Note to "Those" Men from Fern

Warning! Registered weapons of mass destruction. 

This if Fern doing her due diligence with the blog. 

Zula has been pestering me for weeks but I've had nothing to say until right now. 

A certain man has recently caused me to come up with an excessive amount of words. Some have been posted in the dining hall as a warning to certain someones in the land of Paradise. But Paradise isn't the only location with snakes so I will share the boiled down version with you, Dear Readers. 

Never, elderly gentlemen of the world, is it okay to touch a woman without her permission. Nor is it okay to proposition or hint about certain subjects with a woman who has asked you to stop. 

Now this should be common sense. Would you go up to a nicely dressed business man or friendly waiter or burly bouncer type and squeeze his cheeks or chuck his chin and tell him he's much more handsome when he smiles? Hmmm that seems like it might net you a throat punch. Can I mention that  I am at the defcon throat punch level with you, Sir. Chuck my chin or squeeze my cheeks again and you will have a whole lot of hurt coming fast and furious. 

If I have not responded to your lame attempts at flirting chances are very, very high that I am not on any level attracted to you. So please, for the love of everything good and sweet, please, please, please stop with your cheesy pick-up lines. "Hey, did you leave a banana peel on the floor, cuz I've fallen hard for you." (In a retirement village? Are broken hips cute?) "If you were a painting you'd be a Rembrandt." (You know Rembrandt's work, or did you just pick the artist's name you've heard more than once?) 

Have these worked before? If so, go back to where you used them because they aren't flying here. And if you ever volunteer to model nude for one of my paintings again I will not be responsible for the things I might say or do. 

Fern out. 

Is Fern Actually Right?

I have a dilemma. No. It's not about my fashion sense as some have been rude enough to question. 

It's about my man. I'd write Dear Abby but she's been replaced by someone else. Only the real Abby could tackle this one. 

Last week I served Bob something that was just not up to my usual high standards. Now. I have a million excuses. Goodness, I've been cleaning up my garden and nursing him back to health for a month of Sundays. 

(Do you know what that even means? I don't. I sure hope I used it correctly or I'm going to be hearing about it for who knows how long. "Blogging responsibility, putting one's best foot forward, using the tools available to me to make sure I'm doing just that....blah, blah, blah!") 

Anyway. Since I made a meal that needed just a touch more finesse, polish and wow factor, Bob has been telling this awful joke and I know it's aimed at me!

Here's his joke. "A guy goes into a diner. The waitress asks if he wants his usual. He replies, yes, weak coffee, runny eggs, burnt toast and chewy bacon. 'Charlie,' she says, 'I can't send the order in like that.' He says, oh, I thought that's how you did order it because that is the usual I've had every day this week." 

Then he laughs and laughs. 

Fern says he's an insensitive lug and I should dump him like a sack of potatoes. 

I'ma Fluzy....

Ha. Ha. Ha. Get it? Flu....fluzy.

That would be an unfortunate name. Ima Fluzy.

Other unfortunate name combos I had to look up.... Ima Hogg, real person, real big deal. Came from money. Money could help take the sting from the name, but what were her parents' thinking? I found a few more. Shanda Lear from the Lear jet family. Robyn Banks. Jo King. Tee Hee. I can laugh but not for long. My mother named me Zula. Let's just say there was at least one boy who had to learn not to mess with Zula in grade school.

Oh, the reason for that little bunny trail?!?! Bobbykins is finally back to almost normal. I've been nursing him through the flu. The big one. The INFLUENZA!

I didn't stop making chicken soup until yesterday. He's back on solids and putting in his request orders. I think my chicken soup saved his life. The love I put into it was the thing the doctor ordered. I began wearing masks around him when he started looking peaked. He gets one big thing a year. This time he was not playing around. But I was ready for him.

I wiped his brow, spooned soup into his mouth and sang him sweet songs. He'd wake up screaming sometimes and I'd ease him back to sleep. Goodness. I'd forgotten how a man can be. If Fern gets sick I am instructed to enter silently, leave a tray by the bed, and return to whence I came. She says she has to tough it out. She's not real helpful the times I've been down, either, so maybe she just doesn't get sick bed protocol graces. When I received my horrible wound from that awful murderer she only took care of me for three days once I was released. She, of course, said that if I was well enough to manage the world's problems from my bed and able to wear my stiletto  slippers, do my full makeup and hair and receive guests I was probably "out of the woods."

Oh, and speaking of murderers and our unfortunate one in Paradise, one of the authors is giving away a copy of our story. If you feel under the weather it might be the best thing since chicken soup. a Rafflecopter giveaway

The Unfortunate Thing That Happened. Send Comforts, and Fifi, PLEASE!

I didn't plan of blogging tonight. I was going to soak my feet in Lavender Decadent Delight bath salts. 

But I'm stuck in the office above the "Scene of the MURDER." Yes! That office where other horrible things happened and we nearly lost....no!!!!!  Must not go there. 

I'm hiding here because Fern wants to dispatch me.At least that's what she shrieked at me as the door was slamming behind me.  

Why? Because the price of beauty is pain. Women know this. Don't we? You can't be beautiful without breaking a sweat or having attached items such as hairs ripped out of their little homes. Speaking of hair, which one of us didn't whimper when our mothers' wound those little curlers up so we could sleep on them and look like little Shirley Temple when we woke the next morning? Or at least the combing out the rats nests. Torture! This beauty lesson is instilled early on. 

