Dear Madame Zoltar

Hello, my loves.  How are you?  It's been almost three weeks since we've last met.   That's too far back for me to remember.  Did I have any notable food?  That I should remember.  Oh my, I sound like a pig.  Oink-oink.  I'll be Madame Oinktar.  When you call your pigs, I come running. Oh dear, now I've really lost it.

There, I got that out of my system.  The cold, damp spring we had and the hot, damp summer that we're having make it difficult to do yard work.  Fishing comes to mind.  But I don't like to fish all that much.  If I catch anything, I always turn it loose. I'm the same way about punishing Junior.  I'm a pushover. No one forgives faster than me.  No one forgets faster, either.

As you well know, I've spent the last two weeks tending to Mr. OrbsCorbs' wounds.  He had surgery, the incision is near his crotch, the swelling has been dreadful.  His entire leg balloons up and he says it's very painful. I've administered some of my pain relief and grow well products to him, but Vicodin seems to be the only thing that cuts the mustard.  When he's on Vicodin, he's happy and easy to get along with.  When he's not, he's not.

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O.o  Look at the time.  I thought today was Tuesday.   I have a lot of catching up to do.  Even though this blog entry is only half-baked, I'm posting it.  Sorry, I hope to have a better blog for you next week.  I love you all.

madamezoltar@jtirregulars.com
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