I can even stand the humidity.
I know the heat can make some people do crazy things like walk around outside with no shirt on. So if you're one of those people, please let me help you.
YOU ARE SCARING THE CHILDREN!
PUT ON A SHIRT!
I will never have children.
I have suffered three periods of major depression, each time more severe than the last. My most recent experience changed me in a fundamental way. I no longer expect happiness to outweigh misery. I no longer see life without knowing that the heaviness of depression awaits me. I fully expect it to return, and one day to take me with it. I am born of this earth and I will struggle to survive, but I would never wish ‘life’ upon another.
And so this week the miracle of air conditioning appeared in our home. It is a truly glorious, blessed thing that simply cannot be appreciated by those who have never gone without.
We set it to 68 and stood mesmerized in front of the vent as our hair and clothes were blown by a massive rush of cold air. I went around the house drawing curtains, shutting off vents and closing the doors to empty rooms, turning off lights, and tightly securing doors and windows. I refused to let even the tiniest wayward lick heat into our dreamy comfort.
“Shut that door, you’re letting the cold air out!” I yelled to John.
With fear in his eyes I heard him say, “I’ve created a monster.”
Our front bathroom no longer exists. In its place are a few beams, a view of the roof above them and the earth below. Among other things this means that John and I are now sharing one bathroom with its quaint little 1929-built cast iron bathtub. John’s first strategy to avoid the bathtub was to be out of town for the entire renovation. When that failed he planned to limit his baths to once a week. Luckily, that one failed too.
On Saturday morning I heard the water running and some splashing and a few loud thumps, so I gingerly tiptoed down the hall and peeked into the bathroom. John sat there, his knees crumpled up to his chest, wedged into the little tub, with a grimace on his face.
He said he felt like a cowboy in an old Western sitting in a metal tub, being forced to bathe by the womenfolk.
“Is there anything I can get you?” I offered.
“Ma’am, water is for horses. What I need is whisky!”
KK: Great Dooce today!
KK: I just read the Tech Weekly article – I can’t believe she gets paid to blog!
KK: I want to go watch TV right now but I can't find the remote control - panic!
KK: You mean - to make the kid find it right? Not to make me watch less TV?
KK: I love you
Back when John and I were first getting to know each other his brother got married. Somehow the topic of prenuptial agreements came up and we started talking about whether either of us were the kind of person who would want a pre-nup before we married. All very hypothetical. John said absolutely! His brother has one and so will he. I said absolutely not. I didn’t want to marry someone if we believed we needed a contingency plan.
Time went by, and then John and I began dating, fell in love, moved in together. Now here we are five years later planning a massive, insane, fabulous wedding.
A couple of months ago I was joking with my good friend Steve that John seemed to have forgotten all about the pre-nup - to which Steve quickly replied that he’d be sure to remind him!
Yesterday out of the blue John said, “We still need to do our pre-nup.”
I decided to play it cool. “Would you like me to write it in purple glitter pen? Like I did back when you were my boss and seduced me and I wrote that I wouldn’t sue you for sexual harassment?”
“Yeah, like that.”
Or so says Frank Sinatra.
John couldn’t find a better way to show me how much he loves me.
“Sometimes I feel like my feet aren’t connected to the rest of my body,” he tells me. “You mean I have to move my arms AND my feet and the same time?” he asks.
Two to three times a week, for the past four weeks John and I have been taking private ballroom dancing lessons. This was our deal. John wanted a big wedding; I wanted to elope. So I agreed on a huge bash, and he agreed to a swing band and dancing lessons.
Why men are so averse to learning to dance is beyond me. Don’t they know that women love a man who can dance? Don’t they know that dancing is making love to music?
John threw himself whole-heartedly into the lessons. He signed us up for the maximum number we could possibly attend before our wedding. He bought a book on ballroom dancing that he reads at breakfast and before bed. He brings his video camera and tripod to each of our lessons so that he can capture what we’re learning.
I know this doesn’t come easily to him. And I’m simply amazed at his patience and perseverance. I certainly know how much he loves me.
This weekend our fabulous neighbors threw us a wedding shower. We had a delightful time sitting on the patio overlooking the canyon sharing food and fun and presents with all of our neighborhood friends.
We especially enjoyed getting to know two former neighbors: Rose and Wayne. Rose is a study in serenity; calm and poised with a most endearing smile. Her husband
The Devil in Texas
The devil, we're told, in hell was chained,
And a thousand years he there remained,
And he never complained, nor did he groan,
But determined to start a hell of his own
Where he could torment the souls of men
Without being chained to a prison pen.
So he asked the Lord if He had on hand
Anything left when He made the land.
The Lord said, "Yes, I had plenty on hand,
But I left it down on the
The fact is old boy, the stuff is so poor,
I don't think you could use it in hell any more."
But the devil went down to look at the truck,
And said if it came as a gift, he was stuck;
For after examining it careful and well
He concluded the place was too dry for hell.
So in order to get it off His hands
God promised the devil to water the lands.
For he had some water, or rather some dregs,
A regular cathartic that smelt like bad eggs.
Hence the deal was closed and the deed was given,
And the Lord went back to His place in Heaven.
and the devil said, "I have all that is needed
To make a good hell," and thus he succeeded.
He began to put thorns on all the trees,
And he mixed the sand with millions of fleas,
He scattered tarantulas along all the roads,
Put thorns on the cacti and horns on the toads;
He lengthened the horns of the
And put an addition on jack rabbits' ears.
He put little devils in the broncho steed
And poisoned the feet of the centipede.
The rattlesnake bites you, the scorpion stings,
The mosquito delights you by buzzing his wings.
The sand burrs prevail, so do the ants,
And those that sit down need half soles on their pants.
The devil then said that throughout the land
He'd manage to keep up the devil's own brand,
And all would be mavericks unless they bore
The marks of scratches and bites by the score.
The heat in the summer is a hundred and ten,
Too hot for the devil and too hot for men.
The wild boar roams through the black chaparral,
It's a hell of a place he has for a hell;
The red pepper grows by the bank of the brook,
The Mexicans use it in all that they cook.
Just dine with a Mexican and then you will shout,
"I've a hell on the inside as well as without."
“Can I help it if my favorite magazines are The Economist, Wired, and Texas Monthly?”
“Hey, I’ve seen a Cosmo at your place.”
“That was John’s. Whenever I hear riotous laughter coming from the bathroom, I know he’s in there reading Cosmo. The only downside are the sex tip articles. He’ll come out saying, ‘They're right on about #4, #22, and #80! In fact, I'll circle some for you, if you like.’”
A girl left her Sidekick in a taxi, and when the thief refused to give it back, she started this website. It’s a hilarious journey through the ramblings of moronic crooks. The internet community pitched in, identified the bad guys and ultimately got them arrested.
If you think that sounds good, then you’ve got to read this . Guy bought a computer on eBay. The computer didn’t work, but it contained a fully functionally and fully loaded hard drive. So the customer started a blog filled with all the personal, confidential, and highly embarrassing tidbits of the computer con artist.