Month: February 2007

When I looked at the condition of Sherlock’s mattress in the daylight, I had to tilt my head to one side. Then the other side. Something wasn’t right.

Velvet: You need a new mattress.
Sherlock: I’ve had this one about 10 years now.
Velvet: It’s caving in the middle. It looks like a hot dog bun. Though now of course, knowing what I know, and that I know the players of what I know, I understand completely why it is caving in the middle.

I get a lot of mileage out of that joke. A lot. So after several weeks of planning and discussion, the shopping spree was in full effect. We spent Saturday rolling around mattresses. (I know some of you are tempted to insert your own x-rated joke here, but sit tight. I’ll get us there.) Anyway, each mattress was home to a new conversation. It started out pretty mild.

Sherlock: Think you would get a good night of sleep on this one?
Velvet: I like a softer mattress.
Roll to next mattress.
Sherlock: How about this one, can you see us with the dogs between our feet on this?
Velvet: They woke us up at 5 a.m., didn’t they? Fuckers.
Roll to next mattress.
Sherlock: Do you like how the memory foam molds to your shape?
Velvet: No. This sucks. Once you pick a position, you are invested for the night! Though this would be incredibly helpful for homicide investigations. They wouldn’t need to do the sloppy taping job around the body.
Roll to next mattress.
Sherlock: Now, would this one be good for fucking?
Velvet: Oh my God!! Your dick is hard!!

Apparently rolling around mattresses in “Have a good night’s sleep on us…Mattress DISCOUNTERS” got Sherlock a bit excited. Foreplay has never been so easy.

We finally decided on the top of the line, $4000 mattress. I know, that’s an absurd amount of money to spend but there was some logic behind that madness. We discussed that this would be the mattress that we conceived our children in. On. Whatever. Okay, so that’s less logic and more emotion, which violates my number one rule of cutting a good deal. Never never never negotiate when you have your heart set on something for emotional reasons.

After the payment and delivery time was set, we parted ways because I had a shopping excursion planned with a friend. Continuing in the spirit of spending the GNP equivalent of a third world country, Sherlock went off in search of a platform bed at Theodores. We planned to reconnect and hit some more stores in a couple hours. When I was out, I bought a dress. There was a costume-type purpose to this dress. I’ve been tasked to go out and find the sluttiest outfit I could get my hands on. People, you have hired the right woman for this job. When I see “Fashion K City” in a strip mall, I know I’ve hit paydirt. The first choice, a zip up catsuit didn’t come in my size: Extra boobs. I found something equally atrocious, and I mean atrocious. Wow. My friend and I were laughing so hard we offended the employees who probably cherish their associate discount. I rushed home to meet Sherlock to resume the furniture shopping.

I walked in and we quickly decided to blow off the rest of shopping to go have dinner. Then I asked if he wanted to see the dress.

Sherlock: I’m going to pee, put it on.
Velvet: Just look at it and tell me if you like it.
Sherlock (shouting from mid stream:) Put it on.

I climbed into the dress. He walked out of the bathroom and walked around me for the 360 view. Without saying a word, he pushed me into the bedroom and onto the ‘graveyard of whores’ mattress that will be out of our lives Tuesday. He bent me over, picked the dress up, and we fucked. This dress is so far beyond awful but I left it on. My boob popped out of the halter but we kept on like good little soldiers. No, your eyes do not deceive you, I really said “halter.” I haven’t seen or worn a halter-anything since Miami Beach in the early 90’s.

He had his orgasm, I had mine seconds after his and he fell onto the bed next to me. I realized we had not said a word since he told me to put the dress on and went to pee. I rolled over on my side because my original question was still unanswered – lingering out there like the elephant in the room.

Velvet: So, I guess you like the dress?

Two things.

First, that fucking Ninja tagged me for a god damned MEME. Why do they call them that? Anyway, it’s “Five Weird Things About Me.” Fine. This is going to be quick because I’m busy!

1) When Sammy and Thora lose a whisker and I find it in the house, I save it. Shut up. I’m a freak. Might I remind you this is the “Five weird things about me” list not the “why I should be poster child for normal” list.

