17 August, 2017

Crazy things in the sky OR just crazy people on the ground

17 August 2017

R. Linda:

With your arrival comes a wee bit of madness. I knew your flight and me picking you up from airport went too smoothly. Even afternoon tea and dinner had no hiccups, and just as I was getting into the groove of a lovely visit, Weasil shows up! Never mind we successfully packed the Dragon on her broom for New Jersey so our visit would be dragon-free, now we had the other thorn in me side arriving unexpectedly.

I knew by the expression on your face that this was just up your alley. I could almost hear the sarcastic remarks whirling around in your head as the young whippersnapper greeted everyone like it was HE we had expected for a visit. Not so! I was as surprised as everyone else to see the lad. The last I knew he was heating his heels dancing at Shannon Airport, but no, no, here he was fresh from an Irish holiday. Lucky us right?

And it was with some trepidation we had watched his arrival. We had taken our coffee and tea to the back deck and were chatting and having a lovely time when we heard the crunch of tyres on the drive. Me Mam muttered, "Wondah who dat could be noow." And then Sean, "Ye noo anyone wit a RV dare Gabriel?"

And we looked to see out of the gloom of the twilight trees, came this huge RV rolling in. I thought to meself that maybe they mistook me driveway in the woods as a state park, which often happens, so I got meself all set to help them turn the monster around and down the steps I went only to be greeted with the honking of a very loud and huge horn, with a skinny arm waving to me out the driver's window. I looked and I looked and sure enough, it was the Weasil.

"Where did you get THIS monstrosity?" I asked him as he shut the motor down.

"Me new purchase fur driven aroundie da place ta see da scenery." Said he hopping out.

"Oh my." Me Mam said from behind me.

Weasil's new wheels
He told us he'd be staying overnight and camping out in his "camper." That was fine by me. We were given a tour of the fully stocked vehicle and it looked like Weasil could live for years in that thing. The only bad thought was that he could live for years in that thing in ME DRIVEWAY which was getting quite a bit crowded.

Before you or he had arrived, Sean went out and bought himself a hot tub from the guy down the road, who's wife had enough of the thing. Oh yes he did, and why? Because cousin Gabe (that be me) put the lad to work hauling rocks to make a cobble wall of sorts and the poor lad's back was breaking from the burden of that wall, so he went out unknownst to the rest of us and bought a hot tub. Never mind that I am paying through the nose for the electric, which as I have complained me bill be through the roof, was no matter to cousin Sean, as long as he be luxuriating in his hot water bath at days end while the rest of us . . . not so much.

Really? It isn't like it's 4 feet high - I even rented a dozer for him to make it easy
Not only will the electric bill now be astronomical, but where he put it be a crazy place. When he asked me where he could put it I told him where the sun don't shine and walked away. Well, in his mind he placed it where it would be out of the way in front of the steps to the front walk! See here:

Sean's big purchase
Life suddenly was taking on a "crazy" aspect it was. Sean was bad enough but now we had Weasil infringing on YOUR visit! I was near speechless and not at all happy. I have to admit everyone was determined not to let the interloper make things zany, as often be the case, and we did invite him to after dinner coffee and treats on the deck. Okay that was all fine and good for a while, but then Sean and Weasil got into a discussion of ten people hot tubs which had me squirming in me seat. That's all I needed was a large hot tub. We'd never see the front walk again!

You did a good job of trying to shut the Weasil down in his trying to convince Sean to size up. I was impressed with the idea of snakes slithering into the hot tub and bird doo raining down from the trees. But Weasil deflected that with a canopy (which made the whole image somehow worse) and (from experience) how good boiled snake can taste.

I don't know how we made it through your first night because it got more bizarre as the sun went down and we were inside and then since it was a lovely night, back outside with drinks. Seems Weasil, mixmaster extraordinaire, has quite the bar in his RV. He makes a mean whiskey sour he does, and after three of those rather easy to drink drinks we seemed to be having a gay old time on the deck. Weasil and Sean went to the hot tub with their drinks and we could hear the thing whirring away as we sat their discussing noise pollution and huge electric bills.

It was shortly after they had parboiled themselves they came back to the deck all excited pointing to the heavens.

"Didja see dat star moving and whirling up dare?" Sean said pointing to the sky.

We all looked up and you offered up that he was drinking too much and seeing things, Tonya offered it was a satellite, and me Mam, that he and Weasil were looking at a UFO. Yes, she be helpful always in that way.

We sat there for over an hour craning out necks looking at, "Da triangle of brightie stars. See da onie on da righty? It be moving an spinning." Weasil said pointing.

"Which one?" You asked sceptical.

"Da bright onie." He pointed and we all watched when suddenly a shooting star appeared and that was quite a bit fabulous. After twenty more minutes of "Lookie dere it be a moven'," something bizarre did take place a star was shooting but not down it went UP!

"Wot wuz dat?" Me Mam near shouted.

"I told you about that, I saw one of those a month ago," Tonya reminded us. "It looks like a tube and shoots UP and disappears!"

She did tell us this a few months ago (and no one believed her), in the meantime, some of us saw it and some of us didn't. I think the didn't sees weren't looking or were too seeped into their cups to notice much of anything.

"But lookie at dat star move!" Weasil said reverting the discussion back to some see it and some don't.

"I tink yer noots." Me Mam said to Weasil and Sean.

"Nah, not exactly nuts, bonkers!" You interjected.

Well, I don't know why we were trying to see what the two idiots were seeing. I never did, I saw a bright star going nowhere. I did think you pointing out a plane flying overhead quite a bit hilarious as you pointed to it coming over the roofline and shouted, "Look! Look! A UFO!" And for a fraction of a minute you had the two star seekers in excited motion looking at the sky jumping around like two buffoons (which they are).

It was a crazy end to a relatively nice day, but you really need not to go to the pet store with me Mam and buy a snake for the hot tub. Though I think that would freak Sean out, Weasil not so much -- he'd eat it, but it would certainly freak me if it got loose being so close to the house. You and me Mam (I can see) are a lethal mix. You both think alike and if this continues I will be more than certifiable by visit end.

Copyright © 2017 All rights reserved

09 August, 2017

Space Station

09 August 2017

R. Linda:

Last night I was thinking it was too bad you weren't here now, because the space station flew overhead and I think you'd have found it fun to watch. But since you weren't I put in me one good picture (taken with me mobile phone, so amazing I have the detail I do) and also because a few weeks ago we were able to see a small bit of the aurora borealis (again mobile phone photos but not very good ones) I will stick one of those in too.

But take heart the station flies over me house every week or two so you'll get to see it. So here is space station and one northern lights (well as much as I got anyway) pics.

Space Station 

Unfortunately me phone did not pick up the colours, but there is a bit to the right top side.
I have not figured how to use me zoom on me Canon. It won't even click on telephoto for some reason. I have fiddled with the F stop and everything else. I guess I should go back to me little auto Canon and try that next time.

Copyright © 2017 All rights reserved

07 August, 2017

A Game of Peppers

07 August 2017

R. Linda:

In anticipation of your arrival for a visit to the new abode, there was a lot of cleaning and polishing going on. In honour of your visit I decided to experiment with some Mexican food and made up a batch of spicy chimichangas. I know you like hot sauce so I was working with peppers, slicing and dicing and inadvertently rubbing me eyes and oh the pain that caused from the pepper juice! That's why I think me hot sauce didn't turn out the way I had hoped, or the chimichangas either, since me eyes burned and I couldn't see the recipe.

Determined to taste everything I made with the whole house watching and laughing, I made a show of it I did. I made like nothing was that hot, but oh my goodness the instant heartburn! I sipped the margaritas slowly and the alcohol made it worse. I thought I was going to die, but I tried not to give meself away. I smiled and tasted some more knowing each bite and sip was lethal. I know call me crazy but I just couldn't let the Dragon see me pain and give her something to dig at me with.

