New Year's Ramblings...

It has been brought to my attention that perhaps my one and only friend died quasi-peacefully on the kitchen floor roughly 6 months ago.  His name?  Bentley Eugene of Circle Drive.  Do you know why I consider him to be my only friend?  Upon him reading my plea for submissions for my advice column, he may have responded with the following and in doing so made my day.

Bare Bonsey,

I'm partially blind with a wonky eye that goo's.  I have a peg leg turned inward, halitosis, I am crack-fiend skinny, genderless and have a terrible disposition.  But, I'm a lady killer.  I don't ever plan on changing my ways.  Not even sure what you should do with this information.

I need extra food in my bowl 'cause Prisscilla is coming over for dinner. 

Bentley Eugene

Even from the grave, he speaks.  I realize that I am completely odd and unworthy of your following.  Does it help that my sister's trust me with their children?  No.  Okay then.

It shouldn't.

Fa-la-te-da.

My brother told me an interesting story yesterday.  It's twisted, but honestly why else do you come here?

A buddy of his hunts from his Mississippi-based back porch. Klassy, I know. One day he spotted what turned out to be a 13 point buck in his backyard.  His friend got out his bow and arrow and from the comfort of his Lay-Z-Boy, got a nice clean shot.  The deer took off towards the woods leaving a trail of blood that he and a few of his friends tracked for over 5 hours.  They had almost given up until they went searching through an upscale neighborhood and spotted the coveted rack and body...  in a child's sandbox, replete with plastic toys.  Bled out. "Right in view of the kitchen sink!" he reported.  Merry Christmas, little Timmy!

Happy New Year to you!

Dear Bonsey, Part Thrice

Is "thrice" even used correctly?  No matter, I love the word.  You know what other word is fun to write and say?  Delicatessen.  Do you know what is not fun at all?  Birds.

But seriously, it's that time again when I cordially invite you to write to me, Bare Bonsey, about your problems, issues, conundrums, malaise's, etc, etc.  In other words, I want to be your personal Santa, but not with tangible gifts under your tree, just advice giving.

My helpful suggestions are merely swirling in cerebral quarantine until you start screwing up your life or someone else's and need me to bail you out.

So, do tell...

Heavenly Conjecture

I have wondered on many occasions what kind of information is passed along in the heavenly realm from those recently passed on to those entrenched in their heavenly routine.  The thought has again entered my mind as an older lady friend has recently passed away.  Jean was a friend of mine, as well as a dear friend of mom's.

This opens a whole can of celestial worms in which I can only offer my own conjecture and nothing else. You may dissent but only on the grounds that you are as inconclusively hopeful as I am about the prospect of heavenly protocol.

One question I have is did Jean just show up at mom's residence?  Was mom tending her garden, maybe humming a hymn?  Was she reading? Was she at her parent’s house for a visit?  Was she with, well, the Lord and missed Jean's house call? 

Did she have advance notice of her friend coming home?  Is it a feeling she gets or is she alerted by someone/something?  

Did they meet over tea?  We are told there will be feasts in heaven.  Feasts that do not wreak havoc on your buttocks and thighs.  Please excuse me while I sing the Hallelujah chorus. 

Was Jean able to talk to mom regarding earthly things?  I realize there is no sadness in heaven but we are told there is joy.  Joy that could be found in earthly manifestations of good-will, godly bonds, those "Ah-ha!" moments where the tangled mess of life's tapestry is transformed by turning over the mangled picture to reveal something beautiful on the other side.  I am almost certain they share that information.  Don't you think?

But still, selfishly, a part of me wonders if mom thinks and inquires about us individually.  Her close friends, her four children, six grand-children...

However whimsical I wish to be in this regard, I'm pretty certain her entire mind, spirit, motivation and attention have been completely transformed to such an extent that it makes these questions null and quite self-centered.  Yet, I can only operate within my own framework of knowledge and inquiry about what the future holds for us left behind and for those who have gone on before us.  What we do know {in faith}, is that it is good, good, good. 

1 Corinthians 2:9

But just as it is written, "Things which eye has not seen and ear has not heard, And [which] have not entered the heart of man, all that God has prepared for those who love Him."




Stanky Dogs...

... require baths, even when they don't want them.

All clean and sparkly, ready to go home to mom and pop where they can ponder on why, just why, it takes me* 30 minutes at 6:00am in the bitter, religion losing cold to decide what piece of land I am going to defecate on. 

 

*Not ME you ninnies, the dog.

