Yaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy! June Gardens and her pie aren't leaving us after all!!!! She can't live without us. I could not be happier today.
But does that mean we should change the name of this blog?
And if you say "yes", do you have any great suggestions for a new name?
Thursday, May 31, 2012
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
The one in which there is a Smurf at the Dump
Take a look at the situation I have going on in my kitchen right now:
That table is a little large for the room, don't you think? It's kind of in the way. It's a lot in the way actually. It's like June Gardens' hair after rain and sex. It's big is what I'm saying.
Bailey thinks it's a super cool thing to sit under. She rarely sat under it when it was in the dining room, but now that it's in the kitchen she can't stay out from under it. Cats are weird.
This table is why I found myself dealing with a Southern California Smurf on Saturday afternoon.
The somewhat boring backstory of how this Goliath of a table ended up blocking my kitchen door.....
My parents divorced a few years ago. And they are both remarried now. And I've been with Hot Brazilian for almost 6 years and I'm not married yet. Because we are apparently taking things slowly....or geriatrically if you ask me. I'm going to need false teeth by the time we get around to marriage. My ovaries are going to be all shriveled up. I'll be using reading glasses. I won't be able to climb the stairs in my house by the time we say, "I do". He'll have to spoon feed me on our honeymoon.
My mom reconnected with an old high school boyfriend which is how she ended up marrying someone who lives in Texas and not here in Atlanta. He was living in a corporate apartment when she moved out there last summer, and I was in the middle of buying my house. (Which almost killed me it was so stressful.) So anyway, we put a lot of my mom's furniture in storage for 2 months and then I offered to "store" it for her in my house after I moved in and until they bought a place and decided what they needed. This table was one of those pieces of furniture. And I haven't shown you the 6 chairs that go with it which are crowding my reading nook.
End backstory.....
(Have y'all noticed yet that I am very wordy?) News flash: I am wordy.
So my mom was here from Texas a couple of weeks ago, she and her husband moved into their new home about 4 weeks ago, and she went through my house and decided what furniture she would take.
One of the things she is taking is her 90" dining room table.
And I said, "Carp. I have no money but everyone seems to congregate at my house now so I need to buy a new dining room table and chairs so they don't have to sit in a circle on the floor with their plates in their laps."
(Side note: I just ran to the breakroom to get a cup of coffee and was throwing something in the trash. Someone had thrown away a box from their "Urinary Pain Medication". And now I'm hoping no one saw me walk out and then walked in behind me and thought it was mine because I'm already known around my office as the girl who gets pedicures and falls down and breaks stuff. I don't need to also be known as the girl who has burning and urgent urination issues.)
Anyway, this is how I ended up in a furniture store on Saturday because I had a couple of hours before I had to drive out to Snellville to the Hot n' Cold Chinese Buffet to meet my family for dinner. Yes, Snellville. It's a real place and it's where I spent my pre-teen and teen years living out in the 'burbs near Atlanta. Yes, Hot n' Cold Chinese Buffet. My brother stated that if the only thing they have to brag about is that they have hot food and cold food then we may be in trouble.
So before I went to the Hot n' Cold Chinese Buffet in Snellville, I went to The Dump. Because I apparently wanted to vist the best named places in all of Atlanta within a 3 hour time period.
I had been once before when they first opened and found their furniture to be odd but I am odd so I decided to just pop in and see what they might have.
And within 20 feet of the front door, I found my dining room table. I will post photos of it after I get it delivered. It is unique. Like me.
And then the Southern California Smurf approached me.
My salesman had on bright smurf blue from head to ankle. And then it transitioned to the pointiest shoes I've ever seen. They were soft white leather with a tan strip across the toe. And I wanted to take a photo SO BAD but I get caught anytime I try to do stuff like that. He was also apparently involved in a very long term relationship.....with the tanning bed and hair bleach. He had the total Southern Californian look. Only Smurfish. And he told me during the course of our discussions that he had worked in the gym business for over 10 years before he went into furniture sales.
Then he "casually" mentioned that he sells belts that zap you with an electric current to help you lose weight. And I didn't get it quite yet that he was totally judging me too.
I have spent so much cash in the past 6 months on the downpayment for my house, every appliance one needs in a house, squirrels in my attic, repairing a major roof leak that popped up during tornado producing storms, landscaping, and co-pays for ambulances, ER visits, doctors visits, PT, etc., so I told Mr. Smurf I needed to save the tiny bit of cash I have left and that I would like to open a 12 months no interest account.
And he looked me up and down and then said, "um, yeah, we can't really do that. We don't really have 12 months no interest here. Besides, to get even a shorter term no interest account you have to spend over $2,000 and you're not buying that much. But I definitely can't get you a full 12 months no interest. So I can't really help you."
And I said, "but your commerical on TV for Memorial Day says you do. Oh well. I guess we don't have a deal and I won't be buying this dining room today. Thanks for your help anyway. Have a great rest of your weekend!" And I started to walk away.
He hemmed and hawed and reluctantly agreed to "try". I gave him my information, he entered it, and his eyebrows shot up. And then he stammered, "what else do you need today? Wow. You have Class A credit and you've been approved for (dollar amount). You can buy way more stuff! And I can definitely get you 12 months no interest. Let's go look at some more furniture for your house!!!"
And I said, "um, yeah. I don't think so."
And even though I was admittedly judging him based on his appearance, I got mad when I had finally realized he was doing the very same thing to me. And I later realized I had no right to be mad since I was judging too. And then I was mad that I couldn't be mad at him. And then I got over it because it's kind of stupid to waste my energy on being mad that I can't be mad at a Southern California Smurf furniture salesman.
Anyway, my new furniture will be delivered this Saturday because that's the only Saturday they had openings in the next few weeks and they won't hold stuff more than about 2 weeks.
So after my hippie friend/landscaper got me drunk on margaritas Monday afternoon, I asked her if she would help me move this table out of the dining room because I don't know yet when my mom's movers are coming to get it and I had to have it out of the way so my new stuff can be delivered. And I'm not supposed to be lifting more than 5 pounds or so. I'm blaming the margaritas. They made me do it. And my arm hurts a little bit more now and I hope I don't have to tell my doctor I reinjured my broken arm because I got drunk and moved a heavy table because I bought a new one from a Southern California Smurf at The Dump before I drove to Snellville for dinner at the Hot n' Cold Chinese Buffet (where I ate quesadillas, green beans, fried plantains and pineapple which are not very Asian foods). Dang those margaritas were good. My friend already wants to go back there and have more. So do I.
And that is how I ended up with a 90 inch table in the doorway of my kitchen. Smurfs and margaritas. They mess up your house.
Bailey thinks it's a super cool thing to sit under. She rarely sat under it when it was in the dining room, but now that it's in the kitchen she can't stay out from under it. Cats are weird.
This table is why I found myself dealing with a Southern California Smurf on Saturday afternoon.
