Dear Santa,
How are you? I thought I would ask so that I could prove that I am considerate and should in fact be on the nice list- in case there were concerns. I know I've seen you twice this year, but I didn't have my list with me. Plus, when I saw you up close I grew genuinely worried about your health, specifically your blood sugar level and cholesterol. Have you been pre-screened for diabetes? At your age, (what are you now 70ish?) these are things you should start to worry about. Especially this time of year; it can be stressful and strenuous. I also think that we're ready for a new fashionable update to your look. Of course you're comfortable with the red velvet standard, but we've made many advancements in apparel technology. You know you can you always ask Mrs. Clause, for something other than socks and underwear. Which reminds me, jolly red man, there are a few things I have on my list.
1. Socks and underwear. I have worn through the pairs you gave me last year. There are holes and snags, stains- on the toes of my socks and frayed elastics on the waistbands of my underpants. A couple pairs of wool work socks with red ringers and a 3 pack of panties would be great.
2. Mittens, of the handmade woollen variety. Preferably to match my fav hat. Replacing the sentimental mittens I lost already this year.
3. A new North Face winter coat. The stuffing on my current Charlie Brown jacket is sticking out my armpits, tar-lessly feathering me. I look like an ironically overgrown chicken pretending to be a vintage lady.
4. A juice Tiger- or similar non-fiction device for juicing fruit and veggies. A big star beside this item. Though that is mostly because my Hubby has now convinced himself that he needs one, even though we had an industrial juicer sit on our counter for 3 years and he never used it.
5. Roomba or Air purifier, something to help keep the fur-babies in check. I don't know about Reindeer, but dogs and cats shed like it's their mandate to weave their tiny white hairs into every fibre of every fabric and build fur pucks underneath all of our fur-niture.
6. Is there room in your sac for a vacation? I mean a really, real vacation. One where I don't have to do anything? But absorb some vitamin D, mojitos and get sand in every nook and crevice.
7. A Christmas tree? I think my Momma & Papa B have forgotten that the Christmas Spirit actually lives in the Yuletide boughs. I don't mind decorating it, as Bro will help me. We'll even take it down.
8. A world tour to see my friends far and wide. A party with the Home team advantage for those near. And a country wide sprawl to visit with the Happy Hatress, the East Coast Momma, the Winnipeg Whirlwind and the West Coast Doppleganger.
9. Oh, and a new web host for my Blog. With an easier myPad application. Cuz from what I hear, easier is typically faster and more fun.
Well, Santa I don't want to keep you much longer, just wanted to make sure you got my letter. I know it's short notice, but I put the wrong postal code on my snail mail. BTW- pretty strange how it's HOH OHO, I assume as per canadian postal services those O's are actually Zeros. Here's to a Happy Holiday. Maybe I'll see you at your timeshare in the Canary Islands, as Hubby and I wouldn't mind sharing our vaca with you and the Mrs.
Happy Christmas, Santa, I love you.
Melicious but Nice
P.S. Jilly wants a new garbage ball she finds on the side of the road. And Lucy wants some more time dog-free.
Growing up in a small town, there's lots of time for reflection. Time to sit by the river and wait for your enemies to roll by or read the Art of War. It's up to you. There is always more time and it's never to late to write your wrongs. My Grandma Far was a fan of two nuggets of truth. 1. What's for you doesn't go by you. Which means, if you're destined to have something or you've earned it, you'll get it. And 2. The whole world can't be wrong. Meaning, if you're the only one to see things your way, you're probably wrong. And I am. I have been wrong a lot lately. Which is not to say I haven't been trying, I've just been trying the wrong things the right way and ignoring the right things the wrong way
The strangest part about being wrong is that you don't realize it until it's too late. Sad, but true. If l had stopped to listen to the oh so very many voices of reason while on this tunnel vision express train, I probably wouldn't have F*ed things up...quite so badly. There were warning signs- I ignored. There were beacons of information- I ignored. How about the pony express telegrams I received, but instead of reading, I did what, oh that's right- I ignored them. Hubby says that people need to go through a selfish faze, especially when their goals are as lofty as mine. Here is the problem though. I am double crossing myself. Hedging my bets. By putting in the effort for the things I need to be good at to achieve my goals, I risk losing the things I am already great at. And I don't like that, it feels wrong.