Christmas in Chicago

My "little" brother and I took in the sights of our beloved Chicago a few weeks ago.  If I was to move anywhere back up north, it would be to that windy, fabulous city. And, if I could manage it, I would take him with me and keep him in my closet.

Our train ride into the city.  He looks so... normal.  Attractive even.  You agree?

This picture is a reminder that ALL are God's children.  Even the ugly ones.

Your friend in CAGO.

This was taken after walking in the wrong direction for 5 or so blocks in 22 degree heat.  I pleaded with him before saying, "Do NOT, do NOT ask me if we are going in the right direction. Is that map in Chinese?" Although great at stringing beads and sitting still, I am hopeless with city grids and arriving at destinations.

 Our second or third Starbucks purchase of the day.  Get while the getting is good I always say. 

Taken at an amazing Thai restaurant near Lake Michigan.  My wide eyes tell the story of copious amounts of caffeine ingested. 

Culturing him is no easy tusk. 

Sorry.

The 95th Floor of the John Hancock building at night.  What was supposed to be a blinding flash of light against the glass in hopes of a shot of the city turned out to be a pretty cool picture of Mr. GQ himself.  

 And on your left, kids, is a pervert. 

Winding down and finding our way to Union Station.  The ending to a successful, relaxing day in the city with one of my favorite guys, ever.

Silver Bells, It's Christmas Time in the Ci... Very Rural Areaaaaa

May your holidays be full of cute dogs who love snow and re-heated day old coffee that is making your stomach hurt.

P.S Please refrain from snickering at the decades old TV sitting tired and haggard in the background.  The back-end on that entertainment hog extends out about 4 feet and weighs in at around 560 pounds.  Dad commented as he was hauling it from the moving tuck that there was a lot of  "junk in that trunk."  I laughed not because he was using slang appropriately but because he was stating that there was, in fact, junk in the trunk (of the car).  Dagummit, I love that man.

Oh, anyway.

I love the holidays. 

Hope yours are shaping up to be wonderful as well.

Merry Christmas!

"Hm?"

Hello, Reader Friends,

It's not like I have a lack of things to tell you about that stem from a hungry, confused mind. I just forget to tell you about them or simply run out of time.  As soon as I get to sitting down and typing them out in fractured sentences, my boss interrupts me and asks for stuff to get done so I can stay active on payroll.  You know, "stuff" like DHHR compliance (who cares), or an employee making highly inappropriate comments to another employee (tattle-tale sissies) or, the highlight of my day today...

BB:  "I received your resume and was able to review it.  If it's convenient, I would like to ask you a few questions.  Now, what prompted you to apply to here"?


Applicant: "Can you explayn thayt?"


BB:  "Sure. What was it about this job that struck a chord in you? What made you decide this would be a good fit?"


Applicant:  "Ye meyn personally?  It was in the payper ye know..."


BB:   "Yes.  You personally.  What do you think makes this job appealin...  a happy place to work?"


Applicant:  "Hm?"


BB:  "Welp, I think my building is on fire.  I need to go.  But, we'll keep your resume on file for reasons unforeseen or desperation so unimaginable. Thank you for your time."


Applicant: "Hm?"


Okay, so there were a few embellishments, but only a few.  Our building was NOT on fire today.  Occasionally when I have an preliminary phone interview with a candidate whose skill set would be better suited for cave-dwelling, I'll do the universal finger across the jugular move or blunt knife to the wrist in a rapid fire motion or gun to the temple, etc, etc, etc.  These are all S.O.S signals to my co-worker sitting directly across the hall from my desk.  She always laughs at this because she is my friend and has a highly evolved sense of humor.

iPhone Treasures...

An Observer's Guide to Random Photos on Barebonsey's iPhone.  

A dome in St. Peter's Cathedral.  Have you ever tried to paint a ceiling in your home and snapped your head clear off your neck in the process? Imagine trying to paint fingers on a hand... on a ceiling a few hundred feet from the ground. Actually, from that distance, any artwork could rival Michelangelo's.  Is that a cherub with wings or a pineapple talking on a cell phone? Who really knows?

This picture screams for explanation.  While out shopping with my sister and friend (Krintee Macaroni), I saw this polyester/silk blend shirt labeled XXXL with my name written all over it.  I told Krintee that I had found the perfect blouse to wear in my dad's wedding and had her fooled well up until the floodgates of laughter sprung a leak.  Then, in true form, Laura proceeded to turn the hem into a doo rag for no reason under the sun other than she is one of the coolest people I know. 