Once out of the kitchen and away from the hot stuff, Tonya came in with a huge glass of ice water and told me to go drink it in the bathroom so her mom couldn't see. I chugged that baby down like there was no tomorrow but it didn't put the fire out. No, I was now smoking through me nostrils, ears and mouth thinking me lower extremities would not be exempt from the fire I had foolishly fuelled in me stomach!

I had to lay down, I mean I was near doubled over and I couldn't let Dragon see that, so I said I was sleepy and going to have a lie down. And I did after Tonya brought me a refill of ice water. I tell ya, I was burning up. I tried listing the hot peppers I put in that sauce in an effort to escape consciousness. Repeating things I find usually puts me to sleep, so there I was whispering to meself, "Rellenos Poblano, Guindilla Verde, Chilaca, Cayenne, Guernica, Chipotle, Serrano, Habanero, Pimiento de Padron, Aji Rojo, and Piquillo too." I made a sing-song out of it and it did finally put me in chili pepper escape land. BUT that wasn't a good thing necessarily.

I had bad dreams like I mean bad dreams! I was being roasted over a spit by Ramsey Bolton. The fire licking me skin and it crackling or so I thought, but it was Ramsey's cackling as he turned me over and over. I passed out on the spit and then I was sitting in an outhouse when this very short person opened the door and pointed a crossbow at me! "You are on the wrong throne," she said pointing the ready to fire arrow at me. I hurriedly pulled up me pants which were the weirdest pants ever! They were leather with what looked like leather scales and me footwear was matching boots. I looked like a crocodile. She pointed for me to follow her down this long, dark hallway and there we came into this big room. It was filled with a few groups of people with their backs turned having conversations, so I didn't know who they were.

"There is your throne, sit on that." She said as I obeyed because she still had that crossbow pointed in me direction.

Who . . . who are you?" I asked her.

"Tyrion Lannister."

"No you're not," I said recognising you R. Linda.

"Am too! Everything's better with some wine in the belly." You said, pouring out a margarita not wine. I shook me head no, no matter the goblet was this jewelled affair, I wasn't drinking from it with me dicky tum, no way was I drinking anything burningly alcoholic.

"You . . . you killed Tywin Lannister with that thing." I pointed to the crossbow you still held.

"Oh, did I kill him? I've been very busy."

"YOU drink that and stop quoting Tyrion Lannister."

"I can drink myself to death on the road to Meereen." You laughed at me, as I watched you waddle away to one of the groups down the steps below me throne. I sat there looking around me, feeling the fiery ache in me belly from the hot sauce wondering about the big hall I was in. It was all dark stone and large tapestries I couldn't make out. Not to mention, but I am mentioning it anyway, the pointy chair I was sitting in was made up of swords and the points were up me bum and very uncomfortable!

Suddenly I was nudged by something and I turned me attention to what it was and almost jumped out of me hot skin. There in front of me was a huge dragon wearing spectacles. How I didn't hear that thing approach I don't know, but I lifted me long legs up under me and tried to blend into the throne chair.

A puff of smoke came from it's nostrils as if a dragon gesture of clearing its throat. It announced in a New Jersey accented American English,

"Today's headlines: First one -- Rainbow flies off track killing three."

I sat there stupefied. Rainbow? Flying off tracks? Railroad? Did it mean THAT?

"Second one: American spinster has epic reaction to beating Usain Bolt."

WHAT? Spinster? Beating Usain Bolt with what? Oh sprinter maybe? Not that kind of beating. Gees!

"Last one: Police arrest man suspected of kidnapping motel."

HUH? How do you kidnap a motel, oh than it dawned on me -- model. Damn that Dragon can't get anything right.

As I was tsking away the Dragon disappeared in a puff of smoke before I could correct it.

Next thing I know, you escorted two people from one of the groups who came slowly up the stone stairs to me throne. One was a good looking dark haired man dressed in black with a black wolf wrapped around his neck and a blond-haired woman, who's hair seemed to grow at every step she took.

You said to the dark man as you were nearing me throne, "Dewdropper is not about to head across the pond to fight an enemy she's never seen, on the word of a man she doesn't know, after a single meeting. It's not a reasonable thing to ask." Then you turned to the woman with the startlingly fast growing hair and said, "You don't have to believe Wolfie here. Let him mine the dragonglass. If he's wrong, it's worthless. You didn't even know it was here; it's nothing to you. Give him something by giving him nothing. Take a step toward a more productive relationship with a possible ally. Keep him occupied while we focus on the task at hand," and you whispered but I heard you, "O'Sully Rock."

"But the cave drawings," Wolfie began to protest.

"Oh wait, the cave drawings," I said, realising I knew this conversation. "You were gone a long time Wolfie Snow, down in that abyss of dragonglass. You had plenty of time to draw those figures on the cave wall. I know you are a bit of an artist."

Wolfie looked like he had been caught redhanded or in this case with chalk in hand which he did have and shoved into his pocket out of sight.

The blond woman's hair grew even quicker as she looked at him startled he do such a thing.

"And here I thought you were an honest sort." She stamped her foot.

"Now, now," you said, "he has fine good hair, he's a handsome one so what's a chalk drawing between lovers."

"Lovers?" I said getting up again, me blood racing in disgust, "he's her brother!"

Everyone in the hall turned around at me declaration, gasps coming from all at the revelation. Before anything could be said, this blond-haired kid rolled up in a rickety wooden wheel chair, his eyes white and a grey wolf lap robe over his cripple knees.

"Iz da three eyed raven an Iz is ere' ta tell ya wot da guy on da thronie sayz is truth!"

"Ee gads it's the Weasil," you said to no one in particular. "Three-eyed raven my ass."

Just then the great wooden doors clanged open as two women came in. One dressed like a salad with a sword and the other with flaming and I mean literally flaming red-hair holding a jewelled tankard. I recognised them both instantly, Fiona the Canadian salad expert and Gillian the Irish beer drinker. It was obvious both had been dining recently.

"He IS her brother he's a Targaryen and I'm Arya Stark." Fiona said as she chopped salad from her head with the sword. An amazing feat when you see it done.

"Noe he be NOT he's da bostard of da Nort as I be a priestess wit da mostest." Gillian said, her heavy Irish accent hanging in the air as she threw beer from the tankard on her flaming hair as if the fire was a minor inconvenience and beer was water and not an accelerant.

"That doesn't rhyme," you muttered.

"Bostard?" Wolfie said all indignant. "Whats a bostard? And YOU are that wench who fires up the barbie with deformed face young girls!" This last he threw at Gillian.

"OOH I DID NOTING OF DA SORT!" Gillian protested loudly.

I recognised her then as the Red Woman, it explained the fire on her head.

"Let me give ya soom advice, bostard . . ." Gillian began but was cut off by Fiona.

"Wolfie Snow knows nothing. And I mean nothing."

"Hey, I resent that . . ." Wolfie began.

"I am willing to over look the bastard or bostard thing," Dewdropper sighed looking at Wolfie. "Oh the things I do for love."

No one moved, no one said anything, Wolfie looked uncomfortable thinking what if the salad head was right and he WAS a Targaryen brother?

"After all," Dewdropper defended, "it's the family name that lives on. It's all that lives on." She finished that last wistfully, poor dear.

Quiet still reigned, no one moved, no one said anything until you piped up with this gem: "When dead men and worse come hunting . . . You think it matters if he's her brother?"

"You mean 'you think it matters who sits on the Iron Throne.'" Gillian corrected.

"Nope I don't mean that at all." You stood your ground even though you were low to it.

The large wooden doors clanged open again, as a fuzzy haired woman came in with a scroll.

"I am known as Missandei AKA Tonya. I come bearing the genealogy of the Targaryen line. I can put this brother sister act to bed."

Everyone exchanged alarmed glances and mouthed the word 'bed'.

"Oh please do," I said going down and leading her up to me throne by the hand.

