Death of a Garden
Check me out, my foot is feeling better and I'm getting back to my normal antics. Still no wild plans for running again (unless I'm being chased by a predator, and even then I'm kind of 'eh' about it) but I gardened today and the world did not end. If you can call completely demolishing the backyard while belting out "Welcome to the Jungle" gardening. (My apologies to my neighbor - I was making her poodle bark with all my howling and thwacking.) Probably should have just lit the whole place on fire back there, since the five kajillion weeds have all gone to seed and next year is going to be a weeding NIGHTMARE but fire and HOAs usually don't get along so I was forced to yank out everything by hand. Until a scorpion ran out from under some dead leaves. Then the party was over. (Guess what? I can scream AND obliterate a scorpion at the same time. Multitasker award!) Chad gets to finish the rest and we'll just blame it on the foot. You KNOW I'm going to milk that for as long as I can.
The tiniest snail. That is Emma's hand.
We didn't even know there were actual WATERMELONS growing in there.
Check this nasty thing out, it was hiding in the roots of the twelve-foot man-eating tomato plant.
Action shot of Emma SMASHING it.
Elephant in the room time. YES, I drink the alkyhol. Let's finally say it out loud since you've all seen my wine rack.
Some girlfriends and I attended a "Bottles and Paint" class last weekend. The idea is to bring your own booze and the art gallery supplies the easel, paint, brushes, a HOT smock and a book on ideas of things to paint. As the night went on I became more intoxicated and inevitably ended up painting my friend Jamie's face and arms instead of the approved surfaces. I don't think the owner of the art gallery was amused. *I* was amused, however, when a blond bouncy sorority girl came to survey my painting and brightly asked, "Oh, are you a Kappa? Because owls are, like, our thing." *hair toss* I just raised an eyebrow, retorted, "What?" and then responded with "NO, I went to community college". Another silent stare from me and she just walked back to her group of friends and began to whisper with them. Because anything with an owl on it automatically associates it with some Kappa sorority, like DUH. That you got to join because Mommy and Daddy paid for you to get your drinking degree at a university. While I worked my way through school as an army wife and mom and I earned my drinking degree at the college I could afford. Suck it, sorority girl.
I can be a rude drinker.
My painting, titled "Are You a Kappa?"
Like, sorority girls!
Other random crap:
Winston got new jammies. But he's not really a bad dog. He's just a little stoooopid.
I risked my own life and swerved across four lanes of traffic to snap a picture of this with my phone. Because crack is whack and I have the maturity level (and driving skills) of a teenager.
Rock Star Emma! (Rock wall climbing in flip flops not recommended.)
THE END.
