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Technologically speaking. Ahem.

Times have been lean for the past few years in my household. I haven’t made any significant purchases in so long; my shopping gene has withered up and turned to dust, much like other parts of my body, which shall remain nameless.

We don’t have flat screen TV.  The screen is flat, yes, but the rest of the TV is heavier than my couch.  When the guy delivered it over 8.5 years ago, he had to climb 18 stairs and then place the TV up onto a little cubby-hole in the wall. He was not a happy delivery man. The look he gave me upon making his exit remained etched in my memory.  I would have felt sorry for him if not for his steely glance and the dirty boot prints he left on my carpet.  Instead, I wished for him an even heavier burden upon his next task.  Ha! That Sony TV is still working fine and it shall remain our main source of entertainment until it dies.  Then, and only then, will I shop for a real flat-screen television.

My current computer is a Samsung laptop sold to me at a deep discount by my younger son after my desktop HP computer suffered an untimely demise. The clunky old thing just up and quit on me, due to some unfortunate viral mania, most likely brought on by surfing in unknown web-ly waters.  At least I think that’s why it died. I tried everything I thought I knew to troubleshoot said device, but it all but ignored my efforts.  It did manage a few creeky-sputtery sounds just before the end, though, as if trying to forge a little sympathy. It may have succeeded in drawing a tear or two from me but for the loss of several important documents and pictures. 

Three and a half years later, my laptop (affectionately named Mr. Samsung) is beginning to show signs of age.  Norton Utilities, my chosen security and virus protection, comes up with detections of infected areas daily.  I think Mr. Samsung is getting sick.  He even gives off an odor akin to an antiseptic hospital ward.  Okay maybe that’s my imagination.  However, I’m quite certain he is about to go belly-up and will join a long list of electronics that have gone to that cloudy graveyard in the sky.

And what is up with the Cloud?  Having been a computer geek since they were invented, I understand that when something is sent to the Cloud, it is sent to a server somewhere, and can be retrieved with only a few key strokes and/or clicks.  Explaining that to my partner, however, is a whole other matter. I have found myself pointing up to the sky and repeatedly saying “Cloud”.  Of course, that doesn’t actually help, but rather invokes quizzical looks and questions such as, “How does it get up there?” and “Does it climb power lines or what?” thus forcing me to table said discussion until I’ve had at least one more glass of wine.

The one electronic device I have not denied myself, however, is the smart phone. For some reason, I must always have the latest and the best. That being said, I could count on one hand how many calls I actually receive in a week. So why must I have a smart phone? The answer is quite simple, really.  Once I tried my first free smart phone from Verizon, I was hooked.  I was forever locked into being able to get my email, Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, banking, and Words with Friends all on my phone. And don’t even get me started on Selfies.  There was no turning back.  I was connected and it felt good.

I actually tried to revert back to a plain flip-phone a couple years ago to save money, but that lasted all of two weeks.  By that time, I was already hooked on texting, and flip-phones were not text-friendly.  Oh maybe those tweenagers can text ninety miles per hour on those little phones, but they use a short-cut vocabulary only understood amongst themselves.  As a writer, I draw the line at such nonsense!  I can make exception for LOL and LMAO, etc., but my brain is not programmed to abbreviate every word down to two letters…or god-forbid, substituting numbers for letters!  That’s just not part of my DNA.  I have to have my smart phone so I can text whole wonderful words.  It’s a part of me…an extension, if you will.  Also, how would I survive if I couldn’t check the score of a Denver Broncos game while sitting in a movie theater?  Granted, I get a few nasty stares and stray remarks, but small price to pay for instant gratification knowledge, don’t you think?

In my little world, I have yet to experience all the latest and greatest technological advancements, such as HD, Blu-Ray, Xbox, PS whatever number they are on now, or the Wii, if that’s still a thing.  And now that my grandkids have grown up to that gaming age, I shudder to think of how bored they would be at my house without all those diversions. 

I would, however, welcome the chance to find out.  I may not be able to find my way through the World of Warcraft or even get to the second level of Super Mario Brothers, but I can bake a pretty yummy cake shaped like R2D2 while listening to some Rolling Stones and kicking some Words with Friends ass on my smart phone. 

Just sayin…

 Okay I did not bake this.I don't have time. I'm playing on my phone.


