Close to Home

For days Hosta had been watching Foxglove, admiring their deep lavender bells, so enticing to the bumble bees. Hosta leaned out over the stone walkway, hoping that Foxglove would notice.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, Foxglove bent toward the walkway. Hosta trembled with anticipation. . . if only, even the briefest of touches . . .

Alas, it was not to be. A passing dog tore the pair asunder, never to be reunited. But the memory lingers . . .

 

I Wish I'd Written This . . .Re-Post

"This way -- in here."

His urgency was apparent as he caught me in a firm grasp just above my elbow and guided me into the room -- his room. Then he shut the door and we were alone.

I could feel my heart beating faster as he approached me from behind.  His voice, low and reassuring, was gentle.

"Just relax," he murmured and, with no further warning, reached down. I felt his strong hands at my ankles, gently probing, moving upward along my calves--slowly, oh , so slowly.

My breath caught in my throat. I knew I should be afraid, but somehow I didn't care. His touch was so experienced, so sure.

When his hands moved up onto my thighs, I gave a slight shudder, and partly closed my eyes. 

My pulse was pounding. I felt his knowing fingers caress my abdomen, my rib cage. and then, as he cupped my firm, full breasts in his hands, I inhaled sharply. 

Probing, searching, knowing what he wanted, he brought his hands to my shoulders, slid them down my tingling spine and into my panties. 

Although I knew nothing about this man, I felt oddly trusting and expectant. 

This, this is a man, I thought. A man used to taking charge...a man who won't take no for an answer...a man who will tell me what he wants...who will look into my soul and say... 

"Okay, ma'am, all done."

My eyes snapped open. He was standing in front of me, smiling and holding out my purse.  

