The Bunny commeth....

My sister Susan does not read my blog.

And it is because of posts exactly like this one......

In the blink of an eye,

this happened.....

Maybe de'nial is just a river in Egypt. Now if you'll excuse me I have some top secret work to tend to...

(Happy Easter...see you on Monday)

dun-dun! dun-dun! dun-dun-dun-dun-dun-dun-dun.....

What, may I ask, is up with all the ladybugs?

They buzz around my lights and scare me half to death when I catch one out of the corner of my eye.

They have infiltrated my house. And made an attempt toward my body.

I kid you not.... one landed on my bare behind yesterday.

It almost hit my crack. Literally, it almost hit my crack!!!

Fresh from my shower and wearing just a towel, I bent to get a sock off the bathroom floor. Suddenly and without warning I felt something tap my butt...I swiped at the source and didn't care one nanosecond when the culprit hit the ground with a click.

The little bugger went turtle on me and drew its thread thin legs tight into its shell, it rolled back and forth a couple of times and then it appeared dead.

I don't like killing living creatures...with that said, one down, 15, 987 to go.

The bug faked his own death for as soon as I turned my interest away from it and toward a two inch long chin hair turtlebug righted herself and hit the road.

Daddio (who wouldn't hurt a flea) hollers at me when I kill any bug...but if he thinks that I'm going to waste precious time trying to coax the bug onto a tissue and then run it outside toward freedom he has gruel for brains.

On that rare occasion that I was able to scoop one up I was rewarded with some yellow stuff on my hand. I always assumed it was poop (scared shitless) until one of the "know it all" kids at work told me that it was blood.

Stinky yellow bug blood.

So that's why the cat won't eat them.

In ancient times, ladybugs were one of the indicators of good fortune and a bountiful harvest.

Bountiful, now that about sums it up......

Hiding on the side of my mouse.

On the kid's clothes.

Cocky, flirting with certain death.

An annoying house guest. 

Insurgents permeating every inch.

(This trickster can even walk upsidedown).

Laying in wait for the resident fan addict (Daddio who has fans running 24/7 x 365) to grab the knob.

Their bunker/burial site.

One stays on the outside as a lookout.

Teetering on the edge.

 On my hand cream...inches from my toothbrush.

Right next door to the thing I put in my mouth everyday....

Camouflage??? Yikes!!! The bug is adapting to its surroundings.

Bear tried to tell me that Hugo Stiglitz did more than just dirty his cage and run all night on his red wheel. 

Can't you just hear the Jaws theme playing in the background?

Run little bug, run.

Lucky for the bug Hugo's Attention Deficiate Disorder kicked in helping him to lose interest.

 

The bug took full advantage.

Hugo heard the barking dog and in a tragic turn of events he became the prey.

                                                                                 
 

A mighty sweet gesture....adds to my beautiful garden.

~ We're never so vulnerable than when we trust someone - but paradoxically, if we cannot trust, neither can we find love or joy. ~ Walter Anderson

I received a package in the mail Tuesday.  It was sent by a new friend who happens to live halfway around the world from me in England.

(I still can't believe that I may have found a real live pen pal.... pooo-pooo-p-doo :-)

There were special instructions hand printed on the front.

I could hardly wait to open the package and dump its contents out onto a table. It was filled with candy...chocolate candy.

Like a kid at Holloween, I closely examined my mysterious loot.

Since I can't make a decision to save my soul, it was tough deciding which to sample first. But once I got started it was hard to stop.

Included in the package with my treats was a card with a warm note.

One day I plan to have a room where my computer and I shall sit surrounded by lots of my favorite things. Quotes, pictures, signs, notes, and even calendar pages that have inspired me for one reason or another.

(Googie,the sentence above the above sentence is in no way meant to hurry you out the door...honest ;-)

Anyway, I call my sentimental goodies my heart flowers.

Being a hoarding fool...my garden is absolutely packed.

When Daddio and I were in our tweens (I was 12 or so, and he was 13) he gave me a bouquet of weeds. The kind of weeds that pretend to be flowers. I pressed them between two pages of a diary that I kept at the time. I wrote in there that he'd come to visit and had plucked the flowers from my grass. It was such a sweet thing to do. It touched my heart and still does when every once in a while I pull out the old book.

In my little room I will display my weeds.

And the card that kept my chocolate company on its trip across the North Atlantic Ocean.

As much as I wish I could... I can't save everything, so many of my heart flowers linger only as memories.

For my big 4-0 birthday I was gifted a plate full of beautiful cookies. I ate only one and tried to think of a way to preserve the others. I decided to shellac them. They turned out better than I'd imagined they would. I placed them on a fancy cake dish and they hung out in my kitchen for years.

Every little kid that came over asked me if they could eat one...and they were heartbroken when I lifted the lid and let them smell the poisonous frosting.

I question (even to this day) my choice to keep the cookies...looking at them gave me pleasure for years, but they tasted soooo good, so good that more than 10 years later I can still remember exactly how good the one I ate tasted.

