Well, as of some godawful time tomorrow morning, we are on our way to Halifax so the new in-laws can meet the surprise wife.

Wish me luck gang, I may need it.

Play nice while I’m gone.

Comment by a member on Matt’s blog In relation to KFC

“It’s gross, but satisfying.”

Time is not “flying by” it’s rocketing at supersonic speed and I have my head out the window like a dog and the wind is so fast that I can barely catch my breath.The days are warm and sunny but the evenings are cool and the leaves seem to have gone from green to gold overnight. In the morning when I walk the dogs everything is covered in a fine layer of dew and I can see my breath.

As of tomorrow I will have been a Mrs. rather than a Miss for an entire month.

One week from today I fly across the country and meet my new in-laws.

When life moves this quickly I always fear that I’m missing something.

My lovely friend Phaedra recently put up a post about feeling like an utter piece of crap only to have a random stranger say just the right thing at just the right time. A simple gesture that at any given time can mean the world. Or the difference between wanting to kick and scream and break shit vs. feeling like it just might be ok one day soon.

That post got me thinking about those times that this has happened to me. The small kindness, unexpected and unasked for, that takes you from where you were and puts you somewhere better. I am lucky enough to say that I have experienced a few and each and every time it almost stops my usual misanthropic outlook on the masses of people that swirl anonymously around me. I am going to list three of them here because it may remind us all that just a little bit can be an awful lot. I’m also listing them here because it’s my fucking blog and I can do whatever I want. You’re not the boss of me!

Sorry. I digress. Sometimes the bitch just leaks out even when I’m posting about unicorns and glitter and toilet paper commercial kittens. Ok, on to the glitter…

#1- I was laying on the grass enjoying a book and the sunshine in a local park. Suddenly a hand drops a flower beside my book and I cringe, waiting for the inevitable “Whattcha reading?” What he said was “It’s a beautiful day” and then just kept on walking.

#2-The quiet smiling cafe owner in Barcelona who put my lukewarm water bottle in her fridge to cool and sent her son down the street to locate the hostel I had been searching for in vain -in the blistering heat- for hours.

And my personal favorite;

#3- As teens we skipped school and went for coffee at “Lena’s” on a pretty regular basis. There would be several of us and we would sit drinking our free refill and shredding sugar packages for hours and usually have just enough to cover the bill. They definitely didn’t make any money on us. I remember skipping a class and heading over to Lena’s alone one day. My server was our usual, a rather tired looking middle aged woman who always made me think of my single mom struggling to make ends meet, and I sat there for a while sipping slowly, knowing I only had enough money for 1 coffee and it’s customary top up. She came over and gave me an extra refill and called me “Sugar.” For some reason, just the way she called me that- this snot nosed non-tipping teenager- almost made me cry. I remember feeling terrible that I couldn’t leave her a tip when I left and I think she knew. She smiled at me and said “hope to see you soon”  and I honestly think she meant it. That waitress all those years ago is the reason that I still use endearments like honey or sweetheart with friends and strangers alike. I remember how warm it made me feel.

So how about we all go out and try to make someone feel warm tomorrow? And if anyone says “Pay it forward” I’ll kick them right in the teeth. I fucking hate that phrase. La la la, happy happy unicorns and glitter.

Well, it official.

I’ve got me some damn fine boobs. Ok, Ok, I do have to go back every 6 months, but at this point in time I’ve got a grade AA medically approved rack.

Ok, you can all go back to what you were doing now. There’s nothing to see here except a chick in a really low and tight Mad-Men worthy sweater.

**enter large sigh of relief here**

(or “Holy crap did we have a wet fucking summer!”)

Firstly- I’d like to add the disclaimer that I’m writing this after a few glasses of wine…….

So you remember my porn mammogram? It’s the post right below jackass, read it. Well, I checked my cell as I was walking home at 4:06 pm and I have a call from “Special Procedures for mammography” with a request to please make an appointment. Their office closes at 4pm.

Are you fucking serious?

I’m not normally a “worrier” because I’m pretty much pragmatic right to the bone. I mean it- I’m the type of person that would be making sure that there was a solid vegetarian option at my own fucking funeral. I’m a thinker, a planner and a doer. What I’m not is a worrier, a freaker or a panic stricken delicate flower. (You can confirm this with the ex that watched me squash a giant pack rat with a Louisville slugger on the back deck during a bad invasion at the ranch.) However, given the fact that I had a full (benign) lumpectomy in my 20’s I’m a bit “on edge.” (Hence the wine? No, forget it. The wine is normal.)

My theory is that my boobs are so fantastic that they’re flying in the likes of Brad Pitt, George Clooney and John Malkovich (shut up! I LOVE HIM!) to check them out. (really- I have pretty fabulous boobs. I’m not being vain, I just got lucky that at 40 they still stand up like brand new military recruits and smile at the crowd. They’re the type of boobs that would buy you flowers AND call you the next day. My boobs could run for office.) I’d post pictures but my husband would probably get an annulment.

So….. basically, I’m in limbo until office hours tomorrow. If I knew the address of the lady that called me I’d be there booking my appointment right now.

I’m just gonna go with the Hollywood viewing theory. It works for me.

Fuck is my husband gonna be mad when those guys show up. Such is the life of a man crazy enough to marry me………..