Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Sunday, August 19, 2007
I'm hoping she didn't leave any of those little flea reminders in my boas. I'd hate to share those with my friends too.
Saturday, August 18, 2007
Friday, August 17, 2007
What a surprise it was when we arrived home to find that Wanda took care of all the dishes that we left behind this morning in our haste to get to court.
And speaking of Wanda, it seems she might now be a bit of a celebrity. She made the news in the Red Hat Society Friday Broadcast this week and will forever reside in the RHS archives at http://www.redhatsociety.com/ RHS members can click here to see the link.
Note to Wanda: perhaps you have been granted an extra life here. So that brings you back to 6, right?
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Monday, August 13, 2007
In Fuzzy Red Slippers... I've been talking a lot about dancing lately. Has something to do with my line dance class. Since I sometimes have a one track mind, when I get into something it's wholeheartedly. So, speaking of dancing, I keep this book that a dear friend gave to me a while back on my nightstand. It's a wonderful collection of little quips and observations, most of them pretty darn funny. Well today, I learned to be careful about what one leaves on ones nightstand....
One of the guys in my office did a little work on the "Queens" bathroom last week. Today he came into the office reciting "Flying". I gave him one of those what's-that-all-about looks. He tilted his head with one of those sh*t eating grins that guys get and says, "it's on page 83 in Dancing Naked...in fuzzy red slippers, the one you have bookmarked." I do believe my face matched my fuzzy red slippers.
An appropriate quote I heard yesterday from my friend that I found to be a Japanese proverb... "We're fools whether we dance or not, so we might as well dance."
Going now... getting slippers... closing blinds... gonna dance.
Sunday, August 12, 2007
In an effort to train a bit for our Alaska voyage, we did a little hiking and exploring John Muir's history today.
Little J says, "so here is where Wanda was born." We tried to explain that Wanda was actually John Muir's daughter but Little J was more intersted in exploring the giant mountain where he insisted CatWanda once lived. It wasn't quite enough incentive to make it to the top but we did get far enough to look over the bay. Not too bad considering the day was quite warm and Grandpa is still working on his fitness levels after spending a few days in the hospital.
CatWanda stayed home where the de-fleaing process was happening. Yes, once again we bombed the house and beaded drops of Advantage smack between the shoulders of 3 disgruntled cats. My ankles already look like I have chicken pox. And, on top of that, it seems that while I was hiking up Mt Wanda, I may have brought a few renegades with me in my wool socks.
After purposely putting Little J to bed late last night I had hoped for a nice Sunday morning sleep in. Then the faint mumblings of Elmo's World began around 6am. Drat, Little J didn't sleep in, I thought. Next thing I know a sleepy Little J is rustling beneath my covers. Elmo is still singing the alphabet at the other end of the house. Little J starts giggling. More Elmo welcomes. More giggles. "JJ, go back to your room and shut off that blasted Elmo thing. Wake me up when you see an 8 on the clock," I say.
"Not me. Wanda did it," Little J says. "Listen Gramma" Sure enough Elmo continues his worldly twang. Sure enough there is little Wanda zapping the alphabet keys, one by one. Too early for pictures but not too early to lose one more life. I think that leaves five.
Friday, August 10, 2007
It started off at the hairdresser. I was unfortunate to have an appointment at the same time as the loudest and most talkative lady in the county. She never stopped. I tried rolling my eyes a few times in an attempt to signal my hairdresser about my disgruntedness. She never picked up on it. So now I know all about the loudmouth's planned trip to NY to visit her son, all the way down to what is in the refrigerator, or perhaps I should say what is not in the refrigerator. I know they live in the suburbs and "grandma" likes to stay and play with the kids rather than tour the big city. She stays away from certain delis, doesn't take cabs or any other method of public transportation, (how did she get there anyway?) and takes enough underwear for the entire trip so she doesn't have to do any laundry. Too much information.
It didn't get much better when I visited the local fabric crafts store. Why do clerks always have to ask what you are making? If they can't figure out why I have 3 yards of 1" elasticized sequin hat band, 2 red fabric pens, a large jar of red glitter, a tube of red glitter glue, 3 bags of red sequins, a jar of true red fabric paint, three different sized fabric paint brushes and one little white baseball hat, what business is it of theirs?
By this time it was way past lunch time but I figured I could squeeze in one quick trip into the mega bookstore before I crashed into sugarless oblivion. I know there is a ton of info on the internet about cruises to Alaska but sometimes I just have to have my hands on a good solid shiny covered picture book with maps, walks, directions and bunches of glossy touristy photos. It just feels right. In record time I managed to find two perfect books that I just had to have. No problem there. As I approached the counter, I was grateful that there was only one person in front of me. Well, make that one family that happened to be making one simple purchase. With a gift card. And a clerk on the phone. And only one clerk on duty. And a computer system that was down. Five minutes later, with about 10 more patrons, credit cards in hand, jockeying for the next available clerk, over the speaker comes an plea for a "visual receipt specialist." A middle aged woman, pencil balanced over one ear and yellowed receipt book in hand, announces she will take the next customer who happens to have cash. Huh? Cash? What's that?