• Waking up to a cat purring in my ear.
• Blue sky and warm sun.
• Mr. Hot’s conviction that the Detroit Lions are going to ‘do us proud’.
• Picking the first tomatoes and popping them in my mouth.
• The thought of a nap in the hammock.

—- Watermelon chilling in the refrigerator. —-

Off to Toledo,
to watch the Mudhens play ball.
Three strikes and you’re out.

Mr. Hot’s two flags
are hanging off the front porch.
Wave red, white, and blue.

One for modern day,
one for the original.
Thirteen states unite.

Hot dogs and cole slaw,
Fireworks in the backyard.
Sing Yankee Doodle.

Americana
will come alive this weekend.
Independence Day.

—- My crabbypants attitude seems to have lifted. I think it’s the excitement of a three day weekend, lots of sun shining down, cold beer and watching Mr. Hot cut grass. He’s got awesome legs. —-

I started a post. Realized it was a list of complaints. Stupid complaints. Like the fact that my glasses attract dust and I have a zit on my left cheekbone.

Decided not to bore you all.

—- Then my wireless kept dropping and I took it as a sign. You can thank me later. —-

Gregory (I like to pretend we’re on a first name basis) refuses to believe that his patient doesn’t lie about SOMETHING. And…well, it progresses from there. He picks and tricks and finally, by the end of the show, she ‘fesses up.

None of that, by the way, really has anything to do with this post. But it’s a damned good prelude. Snort.

Annnnyyyywaayyyyyy, one of my favorite bloggers, The Minnesota Matron, tagged me with a meme about the 7 Deadly Sins.

Teh Rulz:
The meme is sinful: “Sometimes you can learn more about a person by what they don’t tell you. Sometimes you can learn a lot from the things they just make up. If you are tagged with this meme, lie to me. Then tag 7 other folks (one for each sin) and hope they can lie.”

So, I’m lying to y’all today. Here goes:

Pride: What is your biggest contribution to the world?
You mean that time I stopped that huge meteor that was speeding towards Earth? The one that was going to wreak havoc by killing all of our food sources? Yea, that was a pretty good thing. Or, my fight to bring back the Temperance Movement. I liked that one, too.

Envy: What do your coworkers have that you wish was yours?
Penises.

Gluttony: What did you eat last night?
A 32-oz porterhouse with a side of fried Rocky Mountain oysters. For dessert, an entire cherry pie. All washed down with tomato juice.

Lust: What really lights your fire?
No foreplay from a man who belches in my face after eating liver and onions. Or a far right-wing NRA Bubba that doesn’t think women are fit for anything but baby-makin’ and cookin’. (Excuse me while I go take a cold shower now.)

Anger: What is the last thing that really pissed you off?
An on-time flight with flight attendants that passed out pillows and blankets while serving HOT coffee and fresh, buttery croissants.

Greed: Name something you hoard and keep from others.
Money, shelter, my car. My good vodka. (Oh, wait. Skip that last one, I’m supposed to be lying. Oops.)

Sloth: What is the laziest thing you ever did?
Had a catheter inserted so I could stay in bed after I had that keg installed next to my bed. What? Getting up to go to the bathroom after swigging warm beer straight from the tap was wasted effort, y’all.

Now, because I’m SUCH a rule follower, I’m tagging you. (Continuing with the lie thing y’know. Rules? Me? ha.)

—- Oh, and that House episode? The patient lived. —-

Dear Mr. TSA Nutjob,

I know this comes as a great shock to you, but I’m here every fuckin’ Monday morning at 6 am (like, oh mah holy hell, 21 times this year). I do know which line is reserved for frequent fliers, and I always end up getting approval to go through the “special” one. So, when you screw up your face and ask me “WHY are you in this line?” and I respond “Because I have priority AAccess” (yes, that’s how American Airlines spells it on the boarding pass), I probably know what I’m talking about.

Yes, it’s early and yes, maybe I did stay up too late last night, and MAYBE I had a little bit extra vodka last night, but still. I could do this in my sleep. Hell, I could do it in YOUR sleep. But really, when you tell me, “No, THAT’s the priority line.” and point to the snaking, 2000 person line next to me?, I’m going to roll my eyes and respectfully disagree. TWICE.

Thank you so very much for holding me up long enough for the family with the four carry-on bags, stroller, bottles of illicit liquid and two screaming kids that refuse to take off their shoes to get in front of me. I appreciated the sticky, donut covered hands of the boy (”NO, I’M NOT TAKING DEM OFF!!!”) pushing me away from the conveyer belt while I was attempting to retrieve my shit.

I was going for my personal best get-through-security time. Douchbag.

Love, The Hotfessional

Dear Hotfessional,

Spinach has lots of iron. Iron, in large quantities, seriously fucks with your digestive system. It has a tendency to make, erm, one aspect of your morning VERY uncomfortable.

Next time you eat two spinach salads in a single day - you may want to follow them up with prunes for dessert.

Love, The Hotfessional

Dear Housekeeping Lady at my Home-Away-From-Home,

So, now you know the truth about the Hotfessional who stays in 812. I finished my workout and was in the bathroom trying to cool off before putting on some non-sweat-socked clothing to go out and find something appetizing for dinner. That generally means taking off my wig so the sweat can escape from every possible gland available. Also, standing around nekkid.

I didn’t hear you knocking. Really, I didn’t. I do appreciate the basket of chocolate you thrust into my face while offering me, “Choco-lat?” repeatedly. Thank you!

By the way, when I left the room a couple of minutes later, fully clothed AND with a full head of hair, your double-take was pretty freakin’ priceless.

I promise, you’re not losing your mind.

Love, The Hotfessional

—- I found out what Mr. Hot does while I’m away. He sent me this picture of his evening’s entertainment. —-

—- Fidel Castro was excommunicated by Pope John XXIII, John Glenn became the first person to orbit Earth, 160 die in a triple-train disaster near Tokyo, John Lennon secretly marries Cynthia Powell, the Cuban Missile Crisis occurs, and my parents got married. —-

• Dirt under my fingernails. Weeding and planting done for the day.
• Opening the windows and turning off the air conditioning.
• Listening to Shortman and Mr. Hot getting ready to watch this.
• Clay face masks.
• This smile.

—- Teaching Shortman how to make pudding. Instant from the box, but still. —-

This spinach is going to become tonight’s salad.

With some of these radishes sliced up nice and thin.

We’ll let these stay in the ground a while yet. Although “knee high by the fourth of July”…Mr. Hot’s selection of the EARLY extra sweet variety means this batch is waist high already. The second batch (not shown) is knee high. The third? Should be … at least by the fourth.

These photos were taken this morning around 11 o’clock.

With Shortman’s basketball backboard. Oops.

I love that color blue.

—- Time to slice radishes. —-

Born in sixty-three,
I grew up on his music
with the Jackson Five.

A-B-C, Simple…,
Little Bitty Pretty One,
and Dancing Machine.

Got to be there. Ben.
Don’t Stop ‘Til You Get Enough.
She’s Out Of My Life.

Billy Jean. Beat It.
Wanna Be Startin’ Somethin’.
I danced to them all.

Waiting, patiently
for Thriller, the video.
And so worth the hype.

He was changing, though.
No longer little Michael -
with that great big grin.

We are the World. Bad.
The Way You Make Me Feel.
The last I listened.

Youthful memories.
I wish you peace from yourself.
Good bye, King of Pop.

I used to sing this one to Shortman. It still brings tears to my eyes.

—- Goodbye to Farrah as well. Another icon from my youth. —-