THE WORLD NEEDS MORE PROBLEM SOLVERS.
Today I had lunch with a few friends. Old friends. Kindergarden class old. Time and circumstance at times drifted us apart, but we always find the time to celebrate each others birthdays, catch up, and compare notes.
Besides our shared internal disaster sensors, there are tiny elements in our lives that have become indelibly tangled with our personalities. For one it’s her experimentation with hair color, for another—an infectious laugh. One friend is up to date with the latest fashion trends, another on physical fitness. We’ve all had our ups and downs, share a self-deprecating humor, and weathered many a relationship. A constant throughout, is our continuous referencing of “All things Leopard.”
Crazy Leopard references stemmed from a college spring break trip to Florida. We stayed at a family friend’s condo, comfortably situated near the ocean. Six pale girls on the loose. Only a hangover or low SPF could stop us. And it did—but not before being stopped in our tracks at the condo. Here was a glaring lesson in the not-so-subtle art of decorating. Everything…EVERYTHING in this apartment was animal themed. Leopard printed upholstery, bedding, and towels. Cheetah patterned china. Serengeti prints. Safari photos. And, a lovely leopard print negligee in the closet. Ready to Pounce. Crazy Cats. Girls Gone Wild.
This occurred 30 years ago and we still laugh about it. It’s taken on a life of its own over the years as we’ve accrued our own collection of leopard items. Two of my friends in particular have made it their mission to purchase said items. The collection consists of, but is not limited to leopard pajamas, robes, snuggies, blankets, headbands, scarves, gloves, shoes, skirts, slippers, picture frames, wine stoppers, band-aids, kleenex, purses, and my personal favorite: duct tape. All tastefully presented in a leopard gift bag.
The probability of a light strand malfunction is directly proportional to its height and replacement difficulty.
”Computer Angst” by Angela Kenley
The website will crash after you filled up your shopping cart and before you hit the “Place Your Order” button.
HAPPY OCTOBER EVERYONE.
Life has taught me that parental expertise is not necessarily inherited. My mom was a great cook, so you’d think I have a small thread of the cooking gene — but no. This apple fell far from the tree.
Probably the best compliment regarding my cooking skills came from my 11 year old son:
"I like this. It taste like airplane food.”
~Take that Martha Stewart~
The LOSERSISTERS’ local taylor was a middle aged Ukranian lady with thick eye-glasses, sporadic facial hair, and a daughter named Gina. With a stronger command of English, Gina manned the counter. She had a pleasant face and proportions until she turned around. Then we were transported from earth into some unknown galaxy. Here was an ass of such enormous proportion that we marveled that her legs and back didn’t buckle. Here was an ass so robust that it resembled a glacier shelf. Effusive sedimentation fired, deposited, and rounded her hind quarters. It was awesome. She then became known as: ”THE GINA OF THE LARGE BUTT.”
To this day, the LOSERSISTERS’ default reply to “What are you doing?” is “Just working on my shelf butt.”
It’s a dog eat dog world—and I’m wearing bacon underpants.
“Where is all the knowledge we lost with information?” —T.S. Eliot