I learned my lesson with the cookies, I have no plans to shellac any of the candy. I plan instead to eat it all...every last bite and not share one sliver of the Maya Gold bar.

Of all the candy in the package my favorite is this organic dark chocolate bar. The kind sender included a sticky note inside the package that said " An acquired taste, but my favorite" ...sadly, the note wasn't attached to any one thing (that sticky wasn't so sticky).

 I have no idea which one she likes best.   :-(

I'm betting it's this one....

I do have some candy left..but I'm not sharing,

So don't anyone even ask.

(Many thanks to you dear pen pal for the sweets. I wanted to let you know that some flowers were planted today, in your honor. xoxo)

Is it just me......?????

Look at those spindly limbs.... a striking resemblance no???

A whole lotta nuttin......

I totally (truly) am having the time of my life with this blog. If you like to write (or even talk really) a blog is a wonderful outlet. It is a tad self indulgent to think that people will want to read the crap that you have to say. And it's a bit of a dreamy fantasy to think that they will love reading your blog so much that they will place you on their favorite list and click on it from time to time to see if you've written anything new.  

And it could be an outright sign of some type of mental illness to imagine that they may look forward to reading you so much that you become a part of their day, like brushing their teeth.

Of course not all blogs are just a person's thoughts. Many help guide a person's interest. Maybe you always wanted to learn to shear a sheep, process the wool and knit a scarf?

Or learn taxidermy. This could come in handy if you happen to happen upon a wee squirrel that misjudged its leap from one branch to another and met with a premature demise. You might look at the little corpse and think the tiny fawn colored body would look great sitting lifelike above your fireplace?

Maybe you want to learn to cook with tofu. I mean, who doesn't love tofu? (puke) But what exactly do you do with it? I'm sure there are blogs to help you learn.

There are some blogs that are so cleaver and funny that they become famous. Take the one about the crazy, witty old dad. "Shit My Dad Says" it's a hilarious bit of reading and has a ton of followers. All the entries are something off the wall the author's dad says. The old man talks like a foul mouthed foul mouthed sailor. I blush sometimes when I read a snippet. 

For what it's worth, I honestly (seriously) could start a blog called "Crazy Azz Crap That Daddio says". I promise it would be equally hilarious. He doesn't swear much, but a lot of the stuff he says is equally unbalanced and totally "huh, WHAT...WOW" (how exactly does that man's mind work?)

Interesting stuff....

There are lots of mommy blogs out there too....quite a lot of poop talk. And always interesting and informative subject matter like how to get junior to take a nap.

My philosophy of using some Chloroform and a roll of duct tape would hardly garner me a ton of readers, I don't think. Who knows though, we are talkin the internet here.

There are blogs about blogging. And since I'm a "wet behind the ears" newborn in the blogging world I often turn to them for advice. They write about twittering (tweeting)? The say things about feeds (feeding?), it's mostly way too over my head to follow.

I fantasize though about doing all that stuff and maybe someday, someday I could appear on Oprah (like Dooce or Nienie) and talk about my blog.

I file that daydream next to the one where I'm a size two natural blonde supermodel who answers to the name Mrs. Elvis Aaron Presley. (Okay, there are still sightings and even though he would be well into his 80's by now...he is freakin Elvis!!!).

I don't have the balls to put my blog "out there" like many of the sites tell you to do. If you want your readership to grow you need to network...use social sites and advertise.

I have a Facebook thingy..but I don't have any pictures or much else on there. I started it mostly to spy on the kids. Then I couldn't quite figure out how it worked and so it just sits there and takes up space in cyber land.

So after thinking and thinking of ways to increase my readership...(if I do, in fact, really want to increase my readership) I decided to order some cards that advertise my blog.

Cute little business cards that I could hand out to people I want to invite to read my blog...but wait, I thought to myself.....if you ask a lot of people you know to visit your blog then you are going to have to be careful what you write. Careful that you don't spill too many beans or step on any toes.

I would hate to have my Dad read something I wrote about penises or have my Uncle John discover the horrible and very embarrassing truth about my cursing habit.

So cross out inviting people I know.

That leaves strangers....

 I'm sure I wouldn't feel comfortable stopping strangers and handing them a card...weird, even by my standards.

So I decided to drop my cards off where ever...places like stuffed in the middle of a library book (thanks work friends for that suggestion) or a magazine at the gyno's office, or on a seat at the airport. Or a table at Panera...everywhere and anywhere.

Not all who wander are lost and I can't wait to see who happens upon this blog.

Would you care to help? Send me an email at kobyismyname at aol dot com and I will send you a couple to scatter about.

Merci.... xoxoxox

How can something so pretty smell so bad???

Daddio said the above phrase the first time he changed one of Googie's diapers.

He's right of course....pretty and stink don't go together, even in the same sentence.

Shopping at Kroger my favorite ever grocery store (okay I hate all grocery stores, but especially this one where I weekly pull stale bread and rotten meat off the shelves and bring it up front to the Service Desk and complain...they don't much like me at Kroger, but the store is very close and so I guess we're stuck with each other)  anyway....I spotted some lovely paper towels. I'm not shy to admit that I'm one of those odd balls that sort through the shelves of paper towels looking for ones that match my motif.