2) I have a Harley but I’m afraid to go faster than 55 m.p.h. I’m planning on selling it.

3) Yesterday was just one of many days where I had a lengthy and detailed discussion with my boss, one of the highest ranking VP’s in our company, about vibrators, waxing and orgasms. Anyone who thinks that my company finding out I have a blog would be detrimental for my career should reread that previous sentence a few times. If we sit around and discuss that stuff, no one is going to care that I write a blog. And most of them know anyway.

4) I’ve been manhandled and thrown out of a strip bar for taking pictures of Brianna Banks, best porn star ever.

5) I won’t let anyone sleep in my bed unless they have showered. In college, if I hooked up and a guy tried to stay in my bed with me, and he was all sweaty and drunk, I would sleep in the chair until he sobered enough for me to kick him out. Then I would strip the bed, put clean sheets on, shower, and go to sleep.

Don’t tag me again or I’ll beat you senseless, even if I have to come to the Cheights and risk my personal safety to do it.

Second, I’ve been nominated for some contest for Best Blog. I guess I’m supposed to campaign, but like Millhouse says on the Simpsons, “My mom says I’m the best!”

I tried to embed the poll here, but it didn’t work. So just click here and vote for me. Or someone else. Last check, Circumlocutor was beating all our asses.

As work has gotten increasingly busy, I’ve had less time during the day to think about my favorite topic: me. I was driving home Friday after having spent another day out of my office working elsewhere, and I was thinking, “FUCK! I have so much shit to do and I never have time to get it done.” And there it was. That feeling that hits me once every five years where I then change my life in a weekend. The last time this happened, I quit my job, put all my furniture up for sale in the Atlanta Journal Constitution and my ex and I got in the car and drove across the country. Then it happened again on that trip, in line at a Safeway in Frisco Colorado when the cashier couldn’t figure out how to give me cash back. I realized I was selling myself short by not going back to grad school. There were plenty of stupid people in this world. I was capable of contributing more to the world than I had. A couple weeks later, I was accepted to an MBA program. I’m determined. When I decide it is time for change, I’m usually instituting that change within 15 minutes. And it is usually extreme.

So I went home Friday and crashed, knowing that if this was anything like times past, it was going to be a long weekend. I slept Friday from 7 p.m. until Saturday at 10:30 a.m. I woke up, checked the phone, saw Sherlock had tried to check in with me, then he called as I was about to call him back.

Sherlock: The dogs haven’t been out since you got home from work last night?
Velvet: No. And I’m still in bed.
Sherlock: Okay. I’m coming over and I’ll take them out.
Velvet: Thanks. I can’t leave the house today.

I basically assessed that I have a few issues here. The first is that I don’t have enough free time to do the things I need to do. The second is that the things I need to do, like laundry, trump the secondary projects like spring cleaning. First thing was to dedicate the weekend to making the major secondary project of cleaning out my house into a primary project. Second thing, to come later, was to reassess where my personal time goes and why I can’t get these things done.

Sherlock did as promised, and took the dogs to the park for an hour and a half. When he, Sammy and Thora walked back in, all three of them were like, “What the fuck!”

I had everything out of every closet and it was all over the house. I am not a packrat. But those damn boxes my parents brought tipped my delicate balance of useful stuff vs. non-useful stuff totally off kilter.

Sherlock: Holy shit. Can I help you?
Velvet: Yes. Take a picture of the sewing machine for me so I can list it for sale.

I resumed managing mass exodus of things from my closets. Buh-bye Kappa Kappa Gamma shirts. Buh-bye Almost Famous movie poster. Buh-bye fabric I will never use to sew cute things because I’m selling the sewing machine in about five minutes.

Sherlock: I’m done. What’s next.
Velvet: Find a picture of my Harley somewhere and list that for sale too.
Sherlock: Are you fucking kidding me? Please say you are kidding.
Velvet: No. I’m not. Get rid of it.
Sherlock: Well, I’m glad you are throwing all this stuff away, but the Harley?
Velvet: Sell it. Sell everything. Sammy and Thora better hold on for dear life or they are in danger of getting sold too.
Sammy: Fuck you bitch.
Thora: We need our own apartment Sammy.