"You may board your flight now."

~~~~~~~~

This is one of those funny things that floats around the internet. I don't know who wrote it.  The photos aren't by me either but by Louisa Stokes and Unknown.

Easily Entertained . . .

Spotted this sign on a SUV the other day and my imagination went wild.

Sensei Ninja Nanny-san will care for your little ones and teach them them meaning of respect and instant obedience. .

Nothing gets a toddler's attention quite like a throwing star just missing his ear when hurled by a black-clad attendant. 

Visit our dojo today and place little Liam or little Emma in the care of our superbly skilled instructors . . . attitude adjustment a specialty!

Okay, okay -- I'm sure it's not really like that . . . in fact, I expect a class in martial arts for young kids would be a lot better than video games or TV -- those electronic babysitters.

 But I do like the idea of a ninja turned nanny  . . . 

Potato Ducky

Potato ducky, you're the one!

Makes washing dishes

Lots of fun!

 

On Sunday night Justin and Claui cooked dinner up here (barbecued chicken, potato salad, and green beans,) and did the dishes. 

The next morning I found this potato ducky waiting for me. (The beak is a bit of red pepper.)

What?

Phil, from a car dealership in L.A. (L.A.!) sent me the following yesterday:

Hi,
I'd like to inquire about doing a sponsored blog post - about 150-300 words that talks a little bit about cars and automobiles and links back to our site. We are a car dealership and thought we might be a good fit for your readers/visitors on http://vickilanemysteries.blogspot.com.

Here's a list of some blog post titles we've done in the past:
- What To Look For When Buying A New Car
- 2012 Cars That Look Good And Saves You Gas
- Reasons Why Buying New Cars Is Better Than Used

Our budget is around $15 for the post. Is this something you'd be open to?

Also we might be interested in a small banner ad if the price is right.Our budget is $40/year.

Let me know if you'd be open to either or both of these.  

Now I just wonder what made Phil think that we might be a good fit. Do I have ANY readers in the LA area? Not that I know of. 

And what, in his no doubt careful perusal of my blog, made him think I had any expertise or interest in writing about cars? 

And for the princely sum of $15 -- dang!  I'm not saying I couldn't be bought but for $15? Give me a break.

I told Phil that I'd no  more take him up on his offer than I'd tattoo his ad on the face of my firstborn.

Haven't heard back from Phil.

A Weighty Question

I don't know . . .

What do you think?

Does this paint job make my butt look big?

Did You Realize. . .

. . . that your armpit has cravings? Which armpit, I couldn't say, but Old Spice tells me this is the case.

And now I have to wonder about other body parts -- what is it they desire? My knees (both of them) have been telling me for some time now that they'd like to be refurbished.

But what about some of the other members of my anatomy? Would my lips like some Botox? Are my cuticles crying out for cuticle cream, my lashes for lengthener, my teeth for resurfacing?

"Exfoliate me!" I think I hear my skin screaming.

From the Department of Clarification

But. . .

Well, it's NOT blank, is it?

Maybe you can explain...

Hanging with the Jersey Girls

From My Collection...

 

 Another anonymous comment left here recently -- for some reason I just adore these dada-esque messages

Hello everybody subservient to the bronze knick-knacks
That's eager of the note
I'm concomitant to here
Thrilled as pummel to equivalent to of thinking you all
Well-received to my blog.

While I don't consider myself subservient to the bronze knick-knacks, I am, however, thrilled as pummel to find this favorite -- and oh, so apposite! -- Monty Python sketch on YouTube.

And Now . . . Dudeism

Come join the slowest-growing religion in the world – Dudeism. An ancient philosophy that preaches non-preachiness, practices as little as possible, and above all, uh…lost my train of thought there. Anyway, if you’d like to find peace on earth and goodwill, man, we’ll help you get started. Right after a little nap.
First, you might want to
Get ordained as a Dudeist priest. There are over 100,000 worldwide.










I've already mentioned my infatuation with the Brothers Coen. And you may have noticed that I love a good bit of silliness.


So when I saw the above on line -- a religion based on The Dude of "The Big Lebowski"  -- I knew at once that it was pretty much just my cup of tea -- or my glass of White Russian, to be more faithful to the film.


And yes, I have been ordained. You may call me 'Mother Vicki'  or perhaps 'Your Ineffable
Randomness.'  


I stand ready to perform weddings or exorcisms.


(My apologies to those of you who aren't familiar with The Dude -- our regular programming will return soon.)

A Story . . .

So, like yesterday my pictures have nothing to do with the subject matter.  It's been snowing all day long and, while it's absolutely gorgeous, my eyes are ready for some flowers.

And I'm not yet done with yesterday's topic.

This story took place about thirty years ago. I'd taken my boys to Tampa to visit their grandparents and great grandparents. As we drove the long weary miles through South Carolina, Georgia, and Florida, I discussed with the boys  (ages 3 and 8, as I recall)  what kind of behavior would be expected of them in suburban Tampa -- no running around naked, no peeing outside, yes ma'am and yes sir to their elders and then there were certain words not to use. . .

Now this was foolish on my part. The boys didn't use 'bad' language at that tender age. But I knew they'd heard it so I just wanted to make sure they understood the rules.

And they did.

One morning as the boys and I were having breakfast with my grandparents, the three year old, angelic little Justin, his spoonful of cereal half-way to his mouth, fixed me with a solemn gaze and and said, quite clearly, "We don't say 'shit.'

Euphemistic Language

Reader Wil started it. Her comment yesterday about not saying 'shit' because it was vulgar has led me to this post. (For reasons that should be obvious, my photos have nothing to do with today's natterings. )

So anyway, I got to thinking about some  of the euphemisms that are employed rather than offend anyone's ears with the fine old Anglo-Saxon 'shit.'

There's crap and poop and poo poo,

 Doo dahs, squat, and shhiz,

Dookie and doodie and doo doo

And who doesn't know Number Two?

Whatever its name 

Call it crud, caca, or poo,

Vulgar or not, it's all still the same
When it sticks to the sole of your shoe.

Isn't language fun?

Anticipation . . .

What will the day bring?

How many yellow roses will bloom ?

When will the foxgloves open and . . .

Where will the cat go, now that she has the car keys?

  A very brief post as I really am in the final throes of UNDER THE SKIN, having promised to get  it to my editor by Monday.