I think that this is where all kinds of stuff goes.

What do you know about "Gubstuff" ?!?

Well . . . I would wager a bet that you probably don’t know anywhere near enough about Gubstuff . . . so here is a quick quick tip-off to get you more into the “I know plenty about Gubstuff” mode.

Gubstuff is great stuff that is made by my great pal Angela. She makes bags and pillows and purses and art and stuff – and to the best of my knowledge – all of it is great. She just got a new website – so you should 100% be clicking your way over there to see what is up in the world so that the next time somebody stops you on the street and asks what you know about Gubstuff . . . you can quickly answer back something to the effect of “Plenty more than you buster . . . now why don’t you make like a tree and leaf . . . you’re blocking my sun . . . so scoot already!” – or something like that . . . go go look look.

Enough with the bathing . . .

The other night (really pretty much every night – but this one night in particular) I was sooooooooooo so so so so tired . . . and so after letting the dog out and then back in and dealing with the feeding of the cats – I crawled – or maybe slunk – but definitely didn’t scamper into bed.

Clink to sleep I went. [The “clink” coming from a penny falling out of my change cup – which I usually clutch close to my heart before I go to bed each night . . . and yes – of course I have a “change cup” – who are you to judge anyway?! And besides . . . what do you keep your pennies in anyway??]

So – the dog was to the right of me – which is fine because he sleeps the good sleep of a feather in the snow. And just at that moment – that integral moment where you are on the precipice of a wonderful night of sleep – where your breathing has leveled out and the busy thoughts of the day have slipped to the back of the back(er)most parts of your brain . . . My cat – Spot Elliot lunges into bed (for the uninitiated – he is a 22 pound cat – a big big large cat that makes the entire bed move when he hops in) – but you get used to that – the whole seismic activity minor earthquake thing . . . then he sits there (kind of like a bear – sitting there on his butt) and makes sure that I am indeed about to fall asleep – and then it starts . . . the thing that I will never be able to get used to . . .

Lick – lick – lick – lick – lick – taking a bath – lick – lick – lick – lick – lick – lick – lick – lick – lick – lick – lick – lick – lick – lick – making the grossest of noises – lick – lick – lick – lick – am I driving you crazy yet? – lick – lick – lick – lick – lick – lick – the whole stupid bed is moving because I am so fat – lick – lick – lick – lick – lick – lick – lick – lick. And then I snapped – and the cat was unceremoniously booted from the bed.

Oh – but of course it doesn’t quite end there – because two more times he jumped back into bed to resume the bath . . . only to find himself on the floor after a quick firm push from my foot. And jeez-o-peet – don’t let me leave out the cute fact that every time that the cat was kicked out of bed – the dog would freak out and jump over me to see where Elliot was running off to . . . utter bedlam . . . utter lack of sleep bedlam . . .

And that's when the Police stopped me . . .

Seriously – I am going to post about this later . . . figured the picture would be a good tease . . . and I am nothing if not a tease . . .

Okay – okay – now the story that I was talking about – the story that the picture is about – and just a quick quick bit of what led up to 2:30 am Tuesday night . . .

I drove one thousand nine hundred and fifty three miles (1,953) over the course of about ninety six hours (96). The driving ate up about forty five (45) of the hours that I was gone – and has left me with a bleary attitude and nursing a sore wing. (yeah – I may have – might have – it is possibly possible that I just referred to my arm as a “wing” – no looking back . . .)

Where was I going? Why would I drive so far? Well that’s all a bit beside the point – just trust me – I drove a whole bunch – and went to some places – saw some people and did some stuff. If I get the notion – and some time – I will sift through my brain and shake some of the stories of the in-between out onto the table for you to see . . . but I can’t promise anything – I got really bleary . . .

So – after driving seventeen hours (17), I went to the post office to check my p.o. box – and then to the bank to deposit a check – and then just as I was passing chik-fil-a, I noticed to police officers having one of those chats – where the cars are facing in opposite directions – so that they can give a firm hand shake and proper see you later when the conversation is done and they scoot about their merry way.

As soon as I went by – zoomp – one of the cars was right behind me. You know that magical thing that police seem to do where they seem to actually be driving on top of your car right before they either swoop around you or click the lights on?! Well that was the game that he decided to play – I was too tired to even get the ice in the pit of my stomach – just maintaining my speed and not doing anything too erratic . . . almost home – almost home – and then the lights came on.

