Oh boy, yesterday I forgot to tell you the really big stuff.

When I washed Jazzi, there were only a few fleas that drowned and dropped off, as compared to those couple of recent washes when there were millions.

Also, after my first day of diet, I succumbed to a bowl of ice cream with hot fudge sauce for a midnight snack. I think this succumbing is also on the verge of happening on the second day of my diet -- any second now. AT LEAST I ate very little all day long, both days. And exercised, both days.

The Rays managed a walk-off win, a home run on a 3-2 pitch. Still .5 games ahead of Yankees. It ain't much, but we'll take it. I loved what a girl I know once said. She was madly smitten over her boyfriend and told God, If you'll give him to me, I'll take him. I thought that about summed things up.

Slumpy Blogger KEM

At the pet store today I went in the cat cage and held this black boy kitty, born in December. I had seen him the other day when I went there with Jinny. The clerk told us that he was really a funny kitty. When you scratched him he extended his front leg, stretched it all the way out. Then he would look at his paw like, How did you get here?

He has a tabby looking brother and they love to play together. I had seen Tabby spinning a little plastic ball in that blue tubby looking thing, around and around his paw swung the ball. Remember, the blue tubby that Earl Grey was photographed in? And I didn't know what it was, but I see now what it is. Tabby wasn't there today so I had to ask, Did he get adopted? The girl said, No, but the brothers were playing so hard that Tabby's eye got swiped and he had to go to the vet's. The brothers are supposed to be adopted together.

Well, let me tell you something. This black kitty was no Earl Grey. He was skittish and didn't want to be held, he wanted to get away. Made me realize how dear and special Earl Grey really was. Jinny said the black kitty didn't get her excited, although a lady said he was very pretty. Handsome. Poor little thing, I'll give him that. Hope he wasn't mistreated early on.

AMC was playing a Judy Holliday/Jack Lemmon movie tonight, so no way was I passing that up. It was adorable, loved it. BTW, I am ending every other sentence with a preposition, what's up with that? HAHA. The movie was It Should Happen To You. Yes, it should.

Life would be more civilized if every neighborhood had sidewalks, everyone in the Universe flossed their teeth every night and everyone wrote thank you notes within the week. Well, that would be a start. Maybe if we were all busy doing those things there would be less time to engage in warfare. Just a KEM thought . . . when she doesn't feel like writing a story and life is in Lullsville or Dullsville or some such ville.

Needing to clean a room a day starting tomorrow, so I'll sail smoothly into MIL'S second two week visit starting in a week. Somehow, a room a day sounds like good little bricks, instead of being bowled over by thinking WHOLE HOUSE.

Duller than door nails KEM (what's so dull about door nails?)

I have to go on a big-time diet. The Nordstrom's mirrors told me so. No More Sour Cream Pancakes, no more Very Fattening Biscuits with Chocolate Gravy, no more Buttermilk Pie (which I ate the whole thing single-handed, just about). No more nothin'.

But that's okay, I found a knock-out dress to wear to three weddings this summer, in three different locales. I think I want to look good in it. Yeah, that's my plan.

POOPED! But I get to do my own thing for three whole days. Imagine that! Just the Jazz and KEM.

One of these days I will get back to blogging . . . maybe. I'm in a blogging valley. I think people are too busy to read a blog, or should be :) Except for my very nice friends.

Tomorrow all the clothes I haven't worn in a year are out the door. That is going to be a lot of clothes, my friends. That's what that Ladies' Home Journal recommends and they've been around forever.

Birthday Suit KEM

Last night I had a break through (that doesn't look right). Rather, God did something wonderful for me, He changed my heart. Anyway, to do it justice I will write it out tomorrow, I hope, because tonight I need to call it a day -- have a big day tomorrow.

It's a miracle and I couldn't be happier and more excited, or more grateful. Praise to the LORD!

Love,
KEM

Today I was toying with the idea of suspending all current activities for a year.

But of course that is not going to happen. Or could it happen?

Everyone should have a dog. When you feel really sad a dog can make you laugh. Today I took Jazzi to mail some letters. She actually knows that when I am writing on envelopes and sticking stamps, that we are going to go to the PO soon. Then later I took her on a second ride. Oh boy, she hyperventilates and does donuts and about has a nervous breakdown. A car ride is second to none in her life. It's so hilarious that you laugh in spite of yourself.

Jazzi also has good nose and ears. If she is upstairs on the landing, she can hear me snap a banana peel, she shows up in the kitchen five seconds later, without fail. Sometimes I try to silently peel the banana, but then she just smells it and comes running. She also listens for the rattles of midnight snacks. Yep, she has her routine and really counts on it. Jazzi loves the stems of romaine lettuce, and carrots, too, the go Crunch, Crunch. She also comes running when I change to a new roll of TP, so she can play with the empty roll. Jazzi waits for us when we're gone, sleeping on the second step of the staircase. Usually, she hears the car drive up and as we walk up to the front door, there is her sweet little face peering out the center pane of the glass. What a little doll. Who could refuse such unconditional love?

That's how I feel about all pets, God's gifts to take the edge off life.

Today I went to the bookstore to buy the third and final installment in this little Amish series. Usually, I look ahead to see the end. But I won't this time, even though I'm hoping Nellie Mae (what's with Mae these days?) won't wind up marrying her drippy beau. Really, she mustn't. But I'm afraid she will. He has character flaws. Everyone has character flaws, but Nellie Mae can do better. Maybe he will improve. (Shouldn't get so worked up over a completely fictional story, but fiction mirrors real life, and I've seen enough of real life, haven't you?)

