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

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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.