Studly Doright and I hope that 2022 will be a year of peace and love for you and yours. Thank you for enriching our lives with your insights, your humor, your wisdom, and your unique perspectives on life.
With love from David (Studly) and Leslie (Nana) Noyes!
Before I had a blog I used to just compose weird stuff on Facebook. This piece of silliness showed up in my Facebook memories yesterday. I think perhaps I wrote it the day after Studly Doright had knee replacement surgery. He was being a complete arse, and I was dreaming of greener pastures.
Pretending for grownups part 3: Wine Tasting
I tasted the third wine offering, swished, and spat (spit?) into a bucket and made some noises along the lines of “lovely notes of asparagus and wheat with a charmingly simple nose dusted with peaches and pork rinds,” when a tall handsome stranger caught my eye.
Danged eye, why can’t you stay in the socket where you belong?
He handed it to me in one graceful move. “I couldn’t help but notice you have an incredible set of buds.”
I blushed, until I realized he was talking about my taste buds.
“Which is your favorite wine so far?” He asked.
I pointed boldly to the red, a heady merlot.
“I like a woman who knows what she likes,” he said with a wink.
“Well, I like you.” I smile.
“I like that you know that you like me,” he said.
“I thought you might.”
He sipped the wine. I sipped mine. We sipped. And sipped. And sipped some more, Closing the deal was never my forte, nor his it seemed.
“Are you married?” He finally asked.
“I was. My husband died in an unfortunate knee replacement incident.”
A baker of ill-repute, such as myself, looks for signs and omens anywhere she can while engaged in culinary endeavors. So I’m taking this heart to heart this morning as I prepare the ingredients for a single pecan pie for Studly and me to enjoy on Christmas Day. Since I literally put all my eggs into one basket, er pie, I’ll welcome all the good vibes I can get.
May all your baking efforts be similarly blessed this holiday season.
Cat Gracie discovered a luckless lizard in the house yesterday and quickly let the poor critter know who was boss.
My attempts at rescuing the little guy were futile. I’d pick him up and Gracie would snatch the other end. I’d let go to prevent a tug of war, not wanting or needing to witness the decapitation of a reptile in my den.
But the lizard had a game plan:
Gracie scraped the lizard off her face and backed away with a look of disbelief, allowing me to scoop the lizard up and take it outside where it played dead for quite some time. Well, to be honest, it might not have been playing, but it’s no longer in the spot where I left it. Whether it left of its own volition and under its own power is a mystery. I’m going to choose to believe it went on to live a productive life.
Contrary to the advice of other authors, I tend to read my books’ reviews. Yes, even the (blessedly few) negative ones. Often one of my books gets a review that makes me smile. I found this one about Mayhem at the Happy Valley Motor Inn and Resort on Amazon this morning and can’t stop giggling.
If you need something “stupidly fun” to read this weekend, may I suggest one of my novels? (Links at the end.)