Invalids, Drunks, Hobos, Dogs and Beans

Wellity, wellity, wellity.

What's been going on?

Thuglife is making a slow but steady recovery. We had some difficult days together, but things get slowly better. My sister informs me that after this weekend, my services will no longer be necessary, and I am free to go. This is fairly excellent for everyone involved.

Everybody is beginning to piece their old live back together, which leaves me free to get started on my new life.

I have some ideas about that, but most of them are half-baked at best. I'm waiting on some input from some key players, before I finalize any decisions.

However, I DO know for sure that I will be spending a few weeks in the vicinity of the couch of Robbie and Steve, before bouncing up to the Boston area to spend some time on the couches of Andrea and then Miss Melody: http://littlehomeblessings.blogspot.com/ (yeah, I'm not so savvy at the link making). Who has a little boy I have yet to meet.

Also also also! Guess who is giving a reading of her new book at St. Andrews on Thursday, September the 27th? Yeah man, I think it's me!! Anybody got a couch?

The book production is going very well. Thanks to the mad editing skillz of Noelle H., I get to skip the editing phase of production and jump right to format and cover design, which speeds up the release date by another few weeks and also allows me to keep all my made-up words and creative grammar. How much do I love Publish America this afternoon?

Still no definite release date, but I will keep you posted.

In adventuring news, I've managed to have a few, for all that I don't get out much.

A few Saturdays ago I was looking gorgeous and eating delicious gazpacho at a swanky party for Peter, Philly photographer and all around super-awesome guy, and Sunday last I was looking even more fabulous at Sam and Em's house-warming, which was the fliest party I've been to since the Mojo Conference. I don't remember it too well, but I know there was a heck of a lot of gin and tonics, pina coladas, chocolate martinis (Sam makes the BEST chocolate martinis) and a bottle of Maison Louis Jadot Beaujolais; singing of hymns as if they were drinking songs while passing around said bottle of Beaujolais (I'm serious. 6 drunkards singing Amazing Grace in a Mt. Airy apartment kitchen at 11:30 on a Sunday night. That's my kind of spirituality!); and a lot of making out with my best friend's roommate, brother, and girlfriend. Yeah, I was that girl. But don't worry, the vibe on that score was much more I Love Lucy than, you know, 90210 or whatever the popular nighttime drama is these days. (90210. Could I be more behind the times?) (But in my defense, who has time for T.V. what with all the drinking and kissing that goes on?) So yeah, you want to hit up Sam and Em's next party.

In more sober adventuring, the day after the night of drunken debauchery, Mojo and I found a Hobo camp in Jappy's back yard. I am so not even kidding. Next to Jappy's house is this crazy scary abandoned house. It's pretty much the scariest thing since Muffin's Murder House in NC.

And behind that is this thicket of briers and trees and whatnot.

And I dunno if you can see it, I couldn't see it, but Mojo found this path through there. And he did that dog thing where he went a little ways, and came back, and then went a little ways, saying, "Follow me!" So I did. And look what we found:

So cool!! Now, some nay-sayers, when spoken to on the phone (Stephen J.) tried to convince me that I had not found a Hobo camp at all, but rather a "Q-town teen aged delinquent make-out sight." But I beg the differ.

Note the single solitary chair, flimsily constructed to hold, at maximum, one average-sized Hobo. Note also the relics of bean and tuna-fish cans amid the discarded beer cans. What making-out teenagers eat tuna-fish and beans? And if that's Steve's idea of a good make-out time, I caution you ladies! Lastly, stacks of tires and a broken down truck. I rest my case.

After leaving the hobo camp, Mojo and I discovered a beautiful bean field, where Mojo frolicked and, undoubtedly, the luckless hobo found a days work, and perhaps a glimpse of the purdy bean-farmers daughter, hanging out the laundry, her breasts swelling above her calico dress, her beautiful neck glistening with July sweat.

As a final thought, I will leave you with a picture of my toes, from last weeks relaxo-time, and my favorite picture of the worlds best dog in a field of beans.

Summer is good, and getting better. God bless!