Will that be one hump or two?

Recently, while driving through the Ozarks in Arkansas, we saw a house with camels in the front yard (not just one camel...but two).  What the....?  This was not a petting zoo, or a camel farm, or a sanctuary ---just someone's fenced in front yard, with a couple of camels strolling around.  We rode camels in Egypt and Morocco----but that makes sense.  You know....sand, desert, pyramids....camels belong there don't they. ----But Camels + Ozark Mountains = My what strange lives we lead up here yonder in the mountains where no one can really monitor what we are up to.  .....And what are they up to? What are they doing with those camels?  Are they pets?  Modes of Ozark transportation?  Food????  Leftover camels from the Civil War?  Well, I wanted to stop and go up to their door and ask them.  But Dallas just kept driving. Then he looked at me and said (with a redneck southern drawl) " Yer not in Oz anymore Dorothy" 

and just in case you thought I was kidding.....

The New Addiction

 In this world......Don't we have enough items paired with chocolate?  There's chocolate covered fruit, pretzels, cookies, peanut butter, donuts, coffee beans, nuts of all kinds, even chocolate covered insects.  But no, apparently there are not enough food items coated with chocolate.  They had to think of yet one more.   Salted Caramel.  

Mine came in the mail today.  A gift from my special cousin Jeannie.  And there were just a dozen.  ....Beautiful little squares of caramel, covered in a deep dark chocolate.  And then sprinkled with sea salt.  I decided to eat one-a-day (like the vitamin).  So I tried my first one tonight.  Even though it was small, I ate it in 5 delicate little-mini-bites and savored it as long as I could.  The combination of the creamy caramel, rich dark chocolate, and saltiness is something I have never quite tasted before.  I have renamed this treat what it should be called---CRACK. 

Then Dallas came in and wondered what was in the big box. I showed him my 12 small caramels.  (There was a big shipping box because they packed the tiny package of caramels in with a huge gel coolant pack so they wouldn't spoil----must be all that fresh cream and butter!)  Because I am so nice (plus he was staring at me while I was finishing off the last bit of mine), I offered him one of my little precious chunks of crack.  He accepted my offer (dammit!)  and popped the entire thing in his mouth. 

WHAT THE HELL!  You don't shove the whole thing in your mouth at once!  Are you crazy!!??......these have to be savored!  They have to be enjoyed slowly!  These are not ROLOs or Milk Duds for crying out loud!

Well, maybe now---after being chastised---he will never accept an offer of caramel crack again....One can only hope. (and now I really do resemble a crack addict.....I have hidden my drug-of-choice-caramels in the butter compartment of the refridgerator.  I am no longer sharing my stash.)

Floss, you may have won this time....but I will return

My dentist has told me that I have tight teeth.  Apparently the spaces between my teeth are unusually small.  Doesn't seem like such a big deal until you get something stuck between them. Then it becomes an all-night ordeal; one that requires ingenuity, strength and patience.  

Just last night I had a piece of a peanut caught between my top front teeth.  So I got out my slick waxed dental floss to work it out. After about 5 minutes of carefully sawing the floss back and forth between my teeth, I still had not extracted the peanut.  So I decided to just pull the floss out and hope that the nut popped out with it.  But I found that I couldn't do that. Because now the dental floss was stuck. It wouldn't even move anymore--not at all.  It was totally frayed and locked in place, all jammed up in there with that stupid nut.  So now I have a nut in between my top front teeth along with 2 long white strings of floss dangling out of my mouth laying across my lip and hanging down my chin.

After 15 more minutes of futile, maddening tugging at the floss which is now a tangled mess crammed up between my 2 teeth, I rummaged through the bathroom cabinet hoping to find some tool or mini crowbar to use to work on my problem.  Oh yay!  I found some really slick, super slippery glide floss, which states clearly on the package that it "easily gets to 100% of hard to reach places for an ultimate clean without fraying, catching, or sticking."  Great!  Sounds like I found the solution.  So I tear off a good long strand of the silky-feeling blue dental floss, wrap it tightly around my fingers, and get to work.  

