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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.)

Saturday, August 15, 2015

Did I Die Last Night?

I'm not entirely sure--but I think I died last night.

I'm slightly confused since there was no bright light at the end of a dark tunnel. No glowing ephemeral ascending staircase.  No gates of pearl. No entertaining harps or lyres. No breeze from softly fluttering wings.  No tears wiped away. No contentment. I was not in the presence of Perfection, so I didn't go to Heaven.

But I know I was in the right place, because I'm assured of where my place will ultimately be--besides, there was also no fire and brimstone.

So where was I?  It's a question I may never know the answer to; however, I must have died--otherwise how can I explain not knowing how the following occurred?

Pet Product Dissimulation:
Someone tore the cat self-brusher from its base. Someone dumped the toys from the toy box.  Someone removed the slumber pad from the pop-up cat carrier. Someone added non-waste products into the litter box--namely, the sifter and the box of ziplock baggies used to police said litter box thrice daily. (That last thing might be somewhat telling--I went to bed last night before completing the final sift of the day.)

Redecorating:  
Someone moved the recliner about two feet--I did not care for the new placement as it was directly in my path. Someone removed my window treatment from one of the windows--I'm sure the windows are in need of a good washing, but I prefer to adhere to a cleaning schedule of my own choosing rather than being dictated to (is Someone channeling my Mother?!).  And horror of horrors, Someone removed several of my PWAT masterpiece from the walls!

Arts and Crafts: 
But it wasn't all destruction--Someone also had time for an arts and crafts project--shredded shabby chic lampshades!

Someone is so tuckered out today Someone is now the one sleeping the slumber of the dead--and that Someone is not me as I deal with the cleanup of my apparent death last night.

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