Magazines and books – gone. Clothes and shoes – ready to donate. Pile of totally useless crap no one wants – sitting on the sidewalk in front of my building with a sign marked FREE on it.

Sherlock: Are you sure you don’t want to do what the Fencer suggested and have a “Buy Velvet’s stuff auction?”
Velvet: No. None of this stuff is any good. Pitch it.
Sherlock: You are kicking ass. Is this bag of trash ready to get tossed?
Velvet: Yes.
Sherlock: What’s next?
Velvet: I have to go through my tapes, (yessss cassette tapes,) and see what I have in there that I can just download online and then toss the tapes.

I sat down on the floor at 4 p.m. with three dozen tapes and the tape player, made lists of what I wanted to download, then pitched the tapes out. The walk down memory lane really slowed the process. I didn’t finish until after midnight. I can’t believe how many mix tapes I had. “Velvet’s Awesome Eighties Mix,” “Freshman Year in the Keys,” “We’re Seniors! YAY!” A sample. Name that tune!

We could fuck until the dawn, making love till cherry’s gone. (mmm hmmm…)
Just hit the east side of the LBC. (one of the greatest sampled songs ever.)
I used to love to make you cry, it made me feel like a man inside. (love this song!)
In 65, I was 17, and running up 101. (good for the treadmill)
Last time that we had this conversation, I decided we should be friends. (I know..)
Tonight’s the night we’ll make history. (Aww!)
If you wanna see me try a beeper number baby when you need me. (Sniff sniff.)
You’re the fastest runner but you’re not allowed to win. (8th grade. Solid.)
Cause you give me a good vibe doncha know baby. (makes me wanna dance.)
If it’s good I’ll call her everyday, got your number off the bathroom wall. (LOVE this band.)
Don’t forget it’s me who put you where you are now, and I can put you back now too. (who doesn’t know the words to this?)
G’s up hoes down while ya motherfuckers bounce to this. (Baliff? Take him away.)
He brought the woman out of me, so many times, easily. (whore!)

I finally went to bed after midnight. I think Sherlock learned that when I get in these moods to clean, I am unstoppable. Anything not nailed down goes down the trash chute. I am the only one in my family who does not suffer from packus rattis-itis. Growing up around stacks of crap made me want to always have clean tabletops and a minimum of crap. And when the crap starts to explode from the one or two closets where it is currently living, then it all must go.

The “Organize my Life” campaign is in full force. Since my free time is at a minimum these days, I started plotting. The one thought I kept coming back to was “What the fuck am I doing? I spend so much time online between work and the blog crap.” Now I have an action plan. It’s started with the decluttering of my life in the way of physical possessions, now it moved to decluttering my free time from distractions. Sayonora Comcast! I’m tired of paying you $100 a month for spotty service at best. In addition to the entertainment distractions you provide, I spend too much time on the phone with you every month, and that’s a time suck. See ya later Netflix, you are eating all my free time because I feel compelled in the Velvet-family-fashion to get my “money’s worth” and watch the movies and return asap. I cannot participate in a plan that says, “Keep them as long as you want!” I know their business model relies on me keeping them forever. It makes me want to dispose those movies immediately after the 100 minutes it takes them to play.

I’m officially working on a major investment project that will require a lot of research on my end as well as a personal project that also requires my attention. In addition to that, I have to pay attention to Sherlock so he won’t dump me, and I’m growing really private in our relationship. I want to write less about the personal things between us and frankly, I don’t really want to write about anything else here either. It is time to close that window into my life. So, I’m effectively reducing my blogging endeavors.*

* The Fine Print:
I have always been 100% honest. Trust me, this blogging slowdown has nothing to do with the current rage of outing bloggers by name and employer or “people” commenting as me with my real name – even though that behavior is unbelievably despicable. It has everything to do with me reclaiming my personal time and reallocating it to things that matter: my dogs, my boyfriend and my two projects. In that order. HA!

