Monday, December 27, 2004

Scat. And I don't mean "go away," or "jazz."

We're leaving in the morning for Michigan. Christmas isn't over for us, not just yet.

Hub's family lives up there. They are quite possibly the nicest people on this or any other planet. I can't wait!

We were supposed to go on Sunday morning, but we couldn't get anything but the truck out of the driveway. The snow has melted enough now, that we can get the Honda out.

So yeeHAW, we're going up North in the morning!

I gave the three children up there a Christmas present on Thanksgiving, but I'm bringing more with me tomorrow. Don't tell!

Because I dare, that's why.

The downstairs poop hunt has not produced a winner yet. I can only vaguely smell it, but it's definitely vaguely there.

The vagueness tells me that it's perhaps concealed underneath something. Something that will have to be burned, because it touched poop.

I checked both beds down there; they're clean.

So if you visit, you need not fear poop in the middle of your bedspread.

Some future time I will relate something that happened to Hub a year or so ago. It was hilarious, for two reasons: 1) the look on his face, and 2) it wasn't me that touched it.

Details at a later date. Although I will tell you that I threw the bedspread away.

My snow boots are hideous. They look like something Ruth Buzzi would wear, whilst appearing as Gladys Ormphby on Laugh-In. I have no doubt that Ruth, in real life, buys her clothes from Versace, but Gladys would dig my snow boots. Nobody else does, that's for sure. Belle has something to say about them every time she sees them. But they do their job, ie keeping my feet dry in the snow. Looking good isn't their job, so I forgive them for being hideous enough to draw stares.

My winter coat is ugly, too, now that I'm on the subject, but you know what? I've discovered that the older I get, the less I care about clothes. I almost always WEAR them, don't get me wrong, but all those mismatched hideousities I used to make fun of when the geezers came out at night, are now on my own back. Belle has style and taste, and Zappa has chutzpah, but Mamacita just doesn't give a rat's nether region any more. Keep me warm. Keep me dry. Keep me from going to jail on indecency charges. I'm happy.

Zappa got me the coolest computer lamp I've ever seen. It's two HUGE bloodshot eyeballs, on bendy stems. I'd post a picture if I knew how. It kind of reminds me of the long tentacled eyeballs on the original 'War of the Worlds,' only bloodshot. And way cooler.

So my home will never make the cover of "House Beautiful." So what? Those people in magazines like that never let their kids drink Red Creme Soda on that white carpet, or went on poop hunts rather than let the Cat freeze to death. If they ever came to my house, they'd pass out cold. And Charley Gordon would poop on their stomachs.

I'd rather have a bit of a mess, than have a house that people couldn't LIVE in.

And believe me, I usually have a mess.

But people LIVE in my living room, and EAT in my dining room. Isn't that what they're for?

I was finally able to buy milk tonight. There has been no actual food on the grocery store shelves in this county for a week.

Unless you wanted cereal named after cartoon characters that you've never heard of. You know, the kind that turns your milk blue. Or brown.

If I wanted brown milk, or brown nuggets, I'd throw myself into the poop hunt with a little more enthusiasm.

Baby Ruth, anyone?