Age discrimination is alive and well

Four years of blogging has taught me many things. It has shown me that I have a talent for spinning tales, making people laugh, and sometimes warming the hearts of my readers. Of the hundreds of posts I’ve written, only a handful has been of a serious nature.  Humor is my vessel for reaching others.  I’m not a grand-stander or a preacher. I don’t pass judgment on others. I don’t believe that I should pray for every move I make in life, but I don’t begrudge those who do.  I believe in working hard for what I need and want, and I am truly grateful for the privilege of being a Mom, Grandma, Aunt, Sister, Daughter, Best Friend, and Partner. I am also proud to be an employee with an outstanding work ethic.

That being said, today I am pretty steamed about something. 

Age Discrimination is alive and well in this country. If a person hits sixty years of age and is unemployed or under-employed, she had better have a nest egg, or else she is in for a rude awakening. It’s a sad fact, and some will deny it, but companies don’t want the older work force as its leaders.  Oh sure, we can answer phones, work at Mickey D’s, and even be a greeter at Wal-Mart if we’re really lucky. But, look closely at who is running all those establishments, and the majority of the time, you’ll find the leaders to be well below sixty or even fifty years of age.  

What really burns my cheeks is the fact that the older age demographic has a wealth of knowledge and experience to bring to the work force. We’ve been working 30 or 40 years and have experienced and adapted to constantly changing technology.  We have been leaders and managers, and our skills could be invaluable in all levels of a business/corporation, not just the reception desk or the mailroom.  We have a strong work ethic. We come to work every day, on time, and give our best effort toward the mission of our employer.

 Many of us are ex-military.  It was okay for us to defend our country back when we were young. But, now that we are older, we are not seen as leaders and/or innovators.  Employers don’t want us to represent or be an icon for their companies. 

And why?  Because no one wants to get old.  Plain and simple.  As we progress through our lives, our hard work and accomplishments help our families to grow and prosper.  But when we reach that magic age-ceiling, America’s idea is for us to be sitting in our rocker on the porch, waiting for the kids and grandkids to visit so we can bake them a pie. 

It is sad, really. Corporate America is missing out on valuable resources by not promoting us when we are the most qualified.  No one wants to see sweet little old Granny sitting in on a staff meeting or being a project manager.  However, Granny just might be the secret weapon they need. 

Society needs to sober up.  America is aging and living longer.  Older folks have a lot to offer the work force.  We are sitting on advanced degrees, experience (both work and worldly), and the ability to make a difference, as well as to pass on a history of discovery. 

My message to all employers would be:   When you are interviewing for a new manager or promoting from within, don’t skip a resume just because he/she is of a certain age.  Ask yourself, “How can this person add value to my organization?”  You might be very surprised if you just take the time to dig a little deeper and get to know this older applicant. 

You might even find a gold mine!






Throwback Thursday and losing my cool

I love logging onto Face Book every Thursday and enjoying the cool pictures my friends and relatives post for Throwback Thursday.  They post everything from their kids when they were small to their pets dressed up like Elvis.  Some pictures are really hilarious. I have some witty and clever Face Book friends! Today I joined the fun by posting one of my very favorite pictures of my boys from 1983 (below for those of you who don’t follow me on Face Book). 

Viewing old photos also reminds me that I’m getting older by the minute. However, this reaction is not caused by the photos, as you are probably thinking, but rather the fact that I have to put my reading glasses on just to see the photos.  Things like that happen when you’re a woman of a certain age.

In further news, you may remember my posting about getting a new iPhone for my 60th birthday, which has already been six months.  Oh my God, I’m 60 and a half now


The last few weeks, I have had a lot of trouble reading or viewing anything on my iPhone.   It’s not the phone, people.  My eyes are aging right along with the rest of my sorry-assed sagging body.  I have to put on some reading glasses just to dial a number.  Of course, that is providing I can find my reading glasses. Sometimes I dial or text things that make people go “Hmmm?” 

I’ve been known to text a male co-worker that I need to make an appointment with my gynecologist.  That text should have gone to my sister.  Conversely, I sent a text just recently that asked one of my best friends if I can take some time off at the end of the month.  Obviously, that one was meant for my boss.

