I Can’t Just Wing It!

April 2017

The Viking’s brother and his lovely partner Annette are coming for a visit from Denmark in July.  For three weeks.  And I’m not concerned at all.  Because I’m an adult and have two and a half months to prepare.  As a matter of fact, when I told The Viking that I was a little stressed, he said “You have two and a half months to prepare, for fucksakes!”

I shouldn’t be worried at all.  There should be absolutely zero stress involved.  I’ve been the Hostess with the Mostess before; it’s not like I’m a rookie.  I’ve had the Boss and his wife over for dinner.  It was nothing! Friends? Easy-peasy!  The kids?  No problem!  You know where the linens are, help yourself.  If the chicken was a little over-cooked, who cares, right?

This time it’s different.  This time it’s The Viking’s Brother, Erik!  And Annette!  They had the most amazing bed linens and meals that were perfect and hot buns and cheese and cold cuts in the morning and a beautiful home and everything was perfect!  Most importantly, no one was losing their fucking minds trying to be perfect.

I can’t just wing this!  I can’t procrastinate until 3 days before they arrive and then panic.


So guess what I did?

That’s right.  I procrastinated my way to 16 days before their arrival.  And now I’m LIKE THIS!

I need to be fresh and relaxed so they will feel fresh and relaxed.  I can’t meet them at the airport in a full-blown hot flash, reeking of Windex and Bleach.

I should hire people.  Professional people.  Waiters and Chefs and Housekeepers and couriers and a Butler.  I wonder if Ramsay is busy?  No, scratch that!  I can’t have him telling people to fuck off and calling them donkey’s asses while I’m trying to be perfect.  Jamie Oliver then.  Yikes! What if he serves Squid Ink Pasta!  I’ve written an entire blog about my feelings involving Squid Ink Pasta!  If only Julia Child were alive and available.

A mature, experienced woman would start by creating lists to be completed in chronological order as the date of arrival approaches.  But I didn’t do that.  Sure, I scoured the internet until I found amazing linens but that is the extent of my preparations.  I still have so much to do!

  • Paint the family room
  • Hang family room pictures
  • Shampoo carpets
  • Re-Side the house
  • Re-Sod the front yard
  • Build professional flower beds and plant flowers
  • Re-plant flowers because the first ones died
  • Get a Pedi-cure and my nails done
  • Cut The Viking’s hair
  • Get MY hair done
  • Buy a designer water pitcher with matching glasses for the guest room
  • Transform the Office Cubby Thingy in the spare room into a Martha Fucking Stewart creation
  • Re-hang curtain rods in spare room because I fucked up the ones in there already
  • Get a complete make over
  • Make more Poo-Pourri – we only have one bathroom after all
  • Hang The Viking’s Battle Axe and Shield on a wall so he’s not tempted to use it on me
  • Lose 30 pounds
  • Hire a Look Alike so I can hide in a closet and have panic attacks
  • Get the car detailed
  • Buy a hand gun and shoot myself in the head

Crazy GIF - Find & Share on GIPHY

There is a bat-shit crazy squirrel in my head playing every disastrous scenario possible.  What if they have allergies to my laundry detergent? What if I can’t think of anything to say?  What if I say the wrong thing? What if they notice my stress and hate being here?  What if they decide to go home early because I’m a mess?

Maybe I should get some Weed.  If I get stoned will I be like this…..

Apple GIF - Find & Share on GIPHY

or like this?

Getting On GIF - Find & Share on GIPHY

Probably this, because it’s me we’re talking about.  And this is also the reason we don’t have a big fountain in the house – I don’t need to be wasted to fall into it.

Maybe I’ll just try essential oils first.  Apparently lavender, rose, vetiver (whatever the fuck that is), ylang ylang, bergamot, chamomile and frankincense (I thought that was only for Jesus) are good for alleviating anxiety.

I can always go for the devil’s weed later if necessary.



Grab the Bag and Run – Friday Fictioneers

“I’m never working with you again, Mario!  My kid sister could do better!”

“It’s not my fault, Giovanni.  You picked her.”  Sullenly.  

Sigh.  “She was the smallest person in the square and her man was busy with a map.  All you had to do was grab the bag and run.  I had the hard job keeping the man busy!”  

“Sure, she was small but she had a grip like your Mother.  She wouldn’t let go!  And she punched and kicked me, too.” Indignant.

“All that planning for nothing.  Not a single lira!  Well, come on.  Let’s find another mark.”

-word count: 100

Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting Friday Fictioneers and for the lovely photo prompt.

