Twenty-Twenty

Afternoon Readers,
     Yesterday, while cleaning out our junk drawer, I found something behind the extra tape, spare pencils and coupons I hadn't seen for quite awhile, so I cracked it open and took a peak. They were still there. I slipped them on and stared at Butch and Sundance. "What do you think?" After dropping their cookies, in shock, they started laughing. I'd found my glasses, the ones I talked myself into not wearing, on the grounds that my vision had gotten better by itself - I hear that happens a lot...to just me...and not anyone else. As it turned out, my vision has apparently started healing itself in the opposite direction, leaving me with a somewhat misinformed view of the world.

The Uninvited Guest

Morning Readers,
     Husband delivered the news, yesterday...

     "I think we have a mouse."

     I quit filling out my check to Good Housekeeping. "Why do you say that?"

     "When I was napping downstairs, I heard something scurrying in the cabinets."

     "Well, at least that explains all the miscellaneous charges on our account."

     "What charges?"

Diversifying My Confusion

"A 401K ......is that like Hoof and Mouth?"

Morning Readers,

     My approach to money has always been fairly simple - save it..except when you're in college and everyone finds out you were home schooled and didn't party, but spent every weekend working, and have a fair amount of money to buy beer instead of the car your parents talked you out of. Either or, my understanding of money is relatively mundane, so when Husband advised he'd invited financial planners over, I didn't know what to do. "But what do they want?" I questioned.

     "They want to help us evaluate our goals and make sure we're doing smart things with our money."

     "These Ficus planners..that's what they do, evaluate?"

The Homliest of The Homeless: Top 5 Reasons It's Impossible To Look Decent

Morning Readers,
    This weekend I switched on the TV as a reporter, brandishing his microphone, crept up to an unsuspecting woman, and fired questions: "How long have you been homeless?", "I noticed it had a cat playing guitar on it, is that sweatshirt from a very generous family?", "It's smart of you to have a purse that doubles as a pillow/lunchbox." The woman shrugged helplessly while the toddler on her hip chewed on a cracker. "I'm not homeless..and this is Bobby." Shaking my head, I pushed the "off" button with my cereal spoon. It was obvious she'd fallen victim to homeless stereotyping. Let's consider....

Like Strands Through The Hour Glass: A Missing Hair Stylist Mystery

Afternoon Readers,
     I remember it like it was two months, eight days, nineteen hours, five minutes and seven seconds ago, practically yesterday, but a little bit longer than that. After receiving a letter from PETA asking me whether I'd like to be represented as an endangered species, I wandered to the mirror, screamed in fright, passed out, woke-up, and decided looking like Ted Kaczynski had run its course. Grabbing my phone, I  attempted to dial the only woman in the world who can face my head of hair and not need rehab afterwards. But there was nothing, only a blank space where "Keeper of The Locks" should've been...

Put It On My Tab

Morning Readers,
    
     Anyone who tells you a baby won't get you into a little bit of debt is lying. That's why I only want to have eight or nine more (ten more, and I'm never getting the yacht and private butler). After I received the bill for Butch and Sundance, I called the hospital. "Yes, this is Mrs. Kellerman. I hate to be rude, but it seems you didn't apply my coupon...what coupon?...It was a two-for-one....well I left it taped to my bed pan so you wouldn't miss it...I see. So, all of it?...yes, yes. I'll start deciding which one to give back...Thank you." The bills haven't stopped coming, and it wasn't until yesterday, I started thinking these people might just be crooks.

Calculating the Velocity of A Toddler: Mass x Acceleration = Insanity

Morning Readers,

     Once upon a time, I needed one more class to graduate. Naturally, because my degree was to be in English, my diploma depended on a solitary science credit. Whine as I might, the man in the tweed coat said, "No, you cannot graduate without it. And stop crying on your over-priced text book; you'll never be able to sell it back." So, after I sold back a soggy copy of "Every Piece of English Literature Ever Written", I was sent to another man in another tweed coat who told me he'd teach me about the stars and math and calculating the mass of blah blah blah. Who cared about big balls of gas and math and suffering?

...Everyone. Turns out, math can save your life..or your coffee.

The Squeaky Wheel Gets The Shame

Morning Readers,

     After a long day of football, Husband was in no shape to go grocery shopping. My heart bled for him - for how brave he'd been to watch game after game without stopping. I clutched his hand.  "Where do you find the strength to go on.....to keep those handsome eyes open, shining so bravely into the bleak world that is professional sports? Does it make your pupils hurt?" How could I possibly ask the man to go buy shredded cheese, when he'd beached himself on the couch so nobly? Staunching my tears of pride, I drove to the grocery store, found a parking spot that would tone my calves, and went to grab the first cart I saw.

Letter From The Editor: I'm Guest Blogging Today....

Morning Readers,

     Today I'm guest-writing over at the fantastic Regectedriter's blog. Feel free to stop by and say hello, and I'll see you back here on Monday. Same Bat place. Same Bat time...

Have a Great Weekend Readers!

