Got Nuts?

All righty.

The Princess and I headed for Monterey this month to do some whale watching and celebrate my birthday.

Nothing out of the ordinary.

We go to the area often and enjoy hanging around the aquarium and checking out the little fisheys.

Whale watching, though, is quite another story.

The last time that we took this little naturalist led excursion, I ended up in the aft end of the boat for most of the trip, bonding with a moaning, pale 5 year old, as she and I reluctantly contributed our morning breakfasts to the bay waters.

Wasn’t a fun experience – to say the least.

So, when I woke up bright and early Saturday morning and told the Princess that I was in the mood to do some boating and see me some humpback whales, the Princess looked at me like I “hadn’t the sense God gave a goose”, and rolled back over and told me to go back to sleep.

After coaxing her out of bed and getting her to see that I was quite serious about my wishes to go whale watching, we got ready and headed out to the coast.

Acutely aware of the fact that I didn’t fair too well the last time we went, I judiciously decided to forego breakfast and determined that a large bottle of Coke would serve me well and that I’d eat when we finished the trip.

The Princess, though, decided that she needed something of sustenance and elected to stop off at one of the little shops on the wharf to procure some snack-type vittles before starting our excursion.

Uh-Hun.

She prudently decides that nuts would be a good source of protein and a much better snack, than the popcorn that I was hungrily eye-balling.

Quickly finding the nut display, but not knowing which of the three, young service people, idly standing behind the counter, was responsible for the “nut section”, she innocently asked, “Which one of you three handles the nuts?”

Not missing a beat and coyly smiling, the witty young man among them smugly looks at her and replies, “Hold on, ma’am, I’ll be with you in a minute.”

I don’t know who was laughing more – the kids behind the counter or me?

God love her!

She keeps me laughing every day.

Have a great day, People, and may you be blessed with someone that brings you laughter and joy, on a regular basis.

Catch ya next time, looking at life from my shoes.

 

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The Death of an Egg!

Okey-dokey!

 

The Princess asked me if she could “treat me and cook breakfast Christmas morning”.

 

Isn’t she a “Sweetie“?

 

She opened the refrigerator door, took out our 2 remaining eggs and dropped one on the floor!

 

Yep.

 

Guess which one of us had oatmeal that morning? (And it wasn’t ME!)

 

God love her. She keeps me laughing every day!

 

Life is good at our house, People.

 

May your New Year be blessed with good food, much love, the company of good friends and relatives and, of course, an abundance of laughter.

 

And remember: Take it easy on the eggnog over the New Year holiday and I’ll catch ya next week for the beginning of a New Year looking at “Life from My Shoes”!

Good Morning, Peoples!

Good morning, Peoples!

So, I’m standing here at the crack of dawn with my hair looking like Lady Gaga herself, yawning with morning breath from last night’s garlic chicken, freezing my ample-sized butt off, and asking myself,

“What the heck are you doing outta bed, for Chriminy Sakes?”

“It’s dark, it’s cold, and you’re retired! Go back to your warm, comfy bed, Woman! And let the day start without you! Last night’s dishes will wait, ya know? It’s not like you’ve gotta be anyplace this morning, for Pete’s sakes!”

But no, not me!

I gotta get up with the birds and my howling Siamese, and start washing last night’s dishes!

So, I’m standing at the sink, intently scrubbing the caked-on garlic goop outta the pan with the water running, telling Boo to shut da hell up and go eat her food that I just put together (Did I tell you, People, that my cat Boo, has something called “malabsorption syndrome” and needs a specially prepared menu every day? No? Not yet? Hm…well, that’s a story for another day. Anyway, forgive me. I digress.)

I’m washing up some dishes and trying (not too successfully, mind you!) to ignore Boo’s caterwauling when I hear the Princess mumbling something or other while she’s brushing her teeth with her electric toothbrush.

Being hearing impaired and all (and going deaf with an obnoxious, howling cat), I don’t hear her. So, I just continue washing the dishes.

Then all of a sudden, her tiny Princess head shoots out from the bathroom door and yells,

“Lucie! For God’s sakes! Will you answer me?! I can’t stand it when you ignore me like that, ya know? Drives me nuts! Could you PAH-LEEZE listen to me once in awhile?!!!!”