And you don’t even want to know who I’ve blind-dialed.  That’s kind of like butt-dialing, only using the bad eyesight instead of the butt. I’ve called for pizza at 8 am in the morning.  I’ve called a creditor back that I’ve been avoiding like the plague, and quickly hung up once I realized my faux pas. I called the DMV instead of my Dad. 

It was out of control. I was out of control.


Being the “take immediate action, damn the consequences” kind of girl I am, I decided it was time to say a fond farewell to my precious, coveted iPhone.  After bidding Siri a poignant goodbye and assuring her the problem was not her, but me, I went to to search for a phone with a much larger viewing display. 

I didn’t have to look long, because there she was, in all her splendor!   The Galaxy 4S smart phone with a 5 inch display screen, which was 1.5 inches larger than the iPhone.   After perusing all the other phones, I knew she was the one for me, so I ordered her to be delivered overnight.  I didn’t want to wait one second longer than I had to for this sexy new device.  I was smitten.

The next day, FedEx delivered my new toy and I jumped for joy.  I may have even done a little happy dance in front of the delivery guy.  He left rather quickly after I signed for the package.  Hope I didn’t scare him.  He’s probably never seen a sexy senior citizen with those kinds of moves.  Just sayin..

But I digress.

As soon as I closed the door, I tore into that package, and within a couple of minutes, I installed the battery and activated the phone. I was almost breathless as I turned her on and held her in my hands. She was huge. She was beautiful.  I was weak with the sweetness of it all.


The waters parted. The angels started singing.  The sun came out. My heart skipped a beat.

I could actually SEE my phone!  I could read every word. I could see the numbers on the key pad. I could even tell the difference between people in group photos. 

It was mind-blowing, people.  I was a changed woman.

So what if I wasn’t one of the cool kids that purchase every Apple product that was ever invented within minutes of its launch. 

Now I’m just an Android girl with a Fucking Fabulous Phone that I can actually see. 

Gosh I love technology.

Call me uncool.  Call me old.

But at least when haters do call me, I will be able to see the Reject button.





Fruity Friday and Random Acts

Pure guilt motivated this blog post.  My last post was nineteen days ago. I realized my faithful readers have been deprived of my wit, wisdom and whimsy long enough.  I can’t even imagine how excruciating that must have been for you.  Alas, the long wait is over! Yours truly is here now, and I have exactly what you need.  So, let’s do this, shall we?

Being a caring and compassionate person is not easy.  With it comes the obligation to do nice things for people.  I’m pretty sure that’s how the whole “random acts of kindness” idea works and how it was born.  Personally, I am a huge proponent of this way of thinking.  It’s good to be good.  Everybody wins.

I am all for being random, whether it’s for kindness, weirdness, or even lust. Random puts the fun back in life. Just doing something for the hell of it, without thinking, fretting or planning, makes it all the sweeter. 

Okay, so you know about random acts of kindness and you’ve probably guessed the meaning of random acts of lust.  But, you are probably still wondering what random acts of weirdness are and how you can be a part of this intriguing new trend.  I will try to unlock the secrets and juicy details in order to quench your thirst for being trendy. Hell, we may even make a new hash tag:  #randomactsofweirdness

Random acts of weirdness only happen to people who fit a certain criteria:

  • A tendency toward the geeky side of things.
  • A tendency to spill things. Your shirt is almost always wet with food/beverage.
  • A tendency to join things of which you know nothing about.  I don’t recommend sky-diving.  Just sayin.
  • A tendency to devour every self-help book you can find in hopes of learning about your twisted  unique situation.  Sidebar:  You fail miserably. Every time.
  • A tendency to trip over your own shadow while trying to shake hands with said shadow. Because, for just a nano-second you forgot the shadow was you and desperately needed some companionship.  Don’t fret little one.  I don’t judge.
  • A tendency to not be able to walk and chew gum simultaneously. However,  you can solve all the equations written on the white board in the show The Big Bang Theory.  Sheldon has nothing on you.

If you can relate to one or several of the criteria above, you may be suffering from random acts of weirdness.  But not to worry because it is virtually painless and treatable.  I hear medicinal marijuana is particularly helpful in this type of situation.

