The pin was finally removed from Rowdie’s hip yesterday, allowing him to get back to the business of being a puppy. He celebrated by eating one of Hugh’s favorite baseball caps, several of the Man-Cub’s Pokemon cards and a stray sock lifted from the laundry basket, all in the space of time that it took me to wander to the kitchen for a glass of water and back to the mudroom again.
I’m not entirely certain that there is a place in our family for such an obvious over-achiever.
In other news, I went to my assigned store today to be outfitted for the Spring Luncheon fashion show and, while I patiently explained to the owner of the store that I am officially done being The Bride, she dressed me in a wedding dress far fluffier and more elaborately beaded than the gown I wore on my own wedding day.
She might be deaf. Or, a bit slow, I’m not sure which.
On the other hand, the dress is a lovely peachy-champagne color as opposed to white so; she might be slow but she isn’t stupid.
Anyway, this is it; the last year that I am being trotted out in full-on bridal regalia for this luncheon. Unless, of course, the store starts carrying the geriatric line of wedding dresses, you know, for the ever-popular nursing home weddings that are rampant in our society; in which case; consider me in.
Damn, look at that last sentence. Do you think the punctuation store was having a sale on semi-colons? Me too!
Speaking of geriatrics, the owner of the store also picked out a stunning Mother of the Bride dress for me, which, words fail; I mean, really, Mother of the Bride? Me? Wha?
Maybe she is stupid because, in a complete 180, she also has me wearing an evening gown that she swears is appropriate cruise-wear should Hugh and I ever manage to sell a kidney a piece to finance such an excursion. The dress is black and yes, quite appropriate for cruising the deep blue sea….if you are Charro. As it is, I will spend the next three days searching the stores for a bra that will accommodate the deep plunge of the neckline, a girdle capable of corralling the fat rolls which became painfully obvious the minute I sprayed the dress on and a pair of heels high enough to complete the outfit because, if your ensemble screams Tacky Cruise Ship Entertainer, you might as well go all the way.
And I thought the dog was an over-achiever.
On a completely different subject, yesterday my tulips looked like this…..
Speaking of geriatrics, the owner of the store also picked out a stunning Mother of the Bride dress for me, which, words fail; I mean, really, Mother of the Bride? Me? Wha?
Maybe she is stupid because, in a complete 180, she also has me wearing an evening gown that she swears is appropriate cruise-wear should Hugh and I ever manage to sell a kidney a piece to finance such an excursion. The dress is black and yes, quite appropriate for cruising the deep blue sea….if you are Charro. As it is, I will spend the next three days searching the stores for a bra that will accommodate the deep plunge of the neckline, a girdle capable of corralling the fat rolls which became painfully obvious the minute I sprayed the dress on and a pair of heels high enough to complete the outfit because, if your ensemble screams Tacky Cruise Ship Entertainer, you might as well go all the way.
And I thought the dog was an over-achiever.
On a completely different subject, yesterday my tulips looked like this…..
Winter came and pissed all over town last night and now they look like this….. 
Me no happy.
Ouch! I'm sorry about your tulips. I planted some bulbs a couple of years ago, but they never even bloomed. I hope yours are doubly pretty next year to make up for disappointment this year.
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