Is there a perfect place to live in the USA?
I thought so, once.
Not so much anymore.
Love the beaches, the weather and the wineries, but not the fires.
Too muggy and buggy.
Yes, in the summer.
But winter lasts at least 6 months each year.
Northwest? Oregon or Washington?
Gorgeous scenery, fairly mild, and lots of rain.
Rain is ok, but after a while, the lack of sun is depressing.
Friendly, down to earth, hard working people.
Hot summers, cold winters and land locked, for the most part.
Lots of North Easterners moving there.
I need to check it out more thoroughly.
The great Southwest?
Arizona, New Mexico, Nevada?
Not fond of the terrain and extreme heat.
New England? Mass? NY?
Expensive and crowded.
Great places to visit, but to live there?
Love the 4 seasons, close to the big cities, and a great blend of history, diversity and beauty.
I didn’t pick Pennsylvania as a place to live.
It invited me in and I stayed.
So happy it is where I landed, after all these years.
Raining like crazy.
Time to head to the sports bar.
Only a mile from home.
The power went out.
The generator kicked in.
Hello Bobby, Dane, Meg, Mark and all the other crazies who crossed my path today.
Yes, Matt, Ray, Jimmy, Kurt, Minnow and Scott, among all the others.
What a lovely day.
The sun came out, and I continued to act like an idiot, until I finally decided, I better go home.
Can life get any better than this?
The Eagles won.
The Chicken Butt made new friends.
Just don’t ask me who they are….. as I have a remarkably bad memory.
Wait: My memory is actually good, it’s just very short.
Is this the first sign of “you know what?”
Can someone please call 911 and have me admitted?
If not, take me out back and shoot me.
Oh wait a minute: I am meeting my peeps tomorrow night, for dinner.
And I am getting a tattoo: WMD on my heiny.
Fat ass Chicken Butt is finally going on record: My Cx Butt is a weapon of mass destruction.
I hope it doesn’t hurt.
After all, I need to hang out with Dana tomorrow, to have a few brewskies.
I hope I can sit on the bar stool after the tattoo.
What a life.
Can it be any better?
I guess I will have to take Jim’s ashes to the office of Waste Mgt.
I tried to cancel service and they told me that they would have to talk to Jim, since his name is on the contract.
Same thing happened when the county sent Jim a letter telling him to show up for jury duty.
If he didn’t show up, they would find him and arrest him.
I had his ashes all ready to go, just in case they decided to throw him in jail.
Now I hear it is against the law to sprinkle ashes in the great wide open.
Probably a good thing; if another company or government agency wants him to appear, it makes more sense to bring his ashes than to tell them he is flying high, somewhere over in Jersey.
Yes, this is dark humor.
I have a thing for the macabre.
For Halloween, I wanted to be the joker, but no one would think I was in costume, since I act that way every day anyway.
So, I am stuck with my marijuana outfit again this year.
I love dressing up as MaryJane.
Especially when I can have the last dance.
An 830am appointment to get my car inspected.
No biggie, right?
I was up at 3am, 4am and finally at 5am, thinking I might have overslept.
How soon we forget about all those years of getting up every day, once we are retired.
Of course, I had to make a few stops before I got there.
Dunkin, of course.
Bagel, coffee and an old fashioned donut.
Loaded with goodies, a book, my phone and handbag, I settled in for a few hours of people watching as I waited .
Mostly guys in the waiting room, on their phones, off in space somewhere.
I decided it was time for me to roam around the showroom.
Sales people love it when they see an old lady meandering through the maize of new vehicles.
“How are you today, young lady?”
You know how they are.
Phony flattery always amuses me.
“I am fabulous, as usual. But I do have a question.”
“Sure, come on over to my desk, have a seat. What can I help you with?”
“Can you tell me where the ladies’ room is?”
My car was ready, passed inspection.
What a surprise…… not.
After all, it is 2 years old, with 10,000 miles on it.
“Guess you don’t do a lot of driving, eh?”
“Are you kidding? I drive this everyday, either to the grocery store or to one of two bars.”
Now that I am home, and proud of myself for getting something done, for a change, I am declaring, “Mission Accomplished.”
Time to head out for a cold one.
It’s not nice to put one’s friends in a blog.
Not if you are making fun of them.
OK, it’s not nice to reveal who they are.
As long as it is transparent, however, it remains an option.
10 people I know, without revealing their identity:
1. After a 25 year toot, he believes he is Elvis.
2. To prove his worth, he swallows gold.
3. Having lived in this area, all his life, this 52 year old kid can barely find his way home.
4. Can be seen walking through her neighborhood and home depot with an unusally large feline who is wearing a leather jacket.