Actually, this picture about sums my whole childhood with Laura.  Confusing, and wee bit strange.

Dean Clampett on moving day. 

Meet Newt.  He is the newest addition to our equine program.  He is 24 inches tall and is a complete ladies man.   

Remember summertime in your backyard?  A little bit of green grass and a little bit of C.S Lewis? 

Carly and Aunt Poo having a tickle-war. 

Pictured here are quite possibly the coolest glass bottles of water you will ever see. Unfortunately, a rapid change of temperature in my car caused them all to explode and rot my floor of my trunk.  Most excellent.

Don't you hate it when you are doing your boy-toys laundry and a packet of white powder slips out of his hoodie?  Don't you also loathe sitting for hours agonizing about how you were going to bring up his apparent and hidden cocaine addiction with him at lunch?  Even worse, don't you hate it when he looks confused, rubs his temples in contemplation, squints and then smiles, pats you on the head and excuses himself to go to the convenience store to buy another packet of Goody's Extra Strength Headache Powder?   *sigh* Me too.  

This is a picture I drew for mom when she was in the hospital.  In case you are wondering, it's Bentley Eugene of Troy.  And not far off from real life I might add. 

Here is the sole survivor of my gardening efforts this spring.   I should have this pepper tested to find out how plants can grow in completely hostile, unkempt, and neglectful conditions. 

A Death Revisited

Mar 28, 2007

A death.

I killed someone last night, friends. I am very sad about this and actually lost sleep over it. I have managed to drive for 9 years without ever killing anything that I know of with the hardness of my fast moving vehicle. I was driving home early this morning and I saw a possum crossing on my right, still on the road, but out of death's way. When I pulled my eyes back to the road in front of me, there she was, a little possum wife following behind her husband and I ran her the hell over. Both the front and back tires got a taste of death and they too were sad.

I imagined the possum husband coming over and nudging his wife, now souless and gutless on the street, realizing that he had lost the smelliest, best girl he could've ever asked for. "She had the red, beady eyes of an angel" I could hear him say. He jots down the license number from my car on his note pad so he can do a scan of my plates later. I know there will be hell to pay.

Last night I prayed that it was as fast and painless as could be if ever there was a car to run over you. I had a lot to eat last night, so the car was really heavy and I was speeding. I did not even have the guts to go back and see if I had done the job right.

I am sorry possum animal that I killed your lady. She will forever be in my heart and partially in my grill. And on my fender.

Union, West Virginia Meets Photoshop

My Office Matey

Yes, yes I did tie a carnation around his collar.  I think Clyde liked it.  My boss, his owner, did not.  Kill joy.

Knock-Knock...

A swatch of a phone conversation from last night:


SOLWGTHAL*:  "I have a joke for you that involves cat-scans."


Me: "Oh?  Do tell!"


SOLWGTHAL:  "You know what I say, if I've lost my sense of humor, I've lost everything."


Me: "Absolutely."


SOLWGTHAL: "An old man brings his very sick dog to the vet one day.  The vet takes the dog back into the operating room and leaves the old man out front in the waiting area.  Three hours later, the doctor returns and reports that the dog has died.  "How can this be doctor?" asked the old man. "Well," the doctor explained, "I gave him a shock to the heart and he came around.  Then, I sent him to get a cat scan, and well, he died."


Me: "... {brain is on fire, scanning through a life time of punch lines requiring abstract thought and logic sequencing (smells of burning rubber, honestly). brain stem is rattling from the neurological strain.  scenes from jr. high running through my head.  small babies. thimbles.  cankles and the roaring 20's.  nothing. comes. to. mind}


SOLWGTHAL: *cackling, hacking and arthritic knee slapping ensues*


[Insert 5 seconds of no dialog here]


Me: "Forgive me, but I don't get it? Can you help me out?"


SOLWGTHAL: *rolls eyes* "It means that the cat circled the dog and it died. The cat scan killed the dog. Is your brain on Holiday, Amanda?"

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

Oh, the irony of being neurally slapped around by someone who counted a total of 9 lions and 3 peacocks out her bedroom window last spring.  It's her world; we're just drooling in it.





*SOLWGTHAL-  Sweet Older Lady Who Goes To the Hospital A Lot.

Anniversary Q&A *

1. What is your favorite childhood memory? 

I suppose some people would say something to the effect of, "Beach side family board-games in Maui" but, those are boring people leading boring lives.  

Now, I've been thinking about this awhile and a specific memory I can recall are the early mornings that I would get up for school, angry at the cursed world for burdening me with an early-childhood education and would immediately throw myself downstairs to perch on the large floor heat register and bake my buns until they were hot and cross. 

