Category Archives: Happy stuff

Great news for stoners

Stoners, rejoice! You can now order your munchies online, and have them delivered in 2 hours. You don’t have to rely on pizza, or restaurants to deliver. Get REAL munchies with Amazon Prime Now.

Prime Now

Many moons ago, the only thing we could get delivered was pizza. Then Chinese restaurants joined in. Eventually, lots of places starting delivering food, but nothing really hit the spot when you were too wrecked to leave the house. Now, thanks to capitalism, stoners in Colorado can get everything they could ever crave. Funyuns, double-stuffed oreos, twizzlers, chili cheese Fritos, and chocolate milk. Ordered online, delivered right to your door. How awesome is that?

My weed-filled nights are ancient history, so I don’t need this service. For ages, we sat around and talked about how great it would be to get munchies delivered. We even dreamed up a service called, “Eight Items or Less.” With this service, the delivery person would pick up anything, up to eight items, and bring them to you for one flat fee. Why a limit of eight? I couldn’t say. The brain cell that held that knowledge has long since bit the dust. I’d like to think that someone from Amazon was sitting around the coffee table as we played quarters and discussed the pressing news of the day. If so, a small royalty would be in order. But, like most things when the bud is being passed, it’s all good.


You’re never too young

This little guy proves you can never be too young to rock. He’s going to make a great dance partner some day.

You’re also never too old.

Music reaches inside me and nourishes my soul. I can’t go a day without it. As I listen to music, I dance in my chair, at my desk, in the kitchen while I’m cooking or doing dishes. It moves me. Let it move you.

Let’s Rock!

I pee, therefore, I am

My friend, Susan, has an old, senile, incontinent Siamese cat who pees on everything in her home. Especially on soft furniture that’s difficult to clean. That’s why this book of cat poetry would be the perfect gift.

cat pee


Her cat, Angel, didn’t get a chance to write a poem for this book, so he wrote one for the inscription:

angel the siamese cat

The Author

Poem by Angel the cat:

I pee, therefore, I am
I am, therefore, I pee
Peeing proves that I am
Master of this comforter and sham

I am, therefore, I pee
I pee, therefore, I am
I pee on everything I see
Try as you will, you can’t stop me

Peeing is freeing
I am free to go peeing
When I am gone you will certainly miss
All the things on which I piss

My pee is pungent and full of musk
An ocean of smells so strong you can see
When you find my puddles and are so brusque
You forget they are love-piddles to remind you of me.

I am Angel, therefore, I pee
I pee on everything I see
I pee, therefore, I am
I am, therefore, I pee

angel the peeing cat

Angel, in repose

Accidentally Wonderful

Today was an absolutely gorgeous early fall day. I drove around with the sunroof open, radio playing some good oldies, and life was great.

Until I got rear-ended. I’m like a magnet for people who aren’t paying attention.

I’ve been in several accidents over the years, and I’ve never been at fault. This isn’t me whining about how it wasn’t my fault. Everyone who has ever hit me has been deemed responsible by the cops at the scene, and the insurance companies involved in the claims. Every. Single. Time.

woman in wrecked carBecause of past auto accidents, I’ve had back surgery, leg and knee surgeries, and most recently, shoulder surgery involving not just the rotator cuff like everyone else in a similar accident; I had to have my bicep fixed, too, because I don’t do anything half-assed. I’ve lain on a table while doctors stitched me up, and removed glass from my eyes, and face, and torso. I’ve used crutches so often, I have my own pair. I’ve taken so much pain medication over the years I can tell which ones work, and how fast. There isn’t a single part of my body that hasn’t been screened with an x-ray machine, ultrasound, MRI, or CAT scan, and I have the films to prove it.

Thank goodness I didn’t get another ambulance ride this time. I’m shook up, but think I’m okay. Tomorrow will tell me if I’m wrong.

Many years ago, I joked about my unique ability to make money from people running into me. It’s really not funny anymore.

But this isn’t a post about the the financial ramifications of being in a car wreck, or the ugly dents in my pretty new car. It has nothing to do with people who cause an accident because they are completely self-absorbed. It’s not about asshole attorneys who squeeze every last dime out of the insurance companies, and make sure they get paid before anyone else. It’s not even about how expensive auto insurance is, and how you pay for it, hoping you’ll never have to use it. And when you do, they charge you even more.

No. This is about something wonderful that happened to me today.

In the midst of the chaos, when I didn’t cry, really, three different people got involved who didn’t have to. Three Good Samaritans who stopped to see if everyone was okay. People who called 911 because both the motorcyclist who ran into me, and I, were too stunned to think of it first. Good guys who got the license plate and description of the pickup that ran the red light and caused the whole thing, and then sped out of there. The same amazing folks who waited for the police so they could tell them what they saw.

In some parts of the US, it might not have turned out that way. In some other part of my own city, it might not have happened at all. But it did happen today because I live in a neighborhood where people care about one another. They confirmed my belief that there are a lot of really good people in the world. And that is pretty freaking awesome.

Thanks to Marilyn, and Dama, and Bill. You are the good guys.

Everyone should have a cleaning lady

I have a cleaning lady.

I can hear you thinking:

  • That’s awesome!
  • I want a cleaning lady!
  • She can afford a cleaning lady?

So, I’ll respond:

  • It sure is.
  • Everyone should have one.
  • Not really.

She’s cleaning my house, and I’m fixing her website. And helping her with marketing her business. She’s totally getting the raw end of the deal.

I don’t think I’m a slob. Entirely. But with 4 surgeries in the span of two years, I’ve had other priorities.

Not that I don’t like a clean house. I love a clean house. A house where everything is in its place, and I know where that place is when I go to look for it.

Thursday, the cleaning lady came over for 4 hours so we could organize my office. Four hours. Turns out the room is bigger than I thought. And, the top of my desk is made of wood. See?

Those are tic tacs on the desk, by the way. No funny business here.

She also helped me organize my closet. Skirts at one end, pants at the other, dresses and shirts in-between. Arranged by color and sleeve length. I discovered I have a lot of duplicates. Three purple suits, for example. Every woman should have at least one purple suit. I have three. Awesome.

More amazing than the sight of my desk top was the fact that she showed up again today to clean my kitchen. Sally (that’s her name, Sally) said to me, “You don’t have to be embarrassed by your kitchen. This is the kind of challenge I love.” That was her polite way of saying, “Holy crap, girl, when was the last time you cleaned this room???”

In addition to getting all excited about fighting grime, Sally teaches parents how to get their kids to clean their room. I wish I had met her 20 years ago, when my daughter was young. I wouldn’t have been afraid of being attacked by the monsters growing under her bed. And it would have saved her from my endless nagging. We could have spent more quality time together, just hanging out, or taking goofy pictures of ourselves in the 4-pictures-for-a-dollar photo booth at the mall.

Everyone should have a cleaning lady. It’s a liberating feeling, doing what I want, without the drudgery of cleaning house. I can enjoy living here, in the house I chose, sitting on the furniture I bought, and not feel enslaved by housework.

You could have a cleaning lady, too, if you want. Barter is a wonderful thing. What do you like to do, that you’re good at, that someone else would like in trade? Can you cut hair? Babysit? Design a twitter background? Weed a garden? Ask around. Pull business cards off the bulletin board at the supermarket. Get creative.

If you’ll excuse me, I’m headed to the kitchen. Just to stand there and marvel at the sparkling surfaces. Yeah, I could really get used to this.