Malarkey

Nine years ago today Todd smartly and bravely proposed to me at mom’s restaurant, at the romantic little corner table known as Table 31. He was damn sure of himself too – since he secretly invited friends and family to celebrate this glorious moment we had begun a path to when we were still teenagers.

Fun observations this week:

You can tell the real, rabid Trumpers by how angry and nasty they are right now. Well, at least on Saturday. I mean, no one who voted for Biden could possibly have been in a bad mood on Saturday. Just sayin’.

Example #1: verbal altercation with some nasty woman at Wawa who insisted I cut in line, even though I had been standing there at the checkout before she was even there. All I’m saying is, I didn’t vote for Trump and I’d have let a hundred people butt in front of me that day.

The general feeling of the day was like the afterglow of three back-to-back orgasms. And I was smiling under that stupid mask, trying not to giggle like Yoda on Dagobah.

However, take heed: remember that meme about women over 50? Full of rage and sick of everyone’s shit. Tread carefully bitches.

Example #2: I was unfriended by someone who later made a comment on Todd’s wall that was clearly directed at me, as a rude and …. are you ready for this? dark person. What fresh fuckery is this?

Very unwise. When you get my man involved, it’s not likely to end well. I won’t speak for him, but I can say I know with all of my soul that absolutely no one is going to throw shade at me and get away with it. Which is very refreshing in a husband, if you’ve ever experienced one who defended everyone BUT you.

Anyone else have a poop hub in their house? Ours is the dining room rug – for all dogs, residents and guests alike. I spent Sunday morning steam-cleaning a monstrous spot that could only have been Shuggie, since she was passed out cold in the living room with no interest in going outside with the other two.

Shuggie is … you know, I don’t even know what to call her. She is bullheaded, strong-willed, and pushy. She is still technically a puppy, Todd says – though I think it’s just an excuse for her to be a complete brat. She eats the other dogs’ food, has stolen food off the counter, barks incessantly and jumps up on the glass sliders until we let her in (secret – we ignore this), jumps on people (recently punching Todd in the eye), chews up wayward socks and bathroom trash when someone forgets to close the door, and body slams her way between us and the other dogs.

Moses and Mom came to visit for the last two days – Shuggie barked throughout the two nights at every sound coming from the other side of the bedroom door. Yes, she’s a barker. And we’re exhausted.

Other names she goes by: Shug, Shuggie Boogie, Boogs, Sugar Booger, and Pigpen. I love her.

Beautiful weather on Sunday … Todd and I went out in the convertible, which was glorious with the wind blowing through my hair and the gorgeous oranges, reds, and yellows all around us. We went to look at a ’69 Mustang. Todd told me we’re going to “Trump country” and to behave myself, which I take exception to since I never, ever misbehave in public. Well, at least with regard to politics.

Anyway, it couldn’t have been more obvious with the owner’s 8-foot Trump flag obscuring his front porch, but I was more concerned about his neo-Nazi style combat boots. But he was a very nice man and I told him what a beautiful neighborhood he lived in while Todd took the car out for a short drive up the street. Love your boots, man.

He’s been looking at old Mustangs – like ’67, ’68, ‘69 Mustangs. There’s another one he drove 2 hours to look at earlier this week. To that end, there IS a new addition coming to the stables. More on that later.

My mom is a bad influence. She and V went out Monday for take-out and came back with baby back ribs, fries, coconut shrimp, and a family-size pan of Shrimp Fettuccine which was absolutely divine in all its cholesterolly glory. Then last night “they” didn’t feel like cooking again (I asked, WHO said she had to cook anyway???) and so she called in her own craving for pizza and cheesesteaks and now I’ve gained 2lbs back.

COVID-19 is on the rise again, in case you live under a rock. And it’s creeping ever closer to my town as the PA county next door is reporting more and more cases. I don’t really watch the numbers too much, but I DO answer phones in a medical practice and I know what I’m hearing. That’s all.

Some people are slow learners. Like how people during a pandemic ignore STOP signs outside of offices asking them to call first, or like people who tell legal authorities that they have erred and challenge their decisions. Grab the popcorn.

Our Samsung refrigerator is due for a defrost again – once a month or so – Todd and I empty the entire fridge and he removes the back panel inside to melt the ice with a grooming dryer*.  He’s determined to do this until the fridge quits once and for all. And I don’t get paid for reviews but I’m saying Don’t Buy a Samsung fridge. Our problem is apparently a widespread problem with them and guess what happens when the warranty runs out? Phones = good. Refrigerators = bad.

And apparently there’s an issue with the hall toilet again. I give up. I say just buy a new one, but if I know my husband, he’ll find a way to fix it because “it’s still a good toilet.”

Full circle: I am so grateful for my handyman…so grateful that he decided he wanted me for life – nine years ago today. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, LOUD, especially now. I came with my fair share of problems, a very nasty ex and two young children beholden to him – but he loved me more than all the challenges we have faced because he is a GOOD MAN. And we belong together. Always have, always will.

It’s also Veterans Day and I would like to extend my deepest gratitude to all those who serve and have served – most especially my grandfathers, Danny and Kermit.

Imagine. Freedom. Always. ~New York, Edward Rutherfurd.

*grooming dryer – huge industrial-size for drying dogs. Melts ice in t-minus 5 minutes.

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