Not exactly goodbye...

I've moved! Come visit me at my new digs. http://www.wendyboucher.com/blog Make that, PLEASE come visit me at my new digs. Oh, and if you are one of those nice people that link to me -- a little housekeeping will be in order. Thanks amigas!

I've been played.

Girlie was squirrely last night at dinner time. We had homemade soup (ever so delicious, of course). While we were eating, a friend stopped by to drop off some Nancy Drew books for Girlie. As I went to retrieve them, Girlie decided not to stay at the dinner table and opened the front door, which allowed Bella the lightning dog to make her escape. Ugh. We managed to retrieve her. Then, as we finished the aforementioned soup, Girlie decided that it would be fun to squish her mushrooms agains the inside of the soup bowl with her fingers. "Look, Mom, mushroom juice." Ah, hah, hah. So not funny to me and therefore exceedingly hilarious to Girlie. Until she knocked over her bowl and its contents after I had warned her to stop several times. Ugh. We cleaned it up. I confess I had a very trying day yesterday. I'm in the middle of swapping around webhosts and such and it isn't going smoothly because I don't have (uhm, what color is your thumb if you're good at internet stuff? Not a green thumb but a ...?) I guess Girlie could see that I was gearing up for a little crankfest at her expense so she said, "I wouldn't blame you if your punished me." She also said a little bit later, "Sorry about the two crimes I committed, Mommy." Okay, that was funny. Crankfest averted. I laughed, we got on with dinner and hey, wait a minute, what exactly did she learn? When trouble lurks, make Mommy laugh and you'll never get a time out again. Yep, that's about right. Sorry Dr. Spock.

Stephanie, oh Stephanie, how you made my day!

As most of you probably already know, Stephanie over at Pickleness rocks! On a day when I'm pulling out all my hair trying to figure our Bluehost and Wordpress, I get this lovely message that Stephanie has bought my novel, Parvenue Throws A Party (you know, that one prominently displayed in my sidebar). Thank you, Stephanie. I'm going to look in my computer for something to send you as a thank you. Ah, here it is, a Laughing Gull running for dear life from me and my sidekick (Girlie). It's not every day that you get sent a cyber seagull. You're welcome.

Watch out web, I've bitten off more than I can chew!

So. I have decided to change my main website, www.wendyboucher.com, to a different host and incorporate my blog at the same site using Wordpress. So far I have managed to cancel my old hosting service and delete my old site. If you go to www.wendyboucher.com, you'll see the first page of a blog that will be part of the new system. What I do next, I have NO IDEA! I'm working on it, I'm working on it. In the meantime, this Blogger blog, if nothing else, should remain in proper working order until I figure out my mess.

This will sound like bragging...

because it is. Unabashed bragging. As I mentioned in my life and death post below, last night I got to meet Izzy! Quite unbelievably, a blogger who I greatly admire lives very close to me. Guess what? She is exactly as advertised folks. Cool, funny, down to earth and exceedingly likeable. I AM SO LUCKY that we connected. She posted about it too and as she said, we showed up at Starbucks wearing the exact same clothes and ended up chatting for three hours. What she didn't mention is that we closed down Starbucks and had to move to an outside table where we continued to gab until very late while odd people came and went from the parking lot. I barely noticed them. The odd ones, that is. I'm wearing a big fat grin today. Thanks, Iz!

Which would you choose?