Now for those of you in relationships (either past or present), you know that no matter how I answer that question, I’m gonna lose.

So I’m thinkin’ to myself, “Ya know, I could be wrong, but I think I’m in one of those lose/lose scenarios here.”

I definitely feel like drowning Boo right now, and I think before I get to the point where I wanna drown the Princess, too, I’d better just “take one for the team,” agree with her politely (and ever so subserviently), apologize, and go back to bed.

So, I take a deep, cleansing breath (one that even Miss Betsy of my gentle yoga class would be proud of!), glance at her over my Ben Franklin eye specs and calmly say, “You know, Sweetie ─ you’re right! You’re definitely right. I need to listen to you more often. I’m sorry.”

The humble apology, however, does nothing but add fuel to her displeasure with me, and she irritably responds,

“Ya know, Lucie,” she says between clenched teeth, “I hate it when you’re sarcastic! I really hate it! It’s sooo not becoming, ya know?”

Before I can even so much as say one word in response, she scoots back into the bathroom and continues brushing her teeth and completing her morning cleaning ritual.

By this time, Boo has discovered that today’s menu offering is actually palatable and has hungrily started to chow down, when Molly (cat #2) comes meowing out of my bedroom for her specially prepared diet and medications (Did I tell you, people, that Molly has urinary problems and also needs special foods and medications? No? Not yet? Hm…guess that’s also a story for another day, eh??)

So, I start to meticulously prepare Molly’s special menu. (Ask me someday to tell you how I once took one of Molly’s drugs and almost gave Molly MY drug!!! I scratched myself raw for most of the day and swore I saw fleas hopping around on my arms! But forgive me; once again, I digress!). I then notice that the Princess has finished her morning grooming rituals and is heading out the door on her way to work, when she suddenly stops and starts kissing and lavishing Boo (who has now coyly perched herself on the arm of the couch) with all kinds of lovin’ and hugs.

After a few minutes of smothering Boo with an abundance of lovin’, she inadvertently catches a glimpse of me and suddenly realizes: Oh, that’s right. I have a partner. Maybe I’ll acknowledge her before I go to work, too!

“So,” she queries, “What’s on your busy agenda for today, Hun?”

She’s been asking me this question every day since I retired. I don’t know why, but I rarely answer her with a genuine response. Guess it’s one of those endearing (or not so endearing!) games that couples play with each other when they’ve been a couple for so many years!

Makes me absolutely batty! But whatever….

“Oh nothing,” I sarcastically respond with a grin on my face, “I think I’ll just lounge with the termites today and have an Orange Julius. Have a good day, Sweetie!”

I don’t know, People! I’m thinkin’ a good sense of humor is something worth keeping in my life these days!

What do you think?

Have a great day! I know I will ─ sipping Orange Julius’s and hangin’ with my termite buddies!!!!

 

Until next week’s adventure: laugh often and enthusiastically! Life’s too precious not to!

The Princess and the Four Legged Pumpkin

Okey Dokey, People!

 

So, we’re driving home from doing errands on Saturday, when I notice a rag-a-muffin little white dog in a Halloween pumpkin costume nervously running from one thing to another, lifting his hind leg and peeing on everything that’s not moving.

 

I look at the Princess and say, “Hm, I think this little pumpkin is lost. He looks like he’s seen a ghost or two from last night and appears a little traumatized. We’d better stop the car and see if ‘Mr. Pumpkin’ here, has a home.”

 

I’m pulling over to the side of the street, when I hear the Princess say (in what I assume she felt was her most enticing doggy voice), “Come here, Little Pumpkin. Come on over ta Momma.”

 

“Dam,” she continues, “I wish we had some doggy treats!”

 

“Uh hun”, I’m thinkin’, “WTS?! Why would we (the owner of TWO CATS!!) be driving around with doggy treats in our car?”

 

“Ok”, I mumble to myself, “Whatever! It’s Princess logic. You never question Princess logic. Just go with it, Lucie. There’s no time to argue with her Highness. Just go with it.”

 

At this point, I assume the dog is more interested in finding another place to relieve himself, because the next thing I know, we’re looking at this little orange ball of matted fur go speeding down the street and out of sight, like a bat outta hell!

