BearWaller Hollar

The weather has made me a recluse lately. My power was out for a week, I've been a month without a phone (the line is in the middle of the creek), I'm almost out of reading material, and you know yourself that I've never been one to watch a lot of TV. 
I did, however, watch a very interesting documentary on the removal of three of the worlds largest tumors last night on Discover Health. And true to form I've had a backache all day and I developed a fixation on a large lump on my leg. Turns out it's just a freckle, but I'm keeping an eye on it. I'll bet they all start out as just freckles.
In the mean time, in an effort to stay sane, I just gave 2dawg auburn highlights. He doesn't seem happy, but I think they bring out his big brown eyes. Junior said that if I brought them out anymore I would have to scrape them off of the floor.
Good point.
Anyway,
I'm giving him a mani-pedi as soon as I can drag his big chihuahua butt out from under the bed. (Revlon's Rusty Rose with glitter flecks. He'll look adorable!)

I bought these for 2dawg because they are his favorite. My dad fed them to him everyday when he stayed with me and he hasn't had any since dad died. I thought that they looked exceptionally festive with the toothpick and the cherry sticking in them. 
Let me just tell you before you run out to buy these for your own dog, that when you open them up there are no toothpicks, and not a cherry one.
Mind you,
I'm not a big fan of meat in a can,
but this contains what appears to be a collection of dog peckers floating around in a phlegm bath.
Sorry 2dawg,
but if you think I'm going back out to Krogers tonight for cherries you've lost your mind.

"He is a wise man who does not grieve for the things which he has not, but rejoices for those which he has." -Epictetus

I thank God every day for my wonderful son and what is left of my family, for my 2dog and the stray momma and six puppies under the bat cave, and for the friends that haven't forgotton me. I thank him for my job (it's hard, but a lot of people don't have one), that I made it to a level 53 in MafiaWars, that my hogfish haven't died in Fishville, and that I have banana pudding. There is other stuff too.

Happy Thanksgiving everybody.

darbimae 

Bailey from Goose Yard told me about this sight. I"m not a big fan of Etsy, but I love Regretsy.

You realize, of course, that I've been peppered with a maelstrom of personal bad luck which has all but stopped the demiurgic drivel that once spouted from my pen.
I could give you all the gory details of my wicked ill fate, but I don’t want to be a leper bore (the anger, the denial, the inevitable loss of appendages…blah, blah, blah).
No worries,
I am as resilient and ineradicable as a case of stage four cooties, and I’ve managed to work my way through the anger issues that popped up with the near loss of my dactyl phalanxes (sounds better than little pigs) by turning to Facebook. A networking site to many, a place to say hello to friends and family and indulge in meaningful conversation to others, but for me-
not so much.
I’ve stayed sane by directing my umbrage at Facebook’s MafiaWars.
Unfortunately,
I now have to get up an hour earlier just to garrote a mobster or two, bribe an elected official, or knock over a couple of liquor stores.
No matter.
It’s kept me going for the last few weeks. Just this evening I got iced by some asshole named Luigi Fettuccine. I sucker punched him four times, beat him until he died, then waited until he came back to life so I could put a hit out on him. (Did I mention the anger issues I’m working through?) While drinking cheap coffee at 6:00am I sneak in offline (lest someone should try to chat with me and mess with my concentration) I kill everyone that I can, beat up the rest, then I gather up the pumpkins I planted over at Farmville (I‘m saving for a harvester), milk the cows, and gather the eggs before heading out to Fishville. This morning I thought I’d be late for court before I could get the tank cleaning and fish training done (those Hawaiian Hogfish are dumber than owl shit. If I couldn’t learn to jump through a hoop any faster than that I‘d fillet myself).

I'll keep you posted on the harvester.