And Now for Something Completely Different

I've been having the most fun lately messing with my blog. Which reminds me of something that happened to me last year. I fell in love with a guy through his blog. Yes.

It was fate, I could tell, because I kept hitting the same guy’s blog for different reasons. I love gardening, and he has this gorgeous garden. Then I hit the same blog looking for quotes. He had these pithy, philosophical things to say.

There was a picture of him on one page, and not only was he about my age…could it get any more amazing? He was good looking.

He also had cats, judging from one of his pictures. Although I don’t currently have cats, any cat-hating men are automatically relegated to the “NO WAY” pile. But then….

I looked at the cats more closely. There was something about the photo. Was it that the cats were entwined a little too sensually? No, that wasn’t it. And then I realized: it was the sheets of the bed on which they were lying.

Gorgeous sheets. High thread count. Tone on tone. Clean. The embodiment of elegant masculinity. They were even drawn back artistically.

Gay guy sheets.

I later found a picture of his partner, also quite handsome.

Damn.

Not that I’m going to be picking up guys from their blogs, but still.

Another one bites the dust. ~Queen

"Gone to the Dogs" is a Very Good Thing

The coolest thing happened to me not too long ago. I was reading this wonderful book called While the Daffodils Danced by Cathi La Marche, and I forced myself to take a break and check email. And there was an email from the very author of the book I was reading.

Cathi is a local author with whom I had today’s book signing. Besides having a story about her three-legged dog, Dexter, in A Cup of Comfort for Dog Lovers II, she also has a book out. So I bought the book ahead of time to read it before I met her. And I must say, I enjoyed both the author and her work.

So had a great time at the book signing. Was also happy to have been visited by long-time writer and new friend, Teri (who brought me the cutest stuffed dog holding a rose), as well as long-time friend and new writer, Rebecca J. Am also grateful to Becky, who couldn’t be there due to her trip…so instead, she gave her help, support, good wishes, dog stickers, “Autographed Copy” author stickers, and adorable dog house pencil holder.

The nice thing about getting to be friends with local authors is that you get to know them from the inside out. It’s a unique perspective, a cherished one.

I am lucky indeed.

“Dogs...are
the role model for being alive.”
~Gilda Radner

Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

Just got my hair cut the other day, and she managed to make it do cool things.

Of course it slowly undid itself as I was driving home despite the many products designed to subdue it. The hair eventually won. The hair always wins.

Except once. I lived in Savannah, Georgia for two years, and I once had a hair stylist there make my hair bouffant. I didn’t think my hair could ever do bouffant—I have hair that doesn’t want to do anything completely other than hang in strings. It doesn’t want to have a good wave, doesn’t want to hang straight…and definitely doesn’t want to be bouffant. That giant, bouffy hair was an amazing phenomenon to behold.

I had a hard time driving home because I wanted to look at The Hair in my rearview mirror—which wasn’t hard to do since it took up the entire thing. It was so big, I seem to remember that it hit the roof of my car. When I got The Hair home, I had to examine it carefully to see how she had done it.

All I can tell you is this: It’s still a mystery. It defied gravity. She hadn’t teased it at all. Powerful styling products were involved, but they always are. As I’ve said, my hair laughs at powerful styling products. After much examination, I finally decided it’s another Southern woman mystery. If you’ve ever known Southern women, real ones, I mean—I’m talking the kind who not only know what grits are, but how to pronounce the word with two syllables (“gree-its”)—you know that all Southern women seem complacently aware that they have charms that the rest of the country—or world, for that matter—doesn’t possess.

Now my hair, which was cut and styled by a non-Southerner, is hanging in its customary strings again.

Sigh.

When reporters started to ask at about 50 if I would have a facelift…the truth is I'm afraid I'd become like the guy with a bad toupee; when you're talking to him, you can't think of anything else. ~Gloria Steinem

A Little Fish Story

My wonderful writer friend Becky has tagged me for a game. Here are the rules:

1) Go to your photo files. Select the 6th folder or album.
2) Select the 6th photo in that folder/album.
3) Post that photo along with the story behind it.
4) Then challenge some blog friends to do the same!

I have a little 4' x 2' pond out back that I just love. It's a surprising amount of work for such a little thing, but the waterlilies and fish have become a summertime joy for me. Because my pond is too shallow to house the fish over winter without freezing, their winter home is my friend Fran's giant pond, aka The Fransion or the Sea of Franquility. (No kidding, this thing is huge.) I added some new fish this year, so I have seven total, all fantails. They are Leopard, Moby Ick, Beauzeau, Diva, Little Richard Hatch, La Loge, and Bob.

This is La Loge. She's the newest. In Fish World, "she" might just be a honkin', studly, testosterone-filled, raging bull of a man-fish for all I know, but to me she looks like a cute little girlie fish. She even has a little bend in her tail fin that makes her look sort of...perky. It reminds me of a pony tail.

Initially I named her Renoir, but even that was too manly for her. So I changed it to the painting that she's named for. I would post it here, but I don't know the first thing about copyright laws. If you do "google-images," you should come up with the painting.

I think La Loge actually means "The Theatre Box," but I don't care. Besides being all fluffy and striped and black-and-white-and-pink-all-over, this fish is also sort of box-shaped.

So there you have it. My fish story. Just be glad the 6th picture wasn't Moby Ick.

"Enjoy the simple things." ~George Carlin