The Road Less Traveled

We all come to pivotal moments during our lives.  

Moments 

to choose

whether we will 

 follow the road that will allow us to look in the mirror 

and see 

the melted chocolate scavenged from the bottom of our purse 

smeared all over our face

or

whether we will give in and follow the crowd.

Nuptial Knowledge

It is our wedding anniversary today.  Anniversary is such a beautiful word.  Let us break it into parts, dear reader, so that we may glean the golden nuggets of meaning that shimmer within.

Anni which means never forget 

 ver which means or 

 sary which means your life is in peril.

 



As my mind wanders back through the crags, past foggy curtains and through the dusty unused corners of my brain, a few thoughts surface, glimmering like a school of anchovies swimming through the oil clogged surface of the Gulf of Mexico.



Back then he was the man of my dreams...

Now

He interrupts my dreams with his snoring and I, in turn interrupt his dreams with the gentle stirring of the covers as I unconsciously set free my extraneous air in a ladylike manner.




Back then he made my heart race...

Now

We race for the remote and as our hands touch he frantically tries to find ESPN as I search for Law and Order reruns and after the melee we fall, panting on the couch, our hearts beating like the jungle drums on the NatGeo channel.






Back then we thought that love made the world go round...

Now

We know that love of underbaked chocolate chip cookies with a dollop of Dreyers double vanilla ice cream make both the world and our bodies go round.

Back then we thought that love was blind

Now

We are both blind without our stinkin' glasses and grateful to be blind on a more or less regular basis.

Back then we thought that love meant never having to say you're sorry...

Just kidding, neither of us was ever that stupid.

My name is Nixon and I am not a Crook

My guest blogger today is my dog, who stole my camera and took pictures of his dog kingdom since he is not allowed in the house which is a people kingdom.  WARNING:  He is not well trained


Nixon...take it away.

We'll start with my best feature, which is my smooth furry hiney to which is attached my beguiling tail;  tipped in a white so brilliant that it rivals the new fallen snow sparkling under the cruel winter sun.  When I wave it to and fro it is mesmerizing to birds which is how I caught this one.

Oh don't give me those groans of disgust.  I'm a beagle and I come from a long line of distinguished hunters.  Okay, I actually came from Peoria, but I'm sure my grandpappy was a hunter, probably in England where they get to kill foxes, not wimpy grackles.  Grackles taste like crap.

This is the corner of my canine condo.  This is where I planned to woo the lady beagles until I took a spa vacation at Petco and came home feeling strangely neutral.

This is the tree I peed into greatness.

I have a side job harvesting vegetables from the garden.  I am trying to save my masters from nasty vegetables.

Sometimes I lie under this bench and pretend they are prison bars and that I have been sentenced to the gulag for selling family secrets to the Russians in exchange for a delicious sack of pig ears from Costco.  

This is my basil plant for when I want to redecorate my kingdom with pesto poop.

My name is Nixon

and I was named after 

a watch

not 

a President.

Don't Regurgitate - Compensate!

Sometime last week, after I ate a small tower of oreos and drank a long cool glass of la leche, I hit myself on the forehead in disgust.

After I peeled the crushed oreo imbedded in sweet lardy goodness off my forehead that I had inadvertently stuck there with my self punishing hand smack, I said to myself while I ate it...

Me:  This just won't do.  Sweet oreo lard is extremely bad for your complexion, and besides, you are a good person who should be able to eat oreos without self flagellation.

Me:  I should?


Me:  Darn tootin'.

Me:  Well, what can we do about all the fat and calories?

 
Me:  For one thing, we're going to quit talking to ourselves and work this out in the laboratory.

Me:  Can I bring the oreos?


Me:  Sure:




And so, dear readers, after a day and a night and a day of testing, a 200 pack of latex gloves, a close call with an explosion  of purple smoke and complaints from the neighbors, I present to you:

Diet Equalizers

This is the deal.  

When you eat something naughty that you will be wearing on your thighs within 24 hours, consult the following equalizer list and counteract your indulgence with sensible compensating behavior.

 NAUGHTY FOOD                               ANTIDOTE

1/2 package Oreos                                One large bunch

                                                                of well chewed celery

Chimichanga w/guacamole                   9 orange habanero

                                                                 chili peppers to speed

                                                                 metabolism into turbo

State fair funnel cake                             1 ride on the tilt-a-hurl

Extra large movie popcorn                    158 involuntary muscle

                                                                  contractions while

                                                                  watching Karate Kid

                                                                  remake

Cheeseburger and fries                          3 large charcoal briquets

                                                                  with grease absorbent

                                                                   capabilities

Top layer of 1 lb. box                              3 lbs. of pulverized

of Sees Nuts and Chews                           peanut shells to 

                                                                   serve as roughage

                                                                   transfer substance

My laboratory is open for further experimentation.  What do you need an antidote for?                                           

 

McCranky over McToys

 

McDonald's happy meals are making some people very cranky.  Those insidious happy meal toys are luring children into plumpness by the boatload.  The healthy folks of Santa Clara, CA have lead by example banning:

• happy meal toys
• ranch dressing as a beverage
• spandex (corpulence should not be comfortable)

The spirit of scientific research lead me into the neighborhood to find out what the average american thinks about this vital issue.

 "There's nothing wrong with a good toy.  Personally, dressing like one has improved my social life by 58%."

