mizred

mizred:

The Pretenders - Back On The Chain Gang HQ Music (by Javipy3)

I thought I better post something to prove I’m not dead. There’s been a lot going on here, none of which I caused, but affects me nonetheless since I had to come out of my comfortable semi-retirement and take up gainful employment as the Mister’s full time legal Gal-Friday. I had gotten out of the habit of being yelled at all day long by total strangers so there’s been an adjustment period. No one calls a lawyer because they’re in a good mood. On the upside I realize that I’m a lot more responsible than I give myself credit for.

The doggies are all doing quite well and adjusting to being working dogs again. They come home every afternoon worn out from greeting clients. Mrs. Bouvier and Marilyn like to sit in on the consultations. They sit quietly on the floor under the Mister’s desk, minding their manners. Smithers, on the other hand, likes to insert himself into the conversation and is banished to my office behind the baby gate.

On the home front I am expecting my 6th grandchild in August. I feel great but my daughter not so much. Other than that, not much going on.

Oh, I did introduce my 85 year old mother to marijuana. She was making herself sicker by refusing to eat and I was threatening to stick in her in a home if she didn’t snap out it. It was her idea. I just provided the introductory doobie and taught her how to smoke. She asked me if I thought it would help her feel better, I said yes and the rest is, as they say, history. She caught on pretty quick - she has asthma so I told her to think of her inhaler. She hardly even coughed. When last seen she was happily making herself a stack of buttered toast and talking about cooking a flan because she LOVES flan and “flan would taste SOO good right now!”

Anyway, I got Grandma high.

Cloggy:—-Another gem from MizRed that was well worth the wait

mizred
mizred:

This is me at seven years of age. I’m a snow flake.
I’m all dressed up for my one and only dance recital at Mrs. Scofield’s School of Ballet. I think my mother made me turn to the side so as to hide my scabby knees. My knees were all always scabby. The next year I would take piano lessons across town with Mrs. Scofield’s sister, Mrs. Adams.
Mrs. Adams was as short and fat as Mrs. Scofield was tall and willowy. I took piano lesson from her for 4 years and whenever I saw Mrs. Adams she was always sitting down in her chair by the piano and because I never saw her get up and walk I assumed that she had no legs. She was so short and round that when she sat the skirt of her floral mumu hung down to the floor covering any evidence of a presence of legs or a lack thereof. In my mind I had imagined this entire scenario of her husband, Mr. Adams, getting her up and dressed in her Tuesday mumu then propping her sad little legless body on her chair by the piano before he went to work that morning. On a small table to the right of her chair sat a pitcher of water, a glass and a candy dish of lemon drops and I could picture him making sure the pitcher had fresh water and the dish was full of lemon drops before kissing her good-bye then off to work he would go leaving poor Mrs. Adams sitting alone in the living room with only her piano students to keep her company. Then one day during the middle of my piano lesson she got up and walked into the other room and I nearly had a heart attack.
Today is the anniversary of my birth. I’m 63 using the MizRed Method of Age Calculation. That makes me 9 in dog years and for a nine year old dog I’m feeling pretty spry.
The MizRed Method of Age Calculation and Instant Spirit Rejuvenation is to simply add 5 years to your present age. Never lie down about your age. Lie up. No one ever believes you if you lie about being younger but if you lie about being older they are astonished and amazed at how young you look for a person your age.
Having a bad day? Go to a public place, such as the line at a grocery store or some place like that then find a way to work your new older age into a conversation and just listen to the compliments roll in.
Here’s something else I’ve learned in my 63 years of life - the secret to aging gracefully is to age. Gracefully. Why not get a leg up on the aging process and tell everyone you’re older than you really are. Doesn’t mean you have to act like it.


CLOGGY:— A fascinating story and some  very sound mathmatical advice from the wonderful MizRed.

mizred:

This is me at seven years of age. I’m a snow flake.

I’m all dressed up for my one and only dance recital at Mrs. Scofield’s School of Ballet. I think my mother made me turn to the side so as to hide my scabby knees. My knees were all always scabby. The next year I would take piano lessons across town with Mrs. Scofield’s sister, Mrs. Adams.

Mrs. Adams was as short and fat as Mrs. Scofield was tall and willowy. I took piano lesson from her for 4 years and whenever I saw Mrs. Adams she was always sitting down in her chair by the piano and because I never saw her get up and walk I assumed that she had no legs. She was so short and round that when she sat the skirt of her floral mumu hung down to the floor covering any evidence of a presence of legs or a lack thereof. In my mind I had imagined this entire scenario of her husband, Mr. Adams, getting her up and dressed in her Tuesday mumu then propping her sad little legless body on her chair by the piano before he went to work that morning. On a small table to the right of her chair sat a pitcher of water, a glass and a candy dish of lemon drops and I could picture him making sure the pitcher had fresh water and the dish was full of lemon drops before kissing her good-bye then off to work he would go leaving poor Mrs. Adams sitting alone in the living room with only her piano students to keep her company. Then one day during the middle of my piano lesson she got up and walked into the other room and I nearly had a heart attack.

