Some ideas are better than others. Some are worse, like body waxes, thong underwear, and Ben Wa balls…
My husband says Halloween indecisiveness will get the best of me. And the one thing I dread is making poor choices on Halloween.
Florida law says a person’s body and ashes can be buried anywhere…as long as you follow the rules.
Florida homeowners chase feral hogs and sometimes the hogs chase them back. An “interview” with a dyspeptic homeowner and contentious feral swine gives both sides of the story.
Hate going to the doctor’s? We all have our issues.
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.
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.