The somewhat boring backstory of how this Goliath of a table ended up blocking my kitchen door.....
My parents divorced a few years ago. And they are both remarried now. And I've been with Hot Brazilian for almost 6 years and I'm not married yet. Because we are apparently taking things slowly....or geriatrically if you ask me. I'm going to need false teeth by the time we get around to marriage. My ovaries are going to be all shriveled up. I'll be using reading glasses. I won't be able to climb the stairs in my house by the time we say, "I do". He'll have to spoon feed me on our honeymoon.
My mom reconnected with an old high school boyfriend which is how she ended up marrying someone who lives in Texas and not here in Atlanta. He was living in a corporate apartment when she moved out there last summer, and I was in the middle of buying my house. (Which almost killed me it was so stressful.) So anyway, we put a lot of my mom's furniture in storage for 2 months and then I offered to "store" it for her in my house after I moved in and until they bought a place and decided what they needed. This table was one of those pieces of furniture. And I haven't shown you the 6 chairs that go with it which are crowding my reading nook.
End backstory.....
(Have y'all noticed yet that I am very wordy?) News flash: I am wordy.
So my mom was here from Texas a couple of weeks ago, she and her husband moved into their new home about 4 weeks ago, and she went through my house and decided what furniture she would take.
One of the things she is taking is her 90" dining room table.
And I said, "Carp. I have no money but everyone seems to congregate at my house now so I need to buy a new dining room table and chairs so they don't have to sit in a circle on the floor with their plates in their laps."
(Side note: I just ran to the breakroom to get a cup of coffee and was throwing something in the trash. Someone had thrown away a box from their "Urinary Pain Medication". And now I'm hoping no one saw me walk out and then walked in behind me and thought it was mine because I'm already known around my office as the girl who gets pedicures and falls down and breaks stuff. I don't need to also be known as the girl who has burning and urgent urination issues.)
Anyway, this is how I ended up in a furniture store on Saturday because I had a couple of hours before I had to drive out to Snellville to the Hot n' Cold Chinese Buffet to meet my family for dinner. Yes, Snellville. It's a real place and it's where I spent my pre-teen and teen years living out in the 'burbs near Atlanta. Yes, Hot n' Cold Chinese Buffet. My brother stated that if the only thing they have to brag about is that they have hot food and cold food then we may be in trouble.
So before I went to the Hot n' Cold Chinese Buffet in Snellville, I went to The Dump. Because I apparently wanted to vist the best named places in all of Atlanta within a 3 hour time period.
I had been once before when they first opened and found their furniture to be odd but I am odd so I decided to just pop in and see what they might have.
And within 20 feet of the front door, I found my dining room table. I will post photos of it after I get it delivered. It is unique. Like me.
And then the Southern California Smurf approached me.
My salesman had on bright smurf blue from head to ankle. And then it transitioned to the pointiest shoes I've ever seen. They were soft white leather with a tan strip across the toe. And I wanted to take a photo SO BAD but I get caught anytime I try to do stuff like that. He was also apparently involved in a very long term relationship.....with the tanning bed and hair bleach. He had the total Southern Californian look. Only Smurfish. And he told me during the course of our discussions that he had worked in the gym business for over 10 years before he went into furniture sales.
Then he "casually" mentioned that he sells belts that zap you with an electric current to help you lose weight. And I didn't get it quite yet that he was totally judging me too.
I have spent so much cash in the past 6 months on the downpayment for my house, every appliance one needs in a house, squirrels in my attic, repairing a major roof leak that popped up during tornado producing storms, landscaping, and co-pays for ambulances, ER visits, doctors visits, PT, etc., so I told Mr. Smurf I needed to save the tiny bit of cash I have left and that I would like to open a 12 months no interest account.
And he looked me up and down and then said, "um, yeah, we can't really do that. We don't really have 12 months no interest here. Besides, to get even a shorter term no interest account you have to spend over $2,000 and you're not buying that much. But I definitely can't get you a full 12 months no interest. So I can't really help you."
And I said, "but your commerical on TV for Memorial Day says you do. Oh well. I guess we don't have a deal and I won't be buying this dining room today. Thanks for your help anyway. Have a great rest of your weekend!" And I started to walk away.
He hemmed and hawed and reluctantly agreed to "try". I gave him my information, he entered it, and his eyebrows shot up. And then he stammered, "what else do you need today? Wow. You have Class A credit and you've been approved for (dollar amount). You can buy way more stuff! And I can definitely get you 12 months no interest. Let's go look at some more furniture for your house!!!"
And I said, "um, yeah. I don't think so."
And even though I was admittedly judging him based on his appearance, I got mad when I had finally realized he was doing the very same thing to me. And I later realized I had no right to be mad since I was judging too. And then I was mad that I couldn't be mad at him. And then I got over it because it's kind of stupid to waste my energy on being mad that I can't be mad at a Southern California Smurf furniture salesman.
Anyway, my new furniture will be delivered this Saturday because that's the only Saturday they had openings in the next few weeks and they won't hold stuff more than about 2 weeks.
So after my hippie friend/landscaper got me drunk on margaritas Monday afternoon, I asked her if she would help me move this table out of the dining room because I don't know yet when my mom's movers are coming to get it and I had to have it out of the way so my new stuff can be delivered. And I'm not supposed to be lifting more than 5 pounds or so. I'm blaming the margaritas. They made me do it. And my arm hurts a little bit more now and I hope I don't have to tell my doctor I reinjured my broken arm because I got drunk and moved a heavy table because I bought a new one from a Southern California Smurf at The Dump before I drove to Snellville for dinner at the Hot n' Cold Chinese Buffet (where I ate quesadillas, green beans, fried plantains and pineapple which are not very Asian foods). Dang those margaritas were good. My friend already wants to go back there and have more. So do I.
And that is how I ended up with a 90 inch table in the doorway of my kitchen. Smurfs and margaritas. They mess up your house.
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
Drinking. You know the usual: beer, margaritas, and cleaning supplies.
Did everyone have a great holiday weekend? I did. I did nothing remotely related to normal Memorial Day things, but it was a great weekend.
Friday night I had physical therapy because I'm a barrel of fun on Friday nights of a holiday weekend. One of the techs offered me a piece of rum cake. I declined because I'm thinking I should seem like I'm into healthy stuff when I'm working out at a doctorish type office. If by working out you mean lifting a broom stick over my head and getting an arm massage. Dudes, the massage sounds good, right? No. It's the part I dread the most. It hurts. Those therapists don't mess around. My therapist also has told me that I'm going to be a huge challenge for her because I have one of the tightest arm muscles she's ever run across. Trust me, you do not want to be the challenging patient when it comes to massaging your arm that was recently broken in four places. And then they drape you in an ice blanket and you know how sometimes something is so incredibly cold that it feels like it's burning your skin off? Yeah. That's what the end of therapy is like. My skin is bright red when they take the blanket off. And each time I've been in there, someone is complaining about how horrible and painful the ice is. (I know, woe is me. I'm being hurt by ice. But seriously? It does hurt.) Anyway, cake. I turned down the cake because I don't think rum or cake fit into the category of healthy. Plus I don't really like rum cake.
