I just scraped a bunch of skin off my knuckles while carrying my laundry basket down the narrow cinder-block walled staircase that leads into the basement. It’s impossible to put bandaids all over these wounds. I feel like I might have to take a rubber glove, fill it with Neosporin, and then just wear it for a few days. I don’t know, I’m not a doctor.
Just this morning I said, “It’s about that time of year again….that time of year where I get sick.” Not three hours later, I find myself sniffling, sneezing, and moaning with the oncoming symptoms of an annoying cold. I am rather stuffed up over here. Also, my noggin is a poundin’, and my energy is at a bare minimum. On top of that, I can’t seem to heat up my body no matter what I do. I just put a sheet of chocolate chip cookies in the oven, and I had to stop myself from crawling right on in there to get toasty. I feel like doing nothing but merely existing on my couch in my sweat pants with tissues dangling from my nostrils, watching What Not To Wear.
That show has got me by the balls. I forgot how great it was. Are these people serious? Some of these individuals need electroshock therapy because of the things they’ve been wearing. I just watched an episode where this woman wore nothing but turtle items. Turtle everything. Shirts with turtles on them, giant gaudy turtle necklaces, turtle pants, turtle bracelets—and on top of all this turtle paraphernalia, she wore Crocs and mens cargo shorts. Bad.
I’m glad I avoided living in a generation where people still used folding paper road maps to navigate their way through the world. I have been lucky enough to be blessed in the era of Map Quest, quickly evolving into Google Maps directions, then the invention of the GPS, followed by turn-by-turn navigation on my smart phone. Thank God. Can you imagine having to try to use a map the size of a table cloth whilst driving throughout a busy city trying to locate a Bank of America? Big creases through entire cities, ketchup stains on toll road signs, rips through the legend. What a nightmare. Mapping and driving is more dangerous than texting and driving. I am so happy to be able to just fire up the ol’ cell phone and say, “Send me to Omaha, Phone,” and it does. It just does.
….Droid. Droid does. You get it.
I wish for someone to purchase me Hungry, Hungry Hippos for Christmas. I truly love that game. I also loved that game where the little fish went around the circular “pond” chomping their teeth together, and you had this tiny little fishing rod of sorts to catch them with. Memories. It’d be funny if they replaced the hippos in the game with really hungry people like Nicole Richie and Kate Moss and Mary-Kate Olsen. Except then the balls that the hippos chomp after wouldn’t be balls, they’d be diet pills.
SO, this week I will finally be returning to the glorious Midwest for the holidays. I can’t wait to see my fellow Council Bluffians and be a little irresponsible while donning Christmas sweaters on the reg. WHEW! I trust you all have delightful holiday plans this year. If not, maybe this will brighten your day:
I will be holding the next drawing on Sunday, December 18!
The next prize iiiiiis:
This fantastic invention in which the classic puffy warm mitten meets the windshield ice scraper in a glorious marriage, keeping your extremities toasty while you scrape snow off your car in the frosty mornings this winter. The actual scraper-glove I’m giving away is even cooler than the one pictured above. This is a fantastic invention. To become eligible for prize drawings, all you have to do is 1) be subscribed to Sheppard’s Pie by email, and 2) leave comments! Every comment you leave puts your name into the drawing. Good luck!
Time to go. Bye now.
B: When do you think we’ll be hungry enough to eat our dessert?
A: I hope soon.