Tonight while we were scarfing down our hamburgers (why go gourmet when you can be just as happy eating real food?) a big black bomb landed on our dining room table. It came out of absolutely nowhere, I'm telling you, and landed with an earth shattering THUD. Scared us to pieces and we about gagged on our burgers. This bomb had the superlatives of Superman.
So, I guess the moral of this story is Mike and I are losing our peripheral vision. Make that, lost. As you figured, Robby was the big black bomb. Now, I've seen him do this once before, but it's an entirely different matter when it happens when you're not prepared for it. Maybe I told you how Robby can get on the room divider between the kitchen and dining room. The top of it is like a shelf, it's about 3.5 feet from the floor. From this perch, Robby takes his time studying the rather wide distance to the dining room table. It's one giant leap and he puts a lot into it, rocketing through the air and landing with a splash. Let's put it this way, if you want to enter a room discreetly and unnoticed, this would not be the way to do it.
So, not I, and not Mike, saw this coming. We only saw the splash. It was quite incredible. Out of thin air, as they say. Robby is big enough, at 6 months, to make a statement, and, boy, did he. Now you don't see me, NOW you do. I truly wish all of you were eating hamburgers with us tonight, so you could understand how startling it was. I mean, wow, if we had at least seen the last few inches of his flight, but no, just the package dropped out of the blue, only we witnessed none of the drop. This is getting repetitive, in my effort to translate. Moving on...
I'm really craving a big bowl of lumpy Cream of Wheat. But I want to make the most of this extra hour of sleep, too. The theory is, you can have lumpy Cream of Wheat any time. But you only get the extra hour of sleep once a year.
Since I said I am low in Vitamin D, others have said the same. In fact, someone said that a huge number of women are deficient in Vitamin D. Anybody have an explanation for this epidemic?
Oh dear, that marvelous lady horse lost today by a nose. The Breeder's Cup. She had won all 19 of her previous races and was going to break the record today. It would be something because she was racing against the boys today and normally she sticks to her gender. Also, she doesn't race on real dirt, just fake surface, but this was where the Kentucky Derby is held, what's the name of that track? It was so exciting, she was dead last for 4/5ths of the race, I guess that's how she is used to doing things, coming behind from last in dramatic fashion.
And then, rounding the corner to the home stretch, here she comes, breaking through the pack of gentlemen, somehow. Miss Z made it so close it was practically a tie. She just needed two more strides and she would have won. I was so sad. Really, I take things too hard. The jockey was so devastated he couldn't be interviewed afterwards. He had won so many consecutive races with Miss Z. Which made me nervous because how many races can you win in a row, you know? But to lose by a couple inches, you have to wonder what you could have done differently, just one little split second thing. Really, I have no business watching sports. Did anyone else watch this race? Were you sad, too? Anyway, they said Miss Z was the greatest and this race takes nothing away from her, she was awesome and made it thrilling...she certainly did. Miss Z is the most popular horse just about ever, it's like a cult following. We saw a cartoon poster with Mizz Z all decked out in a princess outfit, sitting up, it was hilarious. But this was her last race, boo hoo.
Okay, that was a ramble. I guess I had a boring-ish day. My favorite. Do you know how to spell L-A-Z-Y? That's what CDW always used to ask me. She just told me to go to Germany and not worry about the house, as in cleaning it. Then she suggested it would be nice if Don Aslett himself would come and clean my house. Agreed. You know, a couple of times I have risked all and left town without cleaning my house, you know, hang it all, guess what? Someone asked to spend the night in it. And another time, Mike brought a couple of ladies to see the house, because they had always wanted to see it. Mike got into town before I did and gave them the royal tour. It's a wonder they even speak to me anymore. And the man who wanted to spend the night, we had to cut our vacation short and rush home and I had to clean like a mad woman. And I was, mad in more than one sense of the word.
KEM, the worthless P.S. The horse is named Zenyatta (isn't that pretty, for a horse?). And the rink is Churchill Downs, everyone knows that. (I just played Google.) Off to lump up my Cream of Wheat.