Today is the anniversary of my birth. I’m 63 using the MizRed Method of Age Calculation. That makes me 9 in dog years and for a nine year old dog I’m feeling pretty spry.

The MizRed Method of Age Calculation and Instant Spirit Rejuvenation is to simply add 5 years to your present age. Never lie down about your age. Lie up. No one ever believes you if you lie about being younger but if you lie about being older they are astonished and amazed at how young you look for a person your age.

Having a bad day? Go to a public place, such as the line at a grocery store or some place like that then find a way to work your new older age into a conversation and just listen to the compliments roll in.

Here’s something else I’ve learned in my 63 years of life - the secret to aging gracefully is to age. Gracefully. Why not get a leg up on the aging process and tell everyone you’re older than you really are. Doesn’t mean you have to act like it.

CLOGGY:— A fascinating story and some  very sound mathmatical advice from the wonderful MizRed.

ROYSTON VASEY NOTES & NEWS
At yesterdays meeting  of The Cleavage Preservation  Group Mr Snowden Lichfield, Chief Photographer at the Royston Vasey Herald Tribune newspaper, gave a talk entitled “Soft Focus Cleavage, is it a threat to your group? “ 
Refreshments were provided by Group President, MizRed, who surprised members with her ‘Road Kill Salad’
Picture of Esmeralda From HERE

ROYSTON VASEY NOTES & NEWS

At yesterdays meeting  of The Cleavage Preservation  Group Mr Snowden Lichfield, Chief Photographer at the Royston Vasey Herald Tribune newspaper, gave a talk entitled “Soft Focus Cleavage, is it a threat to your group? “ 

Refreshments were provided by Group President, MizRed, who surprised members with her ‘Road Kill Salad’

Picture of Esmeralda From HERE

mizred
mizred:

Pursuant to request - a picture of “Grandma’s Road Kill Salad”. My mother asked me to make her a to-go box of turkey and such to take home with mostly turkey and some dressing but no Road Kill Salad. She doesn’t eat it either. Seeing it like this in photographic form it looks less like Road Kill Salad and more like Road Kill Tartare. To be polite, everyone, including my mother, put a little spoonful on their plates but no one, including my mother actually ate it. I have acres of it left. This is how Thanksgiving traditions are born.

CLOGGY
It looks terrifyingly realistic.

mizred:

Pursuant to request - a picture of “Grandma’s Road Kill Salad”. My mother asked me to make her a to-go box of turkey and such to take home with mostly turkey and some dressing but no Road Kill Salad. She doesn’t eat it either. Seeing it like this in photographic form it looks less like Road Kill Salad and more like Road Kill Tartare. To be polite, everyone, including my mother, put a little spoonful on their plates but no one, including my mother actually ate it. I have acres of it left. This is how Thanksgiving traditions are born.

CLOGGY

It looks terrifyingly realistic.

mizred
mizred:

A napping Mrs. Bouvier and my socked foot with silver flip-flop in the foreground because it’s November in East Texas where it’s not quite boot weather and it’s not quite sandal weather but somewhere in between.
Mrs. Bouvier is napping because she has been awake since 4:30 this morning. The Mister wakes up very early in the morning and it is his habit to immediately usher the dogs outside and while they are attending to business outside he is attending to business inside making coffee and about the time the coffee is finished brewing the dogs have finished so that by the time he comes back from rounding up the dogs he can pour his first cup of coffee of the day and go upstairs to watch “Way Too Early” and grumble quietly to himself about how much he misses Willie Geist and about what an idiot that other guy is and he did all of this without ever waking me.
When Mrs. Bouvier first came to live here she slept in her own bed and she refused to get up early. Now she sleeps in the middle of our bed with her head on me and her feet on the Mister and she bounds out of bed and is the first one out the door. And first back in again because the Mister gives her coffee and she LOVES it. (2 tbsps coffee to 1 tsbp milk/cream in a pink bowl - no sugar.)
And she thinks we should all wake up and love it together! So the last several mornings I have been awakened by sweet coffee flavored kisses from an 81 pound Chocolate Labrador with a slight caffeine addiction. Fortunately the Mister arrives a few minutes later with a cup of coffee for him and one for me with Mrs. Bouvier sleeping it off between us with her head on me and her feet on the Mister and we watch “Way Too Early” and grumble out loud to each other about how much we miss Wille Geist and about what an idiot that other guy is and we do all of this without waking Mrs. Bouvier.

CLOGGY
I do so enjoy MizRed’s writings. On SU she used to write about the rubbish she found on her walks with her dogs and made it fascinatingly unmissable.There was me here in Yorkshire eagerly waiting to see what litter she had found over there in Texas. She is brilliant.XX

mizred:

A napping Mrs. Bouvier and my socked foot with silver flip-flop in the foreground because it’s November in East Texas where it’s not quite boot weather and it’s not quite sandal weather but somewhere in between.