Death by car crash or death by poisonous spider bite? That was the life and death decision presented to me the other day as I drove to pick up Girlie from day camp. It goes to show you that you never know when you will be faced with life and death choice. And of course, it's all my Hubby's fault. The trauma of the event caused me to block it out of my mind for a few days but the story resurfaced tonight as I met with the awesome and deservedly famous Izzymom (a later post, to be sure). Here's how it went down - I'm back to the spider story, keep up people. Traffic was thick. And it had been raining - that bucket load kind of rain we get here in Florida - so many drivers were in panic mode. Panicky oldsters tend to drive with one foot on the brake. Panicky youngsters lock their knees and can't take their feet off the gas pedal. Throw in a lake or two in the right hand lane and you've got a dangerous traffic situation. (Cue the Twilight Zone music.) Now, imagine if you will, a big fat round-bodied spider that looks an awful lot like a brown widow spider creeping across the top of your windshield, on the inside of course, and just visible in your upward peripheral vision. It pauses just above your lap...thinking, thinking, mmmm, tasty mommy. Steve McQueen, were he still with us, could not have pulled a more perfect maneuver with my less than agile soccer mom van. Lickety split, I was off the road and squishing that spider in a used kleenex. I might have run over a Mini Cooper but it's hard to tell in the behemoth that I drive. If that was you I crushed, sorry. I still managed to pick up my daughter on time but unfortunately, I was still reeling from my experience and told her about it. "SHAME ON YOU. SHAME ON YOU FOR HURTING NATURE." Obviously, she was missing the life and deathness of the situation. "What would you have wanted me to do?" "You should have found a stick and a big leaf and some tape or string to attach the leaf and then gently scooped the spider out of the car." "That spider wanted to kill me." "SHAME ON YOU." "Okay. Next time. I promise." Sheesh, kids. As I drove home, I wondered where that spider had come from. Then I recalled that my Hubby had been using my van to haul sod. That's right. The real reason I don't have a Prius yet is that my Hubby can't let go of the pickup truck, I mean van. Sod. There's still dirt and sod droppings in the back. And probably more spiders. When I find one, I'm going to get that stick and leaf and tape and gently scoop the spider onto the seat of Hubby's Lexus. Oh yes I am.

My Cleo and Max picture is done!

I love this new collage. Besides, it proves to my cats that I never meant to play favorites having done a picture of my dog. Why is Max cut off? I just like how it looked and I took it from a photograph where the two of them were lying in those positions on our slate patio. Max was feral and to this day, will not tolerate being petted unless it's on her rump. Thus the rump shot. Cleo, fully featured, is the alpha pet in this household. She regularly thumps the dog. I'm having fun with this and I would be delighted to take commissions for art of your pets too. Just go to my profile and email me if you're interested.

What's on your desk?

It's Friday and I am going to clear my work area. But first I want to show you my typical working conditions. Exhibit A: I have spoken to the management about the yammering cat that keeps showing up in my inbox but thus far they've done nothing about it. If ignored, she gets up and licks me across the forehead. And if that weren't bad enough, Exhibit B: The dog-on-my-lap infestation continues as well. I don't know how I'm supposed to get any work done during the day. Luckily at night, dogs, cats, Girlies and snakes all retire to their proper beds. Then Hubby kills things in his video game and I work peacefully on my computer. If I ever slur my writing in a comment, you'll know that wine was involved too. Have a great weekend, all.

Big Heart and Topless Dolls

"So Girlie, whatchya doing with all those topless Polly Pockets?" "They're giving their tops to charity...and their pets too because they thought that would be a nice thing to give." "Okay then. Great job, Sweetie." What you can't hear is the tune Girlie is humming while she lines up the charity offerings. I asked her about it and she said it was the charity theme song. I really can't wait to pie hole my blog (add audio). Editor's note: Her game continues and I overheard her say that one of the Polly Pockets would have to donate a whole man to charity. (Hee hee.) And now thieves are stealing from the charity pile. I love imagination.

When the wind blows...