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Friday, November 5, 2010
How a great big cat like Robby can squeeze himself between the blind slats is beyond me. I just sit here and watch the show. He really enjoys sitting on the window sill behind the closed blinds. Getting out from behind the blinds is usually more the problem, and he is more successful in his escape artistry some times more than others.
I have the distinct feeling the previous sentence made no sense. But that's okay, you can blame it on homemade pizza. Tonight I made homemade pizza, salad and pumpkin custard. My dad said maybe I could sell pizza. Well, yes I could if the general public would be willing to pay $10 a slice. Because, you see, it takes me HOURS to make two pizzas, salad and pumpkin custard. And when you sprinkle organic cheeses on the pizza, actually, you would be lucky to break even selling it for $10 a slice. No, I do not think I'm cut out for selling pizza on the sidewalk.
And just so we are all clear on this, pumpkin custard, Martha Stewart's, I believe, is exactly precisely pumpkin pie without crust. But it's good. I always appreciate the added decadence of crust though, don't you? I would never put whipped cream or ice cream on top of or next to pie. BUT, I would most certainly lay a crust under it, and, if it's apple pie, over it, too. Same for any fruit pie. Now, meringue is another story, compared to ice cream and whipped cream. Meringue on custard or cream or gelled (word?) pies is quite the ticket to sheer bliss.
My friend, who is whip smart, just gave me a recipe for sinus sufferers. She studies herbs and ailments and matches them up for a cure. Here's what you do. You mix 1 teaspoon garlic powder, 1/4 teaspoon cayenne and 1/4 teaspoon vitamin C powder. You mix up several portions at once. Then you take one teaspoon of the mixture and mix it with RAW honey. Then, my friends, you try to eat it.
After one dose of this fire ball, I'd say it does more than clear the sinuses. I got all flushed, watery eyes, throat red hot and basically was hanging on to life by a thread. I had to guzzle a whole bottle of water to douse the fire. Mike said, I don't think this is for you. It's supposed to give you energy, too. I tried it a second time, which was today. The first time was yesterday. Maybe you become accustomed to it once your tongue, throat are all burned up and your nerves are history?
The funny thing is, my friend says to take the fire ball every two hours. Well, some things in life I can guarantee you are never going to happen. And making a full time job of incinerating myself is one of those things. That is never going to happen. I believe in moderation. Or less. WAY less.
You know what? I was reading Don Aslett's book How to Clean the Moosehead and 99 other weird housecleaning questions. Something like that. That's another thing I can guarantee you is never going to happen, a moosehead hanging over the mantel. Or anywhere. Anyway, I skipped to the back of the book, ha, ha, and read the section About the Author. That Mr. Aslett, I've always loved him. He is the funniest thing going, love all his books. Someone asked him if he still cleans after all these years. And you know what he said? Every chance he gets. Now why isn't that my philosophy? He said that nothing restores dignity and order to the human existence more than cleaning and taking care of the things we use. Something like that. Now that is just food for thought, plain and simple. Mr. Aslett is a fine man and his wife must be some lucky lady.
Mike's boss invited us to Germany in a few weeks, for a few days. Just found out. Now I need someone to stay at my house and sit with Jazzi and Robby. But my house is not dignified nor orderly, which means I'm not either. I wonder if I can whip myself and my house in shape before we go. So someone can stay in my house with dignity and order. Hmm, this is going to take some serious thought. Actually, it's going to take more than serious thought. WAAAAAAAY more.
Now I'm in a wad. Time to close shop.
I love BJH, she left a COMMENT! Hark! I just saw JEO left one, too. Now, we are clicking! Thank you, thank you! This calls for an immediate white bread, mayo and salami selebration sandwich. My dad can't live without meat on a pizza, so I bought salami and pepperoni. It was from the health food store.
The thought occurred to me that JEO and KEM both have E for middle initial. And they are both highly unsual middle names.
