more playing around . . .

Credits: Paper: Julia Makontinsky, Frame: Scarlet Heels, Font: Broken Ghost

Monday means . . .

a new challenge at the Spraground. This time we merely had to utilize any previously unused frame from our stash. Easy peasy.

Credits: Frame and element: Katie Pertiet; Fonts: Grunge Alpha Brush Set by Roben-Marie Smith and CK _ali's writing.

The old gray mare . . .

Some days, just when I have convinced myself that I am still really only 23, life lets me know, it ain't so. Today was one of them. It started with the all too common insomnia, which meant when I finally did get back to sleep, after perusing every infomercial known to modern man for three and a half hours, that I over slept and was late for my Monday morning bout at the gym. I could tell I was tired, not just because the resistance machines won handily but because I melted long before my 1/2 hour walk on the treadmill was even partially over. I crawled home with my tail between my legs.

Now my goal, you see, is one active hour of exercise, six days a week. So with this in mind, and fortified with some French Vanilla yogurt and fresh blue berries, I decided to attack the small stand of trees outside Frank's den. It was grossly overgrown. I pulled, pucked, hacked and finally sawed as much as I could reach before dragging out the ladder. Ladders and I don't fare well together. Something I am sure about balance or rather my lack thereof. When I finally realized I was leaning far enough out to be in danger of losing my perch, I scampered down and dragged it back to its hide-a-way on the far side of the house . . . considering myself fortunate that we had not, indeed, parted ways while I was still atop. Whew.

A quick break from the heat and I was back outside weeding. Something I rarely do. Not that I mind weeding per se, its just that I am horrifically allergic to poison ivy and some of its relatives. Five days after the normal itchiness begins, I become one massive interconnected hive and my tongue swells to enormous proportions. I have learned, at first itch, to grab my standing prescription of prednisone. And since I absolutely hate that stuff, I avoid weeding until I am in jeopardy of being ousted by the home owners association . . . that rather intimidating board of covenant upholders, that wield their mighty pens over any and all infractions . . . large, small and infinitesimal.

Back inside, I am still not convinced I have met my mark so I attack the living room with the vigor normally reserved for spring cleaning, until I realize that the vacuum cleaner, while not making exactly strange noises, is at least making different noises. A quick check confirms my inital thought. The rotor bar was no longer rotor-ing. Fifteen minutes later with three pounds of cat and human hair unwound from the beater we are back in business. I found a mere eleven wads of paper, one tennis ball and three catnip toys under the sofa. Evidence that the herd does not indeed, sleep 24 hours a day. Also evidence, as if more were needed, that I am not about to win any housekeeping awards any time soon, or to be perfect honest, ever.

In need of a break, I plop down on my freshly vacuumed sofa in time to watch someone stir a pot of stew bringing an armadillo head up with the first scoop of the ladle. Ewwwww. This is not the food channel. Click. Meanwhile, Frank, kind soul that he is, is fashioning arm protectors for me from a pair of his old socks. Yep, you read that right. Gotta love him. He doesn't like me itching any more than I do. Ingenious man.

My friend Laura, with whom I chat mostly at three a.m., sent me a passel of recipes in the mail the other day. There was one standout looking recipe for chicken fajitas that I combined with an older recipe she had sent me for Rio Grande Rice. Yummy. A definite do again.

OK, so back to the topic at hand. I am too old for all this stuff. I am bushed . . beat . . . pooped! I should have just simply crawled back into the cave and into bed straight from the gym. What am I trying to prove? Old age is catching up. Although I refuse to give up the fight, it is time to recognize that the old gray mare ain't what she used to be. Sigh . . . . or rather . . . . hee-haw, hee-haw, hee-haw.

wordle . . .

Want to play with words . . . the ease way . . . no frustration . . . just good old punch a few buttons fun???? Click here . The fun part is that you can change the font, use your own hex #'s, do whatever you want. Move it, mix it, flip it, funk it up. Just have fun!!!



p.s. Thanks Gary for the the tut on how to get it to PSE.

Karma . . .

