Shalanna Collins has recently been rumored to be a direct descendant of the great Barnabas Collins, of “Dark Shadows” saga fame. When asked about it, she said, “I didn’t inherit a 3@!#$%^&*ed thing. Don’t get me started.”
But I’d say some people had better watch their necks!!
In other news–mama Jodie came home from the hospital late yesterday afternoon. She hasn’t stopped moaning and complaining since, so I think she must be OK. Her heart rate has kept up over sixty, so that’s good. Her problem is her bruising (she bruised ALL OVER) and sciatica/back pain. And she had to take milk of magnesia and one of those Unspeakable dealies so she could, you know, and she HAS been, all day. Yuck! And she has been ravenous. I have cooked and called for take-out and produced cookies all day. I hate cooking. Cooking involves a bunch of work in a hot kitchen and cleaning up at a sink and is slave labor. Have I mentioned I HATE cooking? *sigh* But at last the dog seems to be returning to normal.
Yesterday when she first got home and I put her to bed, I put the Pom on the bed with her. Then I headed for the dreaded kitchen to make some nasty old foodstuffs. In a bit I heard yelling and noise. Went in there to discover that when she dozed off, the dog had gotten up on her chest and started bathing her face ALL OVER. She woke up “with my face just soaking” and rolled over to make him stop and then leaped up off the bed. I told her, “That’s how they wake up puppies when they’re first born!! He was just bringing you around!!” That dog is so clever, and totally loving. He deserves better parents than us, but we try our best because we adore him.
Frankly, I’m ready for everyone here to be well. If she doesn’t perk up and get happy, I will need some gin. And I don’t even drink.
Why doesn’t it rain? I am becoming less and less tolerant of the heat and the sun. Hmm . . . that family tree again.