Wishing you all a beautiful fall weekend,
KEM
I have the distinct feeling the previous sentence made no sense. But that's okay, you can blame it on homemade pizza. Tonight I made homemade pizza, salad and pumpkin custard. My dad said maybe I could sell pizza. Well, yes I could if the general public would be willing to pay $10 a slice. Because, you see, it takes me HOURS to make two pizzas, salad and pumpkin custard. And when you sprinkle organic cheeses on the pizza, actually, you would be lucky to break even selling it for $10 a slice. No, I do not think I'm cut out for selling pizza on the sidewalk.
And just so we are all clear on this, pumpkin custard, Martha Stewart's, I believe, is exactly precisely pumpkin pie without crust. But it's good. I always appreciate the added decadence of crust though, don't you? I would never put whipped cream or ice cream on top of or next to pie. BUT, I would most certainly lay a crust under it, and, if it's apple pie, over it, too. Same for any fruit pie. Now, meringue is another story, compared to ice cream and whipped cream. Meringue on custard or cream or gelled (word?) pies is quite the ticket to sheer bliss.
My friend, who is whip smart, just gave me a recipe for sinus sufferers. She studies herbs and ailments and matches them up for a cure. Here's what you do. You mix 1 teaspoon garlic powder, 1/4 teaspoon cayenne and 1/4 teaspoon vitamin C powder. You mix up several portions at once. Then you take one teaspoon of the mixture and mix it with RAW honey. Then, my friends, you try to eat it.
After one dose of this fire ball, I'd say it does more than clear the sinuses. I got all flushed, watery eyes, throat red hot and basically was hanging on to life by a thread. I had to guzzle a whole bottle of water to douse the fire. Mike said, I don't think this is for you. It's supposed to give you energy, too. I tried it a second time, which was today. The first time was yesterday. Maybe you become accustomed to it once your tongue, throat are all burned up and your nerves are history?
The funny thing is, my friend says to take the fire ball every two hours. Well, some things in life I can guarantee you are never going to happen. And making a full time job of incinerating myself is one of those things. That is never going to happen. I believe in moderation. Or less. WAY less.
You know what? I was reading Don Aslett's book How to Clean the Moosehead and 99 other weird housecleaning questions. Something like that. That's another thing I can guarantee you is never going to happen, a moosehead hanging over the mantel. Or anywhere. Anyway, I skipped to the back of the book, ha, ha, and read the section About the Author. That Mr. Aslett, I've always loved him. He is the funniest thing going, love all his books. Someone asked him if he still cleans after all these years. And you know what he said? Every chance he gets. Now why isn't that my philosophy? He said that nothing restores dignity and order to the human existence more than cleaning and taking care of the things we use. Something like that. Now that is just food for thought, plain and simple. Mr. Aslett is a fine man and his wife must be some lucky lady.
Mike's boss invited us to Germany in a few weeks, for a few days. Just found out. Now I need someone to stay at my house and sit with Jazzi and Robby. But my house is not dignified nor orderly, which means I'm not either. I wonder if I can whip myself and my house in shape before we go. So someone can stay in my house with dignity and order. Hmm, this is going to take some serious thought. Actually, it's going to take more than serious thought. WAAAAAAAY more.
Now I'm in a wad. Time to close shop.
I love BJH, she left a COMMENT! Hark! I just saw JEO left one, too. Now, we are clicking! Thank you, thank you! This calls for an immediate white bread, mayo and salami selebration sandwich. My dad can't live without meat on a pizza, so I bought salami and pepperoni. It was from the health food store.
The thought occurred to me that JEO and KEM both have E for middle initial. And they are both highly unsual middle names.
Wishing you all a beautiful fall weekend,
KEM
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Hallo. If anyone remembers me, I'm back. Actually, LivingDust is back by popular demand (all three of you, thank you CAE, Betty and Crissy).
My sister and I love our Cream of Wheat lumpy. The lumpier the better. There's a fine art to making lumpy Cream of Wheat. It needs to be sufficiently lumpy and those lumps must vary in size. Great big monster lumps and dainty little itsy lumps and many graduated sizes in-between lumps. The first rule is to not follow the directions, which insist you stir the wheat into the hot water gradually, whirring your spoon constantly. This is not a problem for me because I forget to follow directions and lump, I mean dump, it in the water all together. And the wheat smolders and fumes and...wha-la!...you have gorgeous lumpy cream of wheat. Nothing like biting into a cream of wheat lump. There are just no words, so you shall have to try it yourself. Go ahead, live a little.
