We linger for hours
over bottles of fine wines;
no need to hurry.
These perfect moments
captured in warm memories
even as we drink.
Friends enhance the grape
even mediocre wines
seem superb vintage.
Written in response to the Daily Post’s Daily Prompt: Linger–tell us about times In which you linger, when you don’t want a day or an event to end.
A couple of folks have inquired as to whether I am still cooking meals for Studly Doright. Why, yes. Yes, I am.
Studly Doright remains among the living
Even after all of my cooking.
Some nights I create minor miracles
Other nights we survive on cereals.
Still, I miss the cool days of winter
When I could just serve soup for dinner.
Tonight I’m serving veggies and roast
They smell pretty great and that’s no boast.
Let’s raise a glass to good home cooking
But I dropped the roast when he wasn’t
looking.
shhhhhh!
Peace, people!
I’ve read a number of articles lately on the joys and benefits of coloring for adults. Friends have shared their coloring stories, and I thought that it sounded fun and relaxing. Better yet, there’s no learning curve associated with coloring. Any idiot can do it. One idiot, coming right up.
Of course I had to have a coloring book and a brand new package of markers. Believe it or not there are lots of coloring books made with older colorers in mind. These tend to have a great deal of detail and teeny tiny bits to be colored. I could have spent as much as $30 for top of the line markers, but opted for the extra special pack of Crayola markers.
I might have a real future in coloring.
I enjoy a glass of wine now and again. Ok, almost every evening I enjoy a glass of wine, usually with dinner. Fine, I have a glass of wine every single night.
On my Facebook account I often share the name of the specific type of wine I’m drinking that evening. It’s not the most fascinating of topics, but it keeps me from being too political, most nights anyway.
In return my friends and family make sure to tag me in any wine memes they find. Some are just too good not to share:
Peace, (and cheers) People!
Fifty, in spite of what my younger friends have heard is not a terrible age. In fact, the half century mark has certain perks, not the least of which is being eligible for membership in the American Association of Retired People.
I’ve now been an AARP member for eight and a half years, and my membership includes discounts on hotels nationwide, great rates on insurance, and a voice in political issues that affect those of us past the child-bearing age.
Studly is a member, as well, and apparently he just renewed our dues because I received this gift in the mail today from the good folks at AARP.
I’m not sure what this is. A carrier for my Depends undergarments? (which, by the way I do NOT wear. Yet.) A miniature backpack? A fanny pack? A chastity belt? Bwahaha!!! Although, placed strategically it would certainly prevent any attempts at coitus.
Regardless, it’s a gift. And I continue to brace my “A.A.R.P.ness.” Say that out loud for a giggle.
Peace, people!
No songs are written
with my name, my face in mind;
no melody mine.
Sharona, Sherry,
Donna, and Paula as well
have been someone’s muse.
I’m just a songless
woman in a song-filled world;
I could change my name.
a different perspective:
http://youtu.be/gNeeu6_e6oQ
Ritchie Valens’ Donna.
Below: eight of the top songs with a woman’s name in the title
Maggie Mae is my favorite. Couldn’t we substitute my name? “Oh Nana I couldn’t have tried anymore.”
Studly Doright and I are doing some home improvement projects this spring. His man-cave is approaching completion and we’ve found someone to help turn the area leading up to our front door into a mini courtyard. After that we’ll tackle our back porch which is lovely but almost unusable during the rainy season due to drainage issues.
In preparation for the courtyard project I’ve been browsing Pinterest and wandering around two of the local nurseries looking at paving stones, outdoor seating groups, and large pots and planters. My goal is to make the area pretty and low maintenance.
Even though I’m no gardener I enjoy trips to the nurseries. There’s such an abundance of colors, textures, and scents. And ornamental junk. Lots of ornamental junk.
Now, I have nothing against ornamental junk. I can see me owning a metal rooster or an ornate concrete birdbath. The problem is that I’m not sure if I’d know when to stop.
Could I draw the line at one rooster or would I need a dozen metal hens and a few chicks to add to the display? If I buy the concrete birdbath do I then follow up with a concrete bench, a concrete fairy, a pair of concrete children reading a concrete book, and an array of concrete stepping stones?
We’ve all seen those yards that have so many little animals or whirlybirds or garden gnomes that one cannot even see the lawn or the front door. Who is to say that one lone rooster won’t lead to an entire flock?
Studly assures me he won’t let it come to that. Oh, look! A metal dolphin!
Peace, people!
In response to the Daily Post’s Daily Prompt: If you could have a guarantee that one specific person was reading your blog who would it be? What would you say to them?
I’m awfully good at flippant remarks, and so very many rushed to mind when I first read this prompt. For once instead of just blurting out a quick answer, I took a deep breath and thought. And thought. Then I thought some more. I thought so long that several daily prompts came and went, and I was still thinking.
Finally I decided.
Mom,
I miss you. I think you would have enjoyed my blog. Heck, you’d have had one yourself. You’d have never thought your writing was good enough, but you’d have continued writing just the same. I get that from you.
I hope you can read between the lines of my posts and see just how much I still love you and how much of you lives on in me.
With love,
Leslie
Recently I wrote about attending the annual Mayhaw Festival in Monticello, Florida, and my general love of quaint all-American festivals. KH, the older of my two younger brothers did some research for me and discovered not one, not two, but five festivals celebrating (ta-da!) testicles!
What do you think? Which one provides the greatest opportunity for me to be named Ms. Testicle? My personal favorite is the one where you can “Come have a ball with Jesus!” Read on:
The following material can be found on guycodeblog.mtv.com; Author NEAL STASTNY (@NEALSTAS) IS A COMEDIAN AND WRITER IN NEW YORK.
1. Testy Festy
Testy Festy, held every year in Clinton, Montana, features wet T-shirt contests, the Undie 500 (men and women race tricycles in their underwear) and even a big ball contest for guys who aren’t scared to drop trou…and aren’t scared of that deep-fryer.
What began as a small gathering of family and friends in Olean, Missouri, now provides thousands of people with their testicle fix. The event features live music and a “motorcycle burn-out contest.” There’s no better way to spend an afternoon than by hanging with bikers and eating testicles.
If the other two festivals too secular for you, then try the Texas Testicle Festival, where the motto is “Come Have a Ball With Jesus.” The event, started by real-life cowboys, features a ball-eating contest, gospel music, a roping contest and a church service. It’s hard to get more American than cowboys, religion and fried food.
This festival, held every year in Tiro, Ohio‘s Tiro Tavern, is a little smaller than the others, so it’s perfect for someone who wants to celebrate testicles but avoid the crowd.
5. Oakdale Testicle Festival
To separate itself from the other testicle festivals, this one in Oakdale, California (“Cowboy Capital of the Word”), lets festival-goers select the slogan. This year’s was “30 Years And Still Hangin!” Is your testicle pun good enough for 2014?
Peace, people!
Drove to the beach
Picnicked on the pier
Waded in the waves
Sipped at a beer
Napped beneath the sun
Strolled upon the sand
Searched for seashells
Listened to a band
Gathered up the towels
Rinsed off my toes
Drove into town
Rubbed lotion on my nose.
Praying for Eyebrowz 