A stone table magically appeared out of the ground and Missandei Tonya spread the sheet out. It was huge, it was complex, it was from ancestry.com!

"See here," Missandei Tonya said to all of us as she ran a finger from one name to another, "Rhaegar was the son of Aerys Targaryen and the older brother of Daenerys and Viserys. Lyanna was the daughter of Rickard Stark and sister to Eddard, Benjen, and Brandon. Wolfie Snow is the son of Rhaegar and Lyanna, that means Dewdropper here is his auntie. The rest of you Starks are cousins and I am sorry to inform the Lannisters, they are no relation.

"Well, that clears that up." You said relieved.

"Not quitie," Weasil shouted from the bottom of the stone steps.

A man who was announced as Jamie Lannister came in holding his arm where it was obvious the hand had been severed. It was bleeding all over the stones and he was cursing up a storm.

"Bloody Roos Bolton! I only meant ti giv er' a kiss!"

I knew that pronunciation of the name Rose as Roos and recognised me cousin Sean. I also understood I was KING so I ordered Sean AKA Jamie Lannister put in a closet to shut him up quite literally. Feeling kingly as everyone murmered among themselves I unconsciously picked up the goblet you had offered earlier as I felt very self-satisfied. I had taken two gulps when I saw everyone looking at me askance.

You were looking up at me with your head lowered so all I could see were your eyes. They had a demented glint to them.

"Whaa . . . ?" I said staring down at you.

"Well, JOFFREY I hope you go fast."

I dropped the goblet and it went clanging to the floor, the margarita juice all over the stones mingling with Sean's blood. I looked at everyone, quite taken aback and then I fell forward and don't remember a thing after that.

I woke up at 4 a.m. feeling the lessening of a slow burn in me intestines from the peppers. Never again will I do that pride thing of trying not to let the dragon know I made a huge culinary mistake. I do tend to eat me mistakes, but that's got to stop along with the pride thing. It took a few minutes but then I remembered me dream. A pride dream! That's what I get for doing stupid things with spicy food. I hadn't given the consequences much thought but I do realise if that dream had gone on, there would have been white hot pepper walkers and me running for me life to the loo I be sure. On that note, I am done with this which I know will make you the one who is self-satisfied. Uh huh.

Copyright © 2017 All rights reserved

05 August, 2017

The Weasil Goes A-Flash Dancing

05 August 2017

R. Linda:

I wasn't there but I heard all about it! Seems our Weasil was in Ireland recently and while waiting for a flight to London, he was cooling his heels at Shannon Airport he was. Having some time, Weasil went shopping and not needing an Aran sweater or cap, or scarf, or even a trinket souvenir, he was totally bored out of his Weasil mind until . . . yes R. Linda, UNTIL he spied a footy shop and in he went!

And out he came sporting this:

Or, something similar though I think this be the one
Having a new found need to purchase expensive footy jerseys it seems the Kappa Remilo Team Club Wear be the Weasil's new passion. He is looking to get every Kappa jersey he can get his hands on. So walking around sporting his new look, he was not paying attention to a lot of other yellow jerseys, of similar look. Yes indeed, he was busy taking selfies on his mobile phone and flicking off photos of the new kit to his wife, kiddos, friends, anyone who would take a peek.

As he wandered thus in the middle of Shannon, he stopped in one area to take yet one more self indulgent selfie, quite oblivious that suddenly he was surrounded with yellow shirted people. With another unexpected suddenness Irish music began playing out of the loud speaker and the yellow shirted people around him started step dancing. The Weasil woke up quickly to the thunder of the heels to floor and the whoops and hoots and as one young thing and then another reeled around him he figured he better step his way out, but wait! There was no way out, he was in the middle of this musical chaos and so he did what any discriminating Weasil would do, he joined in!

Here is the muddled masses in yellow shirts for your perusal:

Photo Courtesy the above
Now you can see how the Weasil got mixed into this crowd? I tell ya, the young laddie be ever into the mix, whether consciously or in most cases, like this one, unconsciously. If you look closely he's in there somewhere. Well, from what I was told he danced his heart out knowing a few steps, but one must remember the Weasil be no Irishman, but a Scotsman. So what the Irish kiddos were dancing and what the Scottish Weasil was dancing, were two very different steps they were, but close enough I suppose for Weasil to get by.

He said at the end of this fiasco of sudden dance mania (for it was as you guessed a flash dance), the Weasil was mistaken for the lead dancer or even worse dance captain. Yes because his shirt was slightly different he was soon the main focus of everyones attention. Of course, it didn't help that as soon as the dance was over, the yellow shirted Irish dance kiddos dispersed leaving the Weasil standing quite alone in the middle of the floor.

At which point a few people came up to tell him, "Well done!" and of course Weasil accepted it as being his performance never mind the dance troop!

Oh poor Weasil you say, I couldn't agree more, but I do snicker at the whole episode. I don't know if any of this be true or not, as it is second and third hand joke information passed on from one reliable source and one . . . not so much.

I did try to get in touch with the Weasil for comment, but he was "unavailable" as his flight to London was in the air. I can't think of anything more humorous than a dancing Weasil, especially when the dancing be a surprise to his rather keen self. In this case not so keen was our Weasil. At least it wasn't me this time, as this sort of thing usually happens to me not the Weas.

Copyright © 2017 All rights reserved

28 July, 2017

Colluding or Canoodling?

28 July 2017

R. Linda:

I be no political expert by any means but the climate I be living in leads me to pay attention to the politics or lack thereof, being bandied about. It be like a wreck where you don't want to look, but for the life of you, you cannot look away. That's how I feel about the Trump presidency and all that goes with it.

What happened to the ha ha, strong Republican house and senate? Seems we have a strong keystone cops (GOP) vs. the left over Clintonites (Dems). So far the GOP can't seem to "come together" (thank you Beatles) and the Dems have adopted the word "no" as their go to word. Nothing seems to be moving or getting done, but a few confirmations.

And even those confirmations find the agreed upon nominee finding himself fired, then another is fired, and now we have another that Trump wants fired, and another that may be in line for the same fate and yet another waiting in the wings, and one that be feeling the "chill" of possible firing. I be talking Flynn, Comey (non-nominee), Sessions and Priebus, McMasters, and Tillerson. And of course forcing your main press person out by resignation (Spicer).

Never has me American wife lived through so much turmoil in so short a time with a president who can't keep his mind or fingers still at strange hours to tweet out terrible accusations, or opinions, or orders. She no longer joins in any discussions because she frankly be at a loss for words.

Every time Tonya's mother throws out the latest episode in the news, Tonya opens her mouth, nothing comes out, then she throws up her hands and walks out.

Last night a friend of ours (Jim) was over. He said he regretted he voted Trump. He said the infantile, immaturely level with a feeling of self privilege on the side of our commander in chief, has made him think he has made a terrible mistake. He also wonders why more people haven't noticed and felt the cold chill of what all that could eventually lead to.

Well, while we were discussing this crazy political environment we were eating spicy tacos and you know what happened R. Linda. That night I had political epiphanies, yes I did. I actually dreamt I was a WH (White House) staffer and I was in charge of changing out all the WH dinner plate for Limoges on the orders of Sir Trump to please his wife that more "tasteful" dinnerware would be a hallmark of their State dinners. Then suddenly I found meself with long false eyelashes (courtesy of Kellyanne Conway to make me look more "feminine") and a baggy red sack with a slip showing being ushered out to sing "Scaramouch can you do the fandango?" in a falsetto worthy of Freddy Mercury at a dinner for Anthony Scaramucci.

Just as quickly Kellyanne pulled me off the floor and ushered me down the hall to take over as press secretary.

"Don't complain, you'll do fine." She said shoving me in front of the press podium.

At a loss, I asked, "Do I look fat in this?" I gestured to the red bag I was wearing.

