I Don't Just Read A Book

I live with it, I devour it, I wake up wondering what the character is doing that day. 
I eat with it, I go to the bathroom with it.  I have even been known to bathe with it.  I go to bed reading it and on weekends I wake up with it and read it. 
I sleep with it in the bed with me, and most of the time the dogs chew on it.
When I am through with a book, it is rarely fit to even give away, let alone resell on Amazon or give to the library.
Case in point.  This is the last book I read.

Notice the edges of the pages are chewed, ripped and torn. The cover is a mess and one of the picture pages in the middle is missing.
If I had taken a picture of the inside you would find various stains---coffee, mustard, mayonnaise, potato chip grease and the DNA of almost every meal I have eaten.
Poor Jackie, I suspect she would be horrified.
I picked up the book at the Salvation Army for a quarter.  And it was a pretty good read although I did tire of Jackie at times and would leave her sitting on my nightstand for days at a time until I started wondering what she was up to.....
The book is around 400 pages and it took me about a month to read, mainly because I kept putting it down and also I am a very slow reader.  The reason I am a slow reader is because as I said earlier I devour the book, I read and re-read paragraphs to make sure that I have digested what the book is telling me.  It has occurred to me that I read as if I'm going to take a test the next day on the particular chapter I'm reading.  I have tried to break myself of the habit of reading and re-reading paragraphs, but I can't seem to be able to do this.
One member of my book club sits down and reads whatever book we choose in one sitting.  That's right, she sits down and reads the book in 3 or 4 hours.  (Unless of course it is like the Steven King book 1963 and is over 600 pages.)
My devouring of books has gotten me in trouble.  On one occasion I borrowed a book from a neighbor who was NOT a reader, but had just bought the book because she liked the cover.  (Really that's what she said, she thought it would look good laying around in her bedroom.)  Soooo, I took it to the beach and devoured it.  It was a good read--about the world of modeling.  And when I gave it back to her she blew me out.  I had ruined her book.  I mean really when she let me borrow it, she acted like she didn't even want it back.....and the cover was still in pretty fair condition.....and she wasn't going to read it....so therefore why was she so upset about the sand inside and the food stains on the pages.  I'm sure the author would much rather have me read it rather than her just look at it...
:-D

Cruel Shoes

The other night I was laying in the bed thinking.  And I was thinking about if there is anything that I'm snobby about. 
I came up with 2 things that I'm snobby about, my purse and my watch. Notice I didn't say purses or watches. I have one purse that I carry everywhere-dress or casual.  I have one watch that I wear everywhere--dress or casual. And they are as expensive as my Coca-Cola salary on champagne tastes will allow. (Which isn't Rolex or Louis Vuitton okay?)  And I'll blog about this later.
Which brings me to one thing that I am totally un-snobby about--shoes.
I am not like other women who have dozens of shoes, for all occasions all seasons.  No not me.  I own 4 pair.  One for work. Two for Sundays.  And one pair of sandals.  That's it. I do not own a pair of tennis shoes.  I hate them.
Now this does not include the "Cruel Shoes" of the title.  I don't consider them shoes.  They are torture devices.  They were designed by a misogynist.
By now you are wondering...so I will explain.
Here they are in all their cruel beauty.
Be sure to click on the video and watch them twirl.....I have the ones in silver. 
I bought them to wear with a dress for Mardi Gras in Biloxi two years ago.  I tried them on for a hot minute and figured they would be fine.  That's the thing with cruel shoes, they trick you.  Their torture only begins to start after you have had them on for about 10 minutes and have walked about 100 feet in them.
Now I have to admit...I looked good. I went all out--big hair. dramatic makeup with false eyelashes, splashy jewelry--you would have had to kill me to tell me I wasn't fine. Here is a picture of David and me. Doesn't David look suave? Don't we look good?

I don't have the shoes on in this picture--why do I know, because my nose is not bleeding!!!
Anyway, I knew something was up when I had to get David to help me put them on. My feet were already starting to swell a little because of all the layers I was wearing....and of course because of those layers I was unable to bend over.
The first layer was panty hose that had a little "support."
The second layer was a spanx.
The third layer was a long line girdle.  (I decided not to use the duck tape at the last minute--to cinch my waist)
And the fourth layer was my dress.
About now you are not wondering about the shoes, but what I did when I went to pee.
More about that later.
David helped me put the shoes devices on. I made it to the elevator and knew I was in trouble.  The devices began to pinch across the top of my foot, and the more I walked the more my instep hurt. I wobbled/hobbled to the lobby of the hotel made it to the door and knew there was no way I could make it to the truck.
David picked me up at the door and helped me into the truck.  (He's such a darling)
He drove up to the door of the event site and let me out so that I could get a head start.  The event was held at the Mississippi Gulf Coast Coliseum and Event Center. Which meant I had to walk the length of a foot ball field in the devices on a slick granite surface to get to the ballroom.
Okay.  I was prepared to die.  After all I have been through a lot in my life, I'm dressed to the nines, David is handsome in his tux and surely I'm not going to let two little torture devices keep me from partying the night away.  If I can just hobble to the ballroom, I can discretely shed the @^%^ things and my dress is long enough no one will know.
But what if I fall on this slick #$#%%@! granite tile?  David is not here to help me get up and I'll have to just lie here till he shows up, and I wouldn't blame him if he walks on by and acts like he doesn't even know me.   There I would be a big purple pile of chiffon.......with big hair and glittering jewels......
Halfway there my feet felt like they were in vice grips, the calf of my legs were aching and on fire and my thighs....oh my thighs--encased in layers of panty hose, spanx and girdle were crying.
I could not make it to the ballroom entrance, I indiscreetly but with the charm of a southern belle (always smile) I slipped them off and carried them in my hand through the ballroom door and to our table. I smiled charmingly at everyone I saw. 
I threw them under the table and danced the night away in stocking feet. And I never put them on again....I walked to the truck in the parking in lot in the cool February night in stocking feet.
My feet, my calves and my thighs were happy that I did not put them back on.
I should have thrown them in the garbage can.....but I didn't......because I tried to wear them the next year!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I know I know, I lost my mind.  I thought that the total of (maybe) 15 minutes that I had them on had broken them in.  Or that the year they had spent in my closet alone and forsaken had taught them a lesson.  Not.
The exact same thing happened the next year.
And I still haven't thrown them away.
They sit in my closet.....waiting......maybe.........next.........year........
Oh and I'll tell you how I went to the bathroom in a later post.