In honor of the first day of Hurricane Season here in Florida: thirteen things I will put in my emergency kit. 1. Mixers that don’t require refrigeration. 2. The Crocodile Hunter. I picture lots of roaming alligators and snakes and when he’s not busy wrestling with them, he can entertain Girlie with his Australian accent. “Crikey!” 3. A spare notebook computer and a dedicated generator the size of Texas. I feel it’s my civic duty to carry on blogging during a natural disaster. 4. President Bush. He has this habit of running away from trouble so I’ll just stuff him in my closet and pull him out during a hurricane to make him actually SEE the problems as they arise. 5. Kites. 6. An athletic support bra for my tree. 7. The Johnson & Johnson company. Don’t they pretty much make everything you might need for personal care? 8. The cast of “The Office.” Without television, I might like to see Steve Carrel and the gang act out a few episodes. Hmm. Ditto the cast of “Lost.” 9. Lots of books and Itsy Bitsy book lights. I guess the books had better be thrillers so that they’ll give me the chills (and I won’t miss the air conditioning). 10. A stopwatch. I’ll want to time how long it takes for my Hubby hurts himself trying to fix something that would be better left for the contractors. 11. Sharpies. Just because I like them and it just feels like you should have a permanent marker during a crisis. 12. A non-electric shaver. I’ll be wearing shorts, you know. 13. Plane tickets. Because let’s face it -- I’ll prepare for the category one or two storm but if something like Katrina is even glancing my direction, I’m flying the family to Toronto. (Toronto because I’ve never been there and we might as well make a vacation of it!) Happy Hurricane Season everybody. Editor's Note: Everybody is quite concerned that I forgot food. Hello? Did I not include the Crocodile Hunter? And mixers? I'm thinking alligator bites and margaritas, alas no rocks, with salt. Even Girlie will eat alligator tail. God, did I just say that? Somebody come save me - I have lived in Florida too long! Oh and Izzy? Zone D? I'm a B. Do you have room for three people, two cats, one dog and some fish? Go here for the Thursday Thirteen hub.

B*oobs, Backyards and Buddies

Most of our back yard is consumed by a giant screened in porch - it's a Florida thing. Actually, it would be even more of a Florida thing if there was a swimming pool but we can't put one in because of a giant grandfather oak with b*oobs. A view from the porch. Make that a grandmother oak. She's at least an E cup. Beside the porch where the tree resides, there is a sizeable yard but you never would have known it when we moved in. It was completely overgrown with a hedge and razor-like palm trees that sawed at your knees. We took all that out and for awhile, I pretended that I was going to grow a flower garden. (insert my Hubby laughing hysterically.) Finally, we did what any self-respecting parents would do and put in grass. Today. We put in grass. (Cue the violins - my back is killing me.) Bella LOVES the new grass. Before we could even lay down the sod, my stellar Hubby had to repair the sprinkler system. This required him to replace some bits and bobs. So when he was done, Girlie came racing into the house: "MOMMY! MOMMY! Look what Daddy gave me!" Was it a new video game? A diamond brooch? Yearly passes to the Magic Kingdom? No. Meet Pipe Buddy. This is proof that the toddler-age preference for the box the toy came in never goes away, it just morphs into a love of trash. While I'm hoping that she'll always appreciate the small stuff -- I'm also hoping that she'll demand a little more than pipe cuttings from the men in her future.

For Zilla, the Rainforest Cafe Update

Just for fun, we drove from Tampa to Orlando yesterday to watch a friend of mine perform in the Orlando Fringe Festival. Gabi is awesome and totally brave to mount a one-woman show. And we were brave to bring a seven-year-old to a performance that did not involve singing animals or snakes. As a bribe, we told Girlie that if she was super quiet and didn't say anything during the show, even in her very best quiet library voice, we would take her to the Rainforest Cafe for dinner. There are two Rainforest Cafes in Orlando - both are on Disney property. We went to the one at the Disney Marketplace, right next door to drunken Disney (oops, I mean Pleasure Island). We arrived at 5:20 p.m., waited in line to sign up and were told that it would be an hour and fifteen minutes or maybe an hour and a half. We totally expected to wait that long. It was a holiday weekend and all that. But a bribe's a bribe and they don't ever work again if you don't pay up. Our return time to get seated was 7:10 p.m. Have you ever been to a Disney park? If you've ever waited in line for a ride, you know that they trick you by having you get to what looks like the front of the line only to find out you are just last in line in a different waiting area. And so on, and so on. It's much the same at the Rainforest Cafe. At 7:00 we'd been wandering all around the BIG merchandise area for a long time and were getting mighty hungry. "We're here," we told the guy back at the purple elephant where they let you into the restaurant. "Super," he said. "But you're not even close," he said. Sniff, sniff. Girlie started chanting, "LET US EAT, LET US EAT." They must get that a lot because he was totally unphased. Finally, at about 7:30, we checked in again and they told us to proceed to the Gorilla Room. Right. They really meant the Gorilla Room LINE. Where we waited for another 20 minutes. Then, en masse, they had a bunch of us proceed to the Gorilla Room entrance where we waited in line AGAIN. I was ready to chew the leather off my purse. Finally we were seated, we ordered, and we waited. And waited. I tried to get my Hubby to distract a waiter carrying food so that I could trip him and scrounge off the floor but Hubby didn't bite. When we left the restaurant (we had skipped appetizers and dessert), our bribe payoff had taken FOUR HOURS. FOUR HOURS for a salad that would feed Darfur and its neighboring countries, three little hot dogs for Girlie and a stir fry for Hubby. Was the food tasty? Yes. Was it neato when they had a fake thunderstorm? Yes. Will I ever go back, even if somebody offers ME a bribe? No.

