This is Texas

I am cold.

Yes, I live in Texas which typically has summer temperatures ten degrees higher than Hell (and Hell doesn't have the humidity). This week will see the first 100 degree temperature streak BEFORE the heat index.

Here I sit, at 10:22 p.m., on July 18, outside temp of 85 (feels like 91), AC set at whatever setting my hot-natured espouso determines necessary for survival, and sitting under a freaking ceiling fan. I should be comfortable, right? Wrong. I sit here in silent misery wearing a crocheted wrap over a 3/4 sleeve cardigan, sipping hot tea with honey (and just a smidge of Crown Maple). And, as soon as I finish this little rant, I will be putting finishing touches on my next crocheted sweater. For dinner, I made Lima Bean Soup (yum!). I keep extra blankies by my bed just in case the comforter doesn't cut it. They're small ones that cover just me, not the espouso. The dog is rather opposed to those as well this time of year.

I tell you, people, I am cold. I go outside to warm up and stay there until the humidity makes me sweat, then I go in. I can appreciate the AC for about 5 minutes after that, but then I'm done. Do not put any AC vent or fan directly on me or you will lose important body parts. (You would think mi espouso would have figured this out after 32 years. No. He hasn't.)

Now could someone please explain how I can be freezing my keister off in July, when I am perfectly comfortable the rest of the year when the temperatures run in the 70s and 80s? It's a good thing I don't live in Montana, or even the Texas panhandle, for that matter.

Rant over. Blankie calling.

T.

Any Good Parent...

I know, I know...2 posts in 1 week. I just had a startling realization and thought I'd share. The world might just not know what to do with this information. I sure don't know what to do with it, except attempt to rectify the situation ASAP.

There we sat, in the restaurant for Mi Espouso's 50th birthday, having a lovely conversation over dessert with his father and my mother and Myrtle the Younger (Myrtle the Elder is on a friggin' boat to the Bahamas with Uncle KB and his family), when I have the sudden awful realization that I have failed miserably as a parent.

A parent's sole obligation is to teach/share/impart unto their children all the important necessities of life. Correct? I have tried to educate the Myrtles with the essentials and I even thought I had made a decent 'To Do' list: addition, subtraction, basic hygiene, etc. The list included both good and not-so-good life references including learning the words to Bohemian Rhapsody (to be sung off-key at the top of your lungs while Mom is driving) as sung by Queen or the Muppets, memorizing Monty Python and the Holy Grail, and listening to Rock Me Amadeus by Falco. (Hey, I knew the girls would eventually need counseling. I just wanted to ensure they had sufficient reason to fork out good $$ for psychiatric care.)

Alas, I have made the discovery that I left out an important piece of Americana...Beetlejuice (GASP!). Somewhere between Star Wars and Speed Racer, Mi Espouso and I forgot to introduce the girls to that classic piece of bizarreness. What is even more tragic is that Myrtle the Younger actually stated that the main character never appealed to her. (WHAT?!!?)

So there we sit, at the table, reciting scenes and dialogue from Beetlejuice. (No one was looking at us like we were insane, but the waiter returned in record time with the check.) MTY just sat there, wondering why we are her parents. (Because we are the only 2 people on the planet who get the portrait of the green and orange skinned girl with pink hair on the paper tablecloth that MTY drew while eating her pasta, that's why.)

Now I am certain this is not my only omission to the Myrtles education, and, as previously stated, I shall be rectifying the situation ASAP. In the meantime, I am racking my brain for any other errors.

T.

June was a busy month and July is shaping up to be the same. Yea! If I'm occupado, I can't get into too much trouble...or can I?

So what has T. been up to, you ask. Wellllll...

In June, I participated in a podcast with a friend. Her website is MidlifeSchmidlife.com and her podcasts focus on people who take a left-turn after the age of 40, aka The Midlife. She is having inspirational conversations with those who have quite their jobs or altered their existence to pursue their dreams to start a business, perform burlesque show or write a book after reaching midlife. I have to say this is a much better plan for a midlife "crisis" than buying a motorcycle or a sports car (Ooh, look! A Ferrari!) and/or trading in your spouse for a younger/newer model. Sooo... in episode #3, I discuss my journey as an author. Check it out.

Also, as previously hinted at, I pulled the trigger on Book Baby #2.

Ta Da!

Keep Your Eyes On Me. This link is for the ebook, but if you're like me and prefer a physical book, it is available in paperback. If you have an opportunity, please leave a review on either Amazon or Goodreads (or both). Reviews are the lifeblood of independent writers and help us reach a larger audience. So please!

If you think I only write my blog when good things happen, you might be somewhat correct. But I'll share something on the less positive side: I've got a doozy of a losing streak going in Words With Friends. I can't get a handful of decent tiles to save my life. So if you want to up your stats, now might be a good time to challenge me to a game.

T.