When it feels like the world hates my guts, there is special person I turn to. The man behind the curtain. My Papa B; renowned grump and philosopher. Plus sometimes I just need to talk to my Daddy. As I wept onto my smart phone, my Papa B apologized for giving me his guarded and easily aggravated genes. He is convinced that he is responsible for the not-so-social quirks my Bro and I share. Which are many and widely varied. This might explain why the only person the 3 of us really trust is my Momma. I know he's wrong about giving me all my quirks cuz I got a few from my Momma as well. But where things really go wrong is when the two gene pools collide. My Papa B's shrouded mystery with my Momma's need to shout it from the rooftops. My Papa B's grumpiness with my Momma's need to please. Papa B took an hour on a windy almost winter day to talk me down from a lonely breezy, freezing ledge and what I needed to hear most was the last thing he said: "No matter how wrong you are. If you apologize and mean it, there will always be time to right what you've wronged, if that's what you want." And I want to. Living life right is about maintenance, it takes work. You're never wrong for wanting to better yourself. But there is a right way to do it. As for their genes, they may never fit me and look flattering. But my Mom's genes will sure look good with my New Balance *insert coy wink for my funny little play on words*
Dear Teenage Angst,
First and foremost I want you to know I love you. I may not always like you but I do love you. There are so many things I want you to know. Like once upon a time long, long ago, I was your age. Believe it or not, but I was. Things were different then. I made mix tapes and passed notes that would go on for days. I lived in a small town, where everyone knew my beeswax. We didn't have FB. I took keyboarding class on a typewriter for crying out loud. Things have chaged, and I know that, but the more things change the more they stay the same. There are always going to be people who are mean. There will always be people who are different.
Being in highschool stinks. All those hormones flying around. Teenagers unable to express themselves in a clear and direct manner. Which often means they will lash out and hurt each other because they don't know any other way. Somedays it will feel like you're doing everything wrong. But here's what you should remember. You're so lucky to be loved. Lucky to be alive and lucky to live here. Things may seem hard, and somedays they will be, but trust me when I tell you. The adult you want to become is inside of you. Waiting for their chance to grow up. This is not an order for you to stop being a kid. Heck, I am still a kid. This is the suggestion to step back, and really look at the world around you. The people you've got. The way you live your life. Are you the person you hope to be? The person you want the world to see? Perhaps instead of complaining about the things that are wrong with the world; you suggest ways to change it. Be the change you want to see in the world. Maybe you could spend some time helping others, like your mother, your father, your neighbour or dare I say it your little brother.
There is a whole wide world out there. And soon you will be sent out into it to fend for yourself. Trusted with the information you've gathered to make your own way. I know you can do it, people less brave than you have, and they seem, well, alright. Angst, we know that under all those wacky teenage emotions, the sweet child we all want to take care of is still there. But you make it tough for people to love you. And really, that's all we've ever wanted to do.
Yours Meliciously,
The Adults in your Life
P.S. I have a few tricks for dealing with tough people, when you finally admit you don't know everything.
Growing up my Momma convinced herself (and the rest of us) that making our costumes was a cost effective and easy way of celebrating a devious holiday. But every year we'd get to the day before the School Halloween Parade and those costumes wouldn't be ready. Then, it was crunch time. Frantically breaking out the markers and glue gun... Taking short cuts and crossing fingers that the safety pins would hold. Side note: This was typical of bake sales, science projects and term papers too. Now, it was not entirely Momma's fault we didn't finish our costumes early. She's always been a busy lady and as a family unit we're not great at prioritizing, except by which project is the most fun. Which explains a few things about my genetic inclination towards procrastination. But you can't call it procrastination if you're too busy doing other things.
The most memorable costumes my Bro and I had growing up include, but are not limited to: Robin Hood, Black & White Harlequin clown, Lydia from Beetlejuice, 3 years in a row being a blue FryGuy, Beaten up Robin Hood, and an 'I don't do mornings' lady with slippers and bathrobe, curlers in her hair, Cup a'joe and green overnight mask.
In our family though, there is always one clear winner. Drum roll please, and the award for the Best Worst costume goes to my Bro as the Orange masked- nun chuck whipping Pre-teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle- as he was only 8. He was covered head to toe in green with an orange face paint mask cuz at that point masks had been deemed unsafe for children. The kicker though? My Papa B (infamous for his sheet ghost costume) fashioned a homemade shell and being a woodworker; choose wood. Forgetting a giant wooden shell might throw all 45lbs of 8 year old Bro off kilter. But Bro being so excited for Halloween, gave that hulking shell his most valiant effort. An attempt that his rat Sensei would've been proud of. More than once he toppled over backwards, splayed and unable to flip himself over, in typical turtle fashion. It wasn't many houses before my teeny Bro collapsed under the shell's weight, my Papa B and I doubled over with laughter, de-shelled my teeny-weeny Bro. Exposed the way he was, my Bro was determined to continue his trick or treating. Without a shell he was transformed into a Pre-teenage Mutant Nun-chucking Slug. Not as intimidating, but just as green. You know, I think we still have that shell, maybe he could go out this year as a turtle, though that Weeny is still only 78 lbs full grown;) Here's hoping your Halloween is flippin' awesome!
P.S. If you've never seen my Bro's mad fuk-coo skills, they're really something.
