You’ll be pleased to know that significant progress was made on the deck this weekend. I may indeed have facilities available to help ease my transition into Merry Widowhood in time for the post-funeral festivities.
How long do you think I should wait before sending love letters to Alan Rickman and that guy from Dirty Jobs? A month? Maybe two? I’d hate to appear crass.
I’ve told Jackson that next time I’m marrying for money. This love bit is ok, but I figure I need to try wanton fiduciary gain before I make any sort of judgment as to which is better - love or money. I’d hate to make an uninformed judgment without having fully experienced both sides of the issue.
Things worked out rather well this weekend – we hibernated around the house, something the three of us really needed. Then on Sunday, Jackson went to work in the back yard with copious amounts of power tools, chunks of trees and a bottle of spray paint. I lazed about in the house, making the occasional and rather ineffectual attempt at laundry. I think I also ran the dishwasher. I went outside once and offered him a coke, which made me feel very helpful.
Perhaps next weekend, he’ll be able to finish the regular deck and get started on the ramp. My mom will be happy once that’s finished. She hasn’t been able to get in my house since last summer!
Once he finishes the backyard construction, I’m going to have Jackson bbq a truck-load of ribs so I can eat ‘em after he’s checked out. I might share a few of them with you at the funeral after-party, but not likely, since my supply will be limited at that point. Instead, I will be serving Crunch-n-Munch and Doritos. Maybe a few Oreos, too. And I make a mean pitcher of sun-tea! (And did you know that Fritos mixed in Blue Bell Pecan Praline Ice Cream is ab-so-lute-ly sensational?)
Now I just need to decide on the entertainment…
14 comments:
Oh Mike Rowe...be still my heart. You will be rebounding so I will occupy his time until your period of morning is over.
It is the least that I can do for you!
Weird things is....if you died I am thinking that Jackson might want Mike Rowe too......hhhhhmmmm....
Fritos mixed in Blue Bell Pecan Praline Ice Cream...now that is just plain weird!
(Do you think we will have to forever watch that Blogger does not disable our comments from now on?)
Actually you can write the letters now. Because they're both entertainment people, it will take at least 10 months before the letters pass through their 'People'. Much like being backed up from too much dairy.
Fritos in Blue Bell Pecan Praline Ice Cream sounds perfect to accompany my sweet pickle and peanut butter sandwich!!
I'll help Mindy with Mike Rowe. (The Alpha might not like me helping, but I know he wants a job like that and maybe I could pull some strings.)
Mindy: I think Jackson would want me to get on with my life, don't you? I shouldn't have to waste time with mourning!
Annie: I thought it was weird, too. Until I tried it!!!
PG: I alwasy thought dill pickles were the perfect compliment to the peanut butter sandwhich. Sweet are better? I dunno. Sounds rather blasphemous.
dogblogger: Where does one apply for a I job like that? ha ha!
Mike Rowe looks a bit like Hugh Laurie, the doctor on House, who is my personal dream guy these days. (see http://www.hughlaurie.co.uk/ for yummy photos)
I always say I like a man with a bit of wear and tear. Men who are too good looking give me the willies. Brad Pitt, I get it, but yuk.
I agree, cynthia. Perfection is boring. Character is MUCH more interesting.
I discovered the most amazing thing in the junk machine yesterday. On the bag it said "Cheese Fix." Inside were crunchy Cheetos, Rold Gold mini pretzels, nacho cheese Doritos, and those Sun Chip things that were rendered acceptable by the fact that the orange stuff off the Cheetos and Doritos had gotten all over them. OMG. I never looked back. Somebody please help me.
Oh, Spookster, you and I can trade off Alan Rickman and Mike Rowe. When you get bored with one, send him to me and I'll send you the other one. Like the Sisterhood of the Traveling Booty Call.
zorra: You are doomed. Doomed, I tell ya. There is no going back once you've tasted such and exlir of the gods. Cheesy, yellow gods.
MHP: That's a dang good idea! Now, which one do I start with? Hmm... we'll have to work out a rotation schedule....
I have a boyfriend, but I'm STILL sending my love letters to Alan Rickman. Ohhh, that man, I swear... :-P
I am flabbergasted, jealous and disgruntled (try doing all those emotions at once - move over, Rosie).
Here I thought I had my very own secret love that no other woman would covet - Mike Rowe. Dang-a-mighty.
When I was a little cowpattie, I loved to save my potato chips on Friday from elementary school lunch - when we had burgers. I would eat 'em with my vanilla mellorine.
Yep, sorry pattie. Miss Kitty and I and a whole dang bunch of women evidently share the same secret love. Oh, well. (Um, what is mellorine?)
You sure are counting your chickens before they hatch. Jackson (me) is like a sinus problem...troublesom and sometimes gets better, but always around. I told you before...God is not ready for me and the Devil does not want me...he is afraid I will take over.
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