After PT, I ran across the street to Cost Plus World Market. Well, I didn't exactly run. I drove my car because it's a super busy road and I don't like to get hit by cars. I assume. Do they have those in your area? They have everything from candles to furniture to baskets to wine and beer. Quite a few of the lighting fixtures I put in my house are from there. But Friday night I went in there to pick up a birthday card because my younger brother's birthday is tomorrow. I still haven't mailed it, but at least I bought one. If you don't have one near you, World Market is one of those places you go in to buy one inexpensive thing but it winds up costing you a whole lot because you see so many things you "need". So my brother's birthday card ended up costing me over $50.
I was browsing in the food section because they always have interesting stuff that I sometimes buy even though I don't need it, and that's when I saw this on the shelf:
If you don't feel like turning your head or your neck is aching today or whatever, that is a picture of bacon flavored syrup. Bacon. Flavored. Syrup. What on earth would you use that on or in? I'm sad to say that I didn't spend $7 on a bottle of bacon flavored syrup because I have no answer to that question.
I then saw a display with other flavored syrups and the suggestion of mixing them with sparkling mineral water. I hate drinking regular water (HATE) but I love sparkling mineral water. Yes I know it tastes the same. The bubbles just make it more fun, okay? I need fun water because all of the yard work I've been doing makes me cranky. The water breaks I take should have some redeeming quality to them and drinking boring plain water is not redeeming to me in the least. I looked at all of the flavor options (passion fruit, hibiscus, etc. (they were not suggesting bacon for mixing with sparkling water - thank goodness because that sounds vomit inducing)) and I chose blue raspberry. Mostly because I've never tasted hibiscus but I know what a raspberry tastes like. Turns out this syrup didn't taste much like raspberry. And it's blue (which? dudes, that was right in the name so I should have known). My glass looked like it was full of Windex and no matter what it tasted like I could only think I was drinking Windex. So I still wasted $7 on a crazy flavored syrup. But I will use it for a practical joke on someone at some point. I think I'll take a giant swig and then act like I'm not able to breathe and start foaming at the mouth or something. Does anyone know if that's what happens when you drink Windex? I need to be authentic. Please get back to me on this. It's important y'all. I can't be incorrectly sick when I drink my fake Windex.
Do you know what else I bought? No, probably not, because none of you were with me. I bought a six pack of beer. I have had exactly one beer since my divorce which was 8 years ago. We had some sort of international/diversity thing here at my law firm and they offered food and beers from all over the world (I told y'all we booze it up here quite often). Since I'm dating Hot Brazilian, I decided to try a Brazilian beer. I sat at my desk and got drunk off of one beer and then had to work late so I could drive home. You should probably be happy I was not working on an agreement for you that day with my drunk self.
Anyway, a girl in the physical therapy office was talking about going to a beer festival this weekend for a local brewery and I suddenly started craving beer like I would die if I didn't have one soon. Isn't that weird? And when I went into World Market, they carried beer from that very brewery so I bought some. I drank two of them this weekend and honestly? They weren't that good. I drank one Saturday night and thought, "meh. That wasn't very good." So I had another one on Sunday and thought, "that was even worse." So the other 4 will probably still be in my fridge if you come over in 2023.
Other parts of my weekend included (1) buying new dining room furniture from a very interesting salesman which I may tell y'all about tomorrow (he made me very angry and cracked me up at the same time); (2) eating a quesadilla, fried plantains, green beans and pineapple at a Chinese restaurant, (3) MORE yard work; (4) a hippie getting me drunk at a Mexican restaurant (I very rarely drink although I've had 2 beers, 2 glasses of wine and half a pitcher of margaritas in the past week which makes me sound like I have a problem. Honestly, that's more than I've drank in the past 2 or 3 years combined. Physical therapy is making me tense y'all.); and (5) my air conditioning went out in the downstairs of my house and it's about 90 degrees here.
Oh, someone a couple of days ago asked me to post a picture of my crazy cat, Bailey. So here she is:
Friday night I had physical therapy because I'm a barrel of fun on Friday nights of a holiday weekend. One of the techs offered me a piece of rum cake. I declined because I'm thinking I should seem like I'm into healthy stuff when I'm working out at a doctorish type office. If by working out you mean lifting a broom stick over my head and getting an arm massage. Dudes, the massage sounds good, right? No. It's the part I dread the most. It hurts. Those therapists don't mess around. My therapist also has told me that I'm going to be a huge challenge for her because I have one of the tightest arm muscles she's ever run across. Trust me, you do not want to be the challenging patient when it comes to massaging your arm that was recently broken in four places. And then they drape you in an ice blanket and you know how sometimes something is so incredibly cold that it feels like it's burning your skin off? Yeah. That's what the end of therapy is like. My skin is bright red when they take the blanket off. And each time I've been in there, someone is complaining about how horrible and painful the ice is. (I know, woe is me. I'm being hurt by ice. But seriously? It does hurt.) Anyway, cake. I turned down the cake because I don't think rum or cake fit into the category of healthy. Plus I don't really like rum cake.
After PT, I ran across the street to Cost Plus World Market. Well, I didn't exactly run. I drove my car because it's a super busy road and I don't like to get hit by cars. I assume. Do they have those in your area? They have everything from candles to furniture to baskets to wine and beer. Quite a few of the lighting fixtures I put in my house are from there. But Friday night I went in there to pick up a birthday card because my younger brother's birthday is tomorrow. I still haven't mailed it, but at least I bought one. If you don't have one near you, World Market is one of those places you go in to buy one inexpensive thing but it winds up costing you a whole lot because you see so many things you "need". So my brother's birthday card ended up costing me over $50.
I was browsing in the food section because they always have interesting stuff that I sometimes buy even though I don't need it, and that's when I saw this on the shelf:
Crap. I can't figure out how to rotate this. Beverly. Taking photography lessons from June since today.
If you don't feel like turning your head or your neck is aching today or whatever, that is a picture of bacon flavored syrup. Bacon. Flavored. Syrup. What on earth would you use that on or in? I'm sad to say that I didn't spend $7 on a bottle of bacon flavored syrup because I have no answer to that question.