Don't make fun of me manly legs and knobby knees not to mention those shoes! But worse me slip was starting to slip down. Try walking in those shoe with your slip slipping you up.
"Where's Sean at?" A reporter shouted.

"Sean's here, he's busy painting all the furniture gold, so I be filling in." I said trying to look smug like Huckabee Sanders. Then I realised I was Huckabee Sanders, OMG! I wanted to run but hands were waving at me from the press room. Conway was sitting to me right eyeing me like she would devour me like a Burmese python if I didn't take a few questions. I jumped in head first I might say and called on Jim Acosta, CNN.

"A few days ago you said Jeff Sessions had nothing to worry about. Well, now it seems he has a lot to worry about. The President has been tweeting derogatory tweets aimed at Sessions. Is it true he wants Sessions out?"

"Uh no, he loves Jeff Sessions, Jeffy be a loyal solider and helped get Comey out." I said looking as hostile as Huckabee Sanders can look.

"That's not what he tweeted at 3 a.m.," Jim continued to press, "he said he was unhappy with Sessions recusing himself and not telling him before he was confirmed he'd do that. The Russian . . ."

I cut him off before he made me look really stupid.

"Jim, listen it isn't that, you read that tweet wrong, President Trump was merely implying that Hillary Clinton's Russian ties were more serious than Jeff's."

Acosta looked at me for a long time like he hoped he heard me wrong. Then he slowly said, "Ms. Sanders, Clinton wasn't mentioned in that tweet."

"Well, Jim I said the word 'imply' you know what that means."

"Let's try a different approach to that same questions. Maybe if I put it another way . . . "

"Nope you had your chance Jim, lets go onto ABC News's Jonathan Karl." And I pointed at Jonathan.

"Yes thank you. Is President Trump trying to "airbrush" Sessions out like Stalin did to Nikolai Yezhov?"

"That's just ridiculous," I replied, "and I resent you bringing Russia into this."

"Hey, weren't you the Easter bunny?" John Roberts from Fox shouted.

I froze. How did he know? That was years ago and he knew, damn it he knew!

"Misinformation." I said looking as steely eyed as Huckabee Sanders knew how. I adjusted the bag and noticed me slip was hanging even lower.

"There are pictures . . . " he cited looking at me amused.

"Oh I be sure there are." I huffed. "What of it?"

"Getting rather combative aren't you Ms. Sanders?" He said with a snide edge in his voice.

I ignored him and pointed to Cecila Vega, but Roberts held up a picture of me on Boston Common dressed as the  Easter Bunny. He flashed it around the press room much to me embarrassment and everyone else's amusement.

"Show him out." I said to security and they came and dragged Roberts out, but the damage was done, me credibility was zero.

"Anyone else? Huh?" I said white knuckling the podium, trying to act tough like Sanders and snapping me gum like Spicer.

Ms. Vega cleared her throat and caught me eye. I lifted me chin up giving her the go ahead.

"If Sessions resigns, is President Trump hopeful that the Russian connection and possible collusion accusations will go away? And my second question is, does that open the tweet door for Mueller to be next? Or, is that just wishful tweeting on the President's part?"

"Wow two questions at once," I muttered but the mic picked me muttering up. "First if Sessions goes, Mueller wouldn't follow . . ."

"That is what was said about Sessions when Comey was fired. But the reason it seems that Sessions must go is so Mueller will go . . . The Trump campaign is accused of colluding with Russia to help win the White House for . . ."

I stopped her in mid sentence.

"You are making this a reality TV situation and it's anything but. You are all touting political rhetoric to make your ratings higher and get more viewership. I think that's disingenuous with all your fake news. No one knows what to believe anymore, you twist it all. It's YOUR fake news that's the problem!" I spouted insanely.

"We can't get a straight answer out of you," she persisted, "so if we have to comment on what you said and "implied" to use your own word, then fake or not we have to report as we see and hear it. It's YOU that's making the fake news. One day it's a White House statement, the next that very same statement is tweeted by the President as something entirely different, and then YOU come out here to put a SPIN on both and well confusion is the rule of the day!" She finished by looking me straight in the eye as if in challenge to say she was wrong.

I got a note from Kellyanne it read: Conference over get out now.

I called an end to the conference among the shouts of all the journalists hurling note pads and cell phones at me baggy dress. I got out as Kellyanne slammed the door to the press room behind me.

"Well, that wasn't much different than usual." She smirked at me.

"I guess I don't have the job." I sighed.

"Oh you have the job, you will go it alone next time." And she stalked off leaving me looking at me ever lengthening slip under the red bag.

"Oh and lose the eyelashes it makes your eyes look sleepy," she threw over her shoulder like the false eyelashes had been my idea.

I pressed me lips together in anger and then ripped the false eyelashes off not without a little pain for me trouble. Someone put their hand out to receive the eyelashes and I looked into the face of me old nemesis Diane Sawyer.

"Oh God," I jumped back, "for a minute there I thought you were Martha Stewart."

"And I thought you were Snoop Dog," she said snidely.

"Don't I wish, this being Sarah Huckabee Sanders be a real drag."

"I can see that," Sawyer said looking at me getup.

"I need to be laser focused," I said with a sigh. "I should go on a diet."

"You need to be focused on those reporters, and a diet might help but really you must shelve the eyelashes. Its great to have you with us Gabe, leading us off."

"Us?" I squinted at her studying her face, something was different. I thought she sounded like she had a faint Russian accent.

"Its great to have you as always," she said, "thanks to you." She started to walk away and I realised she knew I knew something was up. She started running when she heard me footfalls coming up behind her, soon she was running down the corridors with me in hot pursuit -- clunky heels and all. I held me slip up trying to keep it from twisting around me knobby knees and tripping me up. I caught her as she got to the door to the rose garden. When I grabbed her sleeve the sleeve came off and revealed a muscled masculine arm. I was stunned and grabbed hold of her other arm, same thing. She looked smug not upset and I stood there watching as she lifted her hands to her neck and started pulling at a Diane Sawyer mask. Standing there smiling at me with malicious glee was Vladimir Putin.

"Now YOU have Russian connection, eh?" He said poking me.

"YOU!" I was taken aback.

"Yes me, what I do you can't necessarily do, so let me point out you being here with me, meeting, yes meeting illegally, means YOU are colluding. No one will help you, everyone is hiding over there in bunker bushes thinking you're gonna die, when big explosion happens."


"When your head explodes from too much Russian secrets. Canoodling with Putin," he said wagging a finger in front of me startled face. "You my friend are in big trouble now."

"I thought I heard a hint of a Russian accent when you were pretending to be Diane Sawyer, really Vladimir pretending to be a woman?" I sneered.

"Oh and you yourself reporter person, wearing a sack with long slip and look at those shoes! At least I have chosen a women with style to impersonate, you not so much, hilly billy." He said laughing at me and pointing at me bag dress, slip, and shoes. "Oh and the eyelashes, too too long for you." He said batting his own high priced falsies at me. He took them off and the complete Putin stood in front of me . . . well but for the fitted dress and black stockings sporting Rustam Adykov stilettos.
Even his legs looked better than mine!
"Nothing but the best in Russian footwear," he sneered looking at me clunky heels.

"Really? We are going to stand here and discuss women's clothing?" I said taken aback and feeling extremely frumpy.

He reached for me and started shaking me and it was then me head exploded. I woke up to the face of me wife shaking me and informing me I knew too much about Russian high heels and who was she that I was having a dream conversation with? O-M-G!

"Vladimir Putin, she was Vladimir Putin!" I shouted.

"Yeah right Vladimir Putin." She let go of me and huffed out.

It's been three days and she still isn't speaking to me. All this over a crazy dream and to explain it would make it even worse than it already is. And she wouldn't believe me! I tried and she took me collision and made it canoodling. I can't catch a break, I tell ya! I guess I will have to wait it all out. In the meantime, I hope they don't broadcast live press conferences because to see Huckabee Sanders will ruin me day and if she knew about me dream, I'd probably ruin hers. But Vladimir would get a laugh out of it I'm sure. Not the Diane Sawyer part, me as Huckabee Sanders, hilly billy press secretary. Oi!