It's been an odd day all around. Ran to the gym early, just to get it over with. Back home before Frank's even awake . . . shower and head out to run errands. I get no further then the entrance to the neighborhood and realized I have forgotten my cell phone. Do I really need it? Why would I need to call someone that couldn't wait until I got home? I am neurotic, that's why. I need my cell. Turn around, pull in the drive, hit the remote . . . the garage door starts to go up, then stops and heads down again. I tap the button again and up it goes, down it goes. I thump the button hoping to make it rise higher. No deal. After initial lift off, it sags back to earth. Huh? Duh!!!! Frank is on the inside trying to get out to go to his gym, while I am on the outside trying to get in. Tug of war with the remotes. Silly.

Run in grab my cell and head to Goodwill, the first stop on my list . . . I am donating my skinny clothes. Someone needs to get some use out of them . . . it certainly doesn't seem to be me. Finishing there, I pull out down the narrow side road. It's a beautiful day, I'm in a good mood and I have a lead foot. Oops. Right in front of a cop. Did he see me? Please don't turn on those flashers . . . . Darn it, I said "please"!!! So I pull over and he asks the inevitable question: "Do you know why I stopped you?". It isn't exactly like I haven't heard those words before. I know I should do better. I do try. But there is something about good weather, a little red Miata and sigh . . . well, that's me. Double sigh. As he heads to his car to write me up, my options spin in my head. How many more "gimmes" do I get before I can no longer opt for school versus points???? Aren't I at my limit? So I call Frank. Being a retired police chief, he gets some perverse enjoyment out of these calls. I listen to his giggle turn to a full throated chortle before I hang up on him. Back comes the officer. He hands me the paper work and nonchalantly announces that with the new increases, the fine is now $400. Thunk! My jaw hits the steering wheel. I feel light headed. Then he breaks into a slow grin. "Just kidding ma'am!" "Oh, and by the way, I am just giving you a warning." I stare at the paperwork. Yep, this warm hearted soul has refrained from writing me a ticket. I am safe. At least for today. As I get back into traffic, I start to think about karma. Did he see me pull out of Goodwill's drop off? He could have. Then again, maybe not. Either way, I hope someone does something nice for him today.

After stops at the library, dry cleaners and hardware store . . . which just so happens to be next door to Frank's gym, I can't resist popping in and waving my warning ticket under his nose. I know I shouldn't, but I can't resist. It feels too good.

bodacious . . .

I love that word . . . love how it rolls off the tongue. Dictionary.com defines it as:

adjective South Midland and Southern U.S.
1. thorough; blatant; unmistakable: a bodacious gossip.
2. remarkable; outstanding: a bodacious story.
3. audacious; bold or brazen.

I have a friend who lives in Mississippi . . . met her on line years ago . . . have never met her in person but I don't need to, to know that she is indeed unmistakable . . . outstanding, and in her own way boldly audacious. Her humor is amazing . . . she is witty and bright with instant come backs . . . . She could have given Erma Bombeck a run for her money. She is in a word . . . bodacious!

Email and IMing are two of the world's greatest equalizers in my humble opinion. You learn to appreciate someone for other than looks. Physical attributes are indeed quite secondary after all. But I do know that she has been uncomfortable with her weight. So, she went out and did something about it. Lost 84.5 pounds and counting AND in the process went from sedentary to gearing up for a 60 mile, three day walk for charity this fall. She is now walking up to 10 miles a day. Yes, folks you heard that right. TEN miles. Now THAT is Bodacious!!

So the other day, tucked in amongst some other shots of her trip to Italy, was one of the very first photographs of her I had ever seen . . . other than as a tiny head in a crowd.

Kelli, I have no idea who you see in the mirror each morning. The woman I see is stunning: bold, beautiful and bodacious. Girl friend go forth with pride. (Go get that sucker! He'll never know what hit him. Oh, and p.s. don't forget to report back!)

July: week 3 challenge . . .

Every week there is a new challenge over at Spraground. This week was to use Simply Sarah: Layered Template #42 (back on numerical track) this template . . . all 17 shots. Definitely not my style but 17 masks later, I can honestly say I can now use a template. Whew!