I then saw a display with other flavored syrups and the suggestion of mixing them with sparkling mineral water. I hate drinking regular water (HATE) but I love sparkling mineral water. Yes I know it tastes the same. The bubbles just make it more fun, okay? I need fun water because all of the yard work I've been doing makes me cranky. The water breaks I take should have some redeeming quality to them and drinking boring plain water is not redeeming to me in the least. I looked at all of the flavor options (passion fruit, hibiscus, etc. (they were not suggesting bacon for mixing with sparkling water - thank goodness because that sounds vomit inducing)) and I chose blue raspberry. Mostly because I've never tasted hibiscus but I know what a raspberry tastes like. Turns out this syrup didn't taste much like raspberry. And it's blue (which? dudes, that was right in the name so I should have known). My glass looked like it was full of Windex and no matter what it tasted like I could only think I was drinking Windex. So I still wasted $7 on a crazy flavored syrup. But I will use it for a practical joke on someone at some point. I think I'll take a giant swig and then act like I'm not able to breathe and start foaming at the mouth or something. Does anyone know if that's what happens when you drink Windex? I need to be authentic. Please get back to me on this. It's important y'all. I can't be incorrectly sick when I drink my fake Windex.
Do you know what else I bought? No, probably not, because none of you were with me. I bought a six pack of beer. I have had exactly one beer since my divorce which was 8 years ago. We had some sort of international/diversity thing here at my law firm and they offered food and beers from all over the world (I told y'all we booze it up here quite often). Since I'm dating Hot Brazilian, I decided to try a Brazilian beer. I sat at my desk and got drunk off of one beer and then had to work late so I could drive home. You should probably be happy I was not working on an agreement for you that day with my drunk self.
Anyway, a girl in the physical therapy office was talking about going to a beer festival this weekend for a local brewery and I suddenly started craving beer like I would die if I didn't have one soon. Isn't that weird? And when I went into World Market, they carried beer from that very brewery so I bought some. I drank two of them this weekend and honestly? They weren't that good. I drank one Saturday night and thought, "meh. That wasn't very good." So I had another one on Sunday and thought, "that was even worse." So the other 4 will probably still be in my fridge if you come over in 2023.
Other parts of my weekend included (1) buying new dining room furniture from a very interesting salesman which I may tell y'all about tomorrow (he made me very angry and cracked me up at the same time); (2) eating a quesadilla, fried plantains, green beans and pineapple at a Chinese restaurant, (3) MORE yard work; (4) a hippie getting me drunk at a Mexican restaurant (I very rarely drink although I've had 2 beers, 2 glasses of wine and half a pitcher of margaritas in the past week which makes me sound like I have a problem. Honestly, that's more than I've drank in the past 2 or 3 years combined. Physical therapy is making me tense y'all.); and (5) my air conditioning went out in the downstairs of my house and it's about 90 degrees here.
Oh, someone a couple of days ago asked me to post a picture of my crazy cat, Bailey. So here she is:
Hello. I am Bailey. I seem to be having no problem making myself comfortable in the bay window. I am spoiled and have my own napping blanket. And your stupid camera is interrupting my nap, mom. Go away.
What's that? You can't see my beautiful face? Here you go. And then please leave me alone. Seriously. I'm getting way behind on my naps.
To summarize, I need y'all to tell me what bacon flavored syrup is good for and what happens when you drink Windex. If you have good suggestions, I may spend $7 on the syrup and report back. I'm almost flat broke right now, but bacon flavored syrup seems like it would be worth spending my last few bucks on. Not because I'm just curious what bacon syrup is like. It's for y'all. Obviously. It's because I'm so giving.
Also, I have to tell y'all how my dentist has been out of work for almost a year and his fill-in tried to kill me with a pair of tweezers this morning.
Sunday, May 27, 2012
There's another writer in the Pie house
Hey all. This is Mary V. and I offered to post once in awhile here at LOP and Beverly added me as an author. Although, I think she's doing pretty well on her own so I expect she will kick me to the curb soon but until then, I'll bore you all with a little info on me.
First thing, I'm on the old side. A little older than June, actually. And I've been a wife and mother for 30+ years so a lot of what I blog about centers on my family. I have a lot of material there to work with. My husband alone can provide volumes.
I wear a number of different hats including (but not limited to) part-time office assistant for a real estate company, blogger (I currently have 5 active blogs that include everything from creativity stuff, to life, to reviews on all sorts of things), crafter (I love cardmaking and scrapbooking in particular), chief cook and bottle washer, pet owner, part-time home business consultant and soon to be business entrepreneur of an event planning company. And lots more but that's the highlights.
I am also an avid list maker and have a little bit of what my family defines as OCD so that adds to the wackiness of my life. Truthfully, my family thinks my compulsion to have things at "right angles" all the time is a sickness - I call it being organized. As a matter of fact, it is so obvious that I like things in exact spots that a co-worker/friend placed tape outlines on my desk at work and labeled where everything should always be. For instance, the exact spot for my stapler and one for my paperclip box. She did this to annoy me but in fact, I loved it - made the organizing so much easier!
I live just south of the Michigan state line in Ohio so I was close enough to make the trip to Saginaw last summer to meet Hulk and June at Hulkapalooza. Fun time! As a matter of fact, June was celebrating her birthday so it was Hello Kitty presents from me, including the Magic 8 Ball she's referred to in her posts once in awhile. I also had a little something to do with posting the birthday video that Matze (remember him?) made for her and I created her blog badges (which definitely need updating!!) And I agree with everyone else that daily blog reading will just suck once June quits for good.
So to wrap up for now, I will honor my favorite blogger by posting an obligatory pet photo of my lab, Princess Leia:
First thing, I'm on the old side. A little older than June, actually. And I've been a wife and mother for 30+ years so a lot of what I blog about centers on my family. I have a lot of material there to work with. My husband alone can provide volumes.
I wear a number of different hats including (but not limited to) part-time office assistant for a real estate company, blogger (I currently have 5 active blogs that include everything from creativity stuff, to life, to reviews on all sorts of things), crafter (I love cardmaking and scrapbooking in particular), chief cook and bottle washer, pet owner, part-time home business consultant and soon to be business entrepreneur of an event planning company. And lots more but that's the highlights.
I am also an avid list maker and have a little bit of what my family defines as OCD so that adds to the wackiness of my life. Truthfully, my family thinks my compulsion to have things at "right angles" all the time is a sickness - I call it being organized. As a matter of fact, it is so obvious that I like things in exact spots that a co-worker/friend placed tape outlines on my desk at work and labeled where everything should always be. For instance, the exact spot for my stapler and one for my paperclip box. She did this to annoy me but in fact, I loved it - made the organizing so much easier!
I live just south of the Michigan state line in Ohio so I was close enough to make the trip to Saginaw last summer to meet Hulk and June at Hulkapalooza. Fun time! As a matter of fact, June was celebrating her birthday so it was Hello Kitty presents from me, including the Magic 8 Ball she's referred to in her posts once in awhile. I also had a little something to do with posting the birthday video that Matze (remember him?) made for her and I created her blog badges (which definitely need updating!!) And I agree with everyone else that daily blog reading will just suck once June quits for good.
So to wrap up for now, I will honor my favorite blogger by posting an obligatory pet photo of my lab, Princess Leia:
Y u put leia on pi left ovrs? leia eet pi.
