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It has been a long couple of weeks for me and The Desktop. We were once a great pair, working long hours together, laughing, sharing intimate details. Well, I shared anyway. And The Desktop? Complete acceptance. Even when I did things like open an email attachment that I shouldn’t have opened – The . . . → Read More: Five Stages, Two Devices, and One Pair of Big Girl Drawers On Wednesday I put on a suit, traveled to The Big City, and put my law degree to use for a little while. Just a little while, though. And just long enough to overhear (in the next room) the attorney (whom I’ve never encountered before) of the debtor I was there to question . . . → Read More: Other Such Shelby: Mainlining Whimsy into the Legal Profession Since 2009 (1) The robe hook fixture I purchased at Home Depot last month when one of our towel holders threw its little decorative ceramic ball down on the floor where it shattered into 15 or 16 pieces. You cannot purchase just the little ceramic piece. I thought the robe hook, which is cheaper than the . . . → Read More: Things I Wish Were Not Missing There was no huffing or puffing or otherwise blowing down of the mud huts on Saturday. Or Sunday. Or Monday. Or today. The eviction was called (postponed) on account of rain. The squatters are becoming more brave, all of them staying put in the nest to watch me climb up in the seats of . . . → Read More: Rain Delay “They” being these fellas (ladies?) in separate corners of the back porch: *Not pictured: two more just like them. A couple of weeks ago, The Husband knocked down and washed away their inverted mud-huts. They’re back. And I suspect the only reason these two stuck around for the pictures is that they are . . . → Read More: They Claim Not To Have Received Their Eviction Notice Last summer I purchased my first maxi dress and immediately thereafter fell madly in love with long, flowing, cotton, comfy, sundressiness. I have not recovered. Shave my legs, don’t shave my legs – you can’t tell in the maxi dress. Score. Ditch the brassiere, maybe or maybe not in favor of a camisole? Score. . . . → Read More: Maximagicaliciousness Google’s ad program over in the sidebar is messing with me, most recently by displaying the following ad: Which makes me feel like I need to pull out the carpet steamer. Again. And I don’t even have cats. Or, since we’re sort of on topic, dogs. That’s right: Brothers Click & Clack have been . . . → Read More: Google and Clorox Sittin’ in a Tree, M-e-s-s-ing with Me In late January I titled a post “MFEO-Such.” Two months later, The Husband asks me: “what does MFEO-Such mean, anyway?” First, this is the status quo. Our communication tends to run on a two-month delay. I cannot even tally up the number of times I’ve discovered some bit of information on my own, . . . → Read More: No, Really: MFEO-Such I’ve lived in a city that took itself rather seriously (Plano, Texas), a city that did not, like not-at-all (Austin, Texas), and another that fell in between (Temecula, California). The one I’m (back) in now is having trouble deciding, an identity crisis of sorts. Is she quiet? Sleepy? Demure? All rosy-cheeked and untouched? . . . → Read More: Chin Up, Down Town |
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