5. A grown man, who is afraid of the spirits in his barn. One wonders if this is due to consumption of another kind of spirit.
6. A down to earth, hard working, petite blonde, who cuts down trees and works on cars for fun.
7. A slightly deranged, stand up comedian wannabe, with juju eyeballs.
8. The animal lover who hits a deer, gets out of her car and pets the deer, while he is dying.
9. A creative couple, who work together and after 6 years, are still happily married.
10. A wild woman who occasionally loses her car, and more frequently, her mind.
I was a homely, chubby baby.
Not the kind of kid you would notice and say: “Oh what a darling baby!”.
More like: “Oh yeah. Boy? or Girl? Really? She sure likes her groceries, doesn’t she?”
To make matters worse, my grandmother insisted I get a “perm” when I went to kindergarten.
I looked like a 90 year old bingo granny trapped in a kid’s body.
Oh, but I was so smart.
I could recite the alphabet, read, and write at 5 years old.
A 5 year old nerd.
Great start out in the real world.
I had 2 older sisters, who were beautiful.
That didn’t help.
And my 4 brothers?
Much better looking than I was.
When I started to retreat into music, wouldn’t you know I took up the oboe, an oddball instrument, that sounded like a ruptured duck.
You can’t be in marching band with an oboe, so I had to carry a clarinet, with no reed, just to take up the rear.
Some of us lead charmed lives.
Rich, famous, gorgeous, gregarious, charismatic, talented.
I liked my groceries.
For those who know me today?
Nothing has changed, except I will never again be as smart as I was in kindergarten.
A sad situation today:
The Chicken Butt had plans, to go to dinner, and then got tangled up in blue.
Hey Mr Dylan.
I would not feel so all alone: Everybody must get stoned.
And that, I did.
However, on the bright side, my buddy Scott, was depressed and disgruntled, until, of course, he socialized with the rest of the regular crazies this afternoon.
It was one of those spontaneous days: dark, gloomy, rainy, chilly, desperately in need of TLC and sunshine, found, at last in friends.
I have a deep and simple belief: If in doubt, don’t do it.
In my heightened state, I decided it was time to bite the bullet, hunker down, and not to travel to the next town, to have dinner.
A warm puppy?
Or found in one’s own back yard?
Cheers to those who accept me for who and what I am.
I admit: not perfect, but perfectly crazy.
Friday ritual: hang out with Bobby and see who else shows up.
Does it really matter?
Me and Bobby McGee.
Freedom’s just another word for nothing else to lose.
And nothing ain’t worth nothing but it’s free.
As the afternoon’s clocks ticks by, here comes old flattop.
He’s got juju eyeballs.
As the world turns, the gorgeous women of the Lehigh Valley appear to join the festivities.
Niagra Falls: Slowly I turned, step by step, inch by inch.
I enjoy each and everyone who walks through the door.
Who are you?
What’s your name?
Who’s your Daddy?
Finally, after an entertaining afternoon, it was time for the town drunk to head on home.
Did I mention?
The town drunk is me.
May you all have a fabulous weekend.
I know I will.
We Irish are rumored to like gloom and doom.
Not this Lassie… at least not today.
Buckets of rain arrived, forcing the lazy chicken butt to retreat into a day of pajamas, movies and raisin toast with peanut butter.
Yeah, I thought about getting dressed, but that fearful thought quickly passed, as the day progressed.
There I was, wrapped up in my robe, watching Chuckie movies, when the lights went out.
I always sleep with the fan or the TV turned on.
Not this time.
Finally, around 2am, I heard a faint beep and the power was back, which led to a late night binging of scary movies.
Then, the winds started.
The forecasters reported: The NorthEast will experience a cyclone bomb.
Time to find my fur coat, head out to breakfast, and hope that if the cyclone gets me, it whisks me away on my broom to a tropical island.
Special moments in the past few days:
Home made apple butter and cottage cheese.
Thank you Deep Throat!
A friend celebrating one month of sobriety.
Way to go, Scooter!
Hanging with the Red Fox, the great Dane, the runt of the family, with his dad, and the rest of the crazy clan for a hilarious Taco Tuesday night.
Is there such a thing as laughing too much?
The Washington Nationals headed for the World Series.
First time ever.
More cabbage from Marlowe’s garden.
Gigantic and delicious.
Running into Chris and Christine 2 days in a row!
What a special couple!
Happy afternoons, meeting Dana, for an hour, after she finishes work.
I love hearing about her busy life!
Ain’t life grand?