"Ban the stinkin' toys.  Playing with toys 

wastes valuable eating time."

 "If you take away my happy toys my head will

spin around in circles and I will haunt 

you for the rest of your pathetic life."

 "I could use a good happy meal right about now."

"Yodel aye ee hoo!"

"I've eaten plenty of happy meals and I'm still not happy.
Leave me alone."

The General Gets Rolling Stoned

Please stay tuned for a guest blogger 

who just became available today!

 We'll ask him to look in his McChrystal ball 

to give us predictions on the future of 

Obama as commander in chief

or

maybe he has some delicious recipes to share.

It's Bear Season

I'm not much of a hunter

But if you've got

a gun to spare

I'll gladly shoot

this nasty bear

wearing the square

on his derriere.

Horrorscope

If This Year is Your Birthday

Aries (the Wind) 

The perfect time to give up exercising and begin the Krispy Kreme Kleanse is this week.  Don't let the sirens at the gym lure you anywhere near.  You belong on the couch until at least the 19th.

 

Taurus (the Car)

Rethink your vacation plans at the inlaws.  Indulging in mending family fences will backfire and forest fire danger is extreme.  Lay low and pray for rain.

Gemini (the Spaceship)

Overdue library book will result in arrest warrant.  Approaching  outside book receptacle at library after midnight clad in a balaclava and black bodystocking and stealthily slipping "Scandal in Scandinavia" with a $20 bill tucked inside, only possible chance at avoiding the pokey.

 

Cancer (the tropic)

Listening to J.D. Hayworth campaign robocall in entirety will result in lifetime addiction to corn pone and banjo music.  When in doubt, screen it out

Leo (Tolstoy)

Avoid paper.  Paper cut threat is acute. Toilet tissue hazard equally grim due to sliver possibility.  It is a good week to indulge in constipation.

Virgo (the Dizzy)

Your lucky number is 5.  Repeat: your lucky number is 5.  If you do not understand what this means, then your lucky number is 6.  Repeat: your lucky number might also be 6.

 

Libra (the Book)

You're probably still unsure about whether to spend $9 to see "Karate Kid".  Movie choice will pay off only if you concentrate and channel your inner Miyagi.

 

Scorpio (the Pest)

Time to seek investment advice, but only if financial guru has substantial facial hair.  Extreme style will equal extremely profitable results.

 

Sagittarius (the Droopy)

Doing an anonymous good deed for a stranger will keep you looking over your shoulder this week as you wait for a stranger to do an anonymous good deed for you which will result in a cricked neck.

 

Capricorn (the Vegetable)

Family responsibilities will be heavy this week.  Consider letting everyone walk instead of carrying them piggyback.

Aquarius (the Fishtank)

Romance a definite possibility if you are willing to overlook noxious odor and joblessness.

Pisces (the Formula)

Adopting a homeless animal should be postponed until spousal debate over nature vs. nurture is resolved satisfactorily.  Until then,  frolic in the park with random dogs until they are whisked away by suspicious strangers.

Codgeriatricity

When I accused my husband Mark, (who I am going to call Marcus for purposes of anonymity) of acting like an old Codger he just started to laugh and didn't deny it.  Of course if you know what an old Codger is that means you automatically are one.  Women of course, cannot be old Codgers.  We avoid codgeriatricity like the plague.

However, we women do get old and I think we need a cool song to sing about olderness, so I have adapted, aka "stolen" the lyrics of "Hey Soul Sister" from Train to fit my purposes.

Hey Old Sister 
Train
(Adapted by Larainy Days)

Hey, hey, hey

You've got lipstick stains

on your front tooth

also spider veins

I knew I wouldn't forget you

And so I went and let you

Blow my mind

Your wrinkle cream

The smell of you in every

Single dream I dream

Ever since our carts collided

In the parking lot at Walmart

Our love could not subside

Hey old sister

Don't you call me mister

I'm just old like you, gray like you

The way we move ain't fast, you know

Hey old sister

I can't hear 

a single thing you say

Tonight

Hey, hey, hey

Just in time

I'm so glad you have

A sluggish mind like me

You give backseat direction

 Offer me the whole sport section

Make me wanna cry

I'm so obsessed

My heart is bound to beat

Right out my hair chest

I need my digitalis

Oh how can you be so callous

and I'm sure I'm going to blow out my heart valve

Hey old sister

Don't you call me mister

I'm just old like you, gray like you

The way we move ain't fast, you know

Hey old sister

I can't hear 

A single thing you say

Tonight

 The way you vacuum the rug

Watching you is the only drug I need

So peppy, I'm a slug

You're the only one I'm dreaming of

You see, I can be myself now finally

In fact I'll let my eyebrows grow

Listen to Glenn Beck's talk show

Hey old sister

Don't you call me mister

I'm just old like you

The way we move ain't fast, you know

Hey old sister

I can't hear 

a single thing you say

Tonight

Hey old sister

I can't hear 

a single thing you say

Tonight

Hey, hey, hey

Tonight

Hey, hey hey

Tonight

Train acoustic version

Recycle, Thy Name is Dex

It was so cute to see the new phone books arrive yesterday loaded in horse drawn wagons.  The whole neighborhood came out to watch them being delivered by fresh faced young lads dressed in hand sewn trousers held up with suspenders over muslin blouses laced with a strip of rawhide.


Thanks Dex, for keeping the past alive, but next time just bring me a tree.