Copyright © 2017 All rights reserved

14 July, 2017

How can you drain the swamp when you are the swamp?

14 July 2017

R. Linda:

I don't know about you but the web of lies, disparaging remarks, and a White House staff telling us one thing and a President telling us quite another has made me, who reports the news, not want to do me job. I be fed up to the back teeth on this Donny Jr. business. First he says one thing because his brother-in-law basically outed him, then he changes the story not once but twice, and again and again and again and each time the story gets bigger and more full of baloney until there be one hell of an American sandwich with too much stuff and lots more baloney than one can eat!

Last thing I saw on the telly last night was this Donald Trump, Jr. fiasco. Every station carried it, none were very complimentary. There was liar, liar, treasonous dog, and then there was, "Oh he's just a kid and he thought that's the way the process worked." A kid? He's almost 40 people, give me a break. Even I know that a foreign government who offers info on an opponent and says it wants to see daddy win, be illegal. So to pick up the glove and say meet me at Trump Tower wasn't playing by the law let alone the rules!

What was he thinking? Some say nothing, I say it was all stops out to help daddy win since the family believes "winning" be the ultimate. The last time that word was bandied about it was done by a train wreck named Charlie Sheen. We see how his winning served him. Anyway, I went to sleep with this ponderous, awful situation on me mind and a rather bad poem came of it. So without any more ado about nothing, here it be:

"Hillary Clinton is a risk Americans can't afford to take." We will say she is not the risk, it is Donny, Jr. and those like him.

The Washington Swamp

Out of secrets hear ... him cry
It's not the Russians ... it's the lies!

It's the White House ... of who's right
And because of my father .... I have a plight!

Out of a Trump Tower room ... I hit cold info
Thanks to the Russians ... I'm now in limbo

Down a gold corridor ... I got nothing
But the Times got wind ... and now I'm blushing

Holy God my feet are sinking!
In a quagmire of mine own... I seem to be rethinking

Was I there ... or was I dreaming?
With my lawyer ... I am now scheming

To make it all go away ... and no more tarnish
I give my lawyers ... leave to explanation garnish

And as I sink deeper into the swamp
I watch my days of no more pomp

Woe is me Don Jr. is,
All my aspirations have gone to fizz!

Yes, they have Donald, Jr. all aspirations are on hold until you prove yourself, come clean and maybe we can forgive you for cheating. 

Copyright © 2017 All rights reserved

05 July, 2017

Jolted awake, first the bear and then the red nose and it went downhill from there!

05 July 2017

R. Linda:

This last 4th of July morning was not uneventful for yours truly. I had but one sip of coffee when I look out me window and see this in me front yard.

Mr. Bear out for a morning stroll
Okay I took a double take. At me old abode we had a bear who visited our bird feeder (before we had the sense to take it down) and always at night when it was too dark for a picture. I had gone out to me motor to fetch in something I had forgot and almost ran into the bear. Well, as me sainted, grey-haired, apple cheeked Mam said as she stood next to me watching Mr. Bear, "Lucks like he found yer," and with that she turns on her heel and leaves me standing there watching Mr. B saunter into the woods. No, hey make sure the kiddos aren't outside, where is the cat? Are the dogs in? Everyone be aware of the bear. No, no none of that. I realised then how jaded we have become since we see large wild animals so often compared to say, Boston!

Feeling quite a bit awake I shuffled into the kitchen where me Mam had gone to say nothing to anyone about what we both witnessed crossing the lawn. I was not ready for what was seated next to me.

"Be it red nose day?" I asked no one in particular as I studied me youngster's face. See here:

First I have one tattoo his face with Sharpie pens, now I have another one painting his nose red
"What possessed you?" I asked.

No answer, none, just looked at me like WHAT?

"Go look in the mirror." I said and off he went.

He came back with the same blank expression like WHAT?

I tell ya! I was more than half awake by then. But I was wide awake when me eldest comes running in and sits down waiting for French toast, which his mother was busy making as HER mother told her what she was doing wrong in the making, I tell ya that Dragon will drive me to drink in the early morning! I took a sip of coffee and noticed me eldest as he chatted about how hungry he was and noticed something very different about him. Look below, can you spot the something different?

Since when does he wear glasses?
The child had on glasses. I was gobsmacked I was. No one told me he had an eye exam and needed corrective lenses. 

"I don't need glasses Da, they are fake. Everyone at school is wearing glasses it is sorta the thing, ya know?"

No I didn't know. O'Hare had gone online and ordered himself two pairs of glasses. Yes, you are looking at the studious pair, the other pair I have not seen but can just imagine. 

"Anymore surprises I should know about?" I foolishly asked.

"Oh one if you haven't seen the morning paper," Dragon volunteered, "North Korea claims it has intentionally lunched Miss Elle. I guess that's the girl from Beverly Hillbillies."

Everything stopped, no one moved, no one said a word, instead we all stared at the newspaper thumbing Dragon. 

"Donna Douglas wasn't it played that part? Wonder why they'd take her to lunch . . . intentionally?"

Yeah, we all wondered THAT. Good God the woman! No one was able to react because suddenly a breathless Guido came running into the kitchen all excited.

"There's a horse in our backyard, can we keep em'?"

"There's a WHAT?" I was more than wide awake now. 

"Look, look outda da winda!" He pointed trying to catch his breath.

Well, well, well, yes indeed we had a horse in the backyard just wandering around. 

Can we keep it? Seriously?
I was told by me wife to go out and round the thing up. She'd call the local officer of the law and see if someones horse had gone missing. Yeah right Tonya, you do that while I go out and look for a wandering hungry bear as I try to corral a large white beastie, functioning on NO breakfast and 1/2 a cup of coffee. 

I was near beside meself with Guido jumping up and down about finders keepers and O'Hare raising his glasses so he could "see" the horse clomping around the back. The little one could care less, he be after all, into race cars not horses, horses are too slow for the wee laddie. 

I downed me cup of joe, got on me wellies and still in me pjs I flung open the backdoor in the hopes the horse would take off. Instead it stood looking at me as if sizing me up!

I clunked down the stairs hoping the noise would spook it, but no, no, it found a patch of grass and was munching, BUT it was watching me hesitant approach. 

"Here Da, take the rope!" Guido shoved an old clothesline in me hand. 

"And do what with it?" I could hear the high pitch in me voice which happens when I get nervous.

"Rope it!" He said, looking admiringly at the great white beast still calmly munching.

He started pulling up grass and he was about to go feed the thing when I pulled him back.

"Ya could get trampled for all we know." I said.

"Nah, horses are gentle." 

All I could think of was Mr. Army and how not gentle that horse was. The word was not in that horse's vocabulary.

I stepped slowly toward the grazing horse and noticed it was a dappled grey, it was a pretty thing with those large brown eyes measuring me up. I was getting closer when its head snapped up and it took off at a trot and passed me, swinging up behind me to munch more grass. I turned and slowly started me approach again, this time the head swung up sharply, the ears went back flat. I knew that wasn't a good sign. It started pawing the dirt and I knew I wasn't facing a horse, I was facing a bull.

I dropped me hands down in a gesture that I gave up. Guido meanwhile, was talking softly to the thing calling it Gray Ghost and the horse's ears perked up towards him and she shook her head and then her whole body as she settled down. He was next to her in a jiffy stroking the neck as she continued to graze. I stood there in awe. 

"Here," I said throwing the rope, "You put that around her neck and I'll slowly come over to hold her until the Fish and Game people come."

"Fish and Game? No, no don't get rid of her." Guido whined. "See, she likes me."

Well, that near broke me heart he really wanted that horse, but truly?

"Guid," I said, "just think she belongs to someone and that person will be very upset if they lose their horse."

