After Fern's recent non-relationship relationship she went into a bit of a slump. The old girl wouldn't even wear tinted lip balm. (Which is pretty much the only thing I can get her to slap on her face to make her appear lifelike. I swear to you she'll look so much better all dolled up in her casket than she does on her jaunts to art galleries or "taking in a museum." She has all that natural beauty just lying there unenhanced! One night, when I can't sleep, I'm going to sneak into her room and give her a makeover instead of my usual craft-craft-craft til I drop sessions. Who am I kidding? I won't. She's got a sharp right hook and knows how to use it!)
Anyhoo. She's going to a museum with a fella. A right handsome hottie-patotti. Margaret Baumen's brother. He came to visit Margaret one day last week and was besotted with Fern. And since she's only had Creepy Carl to deal with of late, she seemed quite interested as well. Humming "Here Comes the Bride," people. Not even kidding.
Anyway, the gentleman lives an hour from us. Mere child's play in the game of love. No dragons, no dark knights, just a quick drive. They are meeting up in the city for a learning adventure and coffee. Or as some of us would call it. A DATE!!!!!!!!!!!
Help me talk her into these shoes, some peach blush, and my Milky Way eyeshadow. And maybe a little Texas cheerleader lift to her hair? She could be stunning!
Oh, and don't forget the author giveaway!
http://kellyklepfer.blogspot.com/2017/02/serials-and-scenarios-giveaway-fun.html
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 I'd write Dear Abby but she's been replaced by someone else.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.