How do you know if you’ve committed a random act of weirdness?   That’s a tough question to answer, as everyone’s weirdness-meter is calibrated differently.  And since this writer is arithmetically-challenged and easily startled by any number sitting inside a parenthesis, there will be no magic algorithm forthcoming.  Or forthwith.  Whatever that means.

Translation:  You’ll need to wing it.

What?  I didn’t promise you a rose garden.  Don’t be so clingy.  Geez.

However and because I don’t want to leave you hanging, I’ve created a list of a few widely-known random acts of weirdness.  And by widely-known, I mean I made them up.  So here goes:

  • You get out of bed one bright, sun-shiny day, and take your cats for a walk.  All nine of them.
  • You finally get up the nerve to call that hotty you met last Friday night, but keep hanging up because you can’t remember your name.  So you go to In-N-Out Burger instead.
  • While trying to commit a random act of kindness, you get side-tracked by trying not to step on the cracks in the sidewalk, as you wouldn’t want to break your Momma’s back.  You’re welcome for that semi-melancholy visit back to your tortured childhood.
  • While you pride yourself on being a rabid reader, you tend toward skipping from book to book just before the ending of each one.  Your reasoning for this is that you are saddened when a book ends, so you have opted to never let that happen again. Closure must not be an issue for you, but please know that this behavior is freaking weird. 

This brings us back to the subject-at-hand, random acts of weirdness.  We all have the gene within us. 

So what do we do about it? 

I’m no doctor, and last time I looked, it wasn’t my day to fix you. Hell, I’m exhausted just from making the diagnosis.  The treatment plan is purely up to you, but you might want to leave a trail of bread crumbs so you don’t get lost.


You could just get snockered and embrace your weirdness. They make straight-jackets in all sizes these days, and a padded cell does sound cozy and comforting.  One could get a lot of writing done in such a place, if they would only allow writing utensils. Crayons don’t count. 

Lastly, you are most likely wondering how I handle my random acts. 

  • Random acts of kindness:  I try to perform daily and discreetly.
  • Random acts of lust:  I’m not allowed to do that or talk about it anymore. And my wife reads this stuff.
  • Random acts of weirdness:  I don’t perform these because my weirdness is a constant. It is always with me.  I’m sure you’ve probably figured that out by now.


Happy Friday Random Peeps!   Now go out there and get your random on!

This is not me. It is a random woman

See, there I go being random again! 


This is what I have to say about that

Firstly, the Denver Broncos lost. They deserved to lose. They played like crap.

That’s a given.

To say I was pissed would be a slight under-statement. I was Pissed with a capital P.

I’m okay now, though.  It’s amazing what a little wine therapy can do for a girl’s outlook.

I’m done with football. 

  • Yes I said that last year.
  • And I’m saying it this year.
  • And I’ll probably be saying it around this time next year.

It’s a good thing I have other interests.

So, Congratulations Seattle Seahawks! You played like the Super Bowl Champs you are.

I am nothing if not a graceful loser.


You people who called my team ‘The Donkeys’ can kiss my royal behind. I didn’t see any of your teams in the Super Bowl. 

There.  I feel better.

And that’s all I have to say about that.




Nachos, fluffy orange socks, and Omaha

If you are lucky enough to have your team in the conference playoffs this coming weekend, you are probably going through your own special rituals to prepare for the game.  You might be hanging the team flag or drawing a giant helmet on your driveway with chalk, or painting your children and/or the dog in the team colors. You are most likely planning a special menu for the occasion.  Your nachos are, after all, the best damned nachos ever made, and without them, it just wouldn’t be the playoffs.

You are indeed a fan. You have been loyal to your team for decades and you are praying for a win.  It could happen if you wear your special team jersey, and you sit in just the right spot, drinking out of the same glass as you have for every game this season.  It could happen if you chest-butt your buddy every time your team scores a field goal, and lead the conga-line around the living room after every touchdown.

It could happen.

This could be the year.  This could be your year.

After all, don’t you deserve it?  Haven’t you bled your team colors over the years?  Haven’t you been a fan through thick and thin?   Haven’t you tried really hard not to look at the cheerleaders and keep your eyes on the game?  Haven’t you kept the economy going with all that beer you’ve bought, not to mention your collection of team paraphernalia?  Think about it.  You have invested just as much, if not more time and sweat in your team as any of the players or coaches.