To read more 100 word stories by great writers just hit the button below.

Mim’s Mine

I’ve been teetering on the edge of depression for the past couple of weeks.  I haven’t been feeling well and bills are piling up and my teeth are bothering me and I’m really tired and have every reason in the world to just go to bed and not get out for a week.  Of course I can’t get away with that which adds resentment to depression but that’s life.  Right?

But just when I was certain I was going down, Mim sends me this on Facebook. (The rest of this post is gibberish unless you watch the quick video).

Mim:   I think I’ve asked you almost all of these this year alone.

Me:    That just means you have an amazing Mom. And it also means that I have ALL the answers. You can pray to me if you want.

Mim:  Ooh If I rub a statue of you will it give me good luck? Or will a talisman of you keep evil away? What kind of chant do I have to utter while I pray? Oh! If I work my way up through the ranks can I wear a fancy costume like the pope!?!?

Me:  You just asked me 4 more questions. Yes – if you make a statue of me and rub the butt it will give you good luck AND keep evil away. I currently don’t have an official chant but now that you’ve brought it up I’ll get R&D to come up with something. If you can work your way into the higher echelons I promise to give you a very fancy costume. Do you like sequins? And what’s your feelings on mini disco balls?

From the video we moved over to a private message.  And so I don’t lose you, you should know that my cute little Mim is an Insulation Apprentice and is currently working on a Gas Plant site where every safety precaution is enforced.  Also, she’s the only female on a good sized crew.

So, the Viking comes in the house for a coffee and finds me weeping on my keyboard.  “What the fuck?!  What’s wrong?”

I suck air into my lungs.  “Mim!!  Oh my gawd!!”

I try to contain myself and read her message out loud.

“You wanna hear something funny? We have to wear personal gas monitors and I farted and it set off my monitor. Now everyone knows I farted!”

The Personal Gas Monitor vibrates, flashes and rings all at the same time!!

“Startled me at first and then I started laughing.”

The Viking laughed so hard he scared the cats!  So we were both weeping.

I sent Mim this….

Fart GIF - Find & Share on GIPHY

“Hahahaha it wasn’t even a big fart! It was just a fluff. Just a “pff” but there’s a hole in the crotch of my coveralls and it snuck out!”

I asked what all the guys did.

“I guess they’re pretty used to setting off their own monitors so all I got was ‘ooh, somebody farted’ in a whimsical sing song voice.”

I thought I was being all inconspicuous too cuz I knew it was going to be just a little bastard fart (a little stinker with no pop).  Didn’t think my stupid monitor would give me away!”

“I think the only reason I haven’t set it off before is because my other pair of coveralls don’t have a hole in the crotch.  Brad told me it makes him proud to have such a woman.  I think he was being sarcastic though.”

So I have a question that I need to ask when I have a minute.  Two questions now that I think about it.

  1. What are her coveralls made of that they can contain a fart?  Do farts accumulate in the legs and when you take them off at night a big green cloud of stink floats out?  Wait.  That kind of explains men’s locker rooms. Is all men’s apparel made of the same stuff?
  2. How do they know that an alarm on a monitor is a fart and not H2S?  I suppose maybe a billowy feeling in their under-carriage is a good indicator but what happens if you fart at the same time as H2S arrives?

Shit!  Now I’m worried.  I need to know stats – what are the odds?  See?! This is why we need science!

I was feeling better because of the laughs but now…….well……I’m right back to square one!  I read an article today that said intelligent people are less likely to be happy than stupid people because of blah, blah, logical conclusions, blah, blah, blah analytical thought processes blah, blah serious contemplations of fact and if that article is anything to go by I’m a damned genius!

Even so, I do feel better.  The Viking has been cursing the Gawds lately – at the top of his extremely effective lungs – about dirt and time and junk and people and air …….

Shrek GIF - Find & Share on GIPHY

……but I’m still okay.  I guess you lose again Life Obstacles!  Also, scrolling through Giphy looking for farts is enough to make anyone feel better.

But mostly, it was Mim.  And she’s mine.

At What Cost?

Welcome to Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.  Photo prompt has been provided by Ted Strutz.

If you would like to read more 100 word stories, click the blue button at the bottom of the page.


The rain hammered.  Car after car rolled onto the ferry, watery tracks staining the deck.  

Ted watched, swallowing down nausea.  He looked at the worn gate locking mechanism again.  How many times had he filed the work request?  Twenty?  At least! 

Another report this morning.  “It will fail, sir!  We need to replace it!”