Evidently he was a mounty (according to the picture) – and so he (evidently) got off of his horse and sauntered up to my window – with the flashlight of god in my eyes (it was so so so bright – and I was so so so tired). I then got excited that I was going to get to talk to somebody – and so I pulled the “What seems to be the problem officer?!” line out of whatever cliche movie that it is from – and as he is checking out my ID and saying something about my tail light being out, I started yammering on about how I had been driving for seventeen hours (17). We had a little chit-chat about the drive and then he apologized for holding me up and said “Now you go and get some sleep . . .”

His horse – who I decided to name “Champ” – because he seemed so much like a “Champ” whinnied as he stood on his back legs and for just a second they were captured perfectly in the moonlight . . . man I wish that I had my camera ready – and that it wasn’t possibly illegal to photograph police officers as they charge out into the night . . .

Then I slunk home to catch some “z’s” – as the kids are calling them these days (and by “them” I probably mean sleep(s)?!) – and to dream of “Champ” the mighty police horse pulling my lifeless body from the icy waters of the Hudson . . . what a night of sleep it was!

Some of the above may/may not have happened . . . I will say it again – and I stand beside my initial point . . . I was a bit bleary . . .

You know those people that come to your house?

So today I was working upstairs – which is where all of the “magic” happens – and then ‘bing-bong’ goes the doorbell. I rushed down the stairs and answered the door in an extremely dissheveled and frenzied manner – which – and I know that you weren’t necessarily asking – is usually a great way to open the door if you are trying to get rid of the people doing all of the ‘bing-bong(ing)’.

Now wait wait wait young sir – you may just be thinking to yourself – why in the world would you want to scare people away from your door?! Well it is an epic struggle from those who are at home in the middle of the day and those people who are all about knocking on my door to give me some crazy booklet with a baby holding a star and looking at a rainbow – or whatever – you know those people . . . Here is how the conversation typically goes:

Them:Why hello sir! What a glorious day we are blessed to be having. Would you be interested in . . .
It is usually by now that they realize just how dissheveled and frenzied my door opening was and start to trail off. So then I mumble something about “Having to work . . . working from home . . . gotta go to do some work” or something even more effective like coughing uproriously and then – and yes I do go back to the mumble for this – “Really sick . . . work from home . . . sorry about my dog . . . gotta go do something.” At which point they usually give measured glances to me and then at each other and decide to just cut their losses give me their pamphlet and go to the next house.

Today was the exception (and I have to point out that this was their third visit this week – and so I think that they are catching onto my little game) – I pulled the mumbling work thing – they gave me their pamphlets – and then the deal was done – right?! Oh no friend – because as they were leaving – just before they threw in their “Have a blessed day” thing – the leader mentioned that they would love to come back and talk with me about whatever I was supposed to be reading in their pamphlets . . . like some sort of potential pop-quiz or something. I was trapped – my tricks hadn’t gotten rid of them at all and so in a vain effort I threw out the “Even though I work from home . . . meetings . . . sometimes I go out . . . to meetings.” or something like that. She just looked and – even though I’m not even really sure if she said anything – this is what I got from her eyes – – “We know when you are here . . . we will find you . . .” So I have lost this battle . . . and will be boarding a cruise to Antigua on the first of the month . . . or maybe I’ll just have them in for tea and cakes . . . or – or – or . . .

A Terrifying Story (about a doughnut)

So last night I was out and about – usually whenever I leave the house I tend to go “out and about” – or if I am feeling particularly Canadian then I may sometimes also go “oot and aboot” – but that is besides the point – so let’s ignore all of that and get back to that that that there point.

It was around a quarter after ten in the evening when I found myself at one of the local “doughnutaterias” – what a treat it is to watch the big machine make the little doughnuts – but more on that some other day – for right now one important thing to point out is that I noticed that the doughnuts seemed to be a bit “cakey” on the line (or maybe a tad overcooked?!) – they just looked a bit off . . .

Anyway – I ended up with a plain doughnut with chocolate frosting and multi-colored sprinkles and a “quick-slam” jug of milk – or something like that. Once in the car – I pulled out the doughnut and started to eat it – and that was when it hit me . . .

As much as I would love to think that there was something intrinsically weird or wrong with my “cakey” doughnut . . . I had to ask the question – am I past the point of doughnut goodness?? And don’t get me wrong about it being too “sweet” or anything – I drank 1 1/2 gallons of serious sweet tea yesterday – but maybe it was too sweet or something . . . Is this just a bump in the road – or something more final?

Tonight – I think that I’ll take a bath in simple syrup to find out – or maybe the dog will . . . maybe – just maybe . . .