Studly Doright is no fashion maven. Don’t get me wrong, I think he always looks good, he’s just never going to make the cover of GQ.
He is resourceful, though, when it comes to keeping his pants in place. Just look what I discovered when doing his laundry:
Studly has lost about twenty pounds. Had I lost the same amount I’d have bought a new wardrobe. But my husband? No, he just figures out a way to hold his pants up.
Peace, people!
…It’ll make a huge mess. If said tree falls into the neighborhood lake, it’ll make an even bigger mess.
Now we’re waiting on someone to quote us a price on Fallen Tree’s removal. It will not be cheap. Sigh.
Peace, people.
Found on a bathroom wall at a local car dealership:
I think that about covers it.
Peace, people!
Studly Doright, the love of my life, was out of town on business most of this week. Our cat, Gracie and I miss him when he’s gone.
He called me on his way home from Maitland, Florida, yesterday afternoon, so I had an idea of when he’d arrive. Still, I could have used a little warning. You see, he surprised me as I was applying my night cream and I poked myself in the eye. Now I look like this sans muscles and tattoos:
Perhaps spinach would help.
Peace, people!
The worst times are those
When I’m caught off guard
As I’m drifting into sleep
Or the first moments upon waking
When my primitive brain latches onto
An ugly hunger that needs slaking,
Baking ideas like malformed cookies
Question mark-shaped dough
And I force myself to move
In action there is solace;
If I’m busy, I don’t think
Must’ve been some kind of party going on last night.
Gracie isn’t allowed on the kitchen counters. She’s refusing to take responsibility for this apple which has fallen very far from the tree.
Peace, people.
That the Chicago airport would confound him.
That we wouldn’t make it into the virtual queue for a Star Wars ride at Disney’s Hollywood Studios.
I worried he’d think our family suite at the Art of Animation would be too childish, or that hanging out with his Nana wouldn’t be cool.
I worried I wouldn’t be able to keep up with my 18-year-old grandson for all the fun.
I worried about lots of stuff, but I forgot to worry about cancer.
Weird how I always seem to worry about the wrong things.
I’ve built a fine raft
For the river of my life
Yet I’ve no paddle
Peace, people!
I was sitting outside on the makeshift patio of a local eatery yesterday when one of the employees peeked around the corner and said, “Don’t freak out, but there’s a snake behind the recycling bin.”
Sure enough, I saw the little guy slithering in my direction. And while I didn’t freak out, I did move to a neutral corner in hopes that he’d pass right by.
Soon, the snake was corralled by braver souls than I and returned to a location with fewer freak-out prone humans.
The little oak snake seemed friendly enough, but I’ve got plenty of friends, thank you very much
Peace, people!
There’s an ad for my first novel, Mayhem at the Happy Valley Motor Inn and Resort, now running on Facebook. My Facebook friend and author, Lori Roberts Herbst, helped me set the ad up at extreme peril to her own sanity. Now that’s what I call a good friend.
So far the ad, in conjunction with my book now being listed on Kindle Unlimited, has increased my book’s visibility and its sales in a positive manner. I’ve been a bit obsessive in measuring the difference between ad costs and the number of pages read. According to my calculations I’ve either made a profit of around one million dollars or $15.65. Really, it’s too close to call.
Studly Doright, of course reminds me that there’s no profit until I’ve recouped the costs of editing, cover design, and the other bits that went into self-publishing a novel. Sure hoping that million dollars is closer to the right estimate.
Peace, people!
Mayhem at the Happy Valley Motor Inn and Resort https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08P76RBRD/ref=cm_sw_r_cp_api_glt_fabc_TP3VS136D2NK2NG2D65G
Praying for Eyebrowz 