I decided to participate in a blogging event (What I would say if I had coffee with you this weekend) and this is my submission. 

If we were having coffee I would hug you tightly because I love you and then I would put our favorite, brilliantly fattening, whipped confection of a coffee in front of you. We would both take a moment to breathe deep and cast off the minutiae of every day cares so we can just enjoy this short time of friendship and love.  I know you have been down lately.  You haven’t answered my texts or returned my calls.  I understand why without you ever saying it out loud.  Sometimes dealing with the world is unbearable.  It’s okay though because you are here now.  I would give you one more hug, just because.

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Cat and the Poodle Tree

I had a cat. Maggie.  She was black and the most anti-social cat on the planet but she was so good and brave and she was totally committed to me.  When she met The Viking she watched him for 76 seconds and decided he was the man for her.  And me.  But mostly for her.

And then she got sick and we couldn’t fix her so we had to put her down and I cried for days. And then Mim bought a cat about a year later.  Dexter.  Mim worked during the day and you should never leave a baby home alone so I said I would kitty sit.  But guess who completely forgot what raising a kitten was like?

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The Tooth Fairy, Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny

Mim came to me one day when she was about 8 years old and told me quite firmly that she knew the Tooth Fairy wasn’t real. I asked her why she was so sure.  She said Junior told her.  After a stink eye toward Junior, I said to Mim, “Thank God!  Your father can stop wearing that silly Tooth Fairy outfit.”  Yes.  I actually did say that.  It was one of those flashes of brilliance that surprises me more than the person I said it to.

And that was that. No more frantic searches for a quarter at 11:00 at night.  No more sad little girl because the Tooth Fairy didn’t come for her tooth the night before because someone (Kukah!) forgot to make the switch like he promised to do.

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Food that isn’t Food

I was in the grocery store the other day, cruising around the produce department hoping something would jump off the displays and into my cart with an inspiration for an amazing dinner dish…….that would cook itself and do up the dishes afterwards. I watched other shoppers who seemed so sure, like they already knew what they were making for supper.  They are probably spawns of Martha Stewart who have a month of meal plans posted on some artsy-fartsy push pin board decorated with cute sewing projects that look like vegetables.  Damn them!

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My Father is a Ruralite. He’s spent his entire life in rural areas and he’s picked up some colorful ‘isms’ over the years that pepper his conversations.  These ‘isms’ are charming and humorous but how did they ever become part of rural vernacular?  Didn’t anyone question the guy who said it for the first time?  A group of dudes standing around and one of them says “Wow!  That works Slicker than Goose Shit in a Tin Horn” and no one looks at the guy and says “How would you know how slick shit becomes in a tin horn, Frank?”  And you know it was a guy who said it first because a woman would have said something along the lines of “Wow!  That was easier than sticking your finger in bacon fat!” and every woman around her would nod in agreement because they all know exactly how easy it is to stick your finger in bacon fat.

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Pods of Zen

I bought a new vehicle (Charlotte) last year and I have to say that I am totally in love with it. When I slide into that driver’s seat and push the start button there is a moment of magicalness that makes me smile.  The heated seat comes on to toast my behind and adjusts itself perfectly.  The computer loads my music right where I left off the last time I was in the car.  When I put it in reverse the camera comes on in the dash.  “Beep! Beep!  Be careful. There is something behind you and we wouldn’t want to dent my bumper, now would we?”  No we wouldn’t!

Charlotte is a pod of zen, designed just for me.

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Rally Car Driving

The Viking raced motorcycles in Europe once upon a time so he enjoys watching those races whenever he has the chance as well as getting on a bike for a good ride. I have never raced a motorcycle, except for a little Kawasaki mini bike my father bought when I was a kid and then it wasn’t so much racing as it was toodling around, so any interest I have in motorcycle racing is purely superficial and mostly to show my love to The Viking.

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You Were a Bastard in my Dream

Me: “If you want a different woman, fine!  But you can’t move her in with me and expect me to cook for her!!”

The Viking: “What?  I don’t want a different woman.”

Me: “You say that now, but when you find her at a pizza joint down the street you will be singing a different tune!”

The Viking: “Why would I go looking for a woman in the pizza place?”

Me: “That’s what I would like to know.”

The Viking: “There isn’t even a pizza place down the street.  The closest one is up on the hill.”

Me: “Hmmmm.  Why would I dream there is a pizza place down the street?”

The Viking: “I don’t know.  It’s your dream.”

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Squid Ink Pasta

What in the HELL is Squid Ink Pasta and why would anyone ever eat that?!  I ask because Jamie Oliver was cooking it and a group of people were sitting around making yummy noises!  I shit you not!!

Out of curiosity I checked at Safeway because maybe it’s so amazingly good that I would be a fool not to try it.  Guess what?  They didn’t have anything close to Squid Ink Pasta.  So am I supposed to make it from scratch?  If that’s the case then I have many questions.

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21 Day Exercise Challenge

Mim (my second offspring – not her real name because I’m trying to protect her privacy) suggested I join a 21 Day Challenge with her and if I understood – or more aptly paid attention – I wouldn’t have agreed.

It popped up on FB that I have an event this week. What ‘event’?  I don’t remember booking an event on FB.  Who would do something like that?

“Mom. We talked about this 2 days ago.”  Mim said.

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