"I know but . . ."

The local policeman (the only one we have) drove in with a teenage girl who was holding a halter and lead. She ran up to her horse and hugged it much to Guido's chagrin. 

Greetings were exchanged and she gushingly thanked Guido (who I pointed out found the horse) for letting her know where Daisy had got too. For a 17 year old she was pretty with it, she saw the hurt in Guido's countenance and asked him if he rode. He did not, but she swung him on Daisy's back and had him hold onto the mane while she gave him a pony ride. He was in heaven.

I told the officer about the bear and he said he had a few calls this morning, and no bird feeders, or trash bins outside, that would keep the bear away. He had an eye on it, knew where it was and said it had headed into the forest but just be cautious for the rest of the week. As to the horse, the animal lives on a farm that abuts our property some 25 acres between us. Daisy's owner, a Jennifer by name promised to visit Guido with Daisy and give him a ride if it was okay with us. 

This made it all better thank heavens! The last thing I needed was a horse OR a moody child mooning over one. By this time the whole family was out and I noticed they were all dressed except ME! How embarrassing be that? There I was in pj bottoms, wellies and a t-shirt that that the Dragon lady had given me. 

Yup - Tonya forced me to wear it so I sleep in it but now it's public!
I tell ya! Typical Dragon and you can read A LOT into that t-shirt and how she sees yours truly. I often wonder if me own family enjoys embarrassing me in front of strangers. I know Dragon gets her jollies from it. The only saving grace I had was Sean wasn't there to see me shame. He was off to Boston to see the fireworks and visit the old flame. Which I find embarrassing since he was the one broke up with her, now looks like he's doing the take-me-back-crawl. Uh-huh.

Happy belated 4th R. Linda@

Copyright © 2017 All rights reserved

25 June, 2017

The Man In The Flying Machine AND Someone Gives Himself A Haircut!

25  June 2017

R. Linda:

Rumour has it that in our town there is an aviator of ancient age who flies his small craft over the wooded hills and dales just above the treetops, who has a penchant for cutting his motor and drifting on the wind.

I have been told of this right off when I say where I live, so the old aviator has a bit of a state-wide reputation for this particular need to cut his engine and thus me little village (if you can even call it that) has a precarious claim to fame (of sorts).

Now I have lived here three summers and the first I heard the low flying craft, as it rattled the ice in me iced tea glass and shook the hammock I had ensconced meself in, was the first summer of me living where I do. But I hadn't heard the silence of cut off engine until me second summer.

The one thing I love about where I live is the peace and tranquility which takes quiet to another level. All one hears is the birds or the wind in the pines and thats it. Now on occasion I am rudely awakened out of that lovely feeling by the old tin can that comes rattling out of the skies. But that was nothing, me slight annoyance of interrupted dreaming in me hammock ended the first time I was aware the engine of the old rattle trap cut off! I tell ya, for a minute there, and from somewhere in the back of me sleepy brain, I had thoughts he had flown over quicker than usual and was gone UNTIL I heard the spat, spit, sputter of an engine trying to turn over. Then it was an oh my God moment, where be that old dude? Is he just above me and about to drop on me out of the sky? It sets ones heart to racing when one realises the reality of the situation IF he can't get that engine to start!

You would think by the end of that fateful summer I'd be used to the engine cut offs, and the sputtering of the engine trying to fire over me house and me head, but no, it be a feeling of dread and foreboding, of crossing fingers he gets the thing started, eyes squeezed shut the impact of his falling plane doesn't hurt me too badly, body in a tense position waiting impact, breath held until finally, after what seemed an inordinate amount of time the engine takes and the rattling proceeds across the cloudless blue sky!

This so unnerved me last summer I was afraid to go outside for fear of the old codger and his beloved clap trap falling out of the sky on top of yours truly, that I thought for sure I was brewing an ulcer. I think me behaviour mimicking impending doom had a lot to do with the wee ones playing outside and when the sound of the rattle trap would suddenly happen, they'd shout to each other to seek shelter and run. I think that be me fault me kiddos are paranoid about the great outdoors in the summertime. Sigh.

So here we are starting summer number three and just today being a quiet Sunday morning, I took meself out on the side deck to sip me joe, enjoy the delicious breeze and begin a sunny day. That is until the morning peace was shattered by you guessed it, the flying geezer and his rattle trap flying machine. Even the hummingbird that was sucking up the nectar from some red geraniums took off at a remarkable speed to get out of the way of falling flying machine should that be case. After seeing that, I was thinking I should get the hell inside but then I thought, if the ancient flyer hits me deck he hits me house and if I be inside, well what are the chances I survive? I know this sounds like the rantings of a crazy person, but truly if you haven't witnessed this bizarre phenomena you can't commiserate with me in any honesty can you?

You will have to take me word for it this is not the way for Gabriel to spend his Sunday mornings, or any morning, day or night living in fear of a plane dropping on his abode. Someone (I don't remember who) assured me there be a second engine starter so the old fool isn't likely to drop out of the sky (anytime soon?). Well, ha ha lets hope.

Here are a couple of shots of this morning's fly by with cut engine. For some reason he must have known I would write this story so instead of flying low (as he usually does) he flew higher to make it almost impossible to get a good photo.

Can you not just hear the noise, then nothing?
As he circles get lower and lower and drifting, drifting, drifting . . . 
And motor ON!

BUT hey we aren't quite finished. To add to me morning excitement, me youngest did me a bad turn last night. Yes, indeed it was a bit of a messed up pudding of a time. The ladies including Sean, decided to go to some library book and art illustration show. I was tasked with minding the three kiddos. Easy peasy, NOT! The eldest got his nose out of joint and was complaining Guido was jumping on the trampoline with a broom. OK. And next thing Guido be inside crying he hit his head while jumping on the trampoline with a broom handle. OK. So while I was listening to O'Hare berate his brother for foolishness on the trampoline with a broom, and dabbing hydrogen peroxide on the cut on Guido's head, I was not mindful of where the youngest was at. OK. Well, after settling the dispute of why we don't jump on the trampoline with a broom, and having bandaged Guido's head over abundantly to scare his mother when she got home. I know I shouldn't have, but I was out of me mind with three boyos. I had just got Guido looking like the mummy when down came the wee one looking rather odd. At first I couldn't put me finger on what made him look different, but O'Hare instantly saw it and said nothing, laughed and pointed at his little brother's head. Then I saw it, the laddie had taken scissors to his hair. His excuse, "I wuz hot sos I did a lil' cut." I'll say he did, but more than a little, he chopped the golden locks at the front of his head to the root! OK!

When his mother came home the first thing she saw was the mummy and that was not funny in her book, no she was not pleased with me. She unwrapped me handiwork to see an inch cut that did not require stitches, and had been dressed. So there Tonya! Then she turned around at the prompting of Mr. Tell On Everyone, O'Hare pointing at the wee one sporting his new look. Well, lets say she lost it be an understatement.

"What happened to you? What happened to those beautiful blond locks?" She was down on her knees running her fingers through what wasn't there anymore. She was not happy and O'Hares tattling didn't help. She got the full brunt of the broomstick on the trampoline ("And where were you Gabe when THAT was going on?") and then how I thought it funny to dress Guido up like the mummy, ("Really Gabe, what a waste of bandage.") and finally because I was busy being a mummy-maker I allowed, yes ALLOWED the wee one to self inflict damage to his golden locks. OK!

So today I be in the doghouse over me "misguided sense of humour" and in particular not watching the little one so he'd not look like a punk rocker now. Yes, she took the clippers to the rest of his head to even it all off and he screamed bloody murder but she did it.

Yeah acting like nothings different
End result - all those curls his mother loved  -- GONE!
Me morning was rather shattered by the new look me wee one be sporting after his do-it-yourself haircut and me angst was added two-fold by the ancient dude and his rickety flying machine turning motor on and off and on and off. I will see that shaved head in me dreams and hear that damn plane as well. Like I said before, Gabe needs a vacation preferably where there are no children and things with engines that can be turned on and off and could potentially fall upon Gabe's head.

