Dear Faithful Readers:
I’m giving Crone and Bear It a break. That’s not to say I’ll never post here again. I’ve learned to never say never.
In the meantime, I’ve embarked on a new blogging journey. Please come see my new endeavor She’s A Pretty Good Christian.
You’ll find me at http://shesaprettygoodchristian.com Never fear, my humor has not left me.
Oh yeah, EmmaLou, Golden Destroyer will be a part of the new blog, no doubt. See ya over there.
Love,
Linda and
Reacting to my aching back and the fact I announced I was about to carry some loads of laundry to the basement, the conversation went like this:
Me: I’m gonna take down some laundry in a little while.
Devoted Spouse: No, you’re not.
Me: Oh, yeah, I am.
Devoted Spouse: No! You can’t carry down; you can’t carry up…but…you can karaoke.
Seriously, this is my life…sigh…
I recently read a book; a psychological thriller I later learned. While it was well written, I didn’t like it. I didn’t like it at all. Why? Because it was about the horrible mind games people can play with each other. I like psychological thrillers, mind you. I really enjoyed all the Girl With Dragon Tattoo, etc.; and they were pretty rough books.
But this particular book made me so sad because it dealt with a married couple who simply could do nothing but hurt each other in new and vicious ways.
You see…I love the stuffin’ outta Devoted Spouse. Here’s just one reason: He labels our Chinese take-out boxes with our initials so when I want to finish what I ordered, I don’t have to waste time opening all the boxes.
So, in a way, reading the terrible book was good for me because it reminded me how loved I am! sigh…
pic from National Archives
I was enjoying a lovely breakfast of pancakes and bacon at my local Bob Evans when I realized I wasn’t really hungry. Leaving half my food on the plate, I left and went about my day. Errands, errands, ooh ice cream, errands, come home & read a book. Pretty normal day for me (minus the ice cream).
We had a guest in the house; a guest who was like family, but a guest nonetheless. I started feeling rather wonky around suppertime. Wonky as in “If I inhale many more food fumes I will hurl.” I made dinner for Devoted Spouse and our guest and retired to the bedroom to rest.
I thought a nice tv show might get my mind off my queasy tummy. Turning on the tv, I landed on the Food Channel and promptly ran to the bathroom to hurl. By that time I was pretty sure something was amiss. The guest and Devoted Spouse were still enjoying their dinner, grrr.
A little voice told me, change your clothes…put on clean underwear…brush your teeth and do something with your hair. I think it’s a girl thing. A stupid girl thing because by that time I was all sweaty and there was no chance of doing anything with my hair. sigh
At 10:00 that night, I walked into the kitchen all hunched over and looking a lovely shade of grey (no…not Fifty Shades…) to the horror of our guest and managed to scare the puddin’ outta Devoted Spouse. I announced, “Hospital, now!” The guest was concerned, Devoted Spouse was very concerned (and looking for car keys) and I was searching for a knife large enough to cut out Freddie Kruger (who I was sure was living in my belly). It was not pretty.
Almost six days later I had been in two different hospitals, been sedated for a gnarly test involving tubes down one’s throat into the gallbladder (ack ack) and had a virtual munchkin stranger suck out one of my major organs leaving me with four rather painful holes and something disgusting hanging out of me called a drain. (oh ack squared) (you may hurl now).
So that’s what I did on MY summer vacation kids. Even if you desperately wish to lose weight (I’m down 20 lbs now) I suggest you not try this. It’s right up there with abscessed teeth…or maybe being run over by a truck. Yes, the bills are arriving daily. We’re over $22,000 at present. Didja miss me? sigh…
courtesy of lair2000.net
I’ve been strolling down memory lane lately. When last we met, I regaled you w/my Camp Fire Girls story. Today we’re not going to guffaw or fall out of our comfy chair while telling you the latest antics of EmmaLou, Golden Destroyer. No, today we’re gonna stroll down memory lane again. Indulge me. This is what it’s like to age…I can’t remember what I wore yesterday, but what I’m about to share with you made me time-travel back many years with crystal clarity. I can still smell the chalk dust from the blackboard behind me in the classroom as I stood in front of the class… Sigh…
You see, while cleaning out documents in a very full laptop, I came across something I haven’t thought about in a very long time. It’s a delightful poem by Ogden Nash and I remember quite well memorizing it for a recitation in elementary school some time back in the Neolithic Age. I couldn’t memorize this many lines now if my life depended on it – but back then I nailed it. I thought I had a promising future in acting. I’m just happy I kept the poem. It is every bit as delightful to me today as it was back then….
THE TALE OF CUSTARD THE DRAGON
By Ogden Nash
Copyright Linell Nash Smith and Isabel Nash Eberstadt
Belinda lived in a little white house,
With a little black kitten and a little gray mouse,
And a little yellow dog and a little red wagon,
And a realio, trulio, little pet dragon.Now the name of the little black kitten was Ink,
And the little gray mouse, she called her Blink,
And the little yellow dog was sharp as Mustard,
But the dragon was a coward, and she called him Custard.Custard the dragon had big sharp teeth,
And spikes on top of him and scales underneath,
Mouth like a fireplace, chimney for a nose,
And realio, trulio, daggers on his toes.Belinda was as brave as a barrel full of bears,
And Ink and Blink chased lions down the stairs,
Mustard was as brave as a tiger in a rage,
But Custard cried for a nice safe cage.Belinda tickled him, she tickled him unmerciful,
Ink, Blink and Mustard, they rudely called him Percival,
They all sat laughing in the little red wagon
At the realio, trulio, cowardly dragon.Belinda giggled till she shook the house,
And Blink said Week!, which is giggling for a mouse,
Ink and Mustard rudely asked his age,
When Custard cried for a nice safe cage.Suddenly, suddenly they heard a nasty sound,
And Mustard growled, and they all looked around.
Meowch! cried Ink, and Ooh! cried Belinda,
For there was a pirate, climbing in the winda.Pistol in his left hand, pistol in his right,
And he held in his teeth a cutlass bright,
His beard was black, one leg was wood;
It was clear that the pirate meant no good.Belinda paled, and she cried, Help! Help!
But Mustard fled with a terrified yelp,
Ink trickled down to the bottom of the household,
And little mouse Blink strategically mouseholed.But up jumped Custard, snorting like an engine,
Clashed his tail like irons in a dungeon,
With a clatter and a clank and a jangling squirm
He went at the pirate like a robin at a worm.The pirate gaped at Belinda’s dragon,
And gulped some grog from his pocket flagon,
He fired two bullets but they didn’t hit,
And Custard gobbled him, every bit.Belinda embraced him, Mustard licked him,
No one mourned for his pirate victim
Ink and Blink in glee did gyrate
Around the dragon that ate the pyrate.Belinda still lives in her little white house,
With her little black kitten and her little gray mouse,
And her little yellow dog and her little red wagon,
And her realio, trulio, little pet dragon.Belinda is as brave as a barrel full of bears,
And Ink and Blink chase lions down the stairs,
Mustard is as brave as a tiger in a rage,
But Custard keeps crying for a nice safe cage.