Its almost as nice as being told you have beautiful children when someone notices and says "look at those cute paper towels".

I was happily moseying down the paper product aisle at Kroger's with that grocery gaze* on my face. When I rounded the corner this is what I saw on the end cap...

Fireworks went off in my brain, and like when I first saw the mini grocery cart a few posts back, I'm quite sure I heard trumpets.

These freakin paper towels were to die for. The blues were soft and muted and the corals vibrant. The pattern large and whimsical...

And....they were cheap at twice the price*.

Well folks I'm sad to report that while the paper towels did indeed look lovely hanging in my kitchen there was a small problem.

The cute paper towels smelled. They smelled bad. Skanky bony stinky*.

 They smelled like a cross between Fritos and dirty feet. Or maybe dirty feet and smoke.

They probably didn't smell as bad as a mosh pit...but still, stink is stink.

Now please tell me if I'm not right in my thinking here, isn't a paper towel one of those things that should be somewhat sanitary? 

I can see you nodding your head. So you can understand me when I say that that's what really made the stink all the more wrong. 

 I didn't think to say anything about the stink to Daddio, it didn't take long for him to mentioned it.

"Those paper towels sat in the stockroom where someone was smoking" he complained with a wrinkled nose and a big frown.

Imagining the enormity of the Kroger stockroom I begged to differ...maybe if they sat, open for a month in a Martini bar, but they didn't get that stench from the stockroom.

When the next couple of paper towels I used didn't smell I thought...maybe Daddio was right, maybe only the outside ones smelled bad, and it probably was from the stockroom.

Time told the smelly truth, the paper towels stunk through and through, but you had to get them wet to smell the fermenting aroma.

I feel jipstanged*.

And Jack Johnsoned*!!!!!

Kroger, I may have to sever ties with you this time.

It seems you don't value me as a customer.

You screwed with my paper towels and you screwed me out of a buck thirty five x's two.

I'm scared I may go McGuckin* on you, it's only a matter of time.

Don't do it.

Urban Dictionary

Grocery gaze: The mindless stare people tend to have when grocery shopping resulting in a shopping cart collision..causing injury or harm to another unsuspecting person.

Cheap at twice the price: so inexpensive, that if the price were doubled, it would still be considered cheap.

Skanky bony stinky: Someone or something who is dirty, skanky, and foul.

Jipstanged : To be ripped off for an item purchased. To not receive the item you expected. To be swindled out of your hard earned cash.

Jack Johnsoned: Equivalent of "getting jacked". Being cheated out of something or duped.

Goin McGuckin: Koby family street slang (the term, coined by my sister Susan derives directly from the name of a crazy-crazed neighborhood boy who went postal (Sean Penn style) over every and any little thing. It was not uncommon for McGuckin to come over the fence wielding a dangerous hand fashioned weapon in reaction to something as simple as a cocked eyebrow...scary!

 No one wants to see any one go McGuckin.

What a difference a day makes....

This past Thursday my doctor did his annual look see into my colon. It's an incredibly embarrassing thing to have to talk to a man who sticks crap up your butt and fiddles with your hemorrhoids.

Too up close and personal for my taste.

At work a couple of us had a good laugh at my expense... my co-workers saying things like "I know why a man might want to be a gynecologist.....but who in their right mind would want to look at hairy asses and bulging, pulsating hemorrhoids all day long"...yeah, I wondered, who?

The day before the procedure I was instructed to follow a clear liquid diet.

The morning found me pouting and feeling pretty sorry for myself when I had to skip the creamer and have my coffee black.

Yuck.

The sickly sweet lime Jello and bland chicken broth I was eating to sustain myself had gotten real old by my lunch hour. And I was beyond miserable when the time came to start drinking the salty thick liquid that in minutes I knew would be careening through my innards and demanding to leave just as quickly.

I ended up using my Lamaze breathing to get the last bit of that salt pork syrup down by telling myself over and over again....tomorrow, by this time tomorrow, it will all be over.

Tomorrow tomorrow I luv ya tomorrow.....you're always a day away.

Friday morning with all that behind me I was enjoying a cup of coffee (with milk :-) when the phone rang. It was Trouble (Googie's boyfriend). He hemmed and hawed a bit and finally blurted out that he needed my help in getting him some time alone with Googie's dad. He needed to talk with him about something important.

"Do you know where I'm goin with this? " he boldly asked.

"Why yes, I think I do" I answered.

Daddio was certain to give his blessing and I knew Googie would answer yes.

"When are you gonna do this" I asked.

"Tomorrow night" he said.

"Tomorrow? " I repeated.

It's hard to believe that this day is really here.

Trouble is a really awesome guy and we couldn't be happier.

I'm soooo excited for her....(even if I was secretly hoping that she may want to be one of those old maid types and live with me forever).

By this time tomorrow her getting married will no longer be an "off in the distant future" kinda thing.

Tomorrow..... tomorrow!!!!

Come what may.  :-)