I'm a minion!

Don't you just love those cute yellow minion dudes? In case you've been living under a rock, they're the adorable little worker-bees in overalls featured in the movies Despicable Me 1 and 2.

Well guess what? I'm a minion! One of Alex J. Cavanaugh's minions, to be exact, for the A to Z Challenge WHICH STARTS TOMORROW!  (Can't believe that... What happened to March? What happened to 2013? WHAT HAPPENED TO THE '80S??????)

My job as minion is basically dropping by a certain number of A to Z blogs to make sure they're participating and then let Alex know, and if they have any adult content or weirdness that folks might want to know about. I'm actually worried I might be considered adult content because, you know, I might occasionally say feck. I mean, it's been known to happen ...

I've been dropping around some of the folks on my list and I'm happy to say most are pumped and ready for the challenge. Most even have their posts already written. (Keeners.) Me? I'm not even sure what my theme is going to be. A to Z has always been a pantser proposition so I'll likely just stick to Cathy's ramblings from A to Z. Yesterday it occurred to me to do cuss words from A to Z and, just off the top of my head I got all the way to the letter i without missing a beat. But I think I'll save that for another day – I'm always giving my kids crap for swearing so it wouldn't look good if I gave them an A to Z reference library for cussin'.

So I'm really looking forward to A to Z - hoping to see you around on my journeys. Hoping you meet lots of new friends and get lots of new followers. It's a happy time in blogland and I sincerely hope you make the most of it! oxox

COUGH, COUGH, COUGH

It's a quarter past midnight and I should be sawing logs and talking in my sleep by now but I've got a fecking cold and every time I lay down all the snot slimes down my throat and the next thing you know I'm coughing up hairballs until I see stars.

Dave's funny. He almost never talks in his sleep but whenever he does it cracks me up. Tonight, while I was trying to keep my mucous from running downhill, he said something about the colour of the curtains doing something or other to the countertop. I couldn't exactly make out what he was saying, because his sleep talking is actually more like sleep mumbling.

I leaned close to his ear and asked, loudly, "What did you say?"

"I dunno," he muttered groggily. "I'm sleeping."

I wasn't about to let him off that easy. After all, he was talking curtains. And countertops. Countertops! What – suddenly I was in bed with Mike Holmes and the Property Brothers?

"Tell me what you said," I demanded.

Dave said something that sounded kinda like, "Whaaa?" Then he rolled over and began to snore.

Feck that, I thought.  I grabbed my Vicks Vaporub and came downstairs where I have since opened my laptop and decided to – lawd have mercy – do a blog post. I just realized I haven't posted since the beginning of March. Bloggy friend JoJo sent me a Facebook message the other day to find out if I was dead.

No, no. Not dead. Just a little lackadaisical. You know how it is with blogging ... you don't post for a while, then you feel guilty, so guilty you can't even go to your blog, can't even bear to look at it, and your poor blog is like an abandoned orphan, lost in the vast internet hinterland, singing "TOMORROW, TOMORROW, I LOVE YA, TOMORROW" in its sweet, adorably off-key little voice.

Sigh. I really detest that musical.

Damned Jacuzzi timer

The timer on my Jacuzzi is askew.

(I know, another one of those First World problems that plague the universe. There are starving people in Africa – nay, just down the street, and I'm bitching about my Jacuzzi. But I digress...)

So I know time goes faster as one ages, but holy crap, that Jacuzzi timer is hellbent for the end of days. When we first moved here, an hour on the timer meant an hour in the tub. All was right with the world. Lately I've noticed that an hour of Timer-time is less than hour, and it's getting lesser all the time. Just now I had a bath, set the darned thing for a full hour, and was just thinking about how fast the thing was whizzing around when, CLICK, it shut off.

I say CLICK instead of a more muffled click because that thing clicks off like it's got a stick of dynamite up its butt. I mean, I get in the Jacuzzi to relax and it's all relaxing and zen-like until the big CLICK then my heart explodes in my chest and I shit the tub.

I was barely wet when it CLICKED. I hadn't even shaved the pine forest in my pits yet. If that timer moves at real time and life is flashing by faster and faster, I'll not only be growing a pine forest, I'll be planted in a pine box.