Copyright © 2017 All rights reserved

22 June, 2017

KIDS!!! They will be the death of me

22 June 2017

R. Linda:

Today, I had taken the day off because I had a dental cleaning scheduled. The only person who knew of the appointment was Tonya. I just assumed everyone else knew but no, no, they did not. Bright and early Tonya was off to where she teaches to clean out her classroom now that school is out. Me Mam went for a senior citizens hike on the seacoast and somehow me cousin Sean talked his way into joining the seniors. So the only one left to watch the kiddos while I was gone, was . . . you guessed it the Dragon.

BUT come around 11:00 a.m. and she is dressed to the nines and out the door with the neighbour next door. I was gobsmacked I was. No word she was going anywhere, no good-bye, no nothing, just off she went leaving me with the three kiddos and a dental appointment. I rang up Tonya and gave her my tale of woe and she told me to bring the kiddos over to her school they could help out -- like that's going to happen. They can't even make their beds or clean their rooms they aren't going to clean her classroom. I can tell ya that much.

I informed the threesome what the plan was, and they reluctantly said, "OK." All down in the face they were, and kicking things and pushing each other. I told them to get themselves ready by a quarter to the hour of twelve. That by 11:30 they better be dressed, have their shoes on and turn all the electronics off.

Meanwhile, I let the dogs out (yes, Dragon's hound be here too) and having that coon dog on a long leash because he wanders, I had to go down the back steps to reel him in. As I made it to the top of the stairs with dog in hand, I noticed I was glued to the deck. I had a hard time lifting me feet and when I did there was a sticky sound. Because I was struggling with the hound I didn't really look but as soon as I got him in the door I took off me shoes. On the bottom was a caked mess of gooey stuff. I had a devil of a time getting it off the soles of me shoes. I went back out and here is what I stepped in thanks to the youngest who has developed a bad habit (we had a gutter guy over to clean the gutters and he spit a lot and unfortunately, me youngest was impressed and picked up the habit) of spitting gum and now sticky candy.

The remains of a sour patch bear
Once I had gotten over the abhorrence of what was on the porch and off me shoes, I went back out to try to get it up off the step. It wasn't coming up so I had to leave it as I was running out of time. I'd need to hose it off so off I went to shower and get meself ready.

At exactly 11:30 I called out, "Shoes at the ready? Start putting them on, and I hope you look decent and you have 15 minutes before you turn off electronics. OH AND which one of you left a sticky mess on the backstairs?" Answer, no one did. I tell ya!

And then another forlorn in regard to the electronics, "OK." Gees Louise.

I walked by their rooms at 11:40 they were dressed, shoes on, miracle of miracles. I came back in 5 minutes and they were turning Play stations off but I could hear the TV on in the other room. I knew the youngest wouldn't turn the telly off so I went and as I reached down, me hand came into contact with something warm, mushy and soft textured. I pulled me hand up to see it was covered in a brown gooey mess.

I looked down at the telly receiver and this is what I saw:

Looks like pooh doesn't it. I was near beside meself.

Reluctantly I took a sniff of me hand because you know what it looked like, POOH! Here I was all washed, changed with a handful of . . . chocolate. Thank God for that! I would have been wild with disgust and not a little bit angry if one of the wee miscreants had purposely left me a pile of pooh on a hot receiver, me being out of time and having to get moving or I'd be late for me appointment!

Quickly I turned the receiver off, I had just enough time to wash the chocolate mess off me hands and get the threesome in the car. Once down the driveway and out of hearing distance of me neighbours I lost it by yelling at them, "WHICH ONE OF YOU LEFT A CHOCOLATE BAR ON THE TELLY RECEIVER?"

Guido found that funny and starting laughing and said, "Musta looked like poop! Hahahahaha!"

O'Hare's reaction was, "Ewwwww!"

And the youngest, nothing to say, so we knew instantly who left the chocolate to melt all over the receiver which if it broke the receiver, yours truly would have to pay for. 

Come to find out that the chocolate wasn't a bar of chocolate, but an ear-less Easter Bunny (ok guilty about the ears) that the wee one had stashed away since Easter! Deciding it "tasted funny" he decided to discard it where no one would see it, on the shelf below the telly where the receiver just happens to be. 

I sent that last picture to their mother before we got to the school. Yup I did. I ratted the youngest out I did. Ask me if I feel bad about that. NO I DO NOT. As soon as I dropped them off I left with no time to talk to Tonya, but she found it funny. I could tell by the way her face was working when she saw me, yeah trying not to laugh. I should leave the sticky mess on the back stairs and that awful chocolate melt for her to clean up, but I won't but still I be thinking about it. If its all that funny . . .

Copyright © 2017 All rights reserved

21 June, 2017

She Will Drive Me To Drink

21 June 2017

R. Linda:

Besides the fact I think I run a hotel, think about that, me own immediate family, me Mam living with us and me cousin Sean making no move to find a place of his own, OR A JOB! I now have Dragon up for what looks like the summer! I want to know what is so wonderful about the New Hampshire woods, when one lives on the Jersey shore in a big house with an ocean breeze all the time?

It be midsummer and not even a fairy in sight because the witch be here. I know I sound unkind but when you think about who landed on her broomstick it isn't without merit I say what I do. Just last night she mistook one kind of food for another! You know she can't see a bloody thing!

Tonya had rung me to let me know she was going to be late and since me Mam had conveniently taken herself out of the house (so she didn't have to put up with the Dragon), it was left to me (since I was on me way home) to make a simple dinner for the kiddos.

"I think there are hot dogs in the fridge, but I'm not sure if there is enough. Call my mom and ask her and if you need too, just pick another pack up. There are plenty of rolls." Tonya said.

"Oh you call her for me, please." I begged.

"Can't I'm late, bye." She hung up on me.

For joy! It took me 20 minutes to get the nerve to call the wicked witch and ask her to check out the hot dog situation, WHICH she found repugnant.

"Yes Gabriel, there is a full package of hot dogs." She informed me like it was an imposition.

When I got home, I turned on the grill, went to change and then got everything I needed out, the last being the hot dogs. This is what I got:

"Yes Gabriel, there is a full package . . ." Right
What she saw was this:

Yee-ah a full package of cherry tomatoes!

I tell ya the woman is something. I had to put everything back, turn off the grill and go back out, drive the long drive to the grocery store because of her poor eyesight! Gees the woman!

By the time I got back both Tonya and me Mam were home. Me Mam had cooked up some kind of Irish casserole out of odds and ends she found in the fridge. I will say the meal was better than hot dogs but still, I had to drive 45 minutes to the market and 45 minutes back! I had little to say.

This morning the Dragon does her usual regaling me of the news for the day. Now remember first thing in the morning I am not with it. I can hardly function until I've had at least two cups of joe. So when I am sitting there listening to the Dragon News Anchor Woman I get a little disturbed.

Take for example these gems that were shouted at me as I tried to enjoy me coffee.

"Brussels station suspect had mail bombs. My goodness he must have stolen mail and made bombs out of them?" She didn't stop there. "Saudi king outs nephew for son, oh my." She wasn't finished. "Republicans jitterbug about health care. Hum." Yeah hum indeed. "Valedictorian's mic cut off after he bashes stool." WHAT? Okay stop I wanted to shout but no she went on. "Chelsea Clinton slaps Bannon for fat sharing." PLEASE STOP! "Oscar legend Daniel Day-Lewis retreating from acting. Ooh I wonder what happened? Who's after him?" And finally, "Trump votes love the shave. Well, he does shave everyday doesn't he? So what's the deal with loving to shave?"

