Bits and Pieces

Chewing the Fat

When They Were Young




August 2015
March 2014
July 2013
April 2013
March 2013
January 2013
October 2012
September 2012
August 2012
May 2012
April 2012
March 2012
February 2012
January 2012
December 2011
October 2011
September 2011
August 2011
July 2011
June 2011
May 2011
April 2011
March 2011
February 2011
January 2011
December 2010
November 2010
October 2010
September 2010
July 2010
June 2010
May 2010
April 2010
March 2010
February 2010
November 2009
October 2009
September 2009
July 2009
June 2009
January 2009
December 2008
November 2008
October 2008
September 2008
August 2008
July 2008
June 2008
May 2008
April 2008
March 2008
February 2008
January 2008
December 2007
November 2007
October 2007
September 2007

Complete Archives
Category Archives


November 2009



I’ve just found out that I have a Facebook page.  And apparently if you go there you can “interact” with me. 

The only problem with this is, I don’t have a Facebook page.  Don’t know how to get on it.  Don’t use it.  My kids have them and I suppose, even though I know other people who do, I figured are places one wants ones mother and there are places one doesn’t.  And I’ve heard about the sort of shenanigans that apparently are posted on Facebook pages, and so, just in case, I didn’t want to inadvertently stumble onto something that one of my children would rather I didn’t.

Just thought, I should let you know.

Maybe one of my publishers put the page up or something.  I have no idea.

I’m not sure if there is a tweet-thing for me, but just in case, I don’t tweet either.

My friend Samantha is coming over!

This is a very exciting thing.  I haven’t seen her in a while and she is so much fun to be around and her husband is nice as well.  To which some of my readers are probably thinking, well yeah, if she’s nice, it stands to reason her husband is nice.

Not necessarily so.

Actually, a fun to be around husband and wife team is a very hard thing to find.  Usually, one of us will really like one half, and the other…well… tolerate is not the right word, but you get my drift.

Anyway, we came back from the little island cabin where we were hunkered down, so we could see them.  I figured, as of today, it has been 8 1/2 days since I got my H1N1 shot, and I know they say 10 days before one is out of the woods, but I figure, if they were sick, they wouldn’t be jaunting off on a romantic get-away.  So, I’m probably safe.

But here is my problem.  See, I was excited she was coming.  I told her the house was a mess.  I told her that if we didn’t mind, why should she. 

I was fully planning to stick to my guns, but then at around noon, some sort of weird foreign crazed cleaning woman took over my soul.  And I dusted and swept and vacuumed and mopped, and cleaned and scrubbed.  And got Don to help me bring some chairs downstairs. 

Now all of this would have been fine.  I should have left well enough alone.


As I was putting away my feather duster, I happened to spy an ancient half-used spritz bottle of Pledge.  Orange flavor.  Well…  I squirted that stuff all over the table, and cut up an old tee-shirt and went to town.

Well, here’s the problem.  I was a little over zealous with my trigger finger.

The table is slick as a skating rink and VERY greasy.

Never mind that I tried to sop up the extra oil and sprinted around the house rubbing my cloth on anything that was made of wood.  Never mind that not another drop of Pledge was required to get EVERYTHING gleaming. 

No matter what I do, the house stinks of Pledge, and if anyone happens place an elbow on the table, they will ruin their shirt. 

I am going to have to tell them to roll up their sleeves.  Maybe I should give them aprons as well, just in case they lean forward.

So much for pretending I am naturally neat and my house is always this clean.