 

I’m looking at the Princess with total disbelief, shaking my head, and mumbling, “Pumpkin?!  Pumpkin?! You seriously called the dog Pumpkin? And told him to come ta Momma?!

 

“Really? Seriously?”

 

“You probably scared the shit outta him, and who knows where Mr. Pumpkin is headed for at this point?!  His owners are probably worried sick over the little guy, and you try to entice him with, ‘Come to Momma?!’ ”

 

“Seriously?”

 

“For Chriminy sakes, Woman! I don’t blame the little guy! He probably got insulted when you called him Pumpkin and high tailed it for who knows where!” I continue.

 

“Now what the heck are we gonna do?” I sarcastically inquire, while shaking my head in total disgust.

 

“Geesch!”

 

And if Her Highness isn’t feeling bad enough for losing him, I continue to lay on another layer of guilt and tell her, “Some kid’s probably ballin’ his eyes out over the little fella and just worried sick over him.”

 

“Well, for Pete’s sake, Lucie,” her Highness snaps back, “Ya wanna shut up with the dramatics and start driving around looking for him?”

 

“We’re wasting time!” she barks. “ He’s probably headed back to the Pumpkin Patch, for all we know!”

 

“Drive around the corner, and let’s see if he’s made it to the end of the street by now.”

 

We get to the end of the block, and (sure enough) we spot Pumpkin, himself, eyeballing one of the neighbor’s bushes for his next “relief station”.

 

I’m taking a quick assessment of the situation and thinkin’ to myself, “If the Princess gets outta the car and s l o w l y approaches him, maybe I can kinda corral  him with the car between her and the bushes, and she can grab ahold of him and get a look at his collar for some i.d.

 

Uh hun.

 

Well, that was the plan, anyhow!

 

So her Highness jumps outta the car and starts running after the little guy, totally ignoring my pleas to her to “go slowly and before you know it, the Princess slips head over tea kettle into the mud and takes a header into the bushes.

 

(Did I tell you that after having a draught for the past 8 months, we got rain last night? Well, we did – got rain, that is.)

 

By this time, I’m laughing my butt off, and Pumpkin looks scared shit-less and headed for who knows where, when out of nowhere Mr. Happy Feet himself (jogging in the neighborhood) eyeballs the situation and as nonchalant as can be, scoops the little fella up with one hand, brings him over to us, and ever so calmly inquires, “This little guy belong to you?”

 

By this time, her Highness is disgustingly wiping the mud off the front of her (previously) clean white shirt and trying to straighten out her new designer glasses that she just picked up last night, don’t ’cha know (all the while staring at ME, as if this whole mess is MY fault!); when I calmly say to Mr. Happy himself, “No, not really.”

 

“We were just trying to get him back to his rightful owner,” I continue, “but we’re having a helluva time catching the mutt to get his i.d. from his collar. Thanks for catching him for us!”

 

Now all the while I’m saying this, Mr. Happy Feet is eyeballing the Princess and me from head to toe, and, I guess, trying to assess the situation for the little Pumpkin’s safety and well-being. (Wouldn’t wanna leave the little guy with 2 crazy old women, I guess!)

 

(Actually, I don’t know what the hell he was doing. I just know that I’ve seenthat look before! If you recall, I’m kinda accustomed to being eyeballed  for drool and lotion goobers and the like. So for ME, it really wasn’t any big deal.)

 

But the Princess, don’t ’cha know, is a highly respected business woman (or so she likes to think!), and she let me know later that evening that she didn’t appreciate how Mr. Happy Feet, himself, eyeballed her while she gingerly picked the branches outta her hair!

 

Anyway, Mr. Happy Feet eventually assesses that we’re rather harmless old women (despite the fact that one of us–NOT ME, of course!–definitely looked a tad deranged with her soiled clothing, hair with branches sticking out every which way and tweaked designer glasses) and reluctantly handed over the mangy little mutt to us so we could call the numbers listed on his collar.

 

After mud wrestling with the little fellow for 5 or so minutes, the Princess finally gets a phone number to call from the i.d.on his collar, and I contact the owner.

 

“ Hi”, I say to the woman answering the phone, “We think we’ve got your dog. Would you happen to be missing a little white-haired pooch wearing a pumpkin costume?” I continue.