Ok so Leia might not have the spelling skillz like Lu, but she tries.
Enjoy your Memorial Day and if all y'all don't mind, I will be back to post again soon. As soon as something funny happens to share with you.
Saturday, May 26, 2012
Are birds freaky? Probably not as freaky as y'all are going to think I am after reading this post.
Knock. Knock. Is anyone here on a Saturday?
I know I said on the Pie facebook page that I wouldn't post every single day and yet here I am. Posting every single day so far. Because apparently I have diarrhea of the mouth. Or fingers. Whatever.
Let's talk about outdoors, nature, and yard work. Again? I am sure you are asking. And to that I say, "YES." Even though I told you how much I hate yard work, Ima talk about it some more. And yes Ima use some of June Gardens' words. Not because I'm copying her but because after reading her for so long they have become a natural part of my vocabulary and I can't really help myself. So Ima stampede to ding dang places from time to time, I may heart my own self sometimes, and Ima definitely post photos from the June Gardens School of Photography. My dad was a professional photographer for 40 years. I apparently was not interested in those genes on the day those were floating around in the womb. I'm sure that's how it works. Who is shocked that I didn't do well in any of my biology classes?
So, yard work. How I hate thee. Still. But do you know what I hate even more? Wasting a bunch of money. And I've spent a small fortune buying yard tools and implements, a mower, hoses, and flowers. My word the flowers. I've probably spent over $1,000 in the past 2 or 3 months on all of the carp and paying my landscaper co-worker/friend by the hour to help me clean up and beautify my front yard. JUST MY FRONT YARD. And it's teeny tiny. We have not even started on the back yard yet. And we will not until next year. Because I'm broke.
But anyway, this is why I was outside at 7:15 am on a Saturday to water all of the blasted flowers we've planted. We planted over 50 flowers two weekends ago (oh the fun I had that day) and I don't want them to die so I have been watering a lot. It's supposed to be in the mid 90's today here in Atlanta and as little as I know about gardening, I know you're supposed to water early morning or in the evening and not in the middle of the day.
So I got up early and went out to water. I'm sort of a large chested person so bras? Not really an option. But I thought, "who in the heck is going to be up at 7:15 on a Saturday?" and went outside with no bra. Do you know who is up in my 'hood? A whole lot of people. A whole lot of people who have seen my girls all out of a bra. Sorry neighbors. I do live in the 'hood. Well, I prefer to say it's transitional, but really it's still more 'hood than transitioned. I live about 3 blocks from a shopping area with a Kroger, Target, Lowe's, Best Buy, Ross, Bed Bath & Beyond, Barnes & Noble, Office Depot, and tons of restaurants, shoe stores, and the nail salon. You know the one. The one I had my pedi in that landed me in the ER with an arm broken in 4 places. Anyway, a lot of people walk to that shopping center at all hours (I am not one of them because I'm too lazy). Including 7:00 a.m. on Saturdays apparently. Because I bet 25+ people walked by and saw me and my braless self outside watering. And I know they saw me because most of them said hello. My neighbors. Very friendly to braless women.
So I watered the shasta daisies, 876 day lilies, hydrangeas, asters, butterfly bushes, gerber daisies, gladiolas, irises, petunias, lavendar, rosemary, basil, dahlias, cone flowers, begonias, bleeding hearts, creeping jenny (my favorite plant name ever - it sounds so sinister), begonias, vinca, lantana, roses, and blanket flowers (which are all ones I've bought), and a whole bunch of other stuff I don't even know the names of. My landscaper friend brought about 30 cuttings from her own yard and planted them so next year when everything is coming up and someone says to me, "that's a gorgeous flower! What is it?" I may answer, "I have no idea on God's green earth what it is, " or perhaps make something up and say, "oh that? Why that's a tuliasterdrangea." But I should be able to tell you the names of all those things I paid for.
Also, I have a maple tree right in front of my bay window and my cat, Bailey, loves to sit in the window. I noticed there were about 40 spider webs in the tree, so I grabbed a big stick to pull them out because I'm assuming it's not good to have spider webs engulfing a tree. So I started waving the stick around in the tree and Bailey? She freaked the heck out. Apparently after twelve and a half years of me rescuing her from a sewer pipe, taking her in, caring for her, feeding her, cleaning her poop pit regularly, loving her like mad, spoiling her rotten, wiping up endless hairballs from the floor, and never once hitting her? She thought I was trying to whack her to death with a stick through a window. She started hissing at me, then cowering, jumping around, and finally took off running. And I stood in my front yard with no bra on, a garden hose in one hand, whacking a tree with a giant stick in the other hand, and laughing my fool head off. My neighbors probably have a mental hospital on stand by for me.
I am an artist/creative type and I like to have art outside too. I have a giant metal star and haven't hung it yet because I want to repaint it and also because I currently can't even move my shoulder enough to floss my teeth, much less lift my hand over my head to hang stuff on a wall. But before I repaint it, I needed to clean it a little because it hung outside at my former apartment and was looking a bit, um, filthy.
I washed it and left it on the driveway to dry a bit and then remembered I just bought a hose reel when I bought that effin' smelly compost that is still in my car. So I went inside to get the garage door opener, walked back to the garage and got the hose reel out, tried to get all of the stickers off of it so I could stick it in the ground. And really? There should be a law that manufacturers should only use tags that you can cut off because I spent 20 minutes peeling all of the itsy bitsy pieces of sticky paper that wouldn't come off easily. Hate. Add that to my list of hated things. Stickers on stuff I buy.
I finally got the sticky stuff off, walked back up the driveway to the front of the house and discovered that a bird had shat upon my freshly washed star. The hell?
I looked around for the guilty bird. Guess what? I have a lot of birds in my yard. I started to cuss out the closest bird but then thought, "what if that's not the guilty bird, Beverly? They are tiny and probably can't hold much self esteem inside them because of their tinyness. You may ruin an innocent bird's self esteem. And then you'd be known by the neighborhood birds as SEK. Self Esteem Killer."
So I rewashed the bird carp off my star. Stupid nature.
Then I realized my flip flops were soaking wet and slippery so I walked around very, very slowly so that I don't have to go to the ER for a second time and say, "flip flops broke another bone for me."
But while all of this nonsense was going on of neighbors who are fans of large chested braless women, watering 900 plants, sticky paper not coming off my hose reel, my cat acting like a complete idiot and birds defecating on my yard art, I observed something else.
I think it's possible that robins might have sister wives. Birds may be freaky y'all.
I had a couple of robins build a nest in a tree in my yard a few months ago, they had babies, and they finally took off. For the past couple of weeks, I've noticed a couple of robins going in and out of the tree a lot.
This morning as I was watering, I saw the robins flying in and out, so I went up under the tree and looked up to see babies being fed. And then the momma almost took my head off and scared the mess out of me.
But they are using the same nest that babies were born in before. So I sat on my front porch when I finished watering and started pondering things.
