"I tried to call you all day!" he says.
"Yes! Where's your phone?"
"You know, I don't know. Where is my phone?" I'm looking around, thinking it's probably in my bag.
"It must be in my bag."
"You need to find it. Where's your bag?"
"Maybe its in the car." I go outside, and I find my phone, in my bag. Outside. On the couch.
Now, there are a number of things wrong with this. Yep, I left my purse and phone outside all night. That seems like the biggest offense. (It's not. If you're a southerner, you probably already know where I'm headed.) Where I live, chances of rain are slim, and I really don't worry too much about someone stealing my purse.
But when I said the words aloud,
"My phone was in my bag, outside on the couch" I discovered I was one of them. One of those hillbilly people that sticks their old couch outside on the porch. That's right, I have one. In my locale, it's really commonplace to see upholstered furniture hanging around outside. I'm not saying its fashionable, but its commonplace. Especially if their brown and tan plaid with a little wood trim. (Those babies must've been quite the hit!)
Mines tan microfiber, or 'Microsuede', if you're sellin' them. I can also tell you that Microfiber is the next generation of the wagonwheel velour sofa. It's the brown plaid of this decade, and I fell for it. I know I may offend a few people with that comment. If you're sitting on your microfiber sofa right now, don't take any offense. I'm nobody to talk about people hanging on to passe' trends. I'm wearing aqua crocs as we speak! And in the winter, I'll probably still be wearing them, just with socks underneath. Cosy, cosy.
So enjoy the microfiber. But it is on its way out. Apparently, mine already is. On my porch.
I'm so sorry I haven't been keeping up. I'm outside alot, and sometimes I have to drag my ass up here even when I don't feel like it. The new place means new garden beds, and when I get on here, I'm usually on the Rose Ratings site, or something like it.
(That's this - My HMF - Helpmefind.com . It's a plant site where you can review types of plants and see others success or lack of success with a plant, you can also view plant photos. I know it sounds really dull, but say you have room for only two plants. You can type in the name of a rose, and click the photo tab. You will literally see pictures of hundreds of that same species in different yards and zones. Some people read reviews on appliances or cars. I read reviews on plants. The site also tells you where you can buy the ones you want.)
If anyone has a rose called Donau, I'm desperately searching for it. This is my Holy Grail of rose bushes at the moment. Can't find it! That just drives me nuts. So I have slight plant obsession. (I think if you're starting out, Cramoisi Superieur is good. I avoid hybrid teas- antique varieties have a better form.) Let me just move on from the plant talk. I get lost there and end up lingering.
I'm not a drinker. Maybe a margarita on cinqo de mayo, maybe one on New Years, but I have no tolerance for it. But I have to tell ya, If the Democrats win in November, I plan to get drunk and do the victory dance up and down my road. A little disco here (I personally believe that Obama should've made the Bee Gee's Staying Alive his campaign song); maybe the cabbage patch, I think I'll even try a little irish stepping. I believe I'll even be dancing on my lovely porch couch. I'll be dancing where my Baptist neighbors with their Palin sign can see. I'll be dancing in front of my smug self-righteous in-laws on the holidays. I will be giddy whilst their shifty eyes be crying! And I'll be dancing with my kids, banging pots and pans come New Years Eve. (Please vote, everyone, and make my Christmas wish come true.)
If McCain wins, don't call me. I'll be sleeping in til noon the next day. Ugh.
(If you're wondering, my in-laws will not be getting this email.)
I just adore you guys so much! I have to get now, my to-do list is waiting. I hope you all have a sweet, sweet day & know that you can conquer the world with all of your big hearts! I'm pulling for you always, Kat Lee