the new season of Bosch.
I didn’t do it, I swear.
I’m innocent.
I’m an idiot.
We’re having beer-can chicken for our Father’s Day dinner.
I went to the store to buy all the fixings.
But I forgot beer in cans.
I got bottles.
I went back to the store this morning to get beer in a can.
Only to be reminded by the smug cashier that in Texas, you can’t buy beer before noon on a Sunday.
To clarify his point, the cashier made an announcement across the PA system to remind all of the other equally stupid shoppers that no one can buy beer before noon on a Sunday.
Yep, I got the message.
No beer before noon.
I spent $83.00 and didn’t get the one thing that I went to the store to buy.
Sigh.
I’ll have to make another trip out this afternoon.
I won best table topics at Toastmasters last night.
I spoke about getting “that call” from the school.
My class-clown child generated an awful lot of those calls back in the day.
In this particular case, it was a hilarious misunderstanding.
The teacher thought it was funny.
Whew – we dodged a bullet!