Martini Cartwheels

Cookie swap, cookie swap, oh cookie cookie swap. It's that time of year again :)  Time to pick out our cookie for the annual cookie swap for our good friends McCheesy and McMeaty's party. Last year was an epic fail on my part.  Rum ball cookies that looked like dirt balls and tasted like shit balls. This year I am going to let Blondie pick out the recipe. I'm hoping she ups her game and does not choose the dreaded Potato Chip Cookie again. While no where near as bad as the Extra Rummy In My Tummy Rum Balls, they were not the hit you would think they would be. It's stressful. There is some tough competition at this event. But after one or two bottles  glasses of wine, I start to relax and just enjoy myself. So all your Julia and Martha wanna bees, what's the treat that can't be beat?* *While technically there is no competition involved here, I consider our cookie to be a winner if 1) I  don't cut myself with any sharp implements during the prep...

This note is taped to the closet door in my Mother's room at the nursing home. It's funny because I have similar sign on my bathroom mirror. It reads: This is a reminder to myself. If I am supposed to be at work today I must remember "to go". (Any feelings of happiness will go away in about 15 minutes)

I'm in Mass Pike hell. I'll repent if it will clear up the traffic jam (see mud flap). They cook, they dance, they're probably locked in this truck. Rolling. Rolling. Rolling on the Mass Pike. Don't worry. A running child is going to make it to my place of employment a lot faster than I am. Can't get run over it the car ain't moving.

St. Patrick's Day events always bring out the best in me. So I'm not so good at using a port-a-potty after drinking beer. It's hard. You have to balance yourself while hovering over the seat on your tippy toes, not getting your face too close to the urinal, all while wearing a winter jacket. I'd like to see you do it.

The following exchange of text messages happened last week. I was pet sitting for Leo, our friend's cat, and they were checking in. My sister commandeered my cell phone and gave herself quite a chuckle playing with the text to speech functionality (or lack thereof).  Hi CJ! How's our little boy?  --------- Many many ways of doing their enjoy Chartier message Yeah can you tell me yours do I eukaryotes is out with me for a PacTel To a back ---------  Wtf?  --------- Is there a problem  --------- Your message didn't make any sense This is what came over Many many ways of doing their enjoy Chartier message Yeah can you tell me yours do I eukaryotes is out with me for a PacTel To a back  --------- C CJ is having a gin drinking problem solved this is Cindy and I'm taking care of things she is out of control --------- This is CJ and I will never let my sister play with text to speech on my phone again. Leo is great! Eating we...

We picked up a large bag of putka pods because 1) they were cute and looked like little pumpkins and 2) they smelled really good in the shop. Got 'em home they look good, but they don't scent the room. And now we have 3 bowls and 3 sandwich bags full these things. And suddenly, they aren't so fricking cute. 

Is this a good look for me? White socks and Crocks? I really hope so because I went grocery shopping wearing this ensemble. Terrible picture from this angle though. My cankles look like two oak coffee table legs.  Never thought I would adopt the Babcia look so soon. Anyone know where I can pick up a housecoat (aka a lady's duster).