Speaking of living a little. This is what happened last Friday when I was jaunting about town but shouldn't have as I was mid-way through sinus junk. I was going down an avenue and passed a sign that said, YARD SALE. I did a U-bie because it was a house I've always thought looked neat and tidy. And...you just never know...
I was the only customer and the lady seller was very friendly. But I didn't see anything to buy (which always makes me want to slink away invisible like). Until I noticed this big bright blue plastic...thing. It looked like a bed pan, if the truth be known. So I said to the lady, What is this? "This" was a chip and dip bowl. It was round, of course, and then there was a smaller round elevated indentation in the middle for the dip and the chips would lounge below in the big circular area. Ha, wonder what you are picturing. But, the long and the short of it is, it reminded me of a cat toy I have resisted buying at the pet store, my second home. The cat toy is a circle where balls roll around and the cat spins and chases them, around and around. Supposedly. Well, this chip and dip had the circle element since the chips would lay around like in a tire, with the dip part up in the middle. Oh, I already said that. So, I could put these noisy rattle plastic balls for Robby right in there and he could chase and chase.
Man, I am rusty here, I simply can not describe this. Moving forward...
So, I said to the lady, How much? She said, I'm selling it for a friend (figures I pick an item that's not the lady's) for 50 cents. I said, Well, I may as well live a little and get this for my cat. She said, That's right, take a daring moment, make a bold move. I said Yeah, and if I don't like it, I can put it the garage (even though we don't have a garage). She said, Or you can sell it at your next yard sale (I gave up selling my junk on my lawn ages ago).
Well, we got to laughing about all this. And I handed over my hard earned (Mike's hard earned $.50) and marched down her driveway with a neat new toy for Robby.
I came home and washed it out. Mike said, What's that? Duh, what do you think??
I sat it down on the floor and put two rattle balls and one small soft foam ball in the rink. And waited for action. Robby! I called.
Robby ran up, took one look of sheer disdain, and kept on going. He appeared not even remotely enticed and seemed to sniff, Can you possibly be serious? And that was the end of that. This blue freaky plastic donut object has now been sitting on my floor for a week. Every now and again I go by and give the balls a spin. Just for kicks (yeah, I want to kick the blue donut to the curb). I guess by Saturday I will stuff it into my Goodwill bag-in-waiting. Balls and all. I guess I can be glad I didn't buy the Deluxe Pet Store Circle Chase Version. Which would have emptied my pockets of $.50 multiple times over. Yes, I am glad indeed.
So, you might say this blog cost me $.50.
Now, I have my LUX digital timer, I'm sure I've talked about this in the deep recesses of the blog. Yes, I know I have, it was going to drastically alter my life for the good. Well, I dropped it off my night stand onto the floor. And then it wouldn't work anymore. I was afraid it took some freaky little button battery, which I don't even know how to buy, and also, I was afraid to get the back cover off to get to freaky little battery would leave me with half a head of hair, you know, if it entailed working with eyeglasses itsy bitsy screwdriver. So, I let it sit and gather dust for a while. Finally, I ventured forward. I discovered, upon bold and closer examination, it took a baby battery, but a normal looking batter, only miniature. Then I realised you merely yanked off the battery cover (which was disguised behind a magnet to plaster timer on fridge) and it was all very easy. We even, no way, had the right battery. So, I changed out the battery, thinking maybe I killed the old one in the drop. But still, no life on the LUX screen.
So, now what, that timer was a good $10. And I'd hardly had it anytime at all, ha, ha. So, there was only one thing left to do, and that was to drop it again. So, I dropped it real good, with the original battery in it and everything.
And now it works just dandy. You may take this information and do with it as you please.
