Procrastination

I am a procrastinator, and one of the things I’ve put off doing for eleven months is organizing my photos and putting them in albums. This can get overwhelming when there are a lot of them.

But I did it today, finally, and found photos I’d forgotten ever taking.

Like this one. I love potatoes, though we don’t get together as much as we once did. It’s not their fault; I love them a little too much and had to learn moderation. I think it’s sweet that they send me secret messages letting me know that they still love me.

Isn’t it strange that people who write murder mysteries are the nicest people in the world? Maybe they spend their aggression on their fictitious victims. Here are two absolutely charming Houston authors, Dean James and Julie Wray Herman.

Good and Bad

It’s 73 degrees and breezy at The Compound, which is our version of fall. I’ve opened up all the windows to enjoy it, and it feels wonderful.

Which is a good thing, because today I cried when I opened my power bill. Instead of going down, like it usually does this time of year, and in spite of the fact that all central air at The Compound was shut down for three days during the Rita scare, the bill was even higher than last month’s.

Usually the “winter months,” and I use that term loosely, provide my relief from high utility bills, but I’ve read that our natural gas bills are expected to be astronomical this season.

Sad, because while most people keep their thermostats in the low to mid seventies, in summer we keep it on 82 and in winter on 68. I don’t know how people with huge houses pay their bills.

P.S. I wonder what salaries and bonuses CEOs and upper management at utility companies are getting this year and if they are comparable to those of the oil company executives…

Southern Decadence

Katrina ruined Southern Decadence in New Orleans, but thanks to PerfectlyFrank, we’re having our own version in Houston.

Earlier today, I came home from running a few errands to find Tom and Tim sweltering away while they did post-Rita damage control in the front yard–and a parcel on the front porch. I opened it next to the battered bougainvillea that Tim had pruned and found:



Three boxes of See’s Candy!

Ohhhh, such chocolatey goodness. Tim refused to let me take a photo of him looking happily hot and sweaty as we saw the contents. Maybe later?

Frank, you are too kind, and I’ll enjoy you with every mouthful. Hmmm. Maybe I should switch to writing erotica.

THANK YOU!!