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Posts Tagged ‘pork chop’

One relative, who, or is it whom, this is why I have a personal editor, but she does not work on blogs.  Okay, so this aunt relative did not have the family obsessive compulsive gene.  She had the idea that if she needed to go somewhere, with her children, and the clothes were dirty, which they always were, that you stopped at the local version, at the time, of WalMart, and buy new clothes.  Okay, that sentence is another reason I have a personal editor.

 

Anyway, the dirty clothing was thrown down the stairs.  Said aunt was fun to visit; except do not go down the stairs because they would have to send in a sniffing dog to find you in the deep carpet of clothing.  She did not jump up every five seconds, like another relative did, to remove dust bunnies.  You did not remove your shoes in her house.  In fact, to do so might invite a need to run to the hospital for a tetanus shot.  What you did do, was check the sofa before you sat down, where you were quite likely to find a pork chop.  Seriously!

 

By her chair, she had her knitting, magazines, candy, etc.  I think this happens to people who are homesteading.  If you crowd enough stuff around your chair, no one else will take it when you get up to go to the bathroom.  The avalanche might kill them.

 

I have been sitting, feet up for a long time now.  I do get up and walk around.  I get dressed, do chores, garden, walk the treadmill, the whole nine yards but I spend my afternoon and evening, at the couch, feet up, with my laptop and my book.  The problem is, I always need something.  This is good for exercise but bad for my feng shui. 

 

I need a thesaurus, got it, lean it against the couch.  I need the dictionary, some dark chocolate, my camera, a flashlight, my blood pressure cuff, the mail comes, a boy gives me their senior buy your graduation gown packet, announces that he will come back the next day so we can do it together and I do not see him again for a week.  Well, he is here, I know that, but he counts on my memory being faulty, and me eventually doing it. 

Then there is the cookbook project, which entails me transferring all my handwritten notes from my cookbook to one for Master’s Daughter.  She actually has the original, held together with flour and water, but it is dangerous to try and use, so I bought a duplicate to start making her own memories.  Hmmm, perhaps my memory is at the bottom of this pile. 

 

Anyway, this pile sits by my couch and periodically I will put it all away; only to start getting the items out one by one, as the days pass.  This has become my major form of exercise.  I think it might be time to get things put away again.

 

What do you think? 

 

 

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