This One Goes To Eleven

1728 1728_ () 1728 1728

Happy Birthday, dear sweet Elliott, you little whippersnapper of a boy.

What joy you bring us, what delight and mischief and everything in between.

Elliott had the kind of party you have when there is no kitchen in your house. It was a good party, a very fun party. We had a delicious cake decorated by the loving hands of Raquel at Publix Bakery. Paul told me I should have put the famous Spinal Tap quip on the cake, but I was just glad I could get a chocolate cake with a bit of sentiment attached.

As for dinner, it was brilliant if I do say so myself. Tune in, well, sometime within the next few days, and I will have all the glorious details and information on how you too can host dinner for 20 with no kitchen whatsoever.



Mea Culpa

1727 1727_ () 1727 1727 This afternoon I was settled into the chair at my salon getting a haircut when I got a text from Paul.

“I think Aragorn’s ranger name is Strider, not Stryker.”

My heart shot out of my chest. Of course it isn’t Stryker. How could I get this wrong? What kind of person gets Aragorn’s ranger name wrong? My boys are going to be so disappointed in me. My readers will mock me.

“Ahh. Shoot,” I texted back. “You’re right! Can you change it for me?”

“How can I edit your blog,” asked Paul.

I tried giving him the user name and password, but as it’s programmed into my computer I couldn’t remember the correct information.

“Never mind,” I said. “I’ll fix it when I get home.”

So here I am fixing this utterly ridiculous mistake. I am so sorry to all the LOTR fans I have let down.

Amin hiraetha. 1727″> ? .


Out Damn Spot!

1726 1726_ () 1726 1726 One recent evening as I zipped from one end of the house to the other, I noticed this spot on the kitchen floor.

“What could that be,” I wondered. From where I stood it looked to be a chunk of brownie, or perhaps a clod of dirt. Maybe even something worse, which is precisely why I didn’t just swoop down and grab the unidentified object with my bare hands.

Closer, closer I crept, studying with fervor. My brain raced through the possibilities, a list that included every form of animal, vegetable or mineral I could conjure.

Finally, I reached the object. I poked at it for a moment until it moved just enough to reveal its true nature:

Stryker Strider. Or as he is now known, Aragorn the Headless Warrior.



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