That is genuinely a happy memory for me.  Don't judge me.  Judge my parents.  

2. What music makes your heart sing? Why?  

I think I've mentioned before that I am amorous towards Michael Buble' and his crooner tone.  "Song for You" and his "Georgia on my Mind" were playing on my iPod this morning coming into work.  All types of music appeal to me at different times.  Like when I am working out, who doesn't get motivated by a little Rocky IV soundtrack?  

Bonnie Raitt.  You know when you hear that woman sing that she means it.  There is sincerity in her lyric and tone.  Listening to her makes me know for certain she could not make Him love Her.

3. What place would you like to travel to the least?

New Jersey.  Terrible people live there.  France too. 

4. How do you relax? What hobby recharges you? 

I relax typically away from people, either just being outside in the fall or summer, or inside making all manner of non-sense that will never see the light of day.  I feel like when I pass away, people will go through my belongings and find all of my half-completed projects and comment, "Wow, that Amanda!  Look at this collage of soup can tops she was converting into place mats!"  Pipes up another, "Uhh, was she trying to bedazzle the side of her food processor?" But you already know I'm crafty.

5. How excited are you that your blog has turned One-Year-Old today?

Well, I am very excited.  Thank you for asking.  I was just looking back at some old posts and I came upon my very first blog, October 21rst, 2009.  It was an online recipe instructing one on how to make bloody running shoes. 

You come here to be enlightened, I know. 

[Thank you, everyone, for your participation in my blogging forum.  By leaving your good-natured comments, pointing out various grammatical errors, participating in my online sweepstakes, and submitting your questions to be answered in my weekly column that is never a weekly column, you have inadvertently made my life richer.  I hope my writing efforts do the same for you, in weird and cultish ways of course.]

*Props to This Lovely Lady for providing the probing questions.  My blog feedback would be a pile of rubble without her thoughtful commentry. Yes, commentry. 

Visitor No. Two

My second furry visitor in two weeks.  I could just kiss her face. And I do. We go spidee hunting in the garage. She finds the spidees, barks, and I smack the life out of them.  

The End. 

Clyde and his no-good, very bad behavior.

No captions needed. 

Any basket-weavers out there? 

 And, any good homes for naughty dogs?

My Hairy Roommate.

Here's my temporary roommate.  His name is Clyde Mitchell and he is handsome.  And he eats his own poo but just forget that for a bit and look into his sweet and earnest eyes.  They will suck you in.

Here he is protecting the homestead.  He hears things, like leaves falling off trees, rocks sitting still, ocean waves and so he gets up and barks at the window.  Because he can.

Dear Bonsey Responds, Part II

Dear Bonsey,

 I have been worried about what to do on National Ice Cream Cone day which is fast approaching on Sept 22. There are so many flavors to choose from and I just can't decide. Help me Bonsey! You're my only hope.

Sincerely,
Debbie

Dear Double Scoop Debbie,

Turns out I was not able to get back to you in time to tell you what to do about your quandary. For that, I am deeply sorry. My nights have been spent hitting deer and my days are spent writing up derelict employees. My hope for you is that you were able to try all the flavors, one after the other and felt no shame.

Letting saddle bags reign,
BB

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

Dear Bonsey,

I'm just dying to know what to cook for my Kwanzaa feast! Please Help! I only have 3 months to plan!!! EEEK!

Meagan


Dear Moeisha Stewart,

Dying is a curious choice of words considering the kinds of food I'm going to recommend for a festival intended to clog your arteries. Let's face it, Kwanzaa is like Thanksgiving, but deep fried. Even the gravy. Deep friend gravy. Just think about it. Anyway, come back now and listen to some of my suggestions. Thank you.

(deep fried) watermelon
(deep fried) chicken wings
(deep fried) corn bread
(deep fried and battered) okra
(deep fried) collared greens

But you might want to verify these claims. Really, the only experience I've had with black people was an abbreviated Jimmy Hendrix phase in High School.

Perpetuating racial stereotypes everyday,
BB

Color Conundrums

Yours Truly has been nesting in her new condo for a few weeks now.  Still too poor to furnish it like her perfectionist heart desires, she decided to get crafty.  In one hair brained idea, she bought a table and chairs from an antique dealer in the area.  Although she does not abhor the present color, it needed some certain "omph" and "boom-shakalaka."