Go kiss your dog!
KEM

Death By Sour Cream.

Didn't want to throw out even more sour cream, so Googled Sour Cream Pancakes. Up pops Pioneer Woman's husband's grandmother's Edna Mae's Sour Cream Pancakes. Which of course I could have found right in Pioneer Woman's cookbook in my cupboard.

This recipe calls for one cup of sour cream, which is just what I have. And 7 tablespoons of flour. Weird, huh?

Pioneer Woman advises to stack as many on the plate as you can with tons of butter and syrup. I take her advice. Which amounted to eating six of the eight pancakes the recipe made. I'm afraid that's a generous heaping helping of sour cream by anyone's standards. It's a good thing Mike reads my blog (most of the time) so if I am seriously cold and white and clammy in the morning he will know what happened. I turned into sour cream. Anyway, these pancakes had less than one tablespoon of flour in each. Weird, huh?

These pancakes were good. I enjoyed them a lot. Am wondering if I got a little salt and baking soda happy, as they did have a salty-ish baking soda twang to them. This is the kind of food I would enjoy having about twice a year, maybe 4 times year. I still like Pioneer Woman's website pancakes better, Perfect Pancakes, or whatever she calls them. Of course, I liked them best the first time I made them and I don't know what happened the second time, oh well. Am still wondering what I did with CDW'S pancake recipe she invented. Must try those soon. But sour cream pancakes, by Edna Mae, are keepers. I have a recipe in my file called Fly Off the Plate Pancakes, but it only used 2.5 tablespoons of sour cream. How wimpy.

The Rays are trying for a "miraculous" comeback in this game, managing to tie it up in the top of the 9th, after a very lackluster outing to this point. They are in a major snag. Did you know there have only been NINETEEN perfect games pitched in ALL the history of baseball? Stop and meditate on that for a moment. Amazing. Now, realize that Perfect Games Eighteen and Nineteen were courtesy of the Rays, last July and yesterday. Stop and meditate on that for a moment. AMAZING. Like I said, the Rays are a strange commodity, the Best and the Worst, all rolled into one. I know all this because I'm married to a sports nut.

Extra Innings,
KEM

Hi, I am part of the sad little percentage of humanity that does not like holidays. They completely drain me. Oh, well, and too bad. Humbug.

So, my sister, who always brightens my day, texts the following:

I dreamed u went to work with me and fell off the top of the 2 story staircase and u were hurt and all of a sudden u turn into mystery monkey and ran down the hallway. hahaha

KEM here, I'm so glad my blogs are seeping into the deep recesses of my readers' minds, causing hysterical nightmares.

I answered, Good. thats my blog tomite haha

Sister: it was hysterical....so real and shoking and terrifying.

(In reproducing texts I leave spelling and punctuation intact, it adds flair.)

Now I have to worry about turning into Mystery Monkey in my dreams tonight. That would be scary. But if I do turn into him, I'm going to carve out a permanent nest in Driftwood, in some cozy clump of bushes . . . much like my friend Brooke and I built a fort in the thick tangle of bushes around her banyan tree when we were kids. Oh boy, I have to talk about Brooke and her amazing house and yard sometime. A kids' paradise. Once my temper flared and I marched over to her yard and rolled up my carpet (a scrap of bright green rug left over from a bedroom at my house) and collected my little things from the fort and thought I was really making a statement. But then as I was stomping off, her mother happened to see me and asked what I was doing. Not sure what I said, but I held my head high and answered something tricky like, I'm taking my things home. Feeling ashamed the whole time. Like the time Maryann's mother served soup for dinner and I jumped up from the table in a rage and rode my bicycle home like the Wicked Witch of the West. Have I told you that one yet? She called my mother and said, Why, I just don't know what happened to Kathy. I'll tell you what happened, whoever heard of serving soup for dinner? Even though I do it myself nowadays.

Well, like my DTD stated years ago, I think my mother is bi-polar and forgot to tell me. Now, there's a book title: I Think My Mother is Bi-Polar and Forgot to Tell Me.

So, wait until she's a mother. I keep telling her to do things better than I did. I always fall back on, We're all doing the best we can with what we have (or, in my case, don't have, which would be emotional equilibrium). But I'm working on it, right, isn't that what we're supposed to do, work on our shortcomings?

Good grief, the Rays allowed the opposing team a perfect game. Yikes, but the only good thing is the pitcher's mother had died and he was raised by his granny, or something. So, nice for him it happened on Mother's Day, too bad it happened to the Rays, though. Mike says it's so embarrassing. He basically woke me up from my Mother's Day nap by coming upstairs and announcing, The Rays not only lost, but the other team pitched a perfect game against them, it was pathetic, they were putrid, and so on. Haha, the Rays are the best and the worst. Last year the only perfect game was against them, too. I think I got that right. Thank goodness the Yankees lost today, so we are still 1/2 game ahead and still Number One in the country. But not for long if they keep this sorriness up.

I was appalled by a picture posted on Mystery Monkey Facebook today. WAY OUT OF TOUCH. I let my sentiments be known by posting the comment, Please, spare us. Does someone always have to ruin something fun and good? Apparently, yes. But I don't see why the author of MM Facebook had to post it. Rotten apples.

Your own personal Mystery Monkey,
KEM