A word about children


I love children. I don’t want any, but I love those little pint-sized rapscallions. The energy, the enthusiasm, the boundless imagination…the stickiness, the spills, the whining. I am an honorary “aunt” to two adorable girls who are polar opposites of each other: Peyton, who’s a tomboy, and Poppy, a true princess.

I never worry about Peyton; she’s smart, sassy, and would kick someone in the nuts if they pissed her off enough. Poppy is a little lady with manners that would make the Queen proud. She loves shopping, makeup, dressing up and going to tea. She terrifies me at times.

Which leads me to the conclusion that, if I should ever procreate, I want a boy. Boys are easier than girls. They don’t care about getting dirty; they don’t get their periods and all that comes along with that; they are less likely to tell you they hate you, and they offer you the chance to raise them into fine young manly men with good manners who can still kick someone’s ass.

Girls. I was one, so enough said.



Now that Lu has flown the coop, I’ve spent some time thinking about her and all the crazy things we’ve done together. No one has ever made me laugh harder than Lu. She found humor in everything, always grabbed for the brass ring, and never, ever took any crap from anyone, regardless of who they were. She once told a priest to fuck off when he started espousing liberal garbage (during a funeral, no less!) and cornered him after the service. I had to rescue the quaking man before she decked him.
I’ll miss that little minx, but I am so happy for her – I’ve never heard such joy in her voice as when she was telling me about Gaspard.
But no worries, friends…she’ll pop up when we least expect it, drop a couple pearls of wisdom, then take off again. At least I have Blanche to prop me up. Maybe she’ll let me play with her prosthetic hand?


Social Media Madness


So much kerfuffle lately about social media, it’s surprising we all haven’t melted into puddles. Oh that’s right – those screaming snowflakes, SJWs, and Karens do that.

Twitter and Facebook are in a downward spiral, which I heartily applaud. What a sewer they’ve become. I had a Twit account for about a nano-second, until I realized I was greatly outnumbered by flaming liberals who were more than happy to scream at me. No one screams at me, so after sweetly telling them they were all bat shit crazy, I deleted my account.

There are many players in the field, and the latest darling is Parler (pronounced par-lay, pretentiously). It is the latest “go to” site, with tons of people flocking there after the latest banishing of some influencers. It seems half of DC has joined as well, from what I’ve heard.

However, it seems the bloom is coming off the rose and rather quickly. There are screams about the TOS, the requirement of a phone number to join, whispers of it being a honey pot, and the latest, they are banning people for saying hurty things.

You heard me right – for saying “hurtful” things. What in Sam Hill is this country coming to?! Making a crack about Marco Rubio needing breast milk is NO reason to ban someone!

It’s up to you what social media platform you want to be on, but go in being informed what faces you there. Some prefer Minds; others who have a spine of steel go to Gab. Or you can be a total weenie and go to Twitter (just my opinion).

Whatever your choice is, be informed. And don’t let anyone silence your voice!

#socialmedia #Parler #Gab 

Moving During Covid

I have been in quarantine at my late parents estate in upstate NY, which in hindsight after the protests in NYC, was a wise move on my part. I’m leaving the estate soon, as I have made the decision to move out of the city.

The big question is where. I want to stay near the East Coast, but the pickings are slim. But even if it means putting most of my belongings in storage and shipping some to the house, I cannot wait any longer to get out of this godforsaken city.

Between the absolute idiot of a mayor, who looks like Lurch’s younger brother, and the dangerous dullard (The “Love Gov” – oh puke!) who oversees the state, it’s amazing I’ve lasted this long. Any woman who dates Andrew Cuomo is either power hungry, a gold digger, or dumb as the proverbial brick.

So I may be trading my Louboutins for hiking boots, and that’s okay. I’m due for a change, and Aramis has loved being able to run around off-leash.

Maybe Lucia would want to relocate, too…