I Knew I Was Getting Older, But.....

All the things that happen when you get older have been happening to me---
I can't see,
I can't hear,
I can't remember anything.
I can't find things I hide from David*
I wear granny panties.
I wear MuMus.
AARP is hounding me to join.
I wear my pants up as high as I can pull 'em.
And---the final clincher, I'm forgetting to zip up my pants.
Yep, I'm like those old men you see everywhere with their pants up under their arm pits...and unzipped.
And of course I'm not a man.  Sigh.
* Some of the things that I hide from David are: Garden gloves, lighters of any and all kinds, garden pruning shears, hammers, screw drivers, glue, hair brushes, combs, tweezers, nail clippers, nails, screws, picture hangers...to name a few.
In fact the other day he needed a pair of garden gloves and the conversation went something like this.
David:  "I ran across a pair of garden gloves and I wondered what they were doing there and then it occurred to me that you had hid them from me.  Do you remember where you hid them?"
Me: "No."
Sooo, I couldn't remember where I had hid them and he couldn't remember where he had found them.
Therefore he had to go and buy a pair.
Sigh.

Where Have You Been AngelMc

Blogger:  So what's the deal?  Where have you been?
Me:  Nowhere really.  Just here at the house, or at work.
What have you been doing?
Oh just the usual...working, cleaning the house.  Swimming in the RNP...
What is an RNP?
Red Neck Pool.  You know they kind they sell at WalMart..
Did you get the eight hundred dollar one?
No, the 300 dollar one...but it's great...float...play with the gkids, get a tan...that kind of thing.
Oh, why no posts?
Oh, just don't get on here much.
Do you get on Facebook very much?  Or Pinterest?
Uhh...well.
Thought so, you've been cheating on me haven't you?
Well...
I want it stopped immediately....I want at least one post a week...
Well I do miss everybody...and my head is kinda filling up with stuff I need to get out.
Okay..good...think something up and have it one here within 48 hours.
Okay.
Any pictures you want to put on here in the meantime?
Uhhh let me check my phone....how 'bout this picture of #4 and Rosie?

Yeah that's sweet.
I know, I love to take pictures of #4 when she is sleeping...
Why?
I don't know she looks so beautiful and sweet...and that is Rosie's favorite place to sleep...under her chin.  Want to see a cute video?
Yeah sure.
Okay..I sent this to her Mama.

 

 

Do you think you will get in trouble for alluding to underage alcohol consumption?

Surely not...everybody knows that I am Southern Baptist from birth...we don't drink, but we do joke about it. Sigh...

More Later

How I Came To Own 7 Dogs

I don't want a dog...I'm really not a dog person.
And I certainly don't want a dog in the house.
And I most certainly don't want a yapping Chihuahua.
Okay were going to get the dog.
His name is Presley, but he can't get on the furniture and he has to sleep in his own bed in the living room.
It's too cold for him to sleep in the living room, he can sleep in his bed in our bedroom.
It's too cold for him to sleep in the bedroom, he'll have to sleep in the bed with us.
He's too little to sleep anywhere but next to me under my arm.
Hand me the dog, he can't jump up here on the bed by himself.
I'll buy him doggy steps so he can get up on the bed whenever he wants.
Why won't he use the doggy steps?  Why do I always have to reach down and get him?
Bring me the dog, you know I can't sleep without him.
Please make him come here and get in the bed with me, he knows I can't sleep without him.
Don't sit there on that part of the couch, that's Presley's place.
My heart is broken, I miss Presley so much.
Of course we are getting another dog...I'm a dog person.  I can't live without a dog.
Her name is Priscilla Loretta.
Priscilla is lonesome during the day, she needs a companion.
Her name is Ginger Marie.
It's amazing how they immediately learned to use the doggy steps and they sleep on my head.
I love it when they sleep on my head.  It's so comforting.
I need a puppy.
Well they were brother and sister and had never been separated.
Their names are Ann Margaret and Fontana Nicholas.
They learned how to use the doggy steps and they sleep on my lap.
I love it when they sleep on my lap.
I need another puppy.
Well two were brother and sister and the other one was born 2 days later and they have never been apart and when I went to get one they were all in the same puppy bed together and I really was just going to get the two girls but the little boy was going to be left by himself and he is so cute and Avery was with me and she was so excited and I just couldn't leave him there by himself.
Their names are Lindi Bell, Rosie Doll and Sumner Hess.
They learned how to use the doggy steps and sleep on my neck, my legs and under my arm.
I'm a dog person.