This transformation required a trip to Lowes to scour the paint chip aisle which in her previous life, had afforded her all the necessary colorful card stock in her card-making days, then over to Hobby Lobby where she found a wicked cute linen print and a crabby, kinky-haired saleslady. 

Here is what I'm destroying... (plus two other chairs not pictured)

My project, en route...

In case you can't see just how cute this linen print is, here is a closer look.  Eh, the picture just does not do it justice.  Trust me, it's cute.

Here's the part that just gets me.  I don't like it.  I'm fickle like that.  I'm going to finish the paint job and sell it consignment.  Because I'm thrifty like that.  Then I'm calling Grand Home Furnishing.  0% APR for 12 months, you know.

Because you asked, here is the fabric for my curtains. It was a great day when I found out that you could "sew" with an iron and fabric tape. 

Dear Bonsey, Part Dos

Remember when I begged you all for some quandaries involving difficult life situations?  Well, let 'em rip because my ears are open and my logic is squirrelly.

Do you have a problem with your stupid boyfriend?  Tell ol' Bonsey about it.  Come come now, cry on my freckled shoulder.

Likewise, do you need to know what to cook for Kwanzaa?  Inquire within.

I live to dispense advice.  I do it for free. All. The. Time.

Thinking it Ova.

The upcoming nuptials of a friend has gotten me thinking.  Kate has been one of the last single cowgirls standing until she flies the coup in October.  Obviously, I have a handful of friends who are in my similar position but a majority of them are married with one or two or three kids to their name.  This makes me wonder if one day I will wake up, throw my arms above my head and in mid-stretch be struck with sheer terror at the prospect of being unwed and barren at this juncture in my life.  I just don't know. I will keep you posted, friends.

The unspoken societal expectations of love, marriage and baby carriages I acknowledge but rebuff because truthfully, I enjoy my life.  My work is satisfying, I appreciate my friends and love my family dearly.  My life is full, rich and lovely because of them.  My choice is to embrace each day in all its newness, never giving more than a fleeting glance at the road ahead because that's just it.  It's the road ahead. You can't get there by speeding or growing anxious at the thought of taking a few detours along the way. All you can do is just putter along in your 2001 PT Cruiser named Cheryl and dodge the deer and hobos.

However, while I get philosophical and apathetic, my ovaries are getting old, cranky and lazy.

Left Ovary {Gladys}:  "Oh, my aching back... Charity, you ova theya? (She's from New York)

Right Ovary {Charity}: "Waaaa?"  (Poor hearing)

Gladys: "I sayyd .. .....  ..... ..... can't rememba.  Do you want a bee-ar?"

Tid-Bitties.

Well, I'll be a monkey's uncle!  Saturday I pack up my junk (and it is junk) and move into my swanky condo. It boasts three bedrooms which means that I can have my very own crafting space. This excites me very much. Me Jane, you Reader. It's the simple things, right?

Probably what electrifies me most is the fact that I can paint, with restrictions of course as I am under a rental contract. My land lord broke out in an ice-cold sweat when I inquired about neutralizing the light yellow walls. Right now the walls say, "Hey, my name is Country Yellow, y'all! Come on down for some apple pie and some fly fishing!" I'm going more for the "Come on down, but leave your shoes at the door and your six pack in my fridge. Cash gifts don't hurt either. Rent's high." You know, that kind of color.

I wish I could remember what colors I used in this particular room because I think it's fancy.

My moma came to Lynchburg and painted these walls for me while I was away at work. I treated her to a nice dinner out that night, which she profusely thanked me for. God bless him, but my dad is not one to wine and dine his women. That was just an aside. She would be so happy to see me back in my own place again.

Why, thank you for asking!  My job is moving along quite nicely. It's almost my second week in and everyday that I walk into my office, I feel a little less like throwing up. Bleeding ulcers have subsided too. I enjoy the Human Resources aspect, but the contract writing is a little tedious and makes black smoke plume out of my ears.  Well, hello Google search, cut and paste! Right, everybody?!

Right.

Allll By Myselfffffffffffffff...

… don’t want to be all by myselffff, anyyyymooooooooorrrrrreeeeeeee (cue the thick Canadian accent). I am officially in my place of residence (until September 12th) and I have to say, once I put away the groceries and sat down on my polka dotted couch to hear the slight hum of the air conditioning, I think I may be slightly lonely. I have lived by myself before but this is different. Yes, there were many a nights living with dad that we would say nary a word to each other but at least he was a warm body in my general vicinity. Now he is married and I am moving on with life.

And because you asked, here is my couch...

