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The BOMB

Welcome to the BOMB.



The Blog Of the "Mother" of Bandit.
Bandit is my Hairless Chinese Crested--he's the "normal" one. I, on the other hand, am unrepentantly "pet-crazy." You know the type--the spinster who lives in the haunted house three blocks over with 72 cats...okay, so I don't have 72 cats, and my house isn't haunted--but my dogs wardrobe is better than mine! Need I say more? :~)
I've never been consistant at journaling, so the timing of my blogs will be sporadic at best. I just hope they are as entertaining to you as they are to me; however, be forewarned: Most of my blogs will be about The BaldOne. In spite of his Don King "do," I think he's just as cute as any of the Brothers B!
Now, if I can just remember not to get him wet--or feed him after midnight...

About Me

My photo
My bags are packed and I'm always ready to seek out an adventure with Bandit and Moggy in tow. Bandit is my ten year old Chinese Crested, who I frequently call The Bald One or The BaldOne Boy (like he was one of the Baldwin Brothers). Moggy’s full name is Pip-Moggy. He’s my gansta-resuce kitty. I couldn’t decide between Pip (which are the spots on die and domino tiles) and Moggy (or Moggie when I mistakenly thought he was a she), so I combined the two. Moggy refers to the British term for "cat of unknown parentage .” So in essence, I have an almost bald dog, and I’ve named my cat “Spot.”

Fun Stuff (I'm doing now or have done)

  • Artistic Attempts weekly (alternating between Painting With A Twist, That Art Place, and Peniot's Palette).
  • Bunko with the Belton Bunko Babes monthly.
  • Participating in the A to Z Blogging Challenge.
  • Spades and Liverpool Rummy with the Spadetts weekly.
  • The Mighty Texas Dog Walk, Austin (fund raiser for Service Dogs, Inc--they train shelter dogs to be Service Dogs, then give them free of charge to people with disabilities.)

Wednesday, December 24, 2014

Where Does the Time Go?

Where does the time go? 

Christmas-Eve Eve 2014 is fast approaching history status and I'm almost ready for the beginning of December. Almost. 

I watched the year racing to closure and I have amazingly still been blindsided by Christmas. 

Again. 

Every Christmas-Eve Eve I say the same thing, "Next year I'm going to be more organized. Next year I'm channeling my Mother.  Next year I'm going to shop year-round.  Next year  I'm going to relax and watch everyone else stress over how far behind they are. Next year I will be ready."  And I visualize shaking my gift-laden fist up at the black and white sky ala Scarlett O'Hara. 

And every year--usually on Christmas-Eve Eve--I am among the throngs of procrastinating shoppers who are beginning to start searching for elusive gifts.

I've got ideas. I've made lists--which I may, or may not follow. Most years I  have a gift or two already purchased. But the bulk of the gift-hunt is executed on, or after, Christmas-Eve Eve. 

Some days I go into the store with a specific gift in mind, only to find it's really not what I wanted to give.  Other days I go into a store with a nebulous hint of an idea that morphs into "the perfect gift" without thought or assistance from me. 

The funny thing is, although Christmas blindsided me again, I think I'm ahead of the game.  BECAUSE, surprisingly, this Christmas-Eve Eve, I only have three gifts left to hunt. 

Now I just need to decide on the best hunting lease so I can carve out the time to hunt and dress my kill (wrap my gifts). 

It is now after midnight, making it official: the hunt is on in earnest. There are less than 24-hours left before Christmas is upon us.  Time is running out. 


Where does the time fly?! 

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