Would a robin couple re-use another robin couple's nest? That seems kind of gross. I guess birds don't really worry about germs, right? But it seems gross to me as a human.
Or maybe it's the same baby daddy and that first momma bird is sitting close by saying, "that bastard. He knocked me up, left me with all of these babies, and then went and knocked up someone else and also? THAT BITCH STOLE MY NEST."
Or maybe both of the mommas get along and they are in a sister wife situation.
Or can the same robin have babies twice within a few months?
Y'all, what is going on? Why are all of these baby robins being born in the same nest? I know I could google it, but if the police ever have to confiscate my laptop and do a forensic test and I'm on the news for something, I don't want them to say, "we did find that she was searching google for 'do birds have sister wives?'" because that would make me sound crazy.
Again, shocking I did so well in biology back in the day......
I know I said on the Pie facebook page that I wouldn't post every single day and yet here I am. Posting every single day so far. Because apparently I have diarrhea of the mouth. Or fingers. Whatever.
Let's talk about outdoors, nature, and yard work. Again? I am sure you are asking. And to that I say, "YES." Even though I told you how much I hate yard work, Ima talk about it some more. And yes Ima use some of June Gardens' words. Not because I'm copying her but because after reading her for so long they have become a natural part of my vocabulary and I can't really help myself. So Ima stampede to ding dang places from time to time, I may heart my own self sometimes, and Ima definitely post photos from the June Gardens School of Photography. My dad was a professional photographer for 40 years. I apparently was not interested in those genes on the day those were floating around in the womb. I'm sure that's how it works. Who is shocked that I didn't do well in any of my biology classes?
So, yard work. How I hate thee. Still. But do you know what I hate even more? Wasting a bunch of money. And I've spent a small fortune buying yard tools and implements, a mower, hoses, and flowers. My word the flowers. I've probably spent over $1,000 in the past 2 or 3 months on all of the carp and paying my landscaper co-worker/friend by the hour to help me clean up and beautify my front yard. JUST MY FRONT YARD. And it's teeny tiny. We have not even started on the back yard yet. And we will not until next year. Because I'm broke.
But anyway, this is why I was outside at 7:15 am on a Saturday to water all of the blasted flowers we've planted. We planted over 50 flowers two weekends ago (oh the fun I had that day) and I don't want them to die so I have been watering a lot. It's supposed to be in the mid 90's today here in Atlanta and as little as I know about gardening, I know you're supposed to water early morning or in the evening and not in the middle of the day.
So I got up early and went out to water. I'm sort of a large chested person so bras? Not really an option. But I thought, "who in the heck is going to be up at 7:15 on a Saturday?" and went outside with no bra. Do you know who is up in my 'hood? A whole lot of people. A whole lot of people who have seen my girls all out of a bra. Sorry neighbors. I do live in the 'hood. Well, I prefer to say it's transitional, but really it's still more 'hood than transitioned. I live about 3 blocks from a shopping area with a Kroger, Target, Lowe's, Best Buy, Ross, Bed Bath & Beyond, Barnes & Noble, Office Depot, and tons of restaurants, shoe stores, and the nail salon. You know the one. The one I had my pedi in that landed me in the ER with an arm broken in 4 places. Anyway, a lot of people walk to that shopping center at all hours (I am not one of them because I'm too lazy). Including 7:00 a.m. on Saturdays apparently. Because I bet 25+ people walked by and saw me and my braless self outside watering. And I know they saw me because most of them said hello. My neighbors. Very friendly to braless women.
So I watered the shasta daisies, 876 day lilies, hydrangeas, asters, butterfly bushes, gerber daisies, gladiolas, irises, petunias, lavendar, rosemary, basil, dahlias, cone flowers, begonias, bleeding hearts, creeping jenny (my favorite plant name ever - it sounds so sinister), begonias, vinca, lantana, roses, and blanket flowers (which are all ones I've bought), and a whole bunch of other stuff I don't even know the names of. My landscaper friend brought about 30 cuttings from her own yard and planted them so next year when everything is coming up and someone says to me, "that's a gorgeous flower! What is it?" I may answer, "I have no idea on God's green earth what it is, " or perhaps make something up and say, "oh that? Why that's a tuliasterdrangea." But I should be able to tell you the names of all those things I paid for.
Also, I have a maple tree right in front of my bay window and my cat, Bailey, loves to sit in the window. I noticed there were about 40 spider webs in the tree, so I grabbed a big stick to pull them out because I'm assuming it's not good to have spider webs engulfing a tree. So I started waving the stick around in the tree and Bailey? She freaked the heck out. Apparently after twelve and a half years of me rescuing her from a sewer pipe, taking her in, caring for her, feeding her, cleaning her poop pit regularly, loving her like mad, spoiling her rotten, wiping up endless hairballs from the floor, and never once hitting her? She thought I was trying to whack her to death with a stick through a window. She started hissing at me, then cowering, jumping around, and finally took off running. And I stood in my front yard with no bra on, a garden hose in one hand, whacking a tree with a giant stick in the other hand, and laughing my fool head off. My neighbors probably have a mental hospital on stand by for me.
I am an artist/creative type and I like to have art outside too. I have a giant metal star and haven't hung it yet because I want to repaint it and also because I currently can't even move my shoulder enough to floss my teeth, much less lift my hand over my head to hang stuff on a wall. But before I repaint it, I needed to clean it a little because it hung outside at my former apartment and was looking a bit, um, filthy.
I washed it and left it on the driveway to dry a bit and then remembered I just bought a hose reel when I bought that effin' smelly compost that is still in my car. So I went inside to get the garage door opener, walked back to the garage and got the hose reel out, tried to get all of the stickers off of it so I could stick it in the ground. And really? There should be a law that manufacturers should only use tags that you can cut off because I spent 20 minutes peeling all of the itsy bitsy pieces of sticky paper that wouldn't come off easily. Hate. Add that to my list of hated things. Stickers on stuff I buy.
I finally got the sticky stuff off, walked back up the driveway to the front of the house and discovered that a bird had shat upon my freshly washed star. The hell?
I looked around for the guilty bird. Guess what? I have a lot of birds in my yard. I started to cuss out the closest bird but then thought, "what if that's not the guilty bird, Beverly? They are tiny and probably can't hold much self esteem inside them because of their tinyness. You may ruin an innocent bird's self esteem. And then you'd be known by the neighborhood birds as SEK. Self Esteem Killer."
So I rewashed the bird carp off my star. Stupid nature.
Then I realized my flip flops were soaking wet and slippery so I walked around very, very slowly so that I don't have to go to the ER for a second time and say, "flip flops broke another bone for me."
But while all of this nonsense was going on of neighbors who are fans of large chested braless women, watering 900 plants, sticky paper not coming off my hose reel, my cat acting like a complete idiot and birds defecating on my yard art, I observed something else.
I think it's possible that robins might have sister wives. Birds may be freaky y'all.