Okay, I'm about to end this post, but I KNEW there was one more pertinent topic. I have finished reading the book Dewey. Of course, KEM'S normal is to jump to the end of the book and read the final pages when the moment strikes. So, about half way through Dewey, a few weeks ago, I jumped to the end and read. Bawled my eyes out. BAWLED. I may have told you this already. But there is more.
I went back to the middle of the book and read straight through to the end. Which meant the other night I read the ending again. And BAWLED my eyes out. OUT!
THEN, two nights ago at dinner I told Mike the end of Dewey. And bawled my eyes out. BAWLED! Mike said, STOP THAT, you're making me cry.
Now, there is something to be said for a book that can make you bawl equally well all three times you read or disclose the ending, and all in such close proximity. I don't doubt for half a second that if I picked up the book right now and read the ending again, that I would bawl my EYES out! Again!
The author, I love her. You will love her, too, when you read Dewey. Vicki Myron is her name and making you cry is her game. She is a sensible, salt of the earth, wonderful mid-Western woman and I just love her and want to be her friend. I might have to be obnoxious and visit Spencer, Iowa (Iowa that marvelous state that just exercised great wisdom with their judges in the election) and see the library where Dewey lived. Forget Lancaster County and the Amish, I'm on my way to Deweyville.
Okay, tomorrow I must write about Quik Chik and the 8 layer cake, or I may forget what happened and have to make it up. And I wouldn't want to do that because what really happened cannot be beat.
My blood is good except my vitamins D and B12 are drastically low. How a person living in Florida can be low in vitamin D, the sunshine vitamin, I should love to know. Leave it to KEM, who stays cloistered in her 4 walls. Really, I need to make drastic changes in myself. This morning lying in bed I thought about how deficient I am in vitamin D for the bones and I truly felt all my bones turning to ash on the spot. My sister understands this exactly.
Oh, DTD was over here today. I went upstairs to shower and dress for choir rehearsal. When I came down I was wearing black jeans, a dark brown top with a white tank top underneath that showed a little and a long roomy blue, brown, green and cream floral sweater with sleeves down to the elbow. Oh yeah, and my rain shoes, which are black soft clogs, hideous in the extreme.
I kind of slunk by DTD and gave her a funny look. I had a bad feeling. I asked, Do I look like a dork, or what? She said, with a funny look herself, which bode no good, Actually, I thought you look cute, you look like you didn't just roll out of bed and throw on any mismatched clothes.
WELL. Now, this was a surprise, I thought I looked like a total dud. Honestly, I need a complete and expert makeover. I gravitate toward the plain Jane of everything, clothes, colors, hair style, make up, jewelry, you name it, except you don't have to because I just covered it all. Normally, I don't wear anything loud and busy like that sweater. And, to tell you the truth, DTD'S expert opinion notwithstanding, I don't like that sweater. I don't feel good in it. How can this be? I don't feel good about the right things maybe? I feel good about Dullsville stuff? I need psychiatric help. I need to learn how to live a little, beyond buying a used blue plastic chip and dip at a yard sale.
Better end today's blog or it may run into tomorrow's blog.
Nice chatting with you, my friends, except that it feels like a monologue. Someone, some day, should leave a COMMENT. Hint, hint. I do thank Deb, who has left several comments in the past. Thank you, Deb. I think Mike left one once, too. And Veronique about the Curious George post. And a couple of others. But, hey, listen, I've written 387 posts, as of tonight, and I can count on both hands the number of comments. Ugh. Depressing. Oh, I did love the comment from some cute young stranger guy who liked my post on Crest White Strips. Now that was great. But that was a million years ago. And if any of you are really following this blog, maybe you should own up to it and become an official follower, eh? I would like to double my number of followers from three to six. Seriously, I KNOW at least six people read this blog at least from time to time. So why not live a little and do something bold and drastic and sign on?? It won't even cost you $.50. Turn my :( to a :) You have the power :))
Pesky Lil' KEM
My sister and I love our Cream of Wheat lumpy. The lumpier the better. There's a fine art to making lumpy Cream of Wheat. It needs to be sufficiently lumpy and those lumps must vary in size. Great big monster lumps and dainty little itsy lumps and many graduated sizes in-between lumps. The first rule is to not follow the directions, which insist you stir the wheat into the hot water gradually, whirring your spoon constantly. This is not a problem for me because I forget to follow directions and lump, I mean dump, it in the water all together. And the wheat smolders and fumes and...wha-la!...you have gorgeous lumpy cream of wheat. Nothing like biting into a cream of wheat lump. There are just no words, so you shall have to try it yourself. Go ahead, live a little.
