First, some of you are probably wondering how we went from 2 dames to one dame.  I'm sad to say, Carol was eaten by a shark off the coast of Barbados.  I begged her not to go.  No matter how wonderful an island vacation is - sharks will abound.  And Carol has very sweet skin.  It was devastating.  So I'm left to carry on.  You are now stuck with me.  It's sad I know.  I ramble. I digress.  I'm forever forgetting my original point.  I'm pretty sure I've never contradicted my self, that would make me Mitt Romney.  Personally I'd rather be nibbled to death by the pigs living in my house.  (guinea pigs, the only real pigs living in my house are my family and they don't eat meat)

If for some reason, I find that Carol was spit back up by, somehow, by a miracle of the universe, I'll let you know where to find her.  She was an excellent writer and communicator and deserves to be heard.

Now, on to my fucking tree.

My fucking sparkling pear tree

Our beloved Betsy and Stewart, (though Betsy did try and talk Bonnie into moving to Japan, just for the adventure.  Bad Betsy! Bad Betsy!) have moved to Texas where they will soon join the hordes of Texans preparing to:

1. Forge a new nation

2. Seceded to Mexico

One can never be sure with Texas.

They rented their house to Megan and Joe, a fighter pilot and a merchant marine.  The cutest couple on the planet with no children and one dog.  And, hold your breath!!!!, they're progressives.

Right now I'm doing the hamster dance because frankly if Stewart stuck one more NRA sticker on my car I was going to have deck him and girls should never hit boys.  It's not nice.

Megan and Joe

Joe loves his car.  The other day when I was returning home from seeing my beloved therapist, I noticed a van in front of their house and some little old man vigorously detailing Joe's car.  Yes, evidently they will come to your house.  Who would of thunk it?

Where was Joe? Sitting inside drinking a beer.  Life is great when you're young, have money and no children.

I told Beerhound what I saw: a poor old, stooped over man, detailing  a young fighter pilot's car, sad, so sad.  So..., Beerhound, ever curious, went over there to find out what the scoop was.

Beerhound: Joe, Susan said someone was over detailing your car today.  Did you go chasing down hogs in the mud? (Stewart - private joke. Look at my face book)

Joe: No, my fucking tree keeps dropping these little berries on my car and making spots and marks.

(Here I must wonder why he didn't clean it himself.  But he's young and I actually could of given birth to him.  Wait until he has kids.  Let's see who's detailing the car then!)

Joe: I hate that fucking tree.  I don't know why Stewart left it up.

Beerhound: Because that's my fucking tree and my daughters and Susan would be devastated if it was cut down.

Joe: Ohhhh, tree huggers.  Interesting.

Beerhound: Pretty much and they can get very vindictive if you cross them.  I've lived with them 27, 21, and 18 years in that order.  They scare me.  And just so you know, Susan is begging to buy a gun - target practice she claims.  And Emma is getting a real cross bow for Christmas.  Trust me when I tell you, they are both crazy as loons.

Joe: Well, shit, I guess I'll have to buy a car cover.

Beerhound: Look at this way; we're keeping your air clean.

Joe: You have a point.  Hey, what do you think Susan would do if I stuck an "Elect Mitt Romney" sticker on her car?

Beerhound, evilly grinning: Oh go ahead, she won't mind.  Just let me know so I can film it for your posterity

Oxygen beautiful oxygen