I have just misted my underwear. Excuse me while I go change. Read this if you want, back soon.

There now, all better. I’m so happy. And I know Scarlet is happy too. So that makes two of us. I don’t get involved in politics or political discussions at all because what pisses me off about most politicans is that they have their own agendas. That greatly conflicts with my feeling that politicians should serve the people blah blah blah. So let’s see, if Hillary becomes Giuliani’s opponent, score. Who will vote for her? If we’re ready for a woman president, it certainly isn’t Hillary. Besides, I refuse to perpetuate the Bush/Clinton/Bush/Clinton ping pong match for the White House. Get someone else in there already. Since 1988 we’ve had the same two families in there. What kind of democracy is that?

Now before the bleeding hearts jump all over me because it’s just “so cool to be liberal” in D.C., I’d like to state that while I am not a Republican, Giuliani is everything I could want in a president. He’s economically conservative and socially liberal. Though, he doesn’t advertise that fact, which is fine by me. What this country needs is a New Yorker, who can fucking get things done instead of another country bumpkin who wants to fight a useless war or get his dick sucked by some intern. And you can spare me the Giuliani criticism, I will never listen to you. Giuliani will forever be in my good graces for what he accomplished with New York City BEFORE September 11th. Times Square, for example, was a seedy pit of sadness overrun with hookers and thieves when I was a wee Velvet. You couldn’t even go there. I remember going to the Bowery with my parents and holy shit was it scary. I think Koch was too busy drinking and going to Knicks games to bother to clean up the city. A few years of Dinkins, then Giuliani gets in there, and he cleaned it. Instead of handing out vouchers and money to the poor, he had them work for it. In exchange for that money, they had to help in some public project of cleaning a park for example. Brilliant. The man is fucking brilliant.

Okay, I’m done with that for now. On to V-Day.

I’m not a big Valentines day person. I worked at a restaurant for many years and I remember all those pain in the asses coming in, wanting everything “just right” and paying double our normal prices because everything was a “special.” Vomit and gag. Personally, I’d rather not make reservations 100 years in advance just to overpay for some holiday dinner that means shit in la grande scheme. Sadly, it also seems to be the holiday that matters more to the people who have no significant other and therefore become depressed. Last year I was trying to go to bed early until that fucking New Jersey came over with flowers and dinner. This Valentines Day, Sherlock gingerly warned me that he might be out of town for work.

Velvet: So?
Sherlock: Well, it’s Valentines Day, don’t you want to do something?
Velvet: You forget who you’re dealing with. I’m the girl who almost punched out the delivery guy on Christmas Eve when he showed up with your ‘I’m sorry’ flowers because he refused to follow my specific instructions to return the flowers and call you and say they were rejected. I’m not that romantic girl.
Sherlock: Oh. Okay.

So then fate intervenes in the way of an ice storm Tuesday night and there was no way he could go anywhere. Fine. We both worked out of our respective houses during the day. And by “work” I mean, I read the hilarious posts of this new blog that was just brought to my attention Tuesday night. Apparently one of you is commenting as me, with my real name. And yes, I know who it is.

Anyway, Sherlock and I connected for lunch. When he came over to pick me up, he snuck something into my house. It was a heart shaped box of candy with a red Velvet cover. On the cover of the box, he did some Martha Stewart handiwork with glue and glitter, and if it didn’t have our real names on it and a picture of us, I would have taken a picture of it and posted it here. It was like that heart we all drew on our notebooks in 7th grade – Velvet & Sherlock 2getha 4ever! Damn I love him.

Then he got me a card, and wrote some very sweet things in it. It almost made me cry but not really. Later on I read the card again and I realized, I have never seen his handwriting. Other than a shopping list or a reminder note here and there, I have not once seen his handwriting. Does anyone remember what it was like to get a letter? In the age of email, texting and Instant Messaging, there’s no more hand written love letters.