After several minutes of working the floss into the spot, I begin gently pulling at it so that I can work it  back out, skillfully pulling on the smooth blue floss, which at this point is nearly amputating the tips of my fingers.  But I keep at it as I am anxious to set the both the peanut and the dangling, mangled white floss free.  At this point I begin wondering if anyone has ever had an accidental tooth extraction with floss, as it now feels like I am on the verge of pulling my tooth out.  On about the 5th gentle tug the slippery smooth, easily-gets-into-100%-of-hard-to-reach-places  blue floss breaks. That's right.  Apparently it can get into 100% of the hard to reach spots,  but not always out of them.  And now, it too is stuck between my teeth and won't budge.

So ---- I take a good look at myself.   I am standing in front of the mirror, with 2 long strands of white floss, and now 2 additional very long lengths of blue floss hanging out my mouth, down my chin, and continuing to dangle down about shoulder length.  Oh--and one very annoying peanut poking out near my gumline.  And the peanut is now jammed further up into my gums so that it feels much larger and is even more uncomfortable.  

With no solution in sight and my precious beauty sleep ticking away, as it is now close to midnight,  I get out a pair of scissors.  I cut the 2 white and 2 blue strings of floss that are hanging out of my mouth.  I trimmed them as close as I could to my teeth.  I was out of ideas.  And patience.

 As I headed off to bed, I was certain that there would be a lot less smiling going on in those therapy sessions tomorrow.

....and all I could hope for is that the following day my patients would not notice my new tooth accessories.  (although blue and white are my colors)

Life of Pie

Recent dinner conversation--

As we are eating VERY large portions of pie....

My Oh-So-Skinny-Friend:  Wow!  These slices are huge!  But no problem for me.  You know, the doctor told me I have a very fast metabolism.  

Not-So-Skinny-Me:  Really?  You know, I too have a very fast metabolism........

.....................but apparently I can very easily outrun it.  

I am like a generous Pirate.....I share my booty.

Why must nearly every day of my life be a comedy of errors?  And why must they be errors involving lingerie?  

I ask myself these deep questions often.  ....too often.  

So today I remind myself one more time----Please, Tanya....please, please, PLEASE----

ALWAYS check your skirt.  Check your skirt after you go to the restroom.  Check to make sure it did not somehow get tucked up into the waistband.  Check it well.  Check it twice.  Three times even.  But please CHECK IT.

Because---if you don't--- you will surely walk through the office, passing everyone (even a few patients), then walk out the door,  drive down to the gas station, parade through the gas station shop.....long before you suddenly realize that you feel a breeze up your backside.  ...and you will then say loudly "What the.....Dammit Tanya!!"  ....so loudly that everyone in the store looks over at you just in time to see you reaching behind, clutching and grabbing at your backside and yanking your skirt down.

Oh wait.... it gets a bit better!  Fortunately I did have stockings on.  Unfortunately ...that was it.  

Just stockings.  .....very very sheer stockings.

Dammit Tanya!

Just another day in the life of me.....and my lingerie (and lack thereof).  

Hit me up Laquisha

I have had my phone for 6 months. But I am still getting frequent texts and voicemail messages for the former owner of my number. Apparently my phone number previously belonged to Laquisha. Seriously. Laquisha.

Then my brother recommended I download an app. --some kind of call or text blocker.  And while that is a great idea... who would take all of Laquisha's messages for her? 

So  I now have a new voice mail recording on my phone:

Hi. I know you are probably calling for Laquisha. As you may have guessed, I am not her. However, if you would like to leave a message I will write it down. I am collecting all of her messages as I may run into her one day. So please feel free to tell me whatever you would like to tell Laquisha. I am a therapist, so confidentiality is of course of the utmost importance. In fact, if you would like to leave some really personal information on my voicemail, feel free. If you require therapy services, maybe we can work out an arrangement. But I am not cheap. Well, I was once accused of being cheap, but that is in my past. Oh, and I am writing a book. So you may be in it. Don’t worry, all names will be changed to protect anonymity. (…except for those who have crossed me. I will leave their names in the book.) So just leave me your message for Laquisha and I will do my best to locate her and pass it on.

P.S. If you happen to see Laquisha tell her that Veronique called and wants her hair weave back. It sounded rather urgent.