I'm Just Saying

Firebox, the company that brought us Christmas ornaments for bearded men is back just in time for Valentine’s Day.

Yeah, I dunno if this is gonna stay on,” I said to Paul after wrangling a doggie diaper from its wrapping.

“No real option unless you want to knit her a pair of bib overalls,” Paul replied, describing the other alternative to get one of our young pups, now on the cusp of puberty, through her heat cycle.

Generally, I’m very happy to have grown up in the generation into which I was born. While the suburbs were encroaching, there were still large swaths of open, rural area in the North Georgia community where I grew up.

We can disagree about the President.
We can disagree about the Congress.

We can disagree about erecting a wall between two non-warring countries.

I love a funny video as much as anyone and nowadays there’s no shortage to go around. Cats chasing bears off property, dogs seemingly whining, “I wuv you!” and the unfailingly funny goats licking electric fences.

This year, I’ve actually made a New Year’s resolution which I rarely do. Not because I never keep them, but because I’m spectacularly successful at keeping them.

Which isn’t hard when you resolve to gorge on dark chocolate with sea salt, single malt, and binge watch Peaky Blinders.

Paul was doing the cooking for Christmas dinner and, per my request, did his rustic mushroom pie and savory nut roast.

Nut roast.

Eager to see the ‘bio-flick,’ Bohemian Rhapsody, after seeing the film’s trailer advertised both on-line and television, Paul and I settled into our plush seats at the Tryon theater, a tub of popcorn between us and a plastic cup containing my obligatory prosecco in the drink holder.