They owe you.  They owe you a win.

Yes, that’s how I feel, too. 

I have shopped for the ingredients for my amazing nachos. I have washed my lucky Denver Broncos t-shirt and my fluffy orange Denver Broncos socks.  The team flag is hung.  I don’t have a driveway, but my John Elway bobble-head doll is dusted and positioned strategically at a 30 degree angle to the television, which puts it at optimum viewing level from my easy chair. I don’t have a dog, but I haven’t ruled out the possibility of borrowing the neighbor’s Chihuahua and painting the little critter blue and orange.   

I have done my part. I am ready for the game.

So, Peyton Manning, it is time to do your part.  Whatever the fuck OMAHA means, scream it all you need to.  I don’t care as long as it leads to a win.   I’ll be screaming OMAHA right along with you, I promise.  Even if I have no idea why you scream OMAHA and it seems stupid to me.  I’ll scream it. 

You can count on me, Peyton. I’m right there with you. OMAHA! OMAHA! OMAHA!

Let’s do this.

And then let’s fire the grill up, shall we?  I suddenly have a craving for a steak.




Old School Blogging - 2013 Recap

Howdy y’all!  I recently read a fun post on one of my very favorite blogs at Just a Normal Mom. Thank you very much, Ally!  Big Hug! But that’s not the last of it.  Ally got it from the lovely Kim at   All Work and No Play Makes Mommy Go Something Something. Then Kim got it at the miss Elaine-ous life  So, in order to make it mine, I’m copying a copy of the copied copy from the copier. 

 What? Oh never mind.  Here it is…

Old School Blogging – 2013 Recap

1. What did you do in 2013 that you’d never done before?
I ate my first McRib from McDonalds. That was a special moment. I also turned 60. That was a WTF moment.

2. Did you keep your new year’s resolutions and will you make more for next year?
I have yet to ever keep a New Year’s resolution. I keep making them though.  Maybe I should look up that definition for insanity again.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?
I’m pretty sure at least one or two cats in the neighborhood, from the gawd-awful sounds I tried to sleep through on more than one night.  Or was that the neighbors?  Either way, I’m sure somebody had to be pregnant after that!

4. Did anyone close to you die?
No, thank God. Lots of prayers went out this last year for some very precious friends and family.

5. What countries did you visit?
Regretfully, no countries, but I was in a state of confusion for a major part of the year.  But that could have been the meds.

6. What would you like to have in 2014 that you lacked in 2013?
I want to walk.  That’s it.  It’s all I think about and all I dream about anymore. 


7. What dates from 2013 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?
I tried hard to remember a significant date, but I stayed-in mostly in 2013.  I did turn 60 on Sep 6th. I suppose I’ll remember that until I don’t.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?
Publishing my 2nd novel, Dark Pretense.  I’m very proud of it. You should read it and tell your friends. I make a quarter or two when you do that. I’m saving up for a new set of teeth and a plane ticket to Hollywood to stalk Jennifer Lopez. She’s not getting any younger, ya know. I want to see her while she’s still hot. So buy my book, please.

9. What was your biggest failure?
Hands down, my biggest failure would be not doing my exercises to strengthen my back and legs as often as I should have. My diet tanked too. I was a real screw-up in the health department.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?
Lack of mobility and depression.  Hopefully not forever.

11. What was the best thing you bought?
I didn’t do much shopping, but I did try some amazing varieties of new coffee flavors for my Keurig.  It was a coffee adventure, if you will.  Don’t judge.  I’m 60, remember.  It takes a lot less to satisfy at my age. Or so I’ve been told.

12. Where did most of your money go?
Bills, groceries, coffee, wine, and freakin iTunes.  They have movies and music…big deal  But those apps! OMG I went batshit crazy for apps.  That’s what happens when you get an iPhone for the very first time. You lose all control and suddenly, every waking moment exists for your Apple-related addiction.  Warning! You’d better get help. I hear they have their own mafia if you can’t pay up. Just sayin. 

13. What did you get really excited about?

The Denver Broncos, Downton Abbey, pumpkin pie at Thanksgiving. And I totally went nuts when I opened up my new Keurig coffee maker.  I remember the days when “getting really excited” meant something completely different. Oh my, I do sound like a 60 year old.