You'd think Fern would have this one down. 

The other day I caught her in full on side illumination. And I noticed her eyebrows looked like wooly caterpillars. If you've never seen these they hang out in the Midwest and they predict the winter weather. Okay. Probably this is not true but "they say" that the more crazy haired those little fellas get the more likely we are to have a long winter. 

In Florida this does not matter. Unless they happen to reside over your sister-in-laws' eyes and you become obsessed with fixing this problem. Which I did. I pestered and nagged and cajoled Fern into letting me do her brows. I was relentless and it cost me. I have to remove three silk floral arrangements from the "shared" rooms and find locations for them in my bedroom. And I have to make three dessert recipes using her "tweaks" to make them healthier. And I got a solid pinch out of the deal, too. Right on the tender part of my side when the unthinkable happened. Of course I ran out of there as fast as my Valentino's could take me. 

Don't judge me. You would have done the same. I mean I had the wax and strips right there. The sun was streaming in giving me perfect visibility. Fern was distracted with the eyebrow letting session. How was I to know that I might pull off some skin with the teeny gal-statche? 

Now she's lopsided. A smudge of an oops on one side and a tiny little patch of silver on the other.   

I should have brought a sleeping bag. And Fifi. And my foot bath massager and my soaking solution. And maybe some candles and flowers. I think I might be here awhile! 

Also. Don't even judge me on the lack of a picture. I was fleeing for my life.  

This Just In

Another copy of "the book" has become available to win. It's true.

All you have to do is jump stage left to a Rafflecopter giveaway and cross your little fingers. 

Note: Please think long and hard about this. Our story is one of several the author is giving away. Don't accidentally pick one of her other titles. 

Honestly, ours is the best in the bunch. Normally, she writes about innocent little women thrust into dangerous, uncomfortable places and historical times with nothing but their wits and handsome, flawed men to save them. Oh, and God, He always shows up. I'm thinking wits and God are enough but that sure would be kind of a not so historical romance. Ha. Ha. And her male characters are kind of FABIO if you know what I mean, so I'd miss the whole hub-hubba experience. 

So if you pick one of her other books, I guess I'll just have to be okay. That means you'll just have to buy our story then. 

Baby needs a new pair of shoes. 

It's Coming! I Just FEEL It!

Bobbykins is this close to asking for my hand. It's written all over his face. Fern says that's indigestion because I keep feeding him too spicy food. I'm working toward building his tolerance to spice. And he appreciates it. 

Most of the time. 



How I know he's going to pop the question:

1) His eyes fill with tears sometimes when he looks at me. (No, again, it's not the spice, Fern. Nor is it an allergy to Fifi as you have so kindly pointed out. Or that he might be contemplating moving or any of the other reasons you keep ferrettng out.)

2) He has so many pet names for me. Sugar Lips. Sigh I love that one. Sweet Muffin. Cookie. Cuddle Bug. Sweetums. Oh, goodness. There are so many. And they melt my heart into a puddle of love pudding. Oh, Bobohunk, what a man! 

3) Future plans are being made. He asked me to go to the big truck show thingy in the spring. I'm soooooooooo excited!!!! I've already made little flag earrings with a scarf to match. Which I think they must use like in car races. Right? Don't tell me if I'm not because I don't want to change things up. I found checkered flag style leggings! And these stilettos. Queen of cuteness. I think it's possible the proposal will happen right there. I'm going to make a bracelet with little traffic signals with the stop lights all on green for Go! Go! Go! and Go! means YES! YES! YES! 

I'm thinking a fall wedding. Why wait? Right? At our age we shouldn't have a long engagement. Plus I scored some beautiful Zinnia and Mum blossoms in fall gold, scarlet and orange that are to die for on super clearance. 90% off. And gold ribbon that was in the Halloween clearance area that had copper pumpkins like little polka dots all over it. I'm picturing so many beautiful ideas. I'll sketch some up for you and share them once the BIG EVENT happens. 

Hmmmm. I might slip out to the hardware store in town. I heard they still have white Christmas lights there. For a song. And you know I've got some songs. Hahahahaaaaaa So tootles for now. 

Jingle-Jangled Sweet Mercy

Ooooh, Fern just reminded me about this blog. Sweet Heavens! I got so caught up in slicing and dicing and baking and making, and decorating and Christmas carols. 

1) Fifi's nails. I've been painting them a different glitter every day with matching bows to coordinate with my outfits. I scored an after Christmas bargain doggie nail kit, can you believe it? And I bought a few to last the year, actually, they may last a lot longer than that, doggie nails aren't very big. Fifi is so proud. She just prances. Fern says her "prancing" is just her arthritic gait. Oh, I've also been giving Fern lots of raspberries this holiday season, and I don't mean the ones that grow on bushes.  

2) Last book giveaway of the year. Over here. One of the authors did an interview, too. Blah. Blah. Blah. 

3) Pinterest. Oh my. See my opening comment above. So many things I must try. 

4) Can I just say I'll be glad to say goodbye to 2016. Just a weird year. I'll carry my battle scar with me but hope to never again experience anything like what went down in Paradise this year. 

Happy New Year! Hope your Christmas was grand. Eat all the leftover goodies ASAP, celery stalks and broth season is right around the corner.