Disclaimer: Naked Chickens- to whom it may concern-these chickens may be wearing little or no clothes. If that bothers you, go dress your own chickens.
F-words often have more than four letters. Some are obnoxious, some are not. And some are downright odd.
Some things keep coming back to haunt me or maybe I should say they continue to rise to the occasion. Like the Thanksgiving dinner I had four weeks ago. Now I know that Thanksgiving dinner is long gone, but in our house, leftovers stay forever.
Thanks to our freezer, I can enjoy that meal over and over. It’s almost like the gift that keeps on giving. Little plastic bags filled with fragmented turkey carcass, wads of stuffing, and moldering peas.
An armadillo – if you don’t know what one is – is a warm-blooded creature about the size of a cat…but without the fur. And it won’t caterwaul all night on a full moon for no good reason. The name “armadillo” is derived from the Spanish language. Loosely translated, it means, “What the hell am I eating?” Armadillos are related to sloths, but they are not arboreal. They will not climb or hang from trees like the children in your neighborhood, and chronic sinus congestion prevents them from vacuuming up ants like anteaters.
Tonight was an interesting night. I fell asleep early. Out in the living room as usual. In my favorite chair. I was dreaming away, but I didn’t know I was dreaming. The dream was so real. I was in the kitchen, whose kitchen I don’t know. It was just a kitchen, some kitchen somewhere that led to a pantry. A long pantry. Howard was in another room sleeping. It’s what he does best at night. Sleeps the night away while I sit up trying to determine how many letters there are in insomnia.
It’s a little after midnight. I tried to sleep but I can’t. And neither can the dog. The house is dark and I hear her crashing into things. It wakes me up. I think she sleepwalks at all hours of the night. But I have a flashlight. So I don’t crash into things. And I don’t sleepwalk. Not that I know of.
My household is adrift in a sea of F-words. Not just the most infamous of them, but other F-words, like flustered, frazzled, and feculent. But not all F-words are denigrating, some of them are actually distinctive, even cool. Like fluorescent, flitter, fortune, fool-proof… Fool-proof is one of my favorites. I use that one a lot, especially when I want to finagle my husband, Howard, into doing something he doesn’t want to do.
I just got back from a visit to my doctor. All went well. We even managed to say the right things to each other.
Now I’m very wary of doctors, and I wonder…what if my doctor or surgeon had said the wrong things?So I’ve compiled a short list (I like my lists to be short) of things nobody wants to hear their doctor or surgeon say.
Another day. Another day of boredom. I was looking for something to do. I knew I should be writing, but some days, maybe a lot of days, that’s something I would rather avoid. Writing – I have a love-hate relationship with it. It’s a five letter word for two four letter words: hard work. Anyway, if I poke around long enough, I can find something else to do. There’s always housework. But I really hate that. Not that I don’t like being clean, but getting there can be tedious if not outright exhausting.
Today was Mother’s Day and I didn’t enjoy it. I felt like a total failure this Mother’s Day. Just like I did on the last one, and the one before it. I read all those blogs and newspaper articles about what spectacular mothers everybody had. Mine loved me, but somehow never got it right. She was always unhappy and made sure everybody else was too. That included me. Like I said, things were never right, never happy, and certainly not joyful. Do I miss her? Who doesn’t miss their mother ? Even when life with them is not that wonderful.