Speaking of living a little. This is what happened last Friday when I was jaunting about town but shouldn't have as I was mid-way through sinus junk. I was going down an avenue and passed a sign that said, YARD SALE. I did a U-bie because it was a house I've always thought looked neat and tidy. And...you just never know...
I was the only customer and the lady seller was very friendly. But I didn't see anything to buy (which always makes me want to slink away invisible like). Until I noticed this big bright blue plastic...thing. It looked like a bed pan, if the truth be known. So I said to the lady, What is this? "This" was a chip and dip bowl. It was round, of course, and then there was a smaller round elevated indentation in the middle for the dip and the chips would lounge below in the big circular area. Ha, wonder what you are picturing. But, the long and the short of it is, it reminded me of a cat toy I have resisted buying at the pet store, my second home. The cat toy is a circle where balls roll around and the cat spins and chases them, around and around. Supposedly. Well, this chip and dip had the circle element since the chips would lay around like in a tire, with the dip part up in the middle. Oh, I already said that. So, I could put these noisy rattle plastic balls for Robby right in there and he could chase and chase.
Man, I am rusty here, I simply can not describe this. Moving forward...
So, I said to the lady, How much? She said, I'm selling it for a friend (figures I pick an item that's not the lady's) for 50 cents. I said, Well, I may as well live a little and get this for my cat. She said, That's right, take a daring moment, make a bold move. I said Yeah, and if I don't like it, I can put it the garage (even though we don't have a garage). She said, Or you can sell it at your next yard sale (I gave up selling my junk on my lawn ages ago).
Well, we got to laughing about all this. And I handed over my hard earned (Mike's hard earned $.50) and marched down her driveway with a neat new toy for Robby.
I came home and washed it out. Mike said, What's that? Duh, what do you think??
I sat it down on the floor and put two rattle balls and one small soft foam ball in the rink. And waited for action. Robby! I called.
Robby ran up, took one look of sheer disdain, and kept on going. He appeared not even remotely enticed and seemed to sniff, Can you possibly be serious? And that was the end of that. This blue freaky plastic donut object has now been sitting on my floor for a week. Every now and again I go by and give the balls a spin. Just for kicks (yeah, I want to kick the blue donut to the curb). I guess by Saturday I will stuff it into my Goodwill bag-in-waiting. Balls and all. I guess I can be glad I didn't buy the Deluxe Pet Store Circle Chase Version. Which would have emptied my pockets of $.50 multiple times over. Yes, I am glad indeed.
So, you might say this blog cost me $.50.
Now, I have my LUX digital timer, I'm sure I've talked about this in the deep recesses of the blog. Yes, I know I have, it was going to drastically alter my life for the good. Well, I dropped it off my night stand onto the floor. And then it wouldn't work anymore. I was afraid it took some freaky little button battery, which I don't even know how to buy, and also, I was afraid to get the back cover off to get to freaky little battery would leave me with half a head of hair, you know, if it entailed working with eyeglasses itsy bitsy screwdriver. So, I let it sit and gather dust for a while. Finally, I ventured forward. I discovered, upon bold and closer examination, it took a baby battery, but a normal looking batter, only miniature. Then I realised you merely yanked off the battery cover (which was disguised behind a magnet to plaster timer on fridge) and it was all very easy. We even, no way, had the right battery. So, I changed out the battery, thinking maybe I killed the old one in the drop. But still, no life on the LUX screen.
So, now what, that timer was a good $10. And I'd hardly had it anytime at all, ha, ha. So, there was only one thing left to do, and that was to drop it again. So, I dropped it real good, with the original battery in it and everything.