14.  What song will always remind you of 2013?
Blurred Lines, for crying out loud.  And my eyes are still bleeding from finding the naughty version of it on YouTube.  Don’t go looking.  Well, not with the kids around, anyways.

15. Compared to this time last year, are you:

-happier or sadder?  A little on both ends of the scale, to be quite truthful.
-thinner or fatter?  Thinner, but not a lot, and I am pretty sure stuff shifted. It’s not pretty.

-richer or poorer?   What? Did I drink the last of the Wal-Mart wine again?

16. What do you wish you’d done more of?
So many things.  But mostly, I wish I wouldn’t have hidden away in my apartment all year, just because I couldn’t walk unassisted. It was a waste of so much time.  I missed my friends and family.  I missed going to the movies and out to dinner. I didn’t have to miss those things.  I’m hoping to “grow a pair”  (figuratively of course) and get my butt out and about.  Wave if you see me.  Better yet, buy me a cup of coffee. 

17. What do you wish you’d done less of?
Feeling sorry for myself.

18. How did you spend Christmas?
Alone. Don’t want to talk about it. 

19. What was your favorite TV program?
Downton Abbey 

20. What were your favorite books of the year?
Well, mine of course.  Oh, you mean other people write books?  I’ll have to check that out. 

21. What was your favorite music from this year? 
I’m really really old school when it comes to music.  My druthers haven’t changed in a few years.  I still enjoy Motown, The Rolling Stones, and some country.  I love classical, especially piano, but I’m no authority.  If it sounds pretty, I listen. 

22. What was your favorite film of the year?
My very favorite was Hunger Games, but I haven’t seen the second one yet. So I’m way behind.  I loved Identity Theft, too.  Melissa McCarthy is crazy funny.

23. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?
I was 60. Blah Blah .  Cake.  Blah Blah.  Wrinkles.  Blah Blah.  Bladder control.  Blah Blah.  Hair dye.  I’m over it.

24. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?
Seeing my sons and DIL, my grandsons, my Dad, my Sis, my best friend, and just enjoying their company.  I need a hug.  

25. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2013? 
I work at home, and found that colorful men’s boxers and a Broncos t-shirt made the perfect fashion statement. My John Elway bobble-head doll even smiled in approval, I swear he did.

26. What kept you sane?
Hope. My sister’s prayers. My wife’s smile. My best friend’s voice on the phone.  And wine.


27. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2013?
The world is going to keep on turning whether or not I get off my ass.  So I need to get off my ass.  



Terrilox and the three shopping carts

Once upon a time, and in a land very far away from reality, lived an old lady the fair Lady Terrilox. M’Lady was depressed, thus bringing great sadness upon her realm and all that resided within.  You see, the princess was plagued by arthritis and several bad hair days in a row  a dilemma of gargantuan proportions.

Her shopping cart had broken into tiny pieces. She could no longer make the journey in the family truckster to Ye Olde Wal-Mart Neighborhood Market to fetch bread, wine and turkey legs to feed her beloved Prince Joan. M’Lord was accustomed to returning to their castlepartment each evening and enjoying the culinary delights prepared with great expertise and care and set before him, along with his evening paper, cigar, and bunny slippers.

Lady Terrilox was devastated and also quite certain his Lordship would have her drawn and quartered, then promptly marry the much younger and more beautiful Sleeping Beauty downstairs.

Whatever was a princess to do?

Terrilox decided not to linger one moment longer, and to take immediate action to keep her lesbian lover who had to live in drag as a prince because they were hundreds of years away from “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” and the realm just would not understand   her man.

Without further adieu, M’Lady went to the closet and pulled out the latest Sears and Roebucks catalog scrolls and did some power shopping.  She sent an order for a brand new shopping cart, and splurged for the fastest delivery option. She would have her new shopping cart within two months via mule-train. 

“Oh!” exclaimed Terrilox. “So glad I opted for express delivery.” The priority option was carrier pigeon and she was not willing to wait for their flight south for the winter. It was, after all, the beginning of summer.

Two months flew by and the new shopping cart was delivered right to Lady Terrilox’ door.  She tipped the driver, then made a mental note to pick up the poop left by the mule-train forthwith.  Small price to pay for progress.

