LWL Week in Pictures

Garage Knife

I had to get my collapsible yarnwork bag down from a high shelf in the garage.  Another lecture on yard work safety. (My response that that one should not leave a big ass knife in the garage).  I am getting pretty damn good at picking up sticks.  Can make the task last over three (3) hours to avoid:


I think we missed the seasonal period to remove the weeds from our flower beds.  Or I am officially the worst weed picker ever.  Honestly, both probably apply.

Dads Shoe

New method to fix a broken shoe.  Take Gorilla glue, a coconut shell and old chair and do this. Or throw the 22 year old shoe away.  But I didn’t say that.

MPJ Beer Can

Came across this the other day.  My son has been gone for almost a year and it made me smile to realize he can no longer throw empty beer cans in my flower garden. Until he comes to visit in July.

Dude wipes

Where are the Dudette wipes?


Stayed at a cabin in the Smokey Mountains and came across this on the way up the holler.  The Amazon package was there the entire week.

Personal Watermelon

Cuz, damn.  Sometimes you just don’t want to share.

Stay at Home = Yardwork

Like others, I am stuck at home with my husband.  I have heard that in 9 months time there will either be a baby or a divorce. I think our situation is a bit different.  The future of our home time together will most probably result in a damn good yard.

Here is a picture of our yard last summer:

Kincaid backyard








And here is a current picture of our yard:


My husband bought this attachment for the lawn mower.  He calls it an aerator.  I call it a turd maker.  You tell me who is correct:

Yard 2

Then he said it needed more weight on the back to make bigger turds.  Turns out our decorative iron animals was not what he had in mind:
Yard 1

And don’t even let me get into yard safety.  I swear I put them there for just one minute while I ran into the house.

Yard Safety Might as well assume this is going to be an ongoing battle.  I watch the news only to hope that it is going to rain.  We cleaned out the shed on Monday.  With more weeding planned for later in the week.  The only thing I really want to do is take the ax and make firewood from our logs. Except my husband hid the ax.  Some safety issue he says. My son mentioned using the sledge  hammer and the iron wedge.  He so gets me.

Lines for Oddly Shaped Oriental Cookies

By Pseudonym – Victor Vega

So, I came across this original writing in my travels.  I absolutely loved it. I have more writings of Victor Vega but I think I will wait and see if he sends me an attorney letter to cease and desist before posting any thing else.

Your lack of love life stems from your inability to separate love and co-dependence.

You will soon embark on a business venture but ultimately end up with a dead hooker.

Stop wishing, start doing. (Excludes pedophiles, rapists, and murderers)

Life has a very dependable source of lemons.

You will be successful in love, as long as you lower your standards…like a lot.

Happiness comes from a fulfilling life, Xanax, and dissimulating your underlying faults.

That entire bottle of Jack Daniels isn’t going to drink itself.

Everyone thinks your poetry is shit.

Who put Tarantino in charge of the police state?

You think you’re Hemingway but you’re more Fitzgerald.

Bukowski was right.

A few drinks with Bill Cosby and who knows, maybe something will happen.

A chance encounter opens up new doors to social anxiety and lying about your current state of affairs.

You have a deep appreciation for the calves of women between the ages of 40 and 50 years old.

It’s election time, and we’re all fucked.

And finally:

Stop taking life advice from stale cookies.



Mom Alarm Clock

Even though my son has moved to a city five states away from me, I can still get him moving in the morning.  Besides, he shouldn’t ask for my assistance in getting him up the night before if he really didn’t mean it:

text 1

text 2


Follow the Rules if you are Going to Use the Office

I have been using our home office a lot lately.  I have various projects I am working on and always enjoy pursuing the Internet for interesting and entertaining news, advice columns, comics and Craigslist ads which I admit is my guilty entertainment.  California ads are the weirdest.

But I guess my husband is not very happy that I am in his our office so much.  Over the past several weeks, I have had the following rules explained to me:

  • No eating in the office.
  • No empty cups or glasses allowed.  You are allowed to drink but must remove them once empty.
  • Especially no disposing of food items in the office wastebasket.  Only paper is allowed.
  • He would prefer I do not use the heater because the room should be kept cool.  But he knows he would be unreasonable so he struggles with this one.  Except for the time when I didn’t put the heater away and he tripped on it.  THAT was a super long lecture.
  • No paper towels or napkins can be left on top of the desk.
  • No lilac scented candles.  (I reminded him he got it for me for Christmas but he still said no).
  • I have a drawer in the desk.  Any papers that I have need to be placed in the drawer prior to leaving.
  • I have to shut down the computer when I leave.  Even if for an hour.  And don’t forget to turn off the monitor as well.
  • OMG!  DO NOT place ANY sticky notes on the PC!  EVER!  Evidently this is grounds for losing computer privileges.