More artwork. If you're here for the picture of me in my bathing suit, you'll have to scroll down

I'm trying to get my artwork photographed and as I experiment, you'll probably have to suffer through some of my trials. This piece is a companion piece to this one only it is much taller and was completed first. It's untitled. Like most of my contemporary pieces, it is a paper collage. This one is a very poor photo of one of my personal favorites. I'll need to remove the glass to get a good shot of it. It's a rendering of my favorite pooch with a map of my favorite country (England) in the background. I like the idea of pet portraits that aren't oil paintings with bows on their heads. I'm starting to accept commissions for those who want me to do a pet portrait for them. Email me if you're interested. I incorporate your favorite things into the picture, as I can.

Born to travel

The Liberal Banana is responsible for this short little photo tour of my life. Short dress, fat thighs, and already toting my first carry-on luggage. I was born to travel, Baby! And please, for the love of God, check out those adorable red sneakers. A fair question might be why was I so completely bare-legged but it was cold enough out for a jacket? Mom? Any thoughts on that? Happy Easter-Peaster! Still with the carry-on although I've chosen a sort of open basket style to compliment my Chanel suit. Or maybe that's my Easter basket. And clearly I am delighted by my hat. Of course even then I had a giant head that no hat ever fit correctly. "Welcome to the family little sister who is going to grow up to be skinny and blonde. Too bad butt-baring styles like this little navy and red number won't still be in fashion." Argh. You can see my little white underwear through the tights. "Let this be the first time out of hundreds that I tell you that you were left on the doorstep by Gypsies who could return for you at any moment." All grown up now, I'm a college grad at 22 and my skinnier, blonder sister is 15. BUT, I had WAYYYY better 80's hair and a much better tan. The end of the 80's is near and I'm fighting to keep the high-on-the-side ponytail look in fashion. My best friend at the time liked hats. Yes, we really were all that. I single-handedly kept the company that makes hair permanents in business. I wonder if they still smell like they used to?

Never shirk your tag

Pickleness tagged me for the deserted island meme and because I love getting picked, I am happily complying. BOOKS: This is cheating, most likely, but I am an author of books - so I would like, along with the books I'll mention below, to have a typewriter and reams of paper so that I can write some NEW books while I'm stuck in this tropical locale with no other responsibilities. The perfect writer's retreat. Books that I would bring include (but are not limited to): The Count of Monte Cristo (my all time fave); The Shining; The complete John Irving; the complete Shakespeare; and the complete Edgar Allan Poe. I'll be fashioning a regular library out there on the island. Lots of time to read, I suppose. MOVIES: The complete Lord of the Rings trilogy (I can never tire of those stories and I'm not otherwise much into fantasy); I need a few comedies so I'm thinking the Monty Python flicks, The Princess Bride, A Mighty Wind (and all the others like Best in Show, etc.), and at least one tear jerker which for me was Ever After. ALBUMS (by): Prince; Stanley Jordan; Bonnie Raitt; Kelly Clarkson (yep, I like her); and Bach's Goldberg Variations. Oh, and an Aida soundtrack. PEOPLE (besides family who are a given): George Clooney (handsome and funny and caring); a librarian (for that library I plan to set up only if it's a woman, she has to be frumpier than me so that George won't be distracted); President Bush - I would love for me and George to have him as a captive audience to give him a piece of our minds; and maybe Madonna as a yoga instructor/after dinner entertainer. Throw in a piano, some coconut telephones, and a bicycle powered generator and I'm pretty much set. Girlie will love it too.

