Out Wetting My Plants

I just saw the date of my late blogue and it was over two months ago! Whaaaat? Sorry my millions of followers. Did I lose you? I’ve just been in this cranky stage of the terrible sixties and don’t need to drag others along. Also, (aghast!!!!), I think I may have gotten boring and that just won’t do!?!?$! Not this brilliant Boomlennial! I did learn a long time ago the more exclamation points you use the greater the read! Let’s say that. I did plant a little, lounge at the pool a little #alot, and just tried to enjoy being outdoors and breathing again. Always better then not. Eating outdoors is always a pleasure, even if it’s usually in a strip mall parking lot with cars meandering by. Just look up and you are Out. I was enjoying a nice, healthy dinner one lovely evening and was picking at my food. My MC (check out the blogue about my Man Companion), asked if I wasn’t hungry. I, of course, answered how I eat like a flea. One of my dearests then replied, “you eat Chicken like a flea”. Now that is a good line and oh-so-true. I keep trying to eat healthy but creatures with feathers, gills, or hooves just make me pick pick pick. Greens are ok, but probably pickable. Give me something white and I’m all about it. Pasta, bread, sugar blah blah. We all know the naughty list. I had some bad buffalo a few weeks ago, and let’s just say the animal was lost in my body and searching for any orifice to get out. And out he did. (See why I haven’t been able to blogue? Who wants to hear about that sh*t??). So I’m on a mission to get more interesting since I am the Boomlennial spokesperson. And I promise(ish) to not talk about puzzles, although they are a mighty fascinating topic. I’m not going to think about yesterday, because really, does yesterday ever think about me?