Not mine; I can barely grow grass. Took it through the fence. For some reason my neighbors are aces at growing things.
You know who you are! The gobshites who bought up all the bog roll… Why? So no else could wipe their bums? So now Amazon is doing a bang up business on bidets. It would be funny if it weren’t so fecking pathetic.
Yup, this is me. At 62. The year’s not been good to me and 63 swiftly approaches… probably on the wings of a big, fat tree roach.
Right after a haircut… and red spot above left eye is where the dermatologist burned something off.
Yes, kids, something else to look forward to as you age, apart from mottled, wrinkly skin and ever-growing ears… people cutting and burning parts of you off… roughly twice a year.
I took this because my dad wanted to see my haircut, which is the same as the prior 2, 479 haircuts. Still.
But another day above ground, as they say, is a good day.
Though she wasn’t my biological mother, I still want my mommy when sick or hurt. She passed in 2005, but the child inside me never gives up the need for her mama. Much like saying a Hail Mary and asking the holy mother for help… but I mainly call on my mom for… food. Do you think she spoiled me a bit?
I slipped a disc early Monday morning. What did I desire more than anything (other than a new spine)? When the man asked what I needed -he is incredible- my answer stunned: “My mother to rise from her grave and make me a pot of chicken and dumplings”.
Rose could make ambrosia out of dirt. She never taught me how to cook; don’t know why, but at least I’ve picked up a few things. One of them is her recipe (not really; she never needed one) for Custard Pie. Simple, with few ingredients, I crave it sometimes. Today is one of those days.
1/2 cup sugar
1 pint milk
Mix together and pour into an unbaked pie shell. Bake in 300° oven for 1 hour, or until crust is set.
Guess I don’t have to ask her to rise from the dead today. (That feels blasphemous) But tomorrow I might have a hankering for her Liver and Onions…
…then it started pouring again.
Christmas Eve saw us in a hotel room after eating warmed up Campbell’s soup from a Circle K. Surreal, but we were able to see family for Christmas so it was worth it.
We drove back down I95 and grabbed the dogs from the ‘spa’. It’s nice to be home.
I hope everyone has a wonderful holiday full of good food, lovely gifts and relatives who don’t drive you too insane.
I’m constantly buying new little babies for Daisy, as she likes to tear their guts out as a pre-dining activity. Especially bunnies. Not this one, though. He’s been around for some time. There’s no telling why he’s special, but he must be. To her, anyway.