I wanted to throw up me hands, say yes, everything you just read makes perfect sense. But I didn't, I did what I usually do which is, "Here give me that newspaper." I read all the headlines to her as they should be read but she was too focused on a valedictorian beating up a stool. Asking me Mam what kind of stool did he beat on, was it a milking stool, a step stool and why a stool? I tell ya that I have an ounce of sanity is nothing more than a miracle.  And me Mam, all she can do is sit there sipping her morning tea saying, "Oh dear, oh dear." Go ahead laugh, not funny when you are subject to this EVERY morning and I be not a morning person!

I be thinking I need a vacation from family. I should do it, yes R. Linda, I could fly to Colorado and hunt snakes in your yard, OR I could fly to Scotland and pull up all the Weasil's prize rosebushes, OR I get a pair of hedge clippers and go give Dewdropper a haircut! OR maybe, just maybe I should join the pirate's life with Captain Jaack and drink meself into a stooper! Or, I could go find the guy with the good hair and watch him swing it out of his face all day. I dunno, there has to be something else beside concierge of Hotel O'Sully and personal waiter to a Dragon lady, or matchmaker to a lazy cousin, ughhhhhhhh!

As me sainted little grey-haired apple cheeked Mam says, "OH DEAR!"

Copyright © 2017 All rights reserved

10 June, 2017

Permanent Brain Freeze And Then There Was The Matter Of The Bakery Girl

10 June 2017

R. Linda:

Well, I was in for a new experience I was. Me Mam usually does the grocery shopping but she's got a permanent chill and refuses to go. I have taken up the gauntlet as the supermarket be on me way home, so it takes nothing for me to stop in.

I had to chalk up me Mam's reluctance not to any chill, but that she went at the crack of dawn (a new time for her) on what she believed was the off day that the old men weren't let out of the old mens home to shop on that day or that early. Well, what she discovered to her abject horror, was that the even older gents were shopping at that hour, on that particular day. The only good that came out of it was they were ancient specimens of men and she being younger and more spry of limb, could outrun them. That be all but one, the one in the motorised wheelchair gave her a good go he did. Therefore, I thought it was THAT and not any chill.

So last night I did the shopping. We are 45 minutes away from the nearest market and that is a place we fondly call Market Bucket, or more often "the bucket." This be (just to remind you) the self same place me Mam fights off the old geezers of which New Hampshire seems to have a higher population of than any state in the nation. But that's neither here nor there, nothing I would have to worry about. No, me worries became more temperature related . . . or make that cream filled.

Like I said, I thought me Mam had had it with the geezer population and that was the real reason she didn't want to go there. But no, she said the store was cold and I didn't believer her. Well, turns out she be right about the cold.

The dairy section is turned down to subzero temperatures which makes for a quick run through to get what you want and get the hell out of that aisle. When I first turned the corner I saw people rushing through like jackrabbits being chased by a den of foxes. I soon found out why as I turned me trolley into the aisle and started up it.

The hairs in me nose froze first and I think I had icicles on me eyebrows and lashes by the time I reached the milk section. Me teeth were chattering up a snowstorm as I grabbed the milk and ran to the frozen food department seeking warmth. And it was warmer in the frozen food section than in the dairy aisle. Go figure! But then I remembered I was supposed to pick up some Dubliner Cheese, so I had to brace meself to go back in. I ran me trolley down the aisle safely as there weren't too many shoppers in dairy for obvious reasons. I couldn't find the freaking cheese so I saw a bucket worker in his white coat next to the yogurt just standing there so I tooled up to him.

With me teeth chattering I asked him, "Pardon me sir, but can ye point me in the direction of the Dubliner Cheese?"

No response. I asked again, clearing me throat and speaking louder and more precise. Still nothing. I moved around in front of him and O-M-G R. Linda, the man was a frozen block of ice! There were icicles hanging off his nose, his lips were purple and he was sporting a slight sheen of glazed iciness like he'd been caught in a blizzard on top of Mt. Everest!

I was concerned the man be a frozen block of ice and probably dead! You can't have dead people in the dairy section! Me, being me, looked around for help but no one was stupid enough to be in the ice cold dairy section but meself. So, seeing no help available and being too far from the half way warm frozen food section, I looked around to the other end of the aisle where the bakery was. I lifted the man up like he was a cardboard cutout of himself, and shuffled holding his icy self to me chest to move him where I knew the bakery section would have HEAT from the ovens, BUT I had to stop for the fear of freezer burn through me shirt. I put him down and then decided to drag him the rest of the way. He was heavy encased in all that ice!

I got him into Bakery when the gum-chewing girl (yeah real attractive for a bakery worker) asked me what did I think I was doing? I told her over me shoulder as I grunted to drag him closer to the counter opening where I was of a mind to drag him back to where the ovens were, that we had to resuscitate him before he froze to death if he wasn't already.

"Uh no, not in my section you aren't mistah." She snapped her gum.

"You have a better idea?" I said determined he was going to the oven no matter what I had to do to fend her gum-chewing self off.

"Nah, but ya can't bring dead people into my bakery!"

"I don't know that he's dead. Why don't  you make yourself useful and call 911 while I get him to where he can thaw out."

"And why don't you . . . "

I won't write what she told me I could do with me frozen "friend" but it wasn't nice and had to do with arseholes. Anyway, THAT got me more inclined to do what I said I was going to do and while I fought her off as she beat me about the head and shoulders with a spatula, I managed to get him to where several cakes were baking.

"Open those oven doors and I swear I will throw every cupcake in this bakery at your face!" She sneered popping her gum.

"I be not going to open the oven door!" I said under me breath as I tried to stand me frozen block of ice upright in front of it.

It was just as I turned in her direction I was hit square in face with a over sized, gushy pink cupcake. I was offended and shocked all at the same time. How could she? Out of the instinct for preservation I picked up what was close to me and lobbed a cream filled eclair at her head. A distinct SPLAT told me I connected with me target.

She had ducked to avoid the mushy treat so it was a shock to her when it hit. She slowly made herself upright as the cream oozed down her face. She looked mad. I was sure of it by the animal sounds she was making. But then she just stood there her face crimson, the remnants of eclair stuck in her hair. I couldn't help it I started laughing. That was the last thing I wanted to do, but as I laughed, her eyes grew wide, her mouth started working and quicker than a baseball player she picked up a colourful birthday cake and with stunning accuracy got me square in the face AGAIN! Now it was her turn to laugh and mine to lose it. I picked up a tray of cream puffs and wham, a cream puff body slam if ever there was one. I won't bore you with what pastries went flying back and forth, but by the time the manager saw us we had pretty much cleaned out the bakery section. There was a crowd of shoppers outside the counter looking at us with shocked expressions all around.

We two combatants where shamefaced when we looked at what we had done, but then I remembered me mission of thawing and saving the life of a dairy worker. I spouted what me purpose had been and then pointed behind me. The store manager looked at me like I was lying and herself (who had lost her gum which went flying out of her mouth when I hit her with a well placed cannoli) was sneering at me. The dairy worker was nowhere to be seen. No, he had thawed out and snuck off knowing full well there would be hell to pay, OR maybe he was the one went and got the store manager. I don't rightly know. What I do know be the bakery worker be out of a job and I have a giant bill for pastries I never got to eat.

What was worse, I had to break the news to me Mam I couldn't set foot in the Bucket ever again and she'd have to brave the wave of old men who find her attractive and do the shopping. I have heard about what a stupid imbecilic thing I did. Mam tells me 20 times an hour how glad she is she changed her entire name she won't be associated with ME. That I have sullied the name of O'Sullivan and after a quick run to the Bucket an hour ago, she tells me there is a sign with me face on it warning the bakery workers to beware Gabriel O'Sullivan, he be not allowed anywhere within 200 feet of the bakery department and 500 feet of the entire store!

"I hope yer happy wit yersel Gabriel, ye be infamous in a grocery store of all places!"

Yeah well Mam, better than if me face was plastered as a White House Staffer!

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