Wednesday 3p.m. = Sylvia Day on Montel and Paperwork Day:

I'm convinced that the kids in the backyard have rendered me sterile. Honestly. So much for lolling in the springtime sun like a turtle on a rock, talking on a cellphone.

I thought my mom was just being sensitive, but she ain't kiddin' -- they don't laugh and play, like delightful, happy, playful kiddies. Oh no. They just scream like a kimodo dragon is tearing them apart, one at a time. Wishful thinking, I know.

"You weren't kidding about those kids, were ya?" I asked my mom, as I parked it on the couch just in time to watch my froggy-throated psychic heroine, Sylvia Browne, croak out psychic answers to earthly questions. My mama rolled her eyes at me and said, "Oh, yes, you shoulda heard them one day, hollering 'CAL-IF-FORN-YA, CAL-IF-FORN-YA' over and over and OVER at the top of their friggin' lungs. Honestly. They are two steps away from me throwing sulfuric acid in their pool..."

I told her I thought that was bad karma. She said, "Naw, that's what your daddy did to the next door neighbors' basketball goal until it fell over." After she explained it to me, that sulfuric acid dumped on the base of anything will eat it in two until it falls over, well, nothing surprised me as what my daddy would do. It also explained to me what normal isn't, and that's okay with me.

"Oh, I have to go take a Steinburg and wipe my Mary Coleman," my daddy would say with a look of disgust, referring to his ex-boss and her jerky Yes Man. All these years, I had no idea who they were, but I knew they must have zero-worth if he talked that way about them.

Apparently, this Mary Coleman woman was described by one of her co-workers as "a terrible blight on humankind, a black hole of despair who needs to die". She was the frick and Dr. Steinburg was the frack.

My dad didn't agree with this Mary Coleman megalomaniac and her bearded croany Steinburg, so the two *restructured* him -- took a successful research chemist from his work and lorded over him, making him do useless, time-comsuming monkeywork instead like filling out forms while they did crooked things in the meantime.

The co-worker said, "Your daddy hated them, and they hated him because they knew he was right, and they knew they were wrong. I'll never forget the day when your daddy was sitting at the conference room table, paperwork spread out across the table, and in walks Steinburg. He said to your dad in this sarcastic tone, 'Isn't there anything we can do to kiss and make up?', and your daddy never looked up and said back, 'Yeah, I got somethin' you can kiss...you can Kiss My Ass.' And that's why I respected and loved your daddy."

Me, too. And that's where I get it from. Thank God.

Speaking of,

Walking around Kroger, taking photos of candy, pretending I'm not too old to be walking around Kroger, taking photos of candy, I say, "You know what time it is-s-s-s? Easter -- when Jesus comes out of his house and if he sees his shadow, we'll have, like what, 6 more weeks of winter, right?..."

"Shhh!! Don't say that!"

"You don't think that's funny? I think that's funny."

It also explained to me what normal isn't, and that's okay with me.

Two Tuesday Morning's Scributes to 10am
since I missed last weeks:

So they say, mate.
And...

I love the moonpie face, but the alien-gutt
I could do without.
But nooo, I'm not complainin'.

“If God dwells inside us like some people say,

I sure hope He likes enchiladas,

because that's what He's getting”

~ Jack Handy

A Sunday Scribble for you,

based on a talk today by Ross Olivier.
(Thank you, Ross.)

Can't wait to get my PhotoShop on this computer
because I like smooth color fields instead of
colored pencils, but
happyhappyjoyjoy, happyhappyjoyjoyjoyyyy!

My Googie Valentine:


*snifflesniff* Don't worry ~ I'm comin' to get you soon, bunny.

Speaking of a happy Valentine's Day, today is the Valentine's Day Blood Drive:

By 12:15pm today, the Mississippi Blood Services has had over 220 donors. One blood donation can save up to 3 lives with what I've started calling The Trinity ~ red blood cells, white blood cells, and platelets. People are standing in line to give their blood freely. I swear. That is way past "love", it's amazing. If I could donate, I would ~ but this is the only way I can donate by spreading the word.

The blood drive will be going on all day today until 7:00pm on Lakeland Drive. You'll get a Marshall Ramsey t-shirt if you donate. The blood drive will be going on all day today until 7:00pm on Lakeland Drive. Hug a blood donor today. And thanks to WLBT for the live report.

This week's Tuesday Morning's Scribute to 10am:

But baby, I'll take 'em.
Thank you
to the anonymous donor who gave them selflessly.

A Sunday Scribble for You:

Somebody got a new set of colored pencils-s-s.
And yes, today's word is "patience."
Inspired by my cat, Googie.
If you're reading this, Googie,
hang on ~ I'm on my way to get you.
Just a few more platelets...

...and if you are reading this, bad kitty,
get off the computer keyboard.



Here's "Toad in a Hole", tinted.
Think I like the black-and-white better.
You can tell I'm chromophobic,
scared of colors.
Better get over that,
because
somebody got a new set of colored pencils-s-s.

Have a canary yellow sunny Sunday.

Even you, Angry Czeck,
avid, out-spoken, angered hater
of centered type.
I have foiled you again,
you surly, closet sesquipedalian ~
foi-i-i-led, ha HA!


More on patience if you need it at The Yarden.

A Thursday Scribblicious for You:

Boy. Yes. I do need to *splurge*
on some colored pencils soon...
on the list.

But anyway,
"Toad in a Hole": I had one for breakfast.
It sounds gross, but it's gooooood.

For anyone who doesn't know
and those who may not care (Angry Czeck),
this is actually what a Toad in a Hole is:


(Oh you care, you know you do.)

And that Pac-Man looking object
is a Morning Star sausage patty made of soy.

Ok, maybe I am boring, but hey, I'm sincere.
And a good cook.

Go back to sleep now.

Or,
belly-up to very O+
for
more blue-platelet specials.

(Yes, I do kill myself with the wittiness.)

This week's Tuesday Morning's Scribute to 10am:

Today's agenda: working in The Yarden,
(...another blog?)
picking up dead twigs and planting roses...

Have to take advantage of this
brief time of year outdoors in the Deep South:
Sunny with no bugs yet.

A Sunday Scribble for You:

"drive out the jive and unpack the love"

Why I love and always will love Februarys.

Making things with pink beads and strings and eating red candies.
Plus, I hear it's snowing in Memphis.
Hate that I'm missing it. It always snows in February.

So besides trying to make platelets for a living, this is something else I've gotten into as something to do with the hands - making beaded bookmarks and charms, stuff like that. Nah, you can't see them in this photo really, they are just hanging to dry in The Sewing Room Turned HappyHappy BeadRoom. I'll scan some in later for show-and-tell. But dig that late 70s denim-lookin' coffee cup. Sweet. My mom throws away nothing but organizes all - I do that, too, except in my house, if you don't remember what's in the neatly organized box, it's probably time to throw it out. But not my mom: she has archives of supplies (no kidding, rick-rack I remember her working with in the 70s, no surprise) so being down here for treatment, this place is like living in a Hobby Lobby.

Hear me complainin'? Hell no, that's the HappyHappy BeadRoom kitty, she takes my chair when I take a break for tea.