From a basket of yellow onions, I recently pulled out this surprise.
“Would you look at this? It’s alive!” I told Mr. Goodbar.
“I thought you were letting it do that on purpose,” said he.
Ignoring his completely implausible suggestion that he had noticed something (anything) unusual (or not) around here, I instead considered . . . → Read More: Hush Man, You’ll Frighten It
I once was bashful about All Things Stirrups. You know, way back Once Upon a Time.
But then, in order to partake in The In/Fertility Smorgasbord I had to get over that shyness. So I put my big girl silly socks on (the big girl drawers being antithetical and all) and . . . → Read More: “Sonogenic,” she said of The Ute
Sometimes in between the writing and the submitting, Mr. Goodbar reads over the monthly newspaper columns.
When he does, the process is generally one of: reading, head-shaking, re-reading, and then pushing back from the desk combined with a final round of head-shaking.
Last month, in . . . → Read More: Trial by Motherhood (OS:S in the E-T on the 01/06/13)
This column was published on Sunday, December 2nd.
On the Monday after this column ran, Mr. Goodbar apparently received a little prodding (heckling?) from some of the retired gentlemen he coffees and golfs with at the golf course.
By Tuesday afternoon, he had cleaned out the ash dump under our . . . → Read More: Toasty Toes by Tuesday (OS:S in the E-T on the 12/02/12)
“QUICK!” Ha! Who’m I kidding?
And “really important”—wooooooo, that’s a chuckler, too.
I’m supposed to be working on year-end bookkeeping and reports and tallying and blah-blah-blah. But it’s been so long since you and I had a chat. And if I get the bookkeeping and reporting and tallying done . . . → Read More: QUICK! Sixteen Really Important Things from 2012 That I Forgot to Share
First, for the record, there’s this:
Also for the record: it’s been 3 weeks and we still haven’t solved the riddle of The Mystery Pants.
And also for the record: those shorts have shown up in the wash at least four times in three weeks.
Methinks I am . . . → Read More: There’s More Than One Way To Solve The Pants Riddle
Okay, so backing up about six projects to . . .
Which, you know, not really a coffin so much as a comparatively-plain wardrobe that was found hanging out among some rather fancy armoires and burled-wood wardrobes on the back aisle of an antiques store.
. . . → Read More: Madame Waredrobe
He’s my gibbon, my swan, my French angelfish, my wolf, my penguin.
He’s my lobster.
And also. . . my Mr. Goodbar.
After posting this morning, I realized that I’ve neglected to tell you the joke about the girl who lost her father while she’s in the middle of an estrogen-pill-popping protocol as part of readying herself for another embryo transfer. Which is just as well on account of: no punchline. On account of: . . . → Read More: We, Appropriately Inappropriate (Alligator)
There’s this thing about Texas bluebonnets in the spring.
They are beautiful.
And upon discovery of a patch or a field of them, a Texan is required to grab her child or a spouse or a parent or a pet or a whatever (rumor: friend of a friend, . . . → Read More: She, He, Me = We in the Texas Blues