I had a couple of robins build a nest in a tree in my yard a few months ago, they had babies, and they finally took off. For the past couple of weeks, I've noticed a couple of robins going in and out of the tree a lot.
This morning as I was watering, I saw the robins flying in and out, so I went up under the tree and looked up to see babies being fed. And then the momma almost took my head off and scared the mess out of me.
But they are using the same nest that babies were born in before. So I sat on my front porch when I finished watering and started pondering things.
Would a robin couple re-use another robin couple's nest? That seems kind of gross. I guess birds don't really worry about germs, right? But it seems gross to me as a human.
Or maybe it's the same baby daddy and that first momma bird is sitting close by saying, "that bastard. He knocked me up, left me with all of these babies, and then went and knocked up someone else and also? THAT BITCH STOLE MY NEST."
Or maybe both of the mommas get along and they are in a sister wife situation.
Or can the same robin have babies twice within a few months?
Y'all, what is going on? Why are all of these baby robins being born in the same nest? I know I could google it, but if the police ever have to confiscate my laptop and do a forensic test and I'm on the news for something, I don't want them to say, "we did find that she was searching google for 'do birds have sister wives?'" because that would make me sound crazy.
Again, shocking I did so well in biology back in the day......
Here is my front porch where I ponder whether robins have sister wives. It seems like the kind of porch to sit on without your bra and ponder things like that, right? Also, my mom took this picture when she was here a couple of weeks ago visiting from Texas which is why it's fairly clear and you can tell it's a porch and not a bedroom which might be an issue had I taken the picture.
Friday, May 25, 2012
Do you smell something foul? Oh that's just me. Because I just got out of my car.
Now that we've started this I didn't want to bore you by not posting on only the second day. So instead I'll bore you with a post. And it will be filled with grammatical errors because I'm definitely no June Gardens.
As I mentioned yesterday, I just bought a house 6 months ago. I've never owned a house before. That means I've never owned a yard and I've pretty much decided that owning a yard sucks. I want it to be pretty but I hate sweating and bugs. I don't really consider myself a girly girl except for the hating sweating and bugs part.
And snakes. I really hate those. (I had to kill one in my driveway a few weeks ago with one arm in a cast. It involved beating it with a big stick until it bled and then I ran over it with my car. Then I was grossed out, left it in the middle of my driveway, went to work, and thankfully something must have eaten it while I was at work because it was most definitely dead and squished when I left for work, but gone when I got home. I also spent a whole bunch of money getting squirrels out of my attic, replacing the siding they had chewed holes in, and having my house sealed up. Maybe one of those squirrels ate the snake since they could no longer eat my house.)
Okay, so I hate sweating, bugs and snakes. And roaches. OMG, hate roaches. And I think I started off writing a post about yard work but now I've started listing all the things I hate. Quite honestly there is not enough space on the entire internet to list all of the things I hate so I should get back on topic.
Yard work. Hate it too. At least I did a couple of months ago. That may have been because I had a cast on my arm, I bought a retro manual mower because my yard is the size of a postage stamp and a gas or electric mower seemed a bit ridiculous, I had to push it around one handed, I've pulled weeds for hours because my house was a foreclosure and had been a bit neglected, I've raked one handed, and I shoveled approximately 347,952 pounds of potting soil out of three brick planters with one hand. And I declared yard work as horrid. And I quickly added it to my gigantic list of things I hate. But now I'm getting to the planting pretty stuff part and it's, um, less horrid. Still not any barrel of fun for me, but less horrid. If the bugs and sweating would end I might enjoy it the tiniest bit. Maybe. No, I probably wouldn't actually enjoy it but might hate it the slightest bit less.
A lady I work with has a side business helping people with yard work and landscaping. She's come over 3 times to help me. And she keeps convincing me to spend a lot of money I don't really have. On yard work supplies. Which I hate.
She's coming over this weekend to help me plant the $783703284 worth of flowers I've bought at her suggestion which I will then pay $26947045984305800 in water bills to keep alive.
She asked me to get a few more flowers.
And she told me to buy some compost.
I have physical therapy 3 nights this week after work and a few other things going on so I had to go on the only free evening I had to get the yard stuff. Which was Wednesday.
I went to Home Depot and got all of the plants, flowers, bug spray, hose reels and tools I could fit in my cart and then headed to the check out. I asked the cashier if she could add on 3 bags of compost, explained that I'm recovering from a broken arm and under doc's orders not to lift more than 5 pounds right now and asked if she could have someone help me load the compost in my car.
I pulled up to the sidewalk as she instructed me to and she said as the guy was walking over to me, "he may need to see your receipt." He approached me and held up 3 fingers. I said, "yes - 3 bags please. Do you need to see my receipt?" And he stared at me as though I have 8 heads. So I asked again, "do you need to see my receipt?" He just stared. I asked him two more times. He continued to stare. Finally the cashier yelled, "HE'S DEAF! HE CAN'T HEAR YOU!" and I felt like an idiot.
And then I drove home, pulled in the garage, opened the back of my SUV and realized I really am an idiot. I can't unload the compost as it didn't magically become less than 5 pounds when I got home. It's approaching 90 degrees here in Atlanta this week.
Animal poop/who-knows-what-else + hot = very, very bad.
And that is why I will be driving around in a car that smells like carp (literally) for 4 days.
Updated: Last night on my way home from an event, I stopped at the grocery store and one thing I got was toilet paper. I couldn't carry it and my other stuff in one trip and, being lazy, I left it in my car. On top of the compost. So if you come over to visit me, I now have pre-scented toilet paper ready for you!
As I mentioned yesterday, I just bought a house 6 months ago. I've never owned a house before. That means I've never owned a yard and I've pretty much decided that owning a yard sucks. I want it to be pretty but I hate sweating and bugs. I don't really consider myself a girly girl except for the hating sweating and bugs part.
And snakes. I really hate those. (I had to kill one in my driveway a few weeks ago with one arm in a cast. It involved beating it with a big stick until it bled and then I ran over it with my car. Then I was grossed out, left it in the middle of my driveway, went to work, and thankfully something must have eaten it while I was at work because it was most definitely dead and squished when I left for work, but gone when I got home. I also spent a whole bunch of money getting squirrels out of my attic, replacing the siding they had chewed holes in, and having my house sealed up. Maybe one of those squirrels ate the snake since they could no longer eat my house.)
Okay, so I hate sweating, bugs and snakes. And roaches. OMG, hate roaches. And I think I started off writing a post about yard work but now I've started listing all the things I hate. Quite honestly there is not enough space on the entire internet to list all of the things I hate so I should get back on topic.