"That's why you're a good friend." This is something that people say to me. I don't mean, someone once said it to me. I mean, this is something people say to me on an ongoing basis. They of course give me the qualifiers for the specific situation in question. But I am a good friend, that is the bottom line. And most people know they're lucky to have one. A good friend is hard to find. Did I mention I am a sucker for funny quotes. My current fav is "A friend will bail you out of jail. A good friend will be in the cell with you, shaking their head saying 'Wow, that was fun'". Those are the friends we all need. Not necessarily the ones getting us incarcerated, but I figure if you're still laughing, it couldn't be all that bad.
A good friend hears the craziest thing you've ever admitted to anyone and says 'I totally know that feeling.' You never have to ask them to keep a secret, they just do. A good friend listens even when you make no sense and they can't understand what you're saying cuz you're crying too hard, and then makes you laugh even though you never thought you ever would again. Nobody feels lonely when they're with a good friend . Even if neither of you has spoken for hours. A good friend will name your giant zit, just so it feels welcome. A good friend always puts you first, even when you don't deserve it. A good friend will never hurt you. And if that ever happens, it will never be by choice. A really good friend flirts with your Dad sometimes, because you love him and you both know it makes him feel good about himself. A good friend sees you in your jogging pants, with a greasy bun, swollen and crampy and still asks if you've lost weight. A good friend is the most valuable key to reminding you of who you are when you've been beaten for so long that you've forgotten.
All those things are so great, and make me thankful for my good friends. But a good friend will also save a perfectly planted inside joke until they have your full attention. They will ask if you can come out to play. They make you scream. With glee, fear and wonder. They know that song you can stop dancing to or singing at the top of your lungs. They remember that off handed comment you made 4 months ago and give you the greatest forgotten gift. They will help you even if they can't help themselves. They will go to a party where they know no one but you, fully intending to make more friends. I am proud to call myself a good friend. It's not always easy, but I couldn't imagine not excelling at it. That would be a waste. A waste of how amazing my friends are. Thank you to all my Good Friends. Your love in my life has helped me to be who I am. It is because of your examples that I am such a good friend...so we're gonna hang again soon right? Cuz it's been a while since I got into some trouble:)
They say you can never go home again and after meeting some people's families I can understand why they may never want to. But it is also true that you can never travel the same road twice and life has a strange way of sneaking up on you. While spending Thanksgiving with my Bro, Momma and Papa B, I was me and Hubby was himself. We didn't put on an act. We didn't have to be anyone else. There were a few times when our not-so-awesome-selves came out- par example- when seen fighting in the local chocolate store or overheard lecturing regarding health values while passing the highway Arby's, but a few hitches ain't so bad...I guess. Oh yeah, and there was the Dinner and a Movie event my Momma invited us to where Hubby of course hassled me about laughing too loud in the theatre, though who can resist the sound of laughter amplified by a beautifully resonant space? It would be wrong of me not to laugh out loud. No matter what, I love going home. But where does my heart truly lie?
They say home is where your heart is, and my home is in Toronto. The work I love is here, I met the man I love here, my life is here. I love the CN Tower and it's light show- currently on hold for avian migration. I love that there are kitchens in the city open for a late night eater. I love that there is sushi within 1 block of you, no matter where you are. I love the Red Rocket- even though I know I shouldn't. It feels like the start of an adventure every time I drop that shiny token into the clinking slot. I love complaining about our Dumb-sass mayor. I love how close I am to all these people I love. I love seeing a different style on everybody I meet. I love the passion for life and the hustle and bustle. How could I not love my home?
Then there's the darkness of a country road where my heart feels full. The darkness broken by the bright shining stars we hardly see in the city. I love the smells, even the poopy ones. I love the panoramic colours that span every horizon. I love the quiet. The feeling that the neighbours can hear what you're thinking. Having neighbours that have known me since I was this big* insert knee high to a grasshopper action. Here is a heartfelt welcome no matter how long it's been. I love knowing people and them knowing me. I love picking up a conversation I've been having with someone for the last 20 years right where we left off. How could I not love this home?
Hubby says creating a home is key to having a happy life. Home- a place to rest your head, your heart and your body. A place of comfort. A place to recharge your batteries. But what happens when 2 totally different places feel like home? A spilt like that can be tough to stitch together. There aren't many people who can afford two homes or even one home in this market. And after being threatened with the sale of my childhood home, I begged my parents not to sell their house; a place I consider my home. I know where all their dishes go, I planted the tree in the side yard from a sapling that was barely a stick, I know why the wall has that chip, I love this home. But Hubby, Momma & Papa B; here's the thing I want you to know, I've realized: A true home- the real place that your heart is, it's with the people and not with the buildings. Now, I have to stop, before all this lovey-dovey stuff makes me homesick-to my stomach:)
It occurs to me that I don't write much about my Papa B. I think it's because we're both such private people. Don't get me wrong; we're not happy if someone else is the center of attention either. We're not great at second fiddle. We like things on our own terms. In an effort to be private, I have ensured that no one individual has enough incriminating evidence to become a problem. Strategically placing my hair-brained endeavours across a multi-platform support system. