okay stars, here's the answers to yesterday's puzzle.

1. rock star
2. dog star
3. star trek
4. corn star (liberties with this one)
5. star crossed
6. star g(r)azer (liberties with this one too)


here's a few pictureword puzzles for you. i took some liberties with a couple of them, but i'm sure you'll figure them out. you can click on the pictures if you're having trouble seeing them. i'll post the answers tomorrow. have fun!


"i like to say the word pudding"
"why do you like to say the word pudding?"
"i just like that word... pudding."
"huh. does your sister like to say that word too?"
"i don't know........but i like to say it. pudding."
"you're pretty funny. do you think you'll always like to say pudding? even when you're all grown up?"
"i don't know. you'll have to ask me when i'm all grown up."
"okay. i'll remember to do that."
"don't forget"
"okay, i won't"
"pudding"
"pudding"

no, it wasn't a peanut butter cake, but she sure looks happy anyway, doesn't she? i'd be happy too if i was the one eating it, but i chose to live vicariously through her instead and alternatively, she wasted no time in telling me how heavenly it was... devil spawn.

i don't collect things as a general rule, but i do have a few chickens that i like. the two that are on the left are handmade folk art chickens, and the chicken on the right is a timer. they live on top of my stove so i guess they would be considered free range chickens.

Free Range Chicken by T.S. Bogorad

I'm a free range chicken. I do what I want. I'm a free range chicken. I go where I want. I peck a little here. I peck a little there. I'm a free range chicken. That's what I'm doing here.


i heart this picture.
did the wisteria vine really grow to form a heart shape like this? of course it did. that, plus an hour in the hot, blazing morning sun with superbond glue, wire and a whole lot of very, very bad words.

in
now tell me....how did my p.b. kid get to be 20 years old again?  because my brain has a hard time wrapping itself around that one. especially when i see her sleeping so peacefully like this.  i try to remember what it was like when she slept like this while cradled in my arms. when i was the only one who could soothe her and relax her into sleep....20 years old now.....thank goodness i'm not getting any older.

in

I could never keep our golden retriever out of these hydrangea bushes when he was alive.  He'd lay all over them and break all the branches off.  They bloom in memory of him now.   

Madame and Twizzle don't seem to care much about the hydrangeas. Twizzie seems to like my mint  and sage patch though, so that's become her own personal dog lounge.  I don't mind this because now she always smells like a Penzey's spice shop.... all sage and minty fresh. ..kind of like a tube of toothpaste with a tail. 

in
Lolo, could you be any cuter?  I don't think so.

Logan is my niece's daughter which makes her my great niece.

Having twenty something year old nieces and nephews freaked me out until they started having babies.  Now, I figure it's training ground for my own wwwway-in-the-future grandparenthood. Yes... my peanut butter kid will have little peanuts of her own one day.  
So in the meantime, I get to "practice" with Lolo.  

It's a shame she isn't very pretty, isn't it?

The Alzheimer's Association held their annual fundraising walk today in the 95 degree heat.  Their slogan is "Move to End Alzheimer's".  So we moved, but the heat made it with much less enthusiasm than we would have normally had. Mostly, we moved to the coolers to get another cold water.  

Sobering to think that there are 5.2 million people who live with this disease every day.  

Alzheimer's is the 7th leading cause of death.  

The concrete Gods cometh and taketh away.




And they restoreth our driveway and our faith in mankind.  


Amen.








These magnolia blooms were bigger than my head  (and my head is unnaturally big)  Of course I couldn't resist breathing in their heavenly scent.  Their petals are like the finest porcelain. They're one of the greatest high points about our southern summers.  Looking at them simply takes the pain of the relentless humidity that we endure, right away.  

in
The p.b. kid rocked out my hair this past weekend with an overall chocolate and then cherry red lowlights.  I really like it plus I really liked the fact that it didn't cost me a dime because I'm cheap like that.  It helps to have a hair stylist in the family and I figure since I birthed her 9 1/2 pound self, endured ankles the size of Wisconsin, gave up chocolate, alcohol and other food items that make life worth living, and nursed her for over a year that I'm entitled to free cuts and color.  Is that wrong?  

Mr. Nobody Tells Me and I are consummate do it yourselfers. We have always prided ourselves on being able to do all sorts of things around the house. But lately, the all sorts of things around the house have been adding up and so we decided to take the plunge and actually part with some money to hire someone else to do the things that our slack asses have not been keeping up with.


I'm not sure why the builder that built our house never paved the driveway completely. Perhaps it was because we were cheapt. At any rate, our two car driveway narrows down to a one car driveway at the end and when you have as many cars as Ernest's Valu-City-Car-O-Rama, it works your last nerve trying to maneuver vehicles around. We decided that it was time to get it paved so that it would be a two car driveway all the way down to the end.

Mr. Nobody Tells Me's friend of a friend owned a company that does stuff like that, so he came out and gave us a fantabulous quote. We jumped on it.

Houston, we have a shituation.

Sure this looks straight if you've been smoking crack and stand on one foot while tucking your head under your armpit.


We're not anal people. We don't quibble about the little things. Why no. We're pretty easy to please. Really. But...wow.

I can hardly calm Mr. Nobody Tells Me down. I figure he'll eventually run out of food in the pantry and his food mania will finally give way to sleep. Dear God, please just don't let him dream about concrete mixers.

I found Miss Amanda doing a Google search for "mannequin body forms".  Should I be nervous about this?

in

This is one of our sweet beasts. We have two sweet beasts. This girl's human-given name is Molly, but she has a cropped tail that looks like a little nub and wiggles back and forth when she is happy therefore, we call her Twizzle or Twizzie for short. Not sure of the nickname logic here, I know it's a leap. But I'm sure that it makes perfect sense in its own weird dog owner way. Twizzie is super high energy...like she's on amphetamines high energy. Most times, this is endearing, but there are times that she drives me, Mr. Nobody Tells Me, the p. b. kid and her canine sister, Madame Clicks-a-Lot insane.

When she came to live with us, Madame Clicks was tolerant. Madame is awesome like that. Madame Clicks is part bassett, so nothing ruffles her feathers much. Not even a super high spirited ball of yapping, jumping fur that gnaws on her ears and jowls. We have all grown to love Twizzie very much. And, she loves us- even making friends with her pseudo-human friend, Miss Amanda. I have to say that Twizzie has eclipsed Madame Clicks in that department. Madame Clicks is still working that one through.

Twizzie is loved and adored. She runs around the backyard and gives the squirrels hell. She is fed everyday plus gets a morning treat. I repeat...she is fed everyday plus gets a morning treat.

So, pray tell, why in everloving hell does this dog think this:

looks like this?


I have searched the internet, I have searched books, I have searched books on the internet. I have even toyed with the idea of begging the dog whisperer for some insight. But I have come up with nada. Zip. Zilch. I won't go into the particulars, but you can imagine the glee Twizzie has first thing in the morning when we let the girls out for their early morning bathroom rituals. It's like a freaking buffet. She is definitely on face licking restriction.

Ideas, anyone?

in


The peanut butter kid's massive consumption of peanut butter is legendary. This jar of peanut butter is approximately 3 days old. I am in awe. If I were Mr. Peanut, I'd be quivering in my tights right now. Save yourself, Mr. Peanut. Save yourself and others like you.