bogeyandruby

Random stuff, reflections on the meaning of life and death, humour, self-deprecation, a bit of bad poetry.

After a wonderful time ringing in the New Year at the Mariposa Café (we didn’t quite make it to midnight), Ian and I threw out our old sheets and put on some brand new bedding to go with my sacred cow throw pillow from India, one of my favourite Christmas gifts ever, from my sister-in-law.

The shih tzus are off to a sparkling start too with clean bums after an emergency visit to the groomer’s today. Shit happens, folks. Sometimes it sticks, other times it hangs, and it pretty much always stinks.

As of today, we have eight weeks less a day to plan our wedding and i am hoping I can fit into something other than a table cloth by then. It’s always such a challenge trying to eat every last chocolate in the house by December 31st. I keep finding more. Maybe I can finish it by December 31st, 2017.

This is the third wedding dress i’ve bought (only been married once though, it’s a long story) and it definitely isn’t white. In fact it’s red, but only because I can’t wear orange or lime green like some lucky people.

I brought my mother shopping with me because I am no longer agile enough to get the dresses past the first major obstacle, my head, never mind the second, my bosom. After we purchased the dress, my mother, forgetting who she was talking to, suggested I keep looking around. Um, no. Not unless it’s the tableware department.

In other news, I asked Ian what he’s planning to wear that day.

“I don’t know. Probably black.”

Now why didn’t I think of that?

Peace and love, dear friends. Take care of yourselves and don’t neglect your village. You never know when you might need help getting a dress over your head. ❤

LC’s salted caramels. It took three episodes of The Munsters to finish them.

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