Life had me start a brand spanking new job on Monday. Life also has me looking for a condo or house for me to get all Martha Stewart on. Oddly enough, the prison she did time in is a stones throw away from work. However, the Alderson's Women's Prison is a holy place! You hear me?!

Speaking of work, how odd is the interviewing process? Normally, it's not difficult to speak about oneself, but for several hours? I was digging stuff out of my past that quite frankly made it appear that I was showing off. Like the time my roommates and I had a dead bird in the upstairs shower (true story) and because they did not want to touch it, I took charge of the situation (also known as being a LEADER), scooped him up and threw him my roommate (also known as having a sense of HUMOR.  That's important in corporate culture you know).

I was hired the very next day. (True story)

Dad is now married. This is a great development for all involved, most of all for dad. He announced to me a few weeks ago that "this will be very last load of laundry I will ever do, Amanda Kate!" The whole part of growing old and saggy together is lost on the man. Truly, I love June and am excited that she is part of our family.

But, in thinking about this new development, if the Lord grants it, I will know June longer on this earth in that mother/wife role then I knew mom. The brevity of her influence in my life is profound and its tale is one that could bring me to my knees if I dwell on it long enough. She exists now only in my memories, in the faint glimpses of her mannerisms, voice and laugh. As clearly as I can see my fingers on this keyboard, I can still see the faintest wrinkles on her face. Yet I fear sometimes that these last links to her will fade with time, like the yellowed hue on old Polaroids. You can see the generalities in the photo, but the clarity, the acute vividness has been compromised by time.

God is good, though. He is good all the time.

Good night, All.

Bentley Eugene Eustice Fullman Brdlik

Instead of enlightening you regarding my latest travels abroad, I instead would like to take a moment to eulogize the best cat this side of the Mississippi.   And probably the other side too.  Of this, I am quite certain.

Bentley came to us as a stray in Solon, Ohio, summer of '93.  My earliest memory was of him was hiding in the coat closet by the front door for what seemed like days.  He dared not traverse out except to hiss and swipe.  Clint and I were on a peace keeping mission that included poking broomsticks into the dark abyss, violently slapping the floor and pleading with him to come out and play with us, dagnabit.

Cats are generally not very interactive.  They don't require much upkeep, are completely self sufficient and possess little people skills.   However, Bentley was more like having a dog with sass.   He liked to be around the action, unless the action happened to be putting him in baby clothes with bonnets and strapping him in for carriage rides in the front yard.  

Or just this...

Bentley was also a great companion to my mom throughout the years which is why losing him was like losing the last living link to her.   I realize animals don't have souls (our black lab Ramsey was the exception), but who is to say that the Lord would not lovingly humor us, knowing how much of a connection humans and animals can have, and allow us to reunite?  It's not gospel, but one can dream.

Mainly, I will miss being able to have conversations with him.  This usually took place in the early morning when he was most talkative and I'd be prepping my coffee.  Or when I would come home from work and would ask him if he "found employment" that day or quite simply, "What did you do today, Binny Boop?" ...   "Oh, you slept all day long on the red rug only to get up to go poo on the carpet downstairs a mere foot from your potty box?" ...  "Typical".  And so it went, our lives were intertwined.  

Obviously, I have no hope for a future love relationship.

But I will miss him so. 

Rest in peace, little kitty.

When the moon hits your eye lika big pizza pie...

... That's Amore!  *high ptiched women's echo*  That's Amoreeee!

Moss never grows under my feet, unlike in between my toes.   Just kidding.   That would be gross.   All that nonsense to let you know that I will be leaving for vacation and will not be here to answer the deeper questions in life.   I fly to Barcelona on Saturday and are meeting up with my little/big brother and his friend for a cruise through the Mediterranean.   You know what folks, until about 2 months ago, I could not point out the Mediterranean on a map if you paid me in 10,000 horses and 20,000 shekels.   Geography to me is a mystery and an embarrassment of sorts.   Go ahead and ask me what borders The Ukraine. 

*shrugs shoulders*

See?  It's deplorable. 

So, I'm off to Barcelona,

Monte Carlo,

Florence/Pisa,

Rome,

Naples;

And Palma, Majorca.  

If anyone has sight-seeing, dining or off the beaten path suggestions from their previous trips to Italy, please let me know.  Trying to sort through some of the touristy things and the "must sees" is a challenge.   Especially when you thought Morocco and Monaco were interchangeable.   Just kidding, but maybe I'm telling the truth.

I'm so excited I could spit!  Or just drool.  In either case, I'm covered.

Bon Voyage!