His diligence was not appreciated.  Shareholders wanted profits. 

At the cost of human lives?  Apparently.  “Just do your job!”

He knew it wouldn’t hold. 

The cars kept rolling on board.  Men, women, children, babies.

What of his own family?  No, he couldn’t just walk away.

-word count: 99

Sex On The Beach – Friday Fictioneers

Welcome to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ Friday Fictioneers.  Challenge:  write a 100 word story about the above picture – courtesy of my friend Dale Rogerson.  To read more short stories by awesome writers click the blue button below.

Without further ado, this is my contribution:

“Come on, Cheryl!  I’ve always wanted to do this!  You said you would!”

“That was before I realized the moon would turn my freakishly white body into a lighthouse beacon!  It’s the middle of winter at home, Steve!”

“We’re on vacation.  No one knows us.  We’re just two more people having sex on the beach.  They’ll never remember us.”

“And if we’re arrested?  That’s nice to have on our record.”

“Ok.  Leave your bikini on and if we’re caught we’ll say we were just wrestling.”

“Sure.  Two lighthouses wrestling on the beach.  I’m sure the cops will buy it.”

Word count:  99

Like a Mini-Me

I was the family joke when I was growing up.  They called me Dum-Dum. I was also “the ugliest baby” my father had ever seen.  I eventually came to terms that this is the hand that I was dealt and carried on.  There are others out there that have much shittier hands than me so I just made the best of it.

Oh sure, I was different.  I thought differently, I saw things differently, I did things differently.  Everyone in the household wore the “What the Fuck?!” face most of the 18 years I lived there.  And when I moved in with my husband, he wore it for the next 20+ years we were together.  And yes. The Viking wears it too.

Wtf GIF - Find & Share on GIPHY

But during my genealogy project, I came across pictures of myself as a kid. I wasn’t ugly!  What the hell?!  Stupid and ugly….those were the words.  But look at me!

I’m fucking adorable!

And then I started looking more closely at the rest of the photos and realized that Mrs. Completely was hiding there the whole time!  Like a Mini-Me!  If only I had known!

Those facial expressions aren’t those of a stupid person.  There are definitely things going on in that head.



I saw, I analyzed and I got grossed out.  There is no disputing the wheels were turning and I had come to a logical conclusion.




I tried to explain myself all the time!  Obviously not well enough though. Those aren’t the eyes of a stupid kid – they are the windows into a wacky soul.  An adorable wacky soul!





It’s not like I didn’t try to be normal. What other conclusion could anyone make about this pic except I was trying very, very hard to be sweet like a normal person?











That’s not a good look on anyone but I’m putting in the effort.



Most people would have left the room, but I stuck it out.  That’s loyalty!





And then Dad set me up to look really stupid with my Grade 2 friends when he explained what an Orgy was.  Not cool, Dad!





I may have fallen for the Orgasm thing but despite what Dad says now, I didn’t fall for a Carpool being a swimming pool with sloped ends that you drive your car through.

I stopped asking him questions after that and just figured it out on my own.



Sure, I had my moments.  I wasn’t always good – I probably wasn’t good 70% of the time – but aside from my older sister, who is good all the time?  Certainly not the person who gave me that damned black left eye!  Oddly enough, that’s not the only black eye I sported in childhood pictures.

So, I’m reviewing everything I always believed about myself. Who knew that at this late date it would be necessary?  And what does that say when I have to go all the way back to the beginning in order to grow now?


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Just Like Us






It has become evident that The Viking and I have rubbed off on our cats.  You might think that would be a good thing, especially if we are competent at using a litter box, but it’s probably not.  It appears they are picking up only our bad habits and personality disorders.

When Mim brought her two kitties (Dexter & Lucy) for a visit all 4 cats got bent out of shape.  Despite having spent quite a bit of time together (and playing!) in the past 6 months they act like they’ve never laid eyes on each other before.  Every human got at least 2 Stink Eyes from at least 2 cats.






And then………Everycat started Kung Fu Fighting.

Funny GIF - Find & Share on GIPHY

Lucy was the most committed.  She takes her Kung Fu very seriously.  Izzie was a close second because she, too, enjoys the occasional Kung Fu Free-For-All.  Blizzards of slapping happened with staccatos of trash talk.  They are both lovely ladies but I’m pretty sure there were a few ‘fucks’ thrown around and perhaps a little body shaming in between the lightning-fast bitch slaps.