That very evening, after serving dinner to Lord Joan, milking the cows, feeding the livestock, mending the socks, cutting wood for the fire, and knocking the dents out of M’Lord's suit of armor, Lady Terrilox was able to steal a few moments to assemble her new shopping cart.

Lo and behold, however, once the cart had been built, it seemed to be much larger than the original cart.  “Oh no,” exclaimed Terrilox.  “This simply will not do. I must have a smaller shopping cart. I will never be able to handle this one.”

The very next morning, after packing M’Lord’s lunch, emptying the royal chamber pot, making breakfast and polishing all the doorknobs in the house, Lady Terrilox sent her husband off to work for the day. As soon as he was out of sight, she promptly ordered another shopping cart, along with the expedited delivery option, and waited patiently for her new shopping cart to arrive.

Two months flew by, and before she knew it, her new shopping cart had arrived.  She hurried to assemble it before Lord Joan returned home from work. 

Lo and behold, the shopping cart seemed to be much smaller than the previous one.  In fact, it was much smaller than the original one.  That simply would not do.  Lady Terrilox was beside herself with worry and angst.  Since valium hadn’t been invented yet, she proceeded to get drunk on her ass numb her pain with a little grog from her husband’s stash.  She just took a little, because if he ever noticed, she would be drawn and quartered and he would promptly marry that snoring bitch  Sleeping Beauty from downstairs.

Whatever was a princess to do? 

Unfortunately, Lord Joan had left the office early and beat the evening traffic to return home a full fortnight earlier than usual.  He walked in on M’Lady crumpled on the floor, crying into her apron and mumbling expletives he was quite sure hadn’t been added to Webster’s Royal Dictionary of the Realm yet.  He made a mental note to research that issue at a later, more convenient time.

“Whatever is bothering you, my dearest?  Did someone die on your soap opera?  Did the birds shit on the laundry again?  Pray tell what burdens thee, my love?”  The prince really had a way with words.

Lady Terrilox could hold back no longer. She spilled all the beans about the whole shopping cart tragedy, and resigned herself to her imminent fate.  However, she couldn’t help wondering where M’Lord would get four horses at that late hour to draw and quarter her.  She worried about every detail.  She really did not want her husband to stress. She would accept her punishment and take it like the good wife she was.

About that time, Lord Joan let out a boisterous laugh.  He laughed so hard, he fell back into the fire, and Terrilox had to fetch a pail of water to douse the flames on his melting armor.  She saved the day!  Turned out, M’Lady was quite the badass.

“What is so funny, M’Lord?  I have failed you. I have wasted a sixpence on all these shopping carts, and not one will serve my purpose.”

“My darling wife, I laugh because you delight me with your persistence. You are not afraid to try new things. You inevitably fail, of course, but that’s why you have me. I am your husband, and I am here to guide you in the right direction.”  The Prince really was a legend in his own mind. That, and the fact that he seemed to have forgotten he wasn’t a guy.

“So what do you suggest, your royal pain in the ass  M’Lord?”  Terrilox anxiously awaited her master’s coveted advice.  Actually, she really did have to go pee.

“The answer is quite simple, my wife. Find the royal tape measure and measure each shopping cart. After you have both sets of measurements, get out the Sears and Roebuck catalog scrolls and find a cart with measurements in-between those of the two carts. The one you find will be just right.  You can then mail the smaller and larger carts back for a full refund.”

“I hadn’t thought of that, my husband.  You are so wise.”  Terrilox figured it wouldn’t hurt to grease Lord Joan’s ego for future advantage.

Two months flew by, and a brand new shopping cart that was just the right size was delivered by express mail.  Shortly after that, the mule-train was retired in favor of the new express delivery system, The Royal Donkey Express. 

Times, they were a changing.

But, what happened to our little royal family?  Regrettably, they did not live happily ever after.

Lord Joan was caught by the lesbian police and thrown in jail for life where she lived in sin with Gertrude, the Giant Slayer.  

Lady Terrilox lived a life alone, except for her nineteen cats and a barn-full of shopping carts. Her shopping addiction had caused her financial ruin and she eventually died from either boredom or an overdose of grog.  She was found by the town magistrate, propped up in her closet and surrounded by her precious Sears and Roebuck catalog scrolls.

 The End



 *Images from Google Images