 

“No”, she slowly answers, “I don’t think so”.

 

And before I could say another word, we hear her yelling, “Henry?!  You know where Spider is?”

 

(Yeah, I know! I’m sure you’re thinkin’ the same thing I thought: they actually made SPIDER wear a PUMPKIN costume! Whatever! Little Spider’s probably gonna end up in doggie-therapy for a year, but that’s a story for another day, People!)

 

“No”, we hear Henry answer in the background, “haven’t seen him in awhile.”

 

“Why?” he continues.

 

“Well, some lady’s calling saying she’s got Spider down on McKinley and Main Street,” she yells at him. “Could you see if he’s in the back yard?”

 

By this time, I’m looking at the Princess who has mud from head to toe, and has tweaked her new, designer glasses that she JUST picked up last night, don’t ’cha know, and I’m thinkin’, “Really?! Seriously?”

 

But wait!!!! The story gets even wackier!!!!!

 

The next thing we hear is Henry yelling back to his wife, “ I don’t know where the heck Spider is, Sara, but we’ve got a soccer game in 20 minutes! And we don’t have time for this monkey business! Tell them to keep him, ’till we get back!!! I’m not driving all the way up to McKinley to pick him up, and we’re not gonna miss the boy’s soccer game over that dam dog, again!”

 

OMG!

 

“I could be wrong, but maybe little Spider here was actually trying to run AWAY from this family?!”

 

What da ya think, Peoples???

 

Life in our shoes is sure weird sometimes! Go out and have yourselves a laugh and a snicker on us today! You certainly deserve it!!! (I know we do!!!)

 

P.S. As of this posting, Spider is happily (we hope!) home with his family. We, on the other hand, have a car full of muddy dog prints, one torn up, stained shirt, and a tweaked pair of glasses! But hey, as long as there’s a special place reserved in Heaven for us, we’re good to go!!!

 

Lucie and the Princess Get Some New T.P.

Okey – Dokey.

 

So, I’m sitting here today feelin’ itchy “south of the border”, don’t ’cha know? And it dawns on me, “Yep, we stayed at my brother’s and sister-in-law’s last month for my younger brother’s wedding, if you recall, and the Princess happened to comment that she liked their toilet paper.”

 

Nice and smooth, ‘don’t ’cha know, on her highness’ hinny.

 

So, she tells me last week, “Give your sister-in-law a holler, and find out what kind of toilet paper they use, OK?”

 

“I’ve gotta go to work,” she continues, while heading out the door, “so make sure you call her, alright?”

 

“OK, no biggy”, I think to myself, while giving our front room a quick lookey-loo for spider webs and termites. I’ll just add that to my “little honey do list” today and see what I can do for the little Sweetheart!

 

Have I told you about our termite adventure yet, People? NO? The Princess and I are “special”! We live in the land of constant sunshine and warmth and have a vaulted ceiling that termites just love.

 

“Did you know, People, that termites hunker down for three seasons outta four in VAULTED CEILINGS in CA??”

 

“Yep. They do.”  (Hunker down in vaulted ceilings, that is.)

 

We’re so lucky, the Princess and I!

 

And trying to be ever so eco-friendly and all, we had the exterminator use “orange oil” on the little buggers.

 

Yes, you heard right: ORANGE OIL! Supposed to be “non-toxic for you and your animals,” don’t ’cha know, and dastardly on the termites themselves.

 

Yes siree, Bob! These here termites are shaking in their little termite booties, sipping on Orange Julius’s as I write this!!

 

Whatever!!!

 

I ain’t got time for this, for Criminy sakes! I gotta buy the Princess some super-smooth textured t.p., or one of us is gonna be having a little ’tude tonight, don’t ’cha know?

 

Okey – Dokey.

 

So, as I’m entering the local Target store,  I say to myself,  “Let me just ask this nice-looking clerk if he can help direct me to the t.p. aisle.”

 

I give myself a quick look over and pat down for drool, lotion goobers, snot and possible termite escapees; and then proceed to ask the clerk where their t.p. is. (Note: For those few of you who don’t know about the drool, lotion goobers, and snot: Where the heck have you been??!! Seriously!)

 

OK, I digress.