Being the understanding wife who listens so well, I respond accordingly:


I do eat in the office.  But only when my husband is not at home.  And while I do throw food away in the office trash can, I do cover it up with paper so it isn’t noticeable. I have no idea why this is an issue.  My husband rarely if ever empties the trash can.  That’s my job. candle




Whenever he walks into the office and accuses me of having my scented candle in there, I tell him I don’t smell anything and offer to spray the horrible air freshener that I know he hates.

Office heater I will agree that the heater precariously perched on top of the waste basket (that contains food) is not ideal. But I got tired of moving my favorite heater from the living room to the office every day.  I did apologize that he tripped over it and have been more careful about putting it away. Bu I refuse to unplug it every time which is still an issue.

PC NotesThe sticky notes on the PC really isn’t a deal breaker for me.  Sometimes I leave one that says “I love you” just because I know it would be hard to bitch about a sticky love note but am pacing myself.  It’s really hard not to write one that says: ” Take $1,768 from bank to pay court bill.”

So I think we have come to a truce.  I open my little desk drawer, swipe everything off the desk into it and shut the drawer.  When he starts complaining about the smell I am sure I will get a new lecture.

A $21.00 Ass and the Stolen Bathroom Scale

A $21.00 ASS

My husband and I recently went to the casino.  It was a tiny one in a large warehouse. When I asked if there was somewhere to get food, I was directed to the convenience store next door that had 3 tables and many varieties of fried liver. I am not really into gambling but I do like some of the slot machines.  I came across one that I wanted to play just for its content value for my blog.  So $21.00 dollars later I finally got what I wanted. The letters spelled out A-S-S.  Yes!  $21.00 at 50 cents a swipe means I pushed the damn button 42 times.  All I wanted was the word “Ass.”  Not “Sass,” not “As,” but “Ass.”  I am sure those around me thought I had won a shit ton of money as excited as I was to FINALLY see the word “ASS” come up.  If nothing else, I am pretty sure I amused the hell out of the guy sitting next to me.  Got my Ass, took the picture and left.  I won.

Ass Slot



I am not sure how this actually happened, but somehow our bathroom scale was stolen.  Because we always kept it in the cabinet below the sink in the master bathroom and now it is no where to be found. I have no idea how long because I just assumed my husband had moved it and he assumed I had (because who really weighs themselves on a regular basis, right?) but when we finally asked each other where it was, no one knew.

I will confess that I was most probably the last person who touched it.  I did try to weigh myself and it didn’t work so I took out the battery and put it in my purse to replace it next time I went to the store. It took me four months to remember to buy the damn battery.  Two months after that, I found it sitting on the counter in the kitchen and moved it to the bathroom counter.  One month after that I pulled out the scale and replaced the battery and then…Pooof.  Missing.  Gone.  I’m not even sure I weighed myself after I got it working again (I’m sure that if I did, I had lost 10 pounds).  Once my husband found out I had lost the bathroom scale, he was a man on a mission.  He went to every bathroom and every closet.  Even got the flashlight and looked under the bed.  I was helpful.  I asked my dog, Abbey, if she had seen it.  Or maybe remembered what I did with it. She was of no help. So now our scale is missing and it is driving us crazy to know what happened to it.  I think someone broke in and stole it.  There really is no other explanation.  And damn, now I really want to weigh myself.

LWL Musings #70

  • I wasn’t planning on taking a shower on Saturday until I stood next to my husband and he told me I was stinky.
  • Morning Prayer to God:  Please help me to be more healthful in 2020. Well, except for the eight pieces of fudge that I know you know I put in my lunchbox this morning. But I swear I am only going to eat the nuts. Okay, please start helping me tomorrow. Amen.
  • I answered my husband’s cell phone when my daughter called him. I tried to be funny and made my voice sound like a guy so she would totally think she was talking to her dad. Note to self:  Do not do that again. It just freaked her out: “Mom! what is wrong with you!?”
  • We had game night last month with our daughter and her boyfriend. We played “Head’s Up” using the app on her phone. The words were all hard. We found animals to be the easiest but in hindsight, maybe it was because we were drinking Tequila. We were on the “Movies” category and my husband had the phone and I had to describe it. The name of the movie was “Godzilla” so I immediately starting talking about the tall building and the ape and the planes and my daughter told me I had the wrong movie. Which I totally denied and then my husband immediately guessed “Godzilla” correctly. And THAT is what 34 years of marriage looks like!
  • I spilled marshmallows on the carpet in my office and then inadvertently ground them into the carpet with my rollie chair.  Do you have any idea how hard it is to get smashed marshmallows out of carpet?
  • I guess there is this new rule where you no longer need to have two spaces after the period of sentences. Except that is what I have been doing for years. I just can’t stop the habit and now have to remember to go back and remove the extra space. This is so irritating. Who decides the rules?
  • I told my husband I was going to make my Golden Retriever, Abbey, a service dog. He said, “How can she be a service dog? She only has one eye.” I guess she will have to be my one-eyed emotional service dog.  If only I could get her to quit begging for food.