Mrs. Bouvier is napping because she has been awake since 4:30 this morning. The Mister wakes up very early in the morning and it is his habit to immediately usher the dogs outside and while they are attending to business outside he is attending to business inside making coffee and about the time the coffee is finished brewing the dogs have finished so that by the time he comes back from rounding up the dogs he can pour his first cup of coffee of the day and go upstairs to watch “Way Too Early” and grumble quietly to himself about how much he misses Willie Geist and about what an idiot that other guy is and he did all of this without ever waking me.

When Mrs. Bouvier first came to live here she slept in her own bed and she refused to get up early. Now she sleeps in the middle of our bed with her head on me and her feet on the Mister and she bounds out of bed and is the first one out the door. And first back in again because the Mister gives her coffee and she LOVES it. (2 tbsps coffee to 1 tsbp milk/cream in a pink bowl - no sugar.)

And she thinks we should all wake up and love it together! So the last several mornings I have been awakened by sweet coffee flavored kisses from an 81 pound Chocolate Labrador with a slight caffeine addiction. Fortunately the Mister arrives a few minutes later with a cup of coffee for him and one for me with Mrs. Bouvier sleeping it off between us with her head on me and her feet on the Mister and we watch “Way Too Early” and grumble out loud to each other about how much we miss Wille Geist and about what an idiot that other guy is and we do all of this without waking Mrs. Bouvier.

CLOGGY

I do so enjoy MizRed’s writings. On SU she used to write about the rubbish she found on her walks with her dogs and made it fascinatingly unmissable.There was me here in Yorkshire eagerly waiting to see what litter she had found over there in Texas. She is brilliant.XX

ROYSTON VASEY NOTES & NEWS

MizRed, President of the The Royston Vasey  Cleavage Preservation Group tells us the committee has done  a survey among the members to see who owed their outstanding features to the use of that fine old fashioned preparation, Seroco Bust Cream. It turned out a considerable number had used it since girlhood with commendable results. Above are the members concerned. Judge for yourself.

mizred

mizred:

Several of you have asked as to the circumstances regarding the parking lot incident and how it was resolved. Here goes -

Monday morning the Mister and I decided to drive to Los Alamos and check out the museum so along the way we stopped at this wonderful restaurant to pick up to-go cafe au laits and hopefully a bag of beignets. It’s a lovely bakery/restaurant with a wonderful staff and fabulous food and crappy parking. Made more crappy by the fact that someone had parked their red Hum-Vee in such as way as to block all access to the additional parking at the rear of the property and this resulted in all successive vehicles, including ours, being forced to park at odd angles to accommodate all which contributed to blocking the red Hum-Vee from making an exit both fore and aft.

When the pajama-fur coat lady returned to her red Hum-Vee she discovered her position and since I was the only living soul in any of the cars that were blocking her car she turned her wrath on me and demanded that I move my fucking car. I would have been more than happy to move our car but someone had parked their car behind us and other cars were starting to stack behind that one. Besides which even if I could have moved our car I was not in possession of the key which was with the Mister and he was inside buying coffee.

I tried to explain this to her but it only served to make her more irate because evidently she was in a super big rush to leave. I suppose it was to go home and change clothes but I hardly think that counts when you allow yourself to go out dressed in flannel pajamas and a full length fur coat.

At some point, as her anger escalated at being thwarted in making a fast exit I piled out of the driver’s side door and ran in the restaurant to get the Mister to handle it. She blew in behind me and there was a slight fracas with the line at the door as the other parking offenders were rousted out to move their cars and when I emerged from the restaurant a couple of minutes later everyone, including the Mister had moved their cars and the crazy lady in the red Hum-Vee tore out of the parking lot nearly running me over in the process.

It took me all of the drive to Los Alamos to recover. My cafe au lait was cold by the time I could drink it. Plus the restaurant was out of beignets.

I could have really used a beignet.

Other than that, the trip was great.

Cloggy :- I wish i had a life as exciting as Robin. The highlight of my week is taking the wheely bin up to the road and hoping the dustbin lorry will turn up.  Yee Haw

mizred

mizred:

A quick summation of the activities of the last five days and only a brief one because I tend to get bogged down in the details and then the next thing you know I look up and I’ve written 15 paragraphs and all of them are just one long run-on sentence. My life is a run on sentence.

The wedding…———-

———The only fly in the ointment was a brief altercation on Monday morning in a restaurant parking lot between myself and some crazy lady I’ve never seen before in my life but whose pajamas and fur coat clad red faced visage is forever permanently etched into my brain - I don’t know why this shit always happens to me but for some reason I am always finding myself the target of the angry unprovoked tirades of complete and total strangers. One minute I’m seated in the passenger seat of a parked car all by myself, reading a travel brochure and waiting for the Mister to reappear with cafe au lait and a bag of Beignets, blissfully unaware that the next minute I will be racing inside said restaurant with a crazy person in hot pursuit.

Come on Robin, put us out of our misery, tell us about the crazy red lady