In the meantime, Dexter and Teddy thought they should be doing something.  Dex made the first move – a half-assed slap aimed slightly to the left of Teddy.  Teddy sent a quick poke that fell far short of Dex and that was that.  Dex sort of went “Aw…fuck it!” and took over the top of the spare fridge.  Lucy finally decided that she’d had enough of the opening skirmish and took over the top tier of the Cat Tree.

We humans started nodding our heads going “that went well”, genuinely pleased with the social skills of our Clowder.  Mim and Brad had to leave for a few hours so The Viking and I were the referees should anymore conversations break out.

Eventually, the house settled into quiet.  So quiet, in fact, that I became a little suspicious and went to check on the combatants.  Teddy was humped up taking a poo in Dex and Lucy’s litter box while Izzie was rolling all over their blankets.

“Our cats are now Passive Aggressive!”  I said to The Viking.  “That’s exactly how we would handle an unwanted invasion into our territory.  You would poo in their suitcase and I would spray something smelly on their bed.”

“Why would I be the one to poo in the suitcase?”

“Because that’s definitely a guy thing to do.  Besides, you’re a better pooper than I am.”

Mim and Brad came again this past weekend and our suspicions were confirmed.  Once again, Dexter took over the top of the spare fridge and Lucy commandeered the top tier of the Cat Tree.  Izzie – she’s the brains – and Teddy wandered down the hallway, probably intending to poo and roll again but something else presented itself.

The Viking and I were watching a movie when we heard a loud rustling of plastic.  I went to investigate.  Both cats had ripped open Dexter and Lucy’s treat bag and were busy munching.  When they saw me coming both cats started to eat faster and faster.  By the time I rescued the bag there were only 3 treats left.

How can I be mad when they are doing exactly what we would do?  The Viking and I would totally eat their treats.  And make yum-yum noises as we did it.

I’m fairly certain that Teddy pooped in their litter box at some point and Izzie rolled all over their blankets again but I didn’t actually witness the crime.  Izzie did camp out on the floor in front of the Cat Tree – an “I dare you to come down, Lucy” sort of thing while Teddy took up a position in front of the fridge.  He was less effective because he is on pretty good terms with Dexter.  You have to give him points for his solidarity to his sister though.

So, now I’m wondering if The Viking and I need to be setting a better example.  When someone comes to the front door I have to admit that I’m a little standoffish but I’ve honestly never got into a bitch-slapping fight.  Okay….there was that one time I almost did but I managed to use my words to drive the person off the step.  And to be fair, they were trying to sell me a vacuum cleaner and dumped dirt all over the front door mat.

I suppose I could be more welcoming.  I could offer refreshments and stale cookies.  Would that make the cats better about welcoming their cousins?  It’s doubtful.  The damage is already done, precedence has been set, a routine established.  A change in tradition might cause more harm than good because cats get crazy about changes to the rules.

It’s settled then.  I don’t have to be any nice-r to people bothering me at the front door and The Viking can still poo in suitcases if he doesn’t like the company.

You’re Supposed to be Friends

Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, it’s Friday Fictioneers again.  The photo prompt is from Karuna with a wonderful story that goes with it.  The challenge is to write a story about the photo in 100 words or less.

I missed last week due to busy-ness…..


who am I kidding?  I missed last week because I was frantically getting my shit together for a family weekend to work on genealogy.  I have menopause (that’s the excuse I’m sticking with) so I freak out about little things and pretty much everything is a little thing.  When did I lose my competence at juggling a hundred things at once?  I was a Juggling Queen once upon a time.  Now I’m a court jester that can’t find matching socks.

At least the cats are happy.  I can’t keep track of who’s in and who’s out so I offer treats at roll call – if only one comes the other must be out.  I wonder if I can teach them to clock in and out like employees.  Probably not because the only chore they are even slightly competent at is dusting behind the sofa.  I chase them in one end then hurry to the other end with a hand-held vacuum.

Anyhoo…..here’s my offering to Karuna’s picture.

You’re Supposed to be Friends – 99 words.

Three feet tall.  Skinny arms crossed, oozing belligerence.  Dark, unruly hair; brown eyes cold as stone.  

“Why?”  His mother was at a complete loss.  “You’re supposed to be friends!”

Jack pursed his lips tighter and looked away. 

“Sarah’s monkey was a gift from her Grandmother!  It can’t be replaced!”

Finally, she sank into a lawn chair.  “Well, we’re going to stay here until you explain yourself.  And you don’t have a chair.”

Minutes pass.  More minutes.  Even more.



Tears ran down his face.

Comfort now.

Consequences later.

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