Yard work. Hate it too. At least I did a couple of months ago. That may have been because I had a cast on my arm, I bought a retro manual mower because my yard is the size of a postage stamp and a gas or electric mower seemed a bit ridiculous, I had to push it around one handed, I've pulled weeds for hours because my house was a foreclosure and had been a bit neglected, I've raked one handed, and I shoveled approximately 347,952 pounds of potting soil out of three brick planters with one hand. And I declared yard work as horrid. And I quickly added it to my gigantic list of things I hate. But now I'm getting to the planting pretty stuff part and it's, um, less horrid. Still not any barrel of fun for me, but less horrid. If the bugs and sweating would end I might enjoy it the tiniest bit. Maybe. No, I probably wouldn't actually enjoy it but might hate it the slightest bit less.
A lady I work with has a side business helping people with yard work and landscaping. She's come over 3 times to help me. And she keeps convincing me to spend a lot of money I don't really have. On yard work supplies. Which I hate.
She's coming over this weekend to help me plant the $783703284 worth of flowers I've bought at her suggestion which I will then pay $26947045984305800 in water bills to keep alive.
She asked me to get a few more flowers.
And she told me to buy some compost.
I have physical therapy 3 nights this week after work and a few other things going on so I had to go on the only free evening I had to get the yard stuff. Which was Wednesday.
I went to Home Depot and got all of the plants, flowers, bug spray, hose reels and tools I could fit in my cart and then headed to the check out. I asked the cashier if she could add on 3 bags of compost, explained that I'm recovering from a broken arm and under doc's orders not to lift more than 5 pounds right now and asked if she could have someone help me load the compost in my car.
I pulled up to the sidewalk as she instructed me to and she said as the guy was walking over to me, "he may need to see your receipt." He approached me and held up 3 fingers. I said, "yes - 3 bags please. Do you need to see my receipt?" And he stared at me as though I have 8 heads. So I asked again, "do you need to see my receipt?" He just stared. I asked him two more times. He continued to stare. Finally the cashier yelled, "HE'S DEAF! HE CAN'T HEAR YOU!" and I felt like an idiot.
And then I drove home, pulled in the garage, opened the back of my SUV and realized I really am an idiot. I can't unload the compost as it didn't magically become less than 5 pounds when I got home. It's approaching 90 degrees here in Atlanta this week.
Animal poop/who-knows-what-else + hot = very, very bad.
And that is why I will be driving around in a car that smells like carp (literally) for 4 days.
Updated: Last night on my way home from an event, I stopped at the grocery store and one thing I got was toilet paper. I couldn't carry it and my other stuff in one trip and, being lazy, I left it in my car. On top of the compost. So if you come over to visit me, I now have pre-scented toilet paper ready for you!
Thursday, May 24, 2012
So, here we are....the new gathering spot for fans of Bye Bye Pie. And some others may join us because I'm going to let some people who used to follow my old blog know about this new place. In a tribute to our beloved June Gardens, and the fabulous suggestion of Lisa, I went with the name Left Over Pie. I'm not even close to being as funny as June, but I know y'all will run with things in the comments and provide all of the humor I am missing. And at some point, I will get a better template. And I'm cheap so I'm using a free Blogger account.
For those who know nothing about me, here is my current life in a nutshell:
1. I live in Atlanta. I'm in my 40's. Here's a picture of me.
4. My boyfriend of over 5 years is currently living in Brazil. And this sucks. But hopefully he'll be back in December. (I won't say how long he's been gone because everyone thinks I'm insane for waiting so long for him. But he's totally worth it. His blog name is Hot Brazilian. Because he's hot. And Brazilian.) Here's a picture of him:
5. I just bought my first house 6 months ago.
6. In the past 6 months I've had 2 1/2 weeks without houseguests. For reals. And I have more coming next month.
7. My first 5 weeks of living in my house were full of construction. I don't recommend starting off home ownership like that.
8. I broke my arm just above the elbow in 4 places just 3 months after moving in. I spent over a month in a big plaster thing and a horrid body brace and could not take a shower or even change my bra for 5 weeks. (That's even grosser than you are imagining. But it took 3 people to get the brace on and off me at the doctor's office and I live alone. You do the math.) Then over 2 months in a regular cast. I just got it off 1 week ago and am now in physical therapy. And there are going to be stories about that. Many stories.
9. Based on Numbers 5 and 6, I still haven't unpacked my house. So don't come over and look in the bedroom which is eventually going to be a breakfast room. Or the bedroom that is eventually going to be a walk-in closet. Because those two bedrooms are a hot mess. Or the bedroom that is my art studio. It's the scariest one of all. It's like an entire Michael's store threw up in there.
10. I already miss June Gardens like mad and she hasn't even officially closed up shop yet. Hopefully she will not be mad that I've started a new gathering place and will join us over here in the comments.
So, let's keep our dysfunctional family going here!
For those who know nothing about me, here is my current life in a nutshell:
1. I live in Atlanta. I'm in my 40's. Here's a picture of me.
Just kidding. I wish I looked like that. Only less cartoony. That's a picture I painted. I'm a part-time artist and teach classes where people come and booze it up. Yes! Painting and drinking! It's fun, y'all!
2. I work full time as a legal assistant. Sometimes we booze it up at my law firm too. Like pretty much once a month. Or more often maybe. But I don't drink too often. We also have Cake Day once a month. I do eat cake so I make up for saving the firm on alcohol by eating too much cake.
3. Here is a real photo of me. Yes, I'm well aware that I need liposuction on my 8 chins and my teeth are in desperate need of whitening. I've been busy, okay? And there are days my crazy hair rivals June's.
4. My boyfriend of over 5 years is currently living in Brazil. And this sucks. But hopefully he'll be back in December. (I won't say how long he's been gone because everyone thinks I'm insane for waiting so long for him. But he's totally worth it. His blog name is Hot Brazilian. Because he's hot. And Brazilian.) Here's a picture of him:
5. I just bought my first house 6 months ago.
6. In the past 6 months I've had 2 1/2 weeks without houseguests. For reals. And I have more coming next month.
7. My first 5 weeks of living in my house were full of construction. I don't recommend starting off home ownership like that.
8. I broke my arm just above the elbow in 4 places just 3 months after moving in. I spent over a month in a big plaster thing and a horrid body brace and could not take a shower or even change my bra for 5 weeks. (That's even grosser than you are imagining. But it took 3 people to get the brace on and off me at the doctor's office and I live alone. You do the math.) Then over 2 months in a regular cast. I just got it off 1 week ago and am now in physical therapy. And there are going to be stories about that. Many stories.
9. Based on Numbers 5 and 6, I still haven't unpacked my house. So don't come over and look in the bedroom which is eventually going to be a breakfast room. Or the bedroom that is eventually going to be a walk-in closet. Because those two bedrooms are a hot mess. Or the bedroom that is my art studio. It's the scariest one of all. It's like an entire Michael's store threw up in there.
10. I already miss June Gardens like mad and she hasn't even officially closed up shop yet. Hopefully she will not be mad that I've started a new gathering place and will join us over here in the comments.
So, let's keep our dysfunctional family going here!
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