Beauty Requires No Bombs

Oh look. She does artwork too. Too bad she can't take better pictures of it. This is a 12" by 12" piece that will be in an exhibit at the Lyssa Morgan Gallery in Tampa. It's called, Beauty Requires No Bombs and it is a paper/paint collage.

It's only fair

Clickety click to enlarge.

Thirteen Words

For this week’s thirteen, I’m going back to my writerly roots and plucking thirteen adjectives out of the dictionary that I either really like or have never heard of before. 1. Convivial. It describes me because it relates to feasting, drinking and having a good time. That convivial Wendy, she’s always swiggin’ a beer and talking with her hands full of pizza. (Make that cheeseless pizza with a gluten-free crust – my food allergies are not convivial in the least.) 2. Fusty. It can mean stale and smelly or it can mean rigidly old-fashioned. My wedding invitations were purchased at a fusty old print shop in London because my hubby’s fusty relative thought that they should be truly, actually engraved - as in, you can turn the invitation over and feel the engraving. (I used fusty in both ways in that sentence.) 3. Irrefragable. It means irrefutable. The irrefragable truth is that irrefragable is more fun to say than irrefutable. And it makes me think of Fraggle Rock. 4. Trumpery. This word means trivial or useless. I think it can also be a noun. My trumpery little blog might be among the trumperiest. (Okay, I made that last word up.) 5. Arthritic. It’s not just for joints anymore. Painfully slow. Now that I have Firefox, I see how arthritic IE was. 6. Fuliginous. Dark and murky in color. One look into my fuliginous eyes, and he was hopelessly in love, or drunk. 7. Lugubrious. Affectedly mournful. Girlie’s lugubrious wails ring throughout the house whenever she’s asked to clean her room. 8. Mizzly. Drizzly. You say drizzly, I say mizzly, let’s call the whole thing off. 9. Sexagesimal. (giggle, giggle). Having to do with the number sixty. Hubby and I watch television in sexagesimal minute cycles. Usually on our bed. (Sorry math lovers, I’m sure I used it incorrectly.) 10. Nootropic. Enhances cognition. Alcohol is a nootropic substance when playing late night trivia games. (Too much alcohol is the opposite of nootropic.) 11. Wendish. Like me. Okay, not really but who wouldn’t include an adjective with your name in it? It actually means, of or relating to the Wends. Aren’t you glad that I cleared that up? 12. Crural. Relating to the thigh. I think it’s cruel that my crural area gains weight the fastest. 13. Pie holed. Having a mouth. Her pie holed website now has audio feeds. (Yes, I totally made up pie holed as an adjective but I’m going to run with it.) If I ever get the right equipment and software, I intend to pie hole this blog. Wow, it works as a verb too. Catchy don’t you think? Thanks for stopping by. Please leave your name AND a comment so that I can judge you, I mean, thank you. Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!

View More Thursday Thirteen Participants

Cue the Barry White - It's love bug season

A love bug's dying wish is to be getting it on with its mate. I know this to be true because twice a year, including right now, swarms of these flies emerge from the leaf litter all coupled up, if you know what I mean, and crowd the air over Florida highways. I wonder if the smell of exhaust, uhm, heightens the experience? Or maybe it's just that love is blind. They seem to hover over busy roadways and not, say, in my backyard. I drive a high profile vehicle. So do most of you mommies. It's called a van but today it is fly-paper on wheels. I'll have to wash it a dozen times in the next week if I don't want the fly juice to ruin my finish. (They get toxic to paint when they're all sexed up like that.) So I'm just curious, these little lovers from Latin America are spreading north. Have you seen them where you live? They look like a single fly with heads and wings at both ends. Don't even ask me how they get into that position.

Another Thank You - this time for Liberal Banana

One Banana, two Banana, three Banana, four. Banana bought my book and now there are no more. (Well, they have more to arrive shortly so go ahead and order your copy today!) THANKS, Liberal Banana! Now everybody go look at her site. She's very funny and has impecable taste. (Hee hee.) Not only that, she has been reading my stuff for longer than most. So thanks for that too!!!