Wednesday, October 31, 2012

To Be Served With S'mores And Hot Dr Pepper



Magenta Lame'

~A short body of work to be read on All Hallows' Eve preferably by the glare of a glowing computer screen.~

It always begins innocently enough doesn't it?

Having been busy the past few months, my intent was to bring a feeling of clean and organized back to my home.  Everything in it's place and a place for everything.  This was my plan.

Beginning in the front of the house and working my way back, I found myself placing things in the office that didn't have a designated spot.  My office would be put off for last. This was my haven where few dared to trespass.  It could be straighted out later when everything else was complete.  This was my blueprint, but like with all good intentions, the fickle finger of fate had another idea in mind for me. 

And so it began.

Mail tossed on the desk to be opened later, a few bills waiting to be paid, a folder of invoices and an unfinished project or two gathering dust in the corner...just waiting to be properly handled.  Innocuous enough and certainly nothing to send up warning bells of the hidden danger awaiting to befall me.

Had I been paying closer attention to my desk, I might have noticed something was afoul beginning with a slight tilt the folders were beginning to take on.  A listing somewhat like the Tower of Pisa, but so benumbed was I in the fumes of Pine Sol,  I  failed to sniff out the cauldron of chaos brewing just beneath the surface.  A boil of unfathomable menace growing and growing, threatening to explode with an unnatural force.

Days passed, then weeks until the day I awoke with a burning question coursing through my mind.

Did I pay the electric bill?

As the lights flickered on and off, I ran into the office and frantically tried to unearth the bill from the towering stacks.  Leafing through pile after pile of papers, haphazardly tugging out this bill and that bill, I paused only long enough to give a cursory glance to mail waiting to be read.

Is this a baby shower invitation?  When did Aunt Nora send me these photos?  No time to wonder now.  Time is running out. I must find my light bill before I'm left in the dark.


Continuing to ponderously dig in the unending mountains of white, I felt my throat tighten in the harsh reality of my situation.  In an effort to calm my shaking hands, I reached for my cup of coffee as my elbow errantly grazed the stacks stewn around me.  Without warning, envelopes began wildly cascading onto the floor.  Unable to stem the landslide, brown folders toppled as well, their copious contents spilling out, scattering to the four corners of the room.  Dust filled my nostrils as blood oozed from a myriad of paper cuts.

Feeling faint from the sight of my own blood, I hastily powered up my PC, the fear of losing power...and consciousness...threatening to extinguish my contact with the outside world.

Hearing it's hum, seeing the welcoming blue logo, I felt my heart stop racing as calm was restored with these normal familiarities, when suddenly...

clicking onto my e-mail icon...


I found my mailbox overflowing as well!

Panic overcame me once again as I glanced around this 10x10 sea of paper I was entrapped in.  I was completely engulfed in manila and pulp.  The flood of paper choking me, I struggled to catch my breath as half-finished projects stared balefully at me from their corners o'shame mocking my tears o'shame.

Cobwebs yanked at my hair as I sat helpless in the floor, powerless to move lest something else fall on me.  Dust bunnies danced wildly across the floor, daring me to try and catch them.  A lost Yellow Box hidden beneath the desk winked sardonically at me. Unearthed shards of Oreos and Fritos encircled my chair providing no sustenance, only remembrances of past guilty secrets.

I was trapped...stripped of direction, covered in deception, and buried alive in a tomb of paper work.

Who could have been so callous as to do this to me?

What had I done to deserve such a fate?

Glancing to my left, I catch a glimpse of my dirty face in the mirror I had so precariously propped against the bookcase only a week before.  As the last scrap of paper slowly fluttered down into my lap, a sense of hopelessness over took me. 

For there my friends---in that dusty mirror---through tears of horror---I saw my Grimy Reaper.


and I alone...

red-handed and red-faced...

held the shovel.




Wednesday, October 10, 2012

Cow Cow Boogie

M-o-o-o-chos Grassy-oats!!!

To all our old customers and friends who dropped in to see us...thank you.

To all the brand new ones who found us in our pasture cow palace...the pleasure was all ours.

To everyone who encouraged and supported us in this mo-o-ove...our heart felt thanks.

We think every one of y'all is udderly delightful.
To Al and Sue, for allowing us to stay in their charming cabin in the woods and share their bucolic mornings of wildflowers, deer and grazing cows and for nights spent gazing at the Milky Way in a big Texas sky, thank you so much.

Who knew a traffic jam in the country consists of cows in the middle of the drive or that the Big Dipper was filled to the brim?

What a perfect way to begin each day and come home to at night.

If it's true happy cows are contented cows...

just call us Elsie and Beauregard.

To Robelyn for being my very own Red.Neck aide-de-camp and for knowing that even if I brought my camera, I'd never have the time to take it out of the case.  You were there to ensure photos were taken and to try and keep me linear.  You kept things...and Cat Daddy...snappy-happy and churning.  For keeping me focused and for sharing your incredible talent for capturing beautiful images, I am forever indebted. 

To Liz and Fran for taking time off to help corral the chaos that was space 9 and for enduring the herds of fire ants...thank you.  Y'all went above and beyond the call of duty.

Y'all three milked it for all it was worth...and I was the happy recipient of your amazing tail swishin'.

Over the moon and back Chickie Baby and Girls...that's how much I love y'all.

To Ashley and  Marburger Farm Antique Show for allowing us to be part of such a beautiful, well ran show...thank you, thank you, thank you.

Marburger Farm truly is the land of milk and honey for antiques.

And finally to my Cat very own bull in the china closet.

My good right-hand cow-hand...ain't no flies on you!

Thank you for patiently waiting each morning while I rounded up my bling and braided my locks.  You put up with a lot of chewing the cud from a bevy of bovine femaleness of which most men would stampede from, but not you.  You're no cow-ard.

For refraining from cow tipping when I was sleeping standing up and for keeping the bull corn to a minimum...thank you.  I know it was a stretch.

You saw to it I was fed on a daily basis...and thanks to you...I returned home the fatted calf.

For Blue Bell drumsticks in the freezer, BBQ served up under the tent, and coffee with extra cream every know what I like.

And mostly...I like love you...and will 'til the cows come home!

(All photos are the sole property of Red.Neck Chic. She worked her little rump roast off shooting 'em and I'd appreciate it if you'd let her know how much you love 'em too!)

Success isn't always measured in the makin' or countin' of milk money.

Sometimes it's measured in gallons of laughter, buckets of love and the warm, endless flow from the milk of human kindness.

I am a rich woman...albeit a tad dirty and tired one.

I do believe I'm gonna go take a milk bath now and reflect in the wonder at the blue ribbon winners who are the butter on my biscuit.

How blessed am I?

My cup o'chocolate milk runneth over.