My warding stones aren't working...

Okay! Okay! I'm blogging! Brandy threatened to send assorted mythical, magical creatures to torment me unless I did. So, I sat this a.m. with a cup of coffee and began blogging my way into infamy. Two large paragraphs done and Netscape shut down on me. I said some appropriately vile words and walked away, resigned to the idea that I am not meant to blog
However, I do read every day (and sometimes multiple times a day), if that counts. In an attempt to totally avoid doing anything productive, I turned the computer back on and there was Lydia, repeating Brandy's message, sans the threats. I can't live with the pressure. I'm killing myself at the desk in front of the pc with the blog on the screen and a message scrolled across it in my own blood - "Beware the Blog." Okay - so I read way too many horror novels. I guess I'll just blog and live another day.
I enjoy reading about your topsy-turvy lives so much more than writing about my boring flat-line life. Not that I'd have it any other way - boring is good. When something exciting happens around here, it usually has a negative bend to it. B, I totally agree about living in the middle of nowhere and when we are old and widowed, you will live here in isolation with me. Sometimes being out beyond the known universe is a bit inconvenient, but I can live with that. Now if I only had a house with plumbing and electrical systems that date from at least the last century, I'd be happy.
Cj was here for 4 days last week and we, of course, had a grand 4 year old time. We played (a lot!), went swimming, played with the water hose, made cookies, read books (again - a lot!), visited my sister's now-closed bar and played video games, pool, and darts, went shopping, went for "special treats" (it's so easy to please a 4 year old when his mother has practically NEVER allowed him to have things like ice cream), helped "Grandpa" around "the farm," lots of other fun things, including catching LOTS of grasshoppers to feed to the dying-of-old-age ducks, as they need the protein. If someone had told me my ducks would only live about 2 years, I doubt I would have brought them home. I've grown rather fond of "my girls."
I have yet to hear The Pig Part Tre, but I add my voice to Brandy's and insist Lydia posts it. Lydia's tales, both real and imaginary, always brighten my day.
Keegan, the wonder dog, returns to the vet for more surgery in a couple of weeks, but is obviously feeling his old self, as I woke this a.m. to find he decided he felt well enough to chew my shoes while I slept. Fortunately, they are the shoes I keep at the back door to slip on to go "do chores" around the place and are much abused and covered in paint, along with cow, chicken, and duck poop. I think the chewing just added to their farm yard appeal.
We've had one crisis after another here lately. Nothing really bad - just the usual kind that remind you are alive - like hundreds of dollars in car repairs, central heat and air frying, - the usual mundane traumas that happen to everyone, but cause you to see actual dollar signs being sucked out of your accounts like a Kansas tornado is passing.
Darrel's grown kids are driving me to drink again, but I've resigned myself to the fact that it's just a part of my life that I will have to deal with forever. I think this is what they were talking about when they mentioned the "or worse" clause in the wedding vows. Of course, being "resigned" to the fact in no way means I haven't had ample opportunity to hone and perfect my bitch skills. I'm getting better and better at the big NO! and recently eliminated the words "give" and "giving" from my vocabulary. I definitely think if B ever redoes our profiles that I would have to be the meanest of the bunch.
I guess I better stop now, as this sudden rush of blogging after so long of no blogging has made my head begin to spin and my extremities tingle.