Marney or Hemmingway?
Two name suggestions from my mother, who told me this while drinking a vodka and cranberry. She also told me about the woman she gave a ride from the park, who apparently smelled like alcohol and had no shoes.
“Mom, she was probably homeless! You can’t just go around picking up homeless people.”
“Shit, Megan, it’s not like I told her where I lived!”
Jesus.
The one with the ceramic angel
A gift for our baby daughter from the CEO of QVC. It should be noted that the “Baby Girl” necklace was the last one of its kind at the Dollar General Store located in the parking lot next to the Golden Acres retirement home. This is obviously a hot commodity as, according to our inside source that runs a major home shopping corperation, it was THE LAST ONE IN THE STORE. She was going to keep it for herself, but decided in the end to sacrifice for her future grandchild. She did, however, make it known if I don’t like it, I should put it in a stamped envelope and send it back to her via U.S. mail, as she would like it back.
Golden Acres Gone Wild
OK, so in classic form I have left my forelorn page to sit in silence while I skipped town. I do have so many stories about drunk games of Cranium where my poor sober ass really thought I just may burst a blood vessel in my eye. “IT DOESN’T FUCKING MATTER IF YOU SAID MOTO OR MOTOR! JUST FINISH THE GAME SO I CAN GO TO SLEEP IN PEACE!” I also have fun stories of the Spooner/Peters/Logsdon vacation where I lived in a trailor that was thissmall with my sister and her husband and her three 5-year-olds for five days and six nights. I could also tell you about my mother’s new motorized scooter or the New Year’s Eve bash at the Golden Acres clubhouse or how my brother showed up at 11 p.m. on New Year’s Eve to a raucous party of non-drinking parents/pregnant people/Trent and calmly asked in his new voicetone that sounds more and more like Butt-Head, “Uhhh, so, uhhh, do you guys, uhhhh, mind if I steal a couple of brewsky’s, uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.”
But I just really don’t have time to go through the whole she-bang right now. Rest assured, hilarity ensued, and Trent refrained from killing my mother. Just barely. I will write more when I have time to physically remove myself from my work email account which seems to have imploded in my absense.
Or is it Happy Holidays?
Merrry Christmas, Happy Channuka and all that jazz. Not sure how much I’ll be writing for the next two weeks. We’re going to the farm for Christmas and then to Florida for New Years. Golden Acres retirement community will be hoppin’ for 2006! Look out shuffleboard players everywhere! Seriously, I play some mean shuffleboard.