He went back home after lunch, and I fucked around online. Then, while most couples were spending their life savings on dinner, I was cranking out 3.5 miles at the gym bitches! Sherlock came back over later on and we watched a movie and went to bed. And, I’m home again because no one can get out of my neighborhood. I’m sorry Washington D.C., but where exactly do my tax dollars go? Because you certainly didn’t use them for any plowing of snow in Dupont Circle. Nice work.

Ongoing: If you can help Barkley find a home, click here for more info.

It’s another busy ass week for me. Jesus. I was in a meeting out of the office today and have another one in another office tomorrow. No internet! How will I survive? I’m painfully behind in my online endeavors. After I spent two hours at the gym tonight working off all the food I ate this past weekend, I came home, and my first stop was Bloomingdales.com. Oops. Details below. Anyway, I collected the following tidbits last week and here we go…Velvet Variety Hour, installment three.

1. The Dry Cleaner
Thanks to Thora and her affection for vomiting on my down comforter, I, once again, stripped my bed and carried everything to the dry cleaners. When I walked in I could hear the man who owns the dry cleaner say something from the other side of the pile of comforter in my arms and covering my face:

Dry Cleaner: Dog vomit again?
Velvet: “Yes sir.”
I then dropped the comforters and bowed my head in shame.

2. Dupont Circle Should be on Alaska Time
Sixes and Sevens, sounding groggy, on the phone Monday: So, are you on your way to work?
Velvet: It’s 2:15!
Sixes and Sevens: It is?
Velvet: Yeahhhhh
Sixes and Sevens: Ohhhhh. I should go to work.

3. Overheard at a Caps Game:
Girl: Honey can you hold my beer?
Honey: Yeah, are you bringing it with you?
Girl: I can’t hold the baby and the beer and walk down the steps!

10 minutes pass.
Friend of Girl to Honey: Hey, she’s outside feeding the baby and she wants her beer, can you pass it to me?

4. Stupid Velvet
Velvet: I tried to print something off my blog and I somehow sent the entire month of January, which wasn’t bad because I wanted the pictures of what my parents left behind when they were here. I planned on throwing the stuff I didn’t want away. But then I went to the printer and waited for a really long time before realizing something was wrong. I went back to my computer and, yeah, I sent it to another printer in the company.
Sixes and Sevens: OH MY GOD! RUNNNNN!
Velvet: No, you don’t get it. It’s in another state!
Sixes and Sevens: OH. MY. GOD.
Velvet: Yeah. I guess I should call there. Fuck.

The ending to that story is that I have more readers now. Mmm hmm that’s right.

5. Statements I Really and Truly Hope I Never Hear Again:

“Did you see the parody blog?”
“Do you know who is writing the new parody blog?”
“Ohmygod, there’s another parody blog!”

People, I don’t know! I need a fucking Cliff’s Notes blog now to keep up. There’s my recommendation – can someone create a “daily highlights of parody blogs” blog so that I can just read that one when I have time to catch up? Great. Thanks.

6. Blog-a-holics Anonymous.
Sixes and Sevens: Hi, my name is Sixes and Sevens and I’m a blog-a-holic.
Crowd: Hiiiii Sixes and Sevensssssssss
Sixes and Sevens: Velvet said she’s going to put parental controls on my computer if I don’t stop reading blogs all day.

7. Am I Hearing This Right?
Guy at Work: I hate Prescription Medicine. I got Percoset last week and I took one and threw the rest away.
Velvet: What??? HOW COULD YOU??? WE LOVE PRESCRIPTION MEDS IN DUPONT CIRCLE, I WOULD HAVE BEEN THE HIT OF THE DOG PARRRRRK!!!!!!

8. Movie Review
Velvet: This is the worst movie I’ve ever seen. What is it called?
Sherlock: Uh…Co-Ed Sex Parties, Six Hours of Dick Crazed Girls.
Velvet: I think I’m going to throw up. No one should ever watch this movie.
Sherlock: I think it’s good, but let’s give it to Ninja.
Velvet: Ooh. Good idea. I’ll send him a text.

