Poor Dad. When Mom’s off her mental meds, he’s on the receiving end of her crazy. Sometimes it’s diluted Coke or the cold poke of an unwarranted hose spray. Either way, Mom’s a handful with a devilish grin. Shouldn’t she be grateful Dad’s kept so fit, in spite of sipping soda? He’s still got a great head of hair, a healthy tan, and can rock lemon yellow shorts like nobody’s business. Perhaps it’s not her meds at all. Maybe she’s just going through the change. In that case, she needs the pause that refreshes for the menopause that depletes. Hand Mom a Coke and a smile today!
Sometimes when infatuation spills out of you so effusively that you can’t hold your dimples in, you just need your bestie to have your back, and go tell it on the mountain–or go tell the bestie of your crush that you think he’s the most.
Then he can relay the information. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.
Then it’s up to him to make the next move. Or bring his buddies with him as wingmen.
Sparks may fly between you.
And who knows where that could lead?
Who needs a carbonated beverage when hot and hunky Randy is only a meter away, and his Chanel Pour Monsieur is wafting toward you on the wings of love, mingled with the musky scent of teen athlete? Focus, Joyce, or you’ll drop your pom.
Hormones are high all around. Looks like she’s got designs on this guy.
The sight of Bill literally made Sally’s jaw fall open.
Too much nuzzling!
A’courting we shall go.
He shall be mine by nightfall. I will yet ensnare him.
What a blessing has Johann Inauen, and I don’t mean his pipe. Son Reto could not be more smitten with papa, enjoying a childhood on a small Appenzell dairy farm in Switzerland. Idyllic indeed.
We came across this fellow yesterday at a fall fest, chilling with a scarecrow he’d just stuffed. Can’t really tell a gender on a it, but the bag over its head gave it the appearance of cat ears.
Conversation was minimal. No choruses of “If I Only Had A Brain.”
Later, a beanie-donning warlock came by to discuss the possibility of using witchcraft and sorcery to bring the ‘crow to life.
Or at least give it hands and feet.