 

So, I get to the t.p. aisle and go into high anxiety mode! (It’s kinda my body’s version of the National Weather’s alert system for hurricanes, only for my special, sensitive Buddha Belly Body!)

 

I’m lookin’ down two very long aisles, packed 3 shelves high with every kind of t.p. under the sun, and I’m thinkin’, “WTS!”(No pun intended!)

 

“Where in God’s creation have I been for the past 10 years?! This is either the Mother Lode of T.P., or I’ve wandered into some kind of Hallmark store for T.P.!!!”

 

“Cazzo! How the hell am I going to choose that special t.p. for her highness’s tush?!!! One brand alone has 5 different kinds!”

 

Hmm…Let me get serious here: We’ve got your “Gentle care with Aloe and Vitamin E and wider sheets.

 

(OK. The Princess and I have gained a few pounds during menopause; the wider sheets could be good. And my Doctor told me I need to start taking some extra vitamins; so the vitamin E could be beneficial, as well.)

 

We’ve got your “Ultra Comfort Care that’s thick and cushiony.”

 

(Uh Huh,  I wouldn’t mind some thick, cushiony t.p. caressing my hinny.)

 

Then there’s your “Strong and Absorbent” followed two rows down next to your, “Ultra Soft Mega Plus t.p. with the Scent of Chamomile.”

 

(Hmm.. this has some serious potential: If you accidentally blow wind some day (in say a movie theater or grocery store), no worries! You’ve got the scent of chamomile to “cover your odiferous gift to the world.”

 

We’ve got your, “Double plus, more absorbent; uses 4x’s less.”

 

(You wanna tell me how they got that little statistic?! Please, I’d like to know!)

 

And last but not least, the ever popular “Econo Grade – No fuss. No muss:  Wipes your butt and gets you outta-the-john-in-a-hurry kind!”

 

(Apparently, that’s similar to the one we already have, so I’ll pass on that one!)

 

Okey – Dokey, Artichokey!

 

This is not gonna be an easy decision, but I’ve gotta date with Larry, Curly and Moe of The Three Stooges Termite Co., and I don’t have time to be too fussy, don’t ’cha know?

 

So I grab the gentle care with aloe and vitamin E! It’s got a $1.00 off coupon stuck on it, and I’m sure this “is a sign” to buy it!

 

Yep. Life is just swell, People; just swell!

 

I’m sitting here squirming around on my desk chair feeling awfully “sensitive” in these here delicate parts of my body, and it’s slowly sinking in:

 

“You darn fool! You’re allergic to everything under the sun (and then more!).”

 

“I bet you’re allergic to the new T.P.!”

 

“For Chriminy sakes, Lucie! You’d best be taking the new allergy drug Dr. T. ordered for you last week! Otherwise, it’s gonna be a long night! A very long night!!!!”

 

That’s Life in My Shoes today, People! Go out and spread a little sunshine around for others! You never know what people are going through in their shoes.

 

And by all means, People, don’t be buying any new toilet tissue without giving some SERIOUS consideration to your little sensitivities!! Until next week……“Life in Lucie’s Shoes” is always an adventure!

Manicures, Pedicures and Gifts from the Heart

Yep.

For years now, I’ve been one of these woman who, despite the fact that I can admire (and even envy) women with acrylic nails, I’ve never been able to partake of such luxuries because of some serious sensitivities to all the chemicals in the polish, etc.

And as the main “landscaper and gardener” in the household, it never made much sense to me to spend all this money on a “so-called luxury” that cut off my breathing and sent me into fits of uncontrollable coughing when I’m only going to ruin them with one morning of serious gardening.

So, you can imagine my total “surprise” when the Princess decided to “treat me” to a manicure and pedicure at the local salon where we live!

“You so deserve this,” she says to me while I’m opening up the cute little bag that she put the gift card in.

“You work so hard and deserve a little pampering once in awhile, Sweetie,” she continues.

So, I pull out the little card that says “Belle’s Beauty Salon” and I’m thinking to myself, “I sure as sh-t hope this isn’t what I think it is! She knows (on the one or two occasions a year that I do my nails for weddings or special occasions) that I have to take myself outside (no matter what the temperature is!), make sure there are tornado-like winds (so the fumes are “vented” for me!) and basically wear a gas mask, so I don’t keel over from the polish fumes!