9. Oops
Velvet: I spent $800 on Bloomingdales.com today.
Sherlock: What did you get me?
Velvet: Nothing. (under breath…Unless you can fit into some DVF wraps and a St. John dress. And no I’m not 80 years old, St. John’s new print model is Angelina Jolie, so apparently they are now targeting women my age. Shut up Sherlock. Don’t make fun.)

10. Pontification and Mortal Enemies
When various people who you despise find each other and make friends, is it a real friendship or is it just a friendship based on having a mutual enemy? I don’t know the answer to that, but what I do know is that it is all very very transparent. And convenient. I like my enemies all in one place where I can keep tabs on them.

Yeah yeah yeah. I know. Posting has been sparse. I am so fucking busy at work that it’s ridiculous. I spend more days a week in meetings than there are parody blogs. I have no chance to check my oh-so-legitimate work email much less my personal email or any blogs. I got your emails. I got your frantic phone calls. I am still alive and still in love. Just busy. I’ll stop bitching now.

I had a couple things in the works to post on, but I wanted to clear them with Sherlock first. I asked him and he said he doesn’t care. But in a way, I care. I seem to have a need to write only when there are extremes in the relationship – us at our worst or us at our best. The things in the middle of that continuum seem to define the mundane, at least to outsiders. To me though, that’s the gold. That’s the stuff that makes the relationship. So, here it is – a blast of where we are and how we’re doing.

My breakup/stomach virus weightloss is now in retrograde. It may have something to do with all those milk duds and the non-stop eating out that Sherlock and I have managed to accomplish. Then I cashed in a bunch of frequent flier miles for restaurant coupons. Oops. That ain’t gonna help one bit. That’s a good lead into our weekend by the way.

I’m not that chick who brings her boyfriend to the gym. Not so much a fan of that couples workout thing. I prefer to go to the gym and get in my zone. I notoriously won’t even bring my cell phone to the gym. But, Sherlock wanted to work out with me, so fine. Last Saturday night I agreed to take my gym up on their guest allowance and we worked out together. When we first got there, he did his thing and I did mine. Then we connected and lifted weights together. He said he was just going to follow me from place to place and do exactly what I was doing. A couple times he made comments like, “This is the weight you lift? This is what some guys I know lift.” Guess who was sore the next day? I’ll give you a clue, it wasn’t me. The irony here is that Sherlock has a rocking body and he’s always giving me nutrition advice so I really laughed my ass off at him when he was too sore to get his coat on. Oh, FUCK! I wasn’t supposed to say that. I think we agreed I would post something about my big tough strong boyfriend. Huh. Oh well. Fucked that up and I can’t seem to find the backspace key right now…

So, this past Friday night while you all were drinking your adult beverages, Sherlock and I were running on the treadmill. Yes, we’ve entered the land of lame. I just don’t feel like going out right now. It’s cold and even though the bars are blissfully smoke free, I’d rather workout, watch movies and replace calories expended with milk duds.

Saturday was the day I thought would be the entire focus of my next post, but eh, not so much. Sherlock and I went shopping at Target and the pet store. When we got back to his place, I had plans to meet up with EJ for a real estate brainstorming session. He told me to just leave all the bags because he wanted to unpack and organize everything. As I was leaving, he had started tearing his place apart cleaning. I wasn’t planning on asking him why he was acting all weird because I get like that too. I still have remaining boxes of shit my parents left with me a few weeks ago and that drives me batshit just looking at it. Anyway, back to Saturday.

Sherlock: I don’t want you to freak out but I’m just trying to get used to your stuff being here.
Velvet: Uh, you are the one who wanted my stuff here. While I know you would prefer to have me here naked, I do, like, need some clothes to wear this weekend, and some moisturizer for my face, and you know, tampons because it’s that time of the month.
Sherlock: I know, and I’m not backing up or getting scared, it’s just that I’m a clean freak and I’m trying to get used to this. I look around and just see a house out of order.

