No-nonsense Dawg is one of my favorite nicknames T has bequeathed to me over the years. He loves N-nD because it signifies that I have moved into a snappy, sassy mood full of snarky honesty, none of which is directed at him. Or if it is, it's lovingly true like "did you look in any of the tupperware you blind-husband-syndrome varmint? The X is in there!" N-nD is decidedly who I am today. That's probably gilding the lily of my actual mood, but I'm trying to stay positive here. In fact, I am in a peevish mood. I am over, in all ways, being any form of ailing gal. It really makes my blood boil that several measly errands yesterday made me tired. I mean, the red bra purchase was worth it, but seriously. I had to spend extra time puzzling this morning to make up for it. Which brings me to:
Admission #1: your mother is usually right. I called my mom yesterday after the bra find, and she said "you better watch it, you really should respect the pneumonia" or some such bit of advice. Puh-shaw, I can definitely make it to one more store. And I did and then I had to come home.
So, listen to your mothers. You can puh-shaw them under your breath, but it's generally wise to listen and do as they say.
Admission #2: I just don't love my dog. There, I've said it clearly, no beating around the bush -N-nD does not mince words- and I'll say it again for good measure. I don't love Percy. I like him fine, but I wish he were the sort of dog who was content to lay at my feet rather than attempting to become my shawl. I could literally disown him each and every time I find anger-pee downstairs, as I did this morning as I entered The Land of the Puzzle. Yep, a big puddle on the bottom level of our coffee table. No, he is not diabetic, nor does he have any disease, incontinence or other potentially excusable condition.
Admission #3: I do not like mussels or scallops. I don't, never have and likely never will. That awful (offal- hah! pun!) black plug in their bodies just sends me over the edge. I can't do it, don't want to. And scallops? They are phlegm wads, plain and simple.
Admission #4: I like the word foodie. It doesn't make me think, "what a pretentious ass" when I hear someone use it or self-identify as such. I call myself a foodie, with pride. I also like the word veggie. So there.