The Fugly Christmas Sweater Vampire Incident

Morning Readers,
     Considering the state of the Split-level before we bought it, it's never failed to amaze me people resided here before us. The brown molding, stark walls and swan on the shower door have always suggested a unique sense of bra-burning style, but I'd always imagined the prior residents to be vampires who loved aquatic birds. Because we still get their mail from time to time, Husband I know their name. Thankfully, we now know they're as frightening as we suspected...

Brad Is The Pitts

Morning Readers,

     A couple nights ago, just as I was about to spend some quality time with my Oreo ice cream sandwich, Husband poked me in the shoulder and pointed at the TV. Touching me while I'm eating is usually a good way to lose a hand, but he seemed excited about something, so I held my desert gingerly on my palm, blew on it to keep it cool and waited for an explanation. "Yes?"

     "We should see this movie. It's called Moneyball. I read the book and can't wait to take you to see it."

     I patted my ice cream lovingly. "What's it about...Ice cream that hasn't melted and the men who serve it?"

An Evening In Review

Morning Readers,

     It may not have made your local news, but Saturday night, Husband and I hit the town. The Date Night Police raised the point we'd already been out once this month, but we managed to smush our guilt into yards of spandex, new dress pants, and cramped shoes, just long enough to drop Butch and Sundance off, and head out in pursuit of our cousin's wedding reception. Given enough time, we managed to transform our new lease on life into something truly special... And it pleases me to say that, after much anticipation, the reviews are in. Here's just a few things people are saying about Saturday night's performance:

In Search of Grown-Up Clothes

Afternoon Readers,

     While lying in bed, and before sweet sleep and Coor's Light could spirit me away to a land where no one asks me anything for eight hours straight, I remembered to run through the Checklist. "Honey, there's a wedding coming up. Do you have a shirt, shoes, belt, pants and a tie? Actual pants, mind you. Not ones with a drawstring." He confirmed he did, but wouldn't mind having a new shirt...or, at least I thought that's what he said, as he set me out on the hallway, closed the door and put a pillow over his ears..

     That night, I dreamed Husband and I were at the wedding, wearing expensive, perfectly tailored outfits. Women fainted. John Stamos asked me to marry him. "No no, Uncle Jessie," I laughed, "I'm taken by that fine man over there. Did you not see how his belt matches his shoes?"

Au' Jus Really Trying To Cook Something?

Morning Readers,
     Did you know there are books out there comprised entirely of recipes? That's it. Nothing else... Not even a crossword puzzle or a Why Do I Care I share A Birthday With Robert Redford Celebrity Birthday Column. A few days ago,  Husband strolled-up next to me, dropped one of these books on the dining room table, cracked it open and stuck a finger to one of the pages. "We should make this."

     I stopped Googling "how to avoid cooking at all costs" and looked up at him. "Where did you get that?"

The Moving Picture Show

Everyone was disappointed that The English Patient in 3D wasn't what they thought it'd be...

 Morning Readers,

     I'd heard about it in the newspapers...wait..no...maybe it was on TV. "Talking pictures" was what everyone kept calling them. For a price, people our age could gather in large groups, at something called a "movie theater", and sit in their very own chairs... Chairs made of smooth velvet, uninterrupted dreams. You didn't even have to have a baby attached to your leg, to get in. Confirming this information, I threw my half-eaten waffle into the living room, and proclaimed. "Honey Dew, I've found the answer to our prayers. Hitch the horses and put on your Sunday best..we're going into town." To which, he replied...

A Labor Day Thought And An Award

 Morning Readers,
     Ahh..the three day weekend. Today is Labor Day in the good old USA, meaning everyone gets together and talks about why they hate working so much. Or maybe that was me at 8 o'clock in the morning, grumbling about why the children had to "..wake up and eat breakfast for the 300th day in a row." While I poked at my oatmeal, I contemplated all the other chores I'd be doing. I'd already taken out the trash, sprinting quickly so no one could see my pink fairy pajama bottoms and medical scrub pants. And then I remembered the laundry sitting in the dryer. And then I got mad and slapped my oatmeal. Why? Because oatmeal needs to be put in its place, and because:

The Stand-Off

Morning Readers,

     Right now, my patience is wearing thinner than the ice cubes in my high ball. He's not even trying to make it work. Everything was cake and free cigarettes, for a while, but that dirty, rotten traitor took our love and tore it into little pieces of regret. Someone still has a furry chip on their shoulder and wanted to rub it in. To say, "No, you will never have anything nice because you have kids and a dog, and that dog's middle name is Benedict Arnold. Even though it doesn't actually say that on the birth certificate." My Dear Readers, I'm sad to report the garage sale couch has been violated.

Return of the Dead-Eye

 Morning Readers,
     Some people think I'm stupid. Most of those people are spiders. Usually it's the ones who haven't heard of me, or, as I'm known on the the streets of the spider underground, El Zapato De La Muerte - The Shoe of Death. My dear Readers, you know how I feel about the class Arachnida. And after I issued a clear warning, earlier this summer, it's nothing short of amazing that any of them would dare cross my threshold. But, like I always say:

      "Fool me once, shame on me. Fool me twice....well, you won't, because I'm coming to kill you with my Land's End relax-fit moccasin."