I looked around at all the dog toys in his place. Then, at that moment, Thora realized that the bags by the door contained new toys for her to destroy. I watched her dig in one of the bags and grasp a toy between her teeth. She couldn’t manage to free it completely from the bag, but that didn’t stop her from trying to play with it. She has my determination, that’s for sure. So she’s running around the house squeaking her new toy, with a Petsmart bag over half her head, and other toys tumbling out of the bag all over the place. Because it was so damn cute, and because of Esther’s recent loss, moments like that remind me how much I love those little dogs. Sherlock, however, just wanted to clean. So I left.

Sunday we didn’t have a lot in the way of plans, which is how I prefer my weekends. We went to look at a couple open houses in his building, then one in Logan Circle. After that, we went to Whole Foods. He stepped into the hardware store first while I got a jump on the shopping. Whole Foods is such a fucking disaster at any day and time during the week and I’m just not good in crowds. I haven’t had a panic attack in probably over month, maybe longer, but I could feel it starting. Shopping cart long since abandoned, I was at the salad bar trying to make my way through, and I was getting pushed in all directions. I swear that stupid overpriced grocery store is the only piece of New York City we have here in D.C. Why drive to New York when you can just go to Whole Foods? What a nightmare. I called Sherlock from alongside the 7 layer dips and said, “You have to come here now.” I was freaking out. I started to take my coat off in anticipation of pending hot flashes.

He came in, retrieved me, and the cart which was holding my Lobster Bisque and Blueberry Pie (hello!!! SCORE!) and we got in line where we spent the rest of our Sunday afternoon. See why I never make plans? A couple open houses and a trip to the worst grocery store in D.C. hijacked our entire weekend. Actually, okay, that’s not true. We did get home in time to watch the Grammy’s. Though I spent most of it with my sweatshirt covering my face. No, it wasn’t because of the singer of the Dixie Chick’s hellacious white dress that looked like a Parade Float. It was because that Lobster Bisque did something awful to both my stomach and Sherlocks. Sigh. We’ve reached a new level. Isn’t it wonderful?

Hey – does anyone know a good fumigation company?

My dear friend who comments here as “Esther” unexpectedly lost her dog Angus Sunday. The dogpark network lit up fast, as we do when there is trauma of any sort, and we all cried for Angus and Esther. Thora and Sammy got extra hugs tonight. Thinking about the day that Esther must have had yesterday is heart wrenching for all of us doggie-parents.

This is the best pic I have of Angus, kissing Esther’s chin. I’m waiting on more pics to be rounded up.

Bye bye Angus. We will miss you, and know you are in a better place.

Love,

Thora, Sammy, Ted, Opie, Charlie, Jukebox, Sam, Edie, Olive, Lincoln, Seneca, Jayna, Lucy & Jasper.

Last year on February 2nd, Reya inspired us all to participate in the Silent Poetry Day. This comes, knock on wood, at an excellent time for me, since, knock on wood, everything in my life is going so incredibly well, knock on wood. I have never been so happy with the Big Three – Work, Home and Romance. The dogs are healthy. Gloom and Doom are in good spirits. My brother and sister-in-law just had a healthy “Baby Number 2,” and my other brother is doing well also. And Sherlock. Well, I just love Sherlock. So, just like last year, I’m going to post the lyrics of a song that applies to how I’m feeling.

So all of you, have a scandalous weekend. And, here we go:

*****************************************************

Life is a moment in space, when the dream is gone, it’s a lonelier place.
I kiss the morning goodbye, but down inside, you know we never know why.
The road is narrow and long, when eyes meet eyes, and the feeling is strong.
I turn away from the wall, I stumble and fall, but I give you it all.
I am a woman in love, and I’d do anything to get you into my world and hold you within.
It’s a right I defend over and over again, what do I do.
With you eternally mine, in love there is no measure of time.
They planned it all at the start, that you and I live in each other’s heart.
We may be ocean’s away, you feel my love, I hear what you say.
No truth is ever a lie, I stumble and fall but I give you it all.
I am a woman in love and I’m talking to you.
You know how you feel, what a woman can do.
It’s a right I defend, over and over again.

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Oh my. Did you just yack? Yeah. Me too a little. When did I get so sappy? I might have to go punch myself in the face now.