And now it works just dandy. You may take this information and do with it as you please.
Okay, I'm about to end this post, but I KNEW there was one more pertinent topic. I have finished reading the book Dewey. Of course, KEM'S normal is to jump to the end of the book and read the final pages when the moment strikes. So, about half way through Dewey, a few weeks ago, I jumped to the end and read. Bawled my eyes out. BAWLED. I may have told you this already. But there is more.
I went back to the middle of the book and read straight through to the end. Which meant the other night I read the ending again. And BAWLED my eyes out. OUT!
THEN, two nights ago at dinner I told Mike the end of Dewey. And bawled my eyes out. BAWLED! Mike said, STOP THAT, you're making me cry.
Now, there is something to be said for a book that can make you bawl equally well all three times you read or disclose the ending, and all in such close proximity. I don't doubt for half a second that if I picked up the book right now and read the ending again, that I would bawl my EYES out! Again!
The author, I love her. You will love her, too, when you read Dewey. Vicki Myron is her name and making you cry is her game. She is a sensible, salt of the earth, wonderful mid-Western woman and I just love her and want to be her friend. I might have to be obnoxious and visit Spencer, Iowa (Iowa that marvelous state that just exercised great wisdom with their judges in the election) and see the library where Dewey lived. Forget Lancaster County and the Amish, I'm on my way to Deweyville.
Okay, tomorrow I must write about Quik Chik and the 8 layer cake, or I may forget what happened and have to make it up. And I wouldn't want to do that because what really happened cannot be beat.
My blood is good except my vitamins D and B12 are drastically low. How a person living in Florida can be low in vitamin D, the sunshine vitamin, I should love to know. Leave it to KEM, who stays cloistered in her 4 walls. Really, I need to make drastic changes in myself. This morning lying in bed I thought about how deficient I am in vitamin D for the bones and I truly felt all my bones turning to ash on the spot. My sister understands this exactly.
Oh, DTD was over here today. I went upstairs to shower and dress for choir rehearsal. When I came down I was wearing black jeans, a dark brown top with a white tank top underneath that showed a little and a long roomy blue, brown, green and cream floral sweater with sleeves down to the elbow. Oh yeah, and my rain shoes, which are black soft clogs, hideous in the extreme.
I kind of slunk by DTD and gave her a funny look. I had a bad feeling. I asked, Do I look like a dork, or what? She said, with a funny look herself, which bode no good, Actually, I thought you look cute, you look like you didn't just roll out of bed and throw on any mismatched clothes.
WELL. Now, this was a surprise, I thought I looked like a total dud. Honestly, I need a complete and expert makeover. I gravitate toward the plain Jane of everything, clothes, colors, hair style, make up, jewelry, you name it, except you don't have to because I just covered it all. Normally, I don't wear anything loud and busy like that sweater. And, to tell you the truth, DTD'S expert opinion notwithstanding, I don't like that sweater. I don't feel good in it. How can this be? I don't feel good about the right things maybe? I feel good about Dullsville stuff? I need psychiatric help. I need to learn how to live a little, beyond buying a used blue plastic chip and dip at a yard sale.
Better end today's blog or it may run into tomorrow's blog.
Nice chatting with you, my friends, except that it feels like a monologue. Someone, some day, should leave a COMMENT. Hint, hint. I do thank Deb, who has left several comments in the past. Thank you, Deb. I think Mike left one once, too. And Veronique about the Curious George post. And a couple of others. But, hey, listen, I've written 387 posts, as of tonight, and I can count on both hands the number of comments. Ugh. Depressing. Oh, I did love the comment from some cute young stranger guy who liked my post on Crest White Strips. Now that was great. But that was a million years ago. And if any of you are really following this blog, maybe you should own up to it and become an official follower, eh? I would like to double my number of followers from three to six. Seriously, I KNOW at least six people read this blog at least from time to time. So why not live a little and do something bold and drastic and sign on?? It won't even cost you $.50. Turn my :( to a :) You have the power :))
Pesky Lil' KEM
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