Oh dear, yep. As sure as the sun rises and sets every day, this gift card is for a manicure, pedicure and tip! (Isn’t my Princess sweet? She can’t remember that her significant other has a major health issue with a variety of chemicals, but she remembers to tip the beautician. That’s nice. She’s got me covered in case I croak before I leave the place!)

OMG! Seriously? Really?

Did my significant other of 16 years just give me a gift for something that could significantly cut off my breathing and give me a serious rash?! Say it ain’t so, Lord! Please say it ain’t so!

Yep. Unfortunately, it is….

OK, now how do I thank her sweet little self while at the same time gently let her know, “Sweetie, remember me? You’re always reminding me how delicate I am???? And sitting in a nail salon for over an hour could do some major damage to my immune system and maybe end life for me, as I know it.

You know what?! My life isn’t worth it!

“Thanks, Sweetie,” I say and give her a big hug! “You’re the best!”

“I thought you’d like it”, she says while grinning from ear to ear.

“You’re always admiring everyone else’s nails and my niece, Annie, highly recommended this salon. Make sure you ask for Ellen. She’s the owner and the one my niece said is really good!” (Hmm…I’m thinking to myself, I sure as heck hope Ellen’s good at mouth to mouth, because that’s what I’ll be needing if I’m there the full hour!!)

“Enjoy it. You sooo deserve it!”

Yep. Gotta love that woman! She’s a keeper!

You certainly have to agree: Life in my shoes is never dull! Have a good day, Peoples!

Rusty Irons and Toilet Paper Dispensers!

Ok, so I wake up the other morning and catch the Princess walking out of the ironing room muttering something under her breath about “the piece of crap iron that we have and how I’d best put a new iron on my list of things to buy” etc. etc. because “the stupid thing only works half the time and the other half of the time the dam thing doesn’t have steam in it and doesn’t iron her work clothes nicely!”

Now I find this quite humorous, don’t ‘cha know, because I’m the one that is constantly finding the iron void of water when I go to use it to do my ironing and am always wondering why SHE never fills it with water!

So I ask her highness, “Have you been adding any water to the thing?” (Now remember, people, this is the same woman that called me from work a few weeks ago to complain about her piece of crap iPhone not working right after dropping it a bazillion times!)

Her response: “Why would I do that?! The iron will end up getting rusty and ruin my good work clothes!”

Rusty?! Rusty?! Seriously?! Did she just say that???? Does she think the steam that she’s been getting magically appears most every morning because of some little “steam genie in the iron”????!

I’m just about ready to ask her this question and it dawns on me while I’m looking at her “punk rocker hairdo” (the results of having one hulluva night sleeping with a cat that had a major attitude!): I think I’d best be leaving that question for another day, or at least until after she has a few cups of coffee and acquires a better hair-do.

“OK”, I tell myself,” let me go hit the john this morning before I tackle any major projects. I always think better when my bladder is empty and I don’t wanna be “filling anything (like an iron) until I’ve done just that.” (Yeah, I know, people, those of you under 40 can’t relate, but trust me, someday you WILL and then you’ll say to yourself, “Yep, by golly, Lucie was sure right about thinking clearer when your bladder is empty!”)

So I’m sitting there on the toilet and I noticed that there’s no toilet paper on the rung.

“Oh for God sakes,” I say out loud, “am I the only one that changes the toilet paper in this (blankety blank) house?!”

Really. I swear to God every place I go, I end up replacing the toilet paper! And don’t get me started on “commercial toilet dispensers” at restaurants and theaters because you need a manual just to get a few tissues outta the blasted thing and a trip to the Home Depot to buy a crow bar to open it so the second roll “drops down”! (Seriously, is there anyone out there that has had the second role “drop” without having to use a crow bar? Have you?! Please, I’d like to meet you. I think there should be some kind of special award made just for you for this special occasion.)

And people, people, people, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE: There’s a RIGHT way and WRONG way to have the toilet paper unroll! Don’t make me take it off the rung and replace it just because YOU didn’t have the foresight to put it on “the right way” to begin with!

“Geesch!”

I’m tellin’ ya: “Life in MY shoes sure is fun!”

“Have a great week, Peoples!”