You know when you’re googling ‘dog reincarnation’ that you either are dealing with insomnia (I was), or some highly interesting, if not entertaining, events have been occurring.
I’ve always said that columnists that resort to using lists in their weekly musings are being lazy and not putting in the effort to dig deep to find something new and interesting to comment about.
I haven’t slept that great this past week, so you’re getting a list.
Why do you do it?” Paul asked, after inadvertently finding me standing in the kitchen with my eyes shut with arms crossed over my chest, wobbling about with one foot held off the floor. “Why do you read these on-line medical things that end up scaring the hell out of you?”
I won’t refer to them as 180,000 Phoenixes rising from the ashes, but something rather heart lifting happened after the devastating fire that destroyed the roof of Notre Dame Cathedral.
When I had gone to bed early with the dogs, determined for victory against recent bouts of insomnia, Posey, suddenly jumped off the bed and bounded down the stairs giving Paul, who was nearly dozing in the wing chair while listening to music, the “I have to go, NOW,” look.
Perhaps you saw this fascinating story on the evening news: A 71 year old Scottish woman named Jo Cameron, has lived a lifetime never once feeling pain.
Wait, what??
I tend to be gullible. And as April Fool’s rolled around, I was beyond gullible because I fell for not one, but two hoaxes. One was an on-line ad in a horse magazine for a product which would benefit riders with “weak bladders and legs the length of gerbils who have difficulty remounting once out of the saddle.’
You learn very quickly with a houseful of critters that you will either have a clean, prettily-appointed home or you won’t.
And not only will you won’t, you’ll have the scars to prove it: scratched floors, stained rugs, a faintly chewed table leg and, most recently, a sofa that is hiding beneath three layers of protective drapes.
Those of you who have followed my column for the last couple of years will know of whom I speak when I mention the dear gentleman that I met, Junior, after delivering a Mobile Meal to him and then promptly backing into the culvert on the side of his driveway and finding the back wheel of my truck stuck fast.
Holy Cow! Paying a bribe of half a million bucks, far more than an entire education would actually cost, to get a kid into a top university?
Actually going along with a plot to photoshop your child’s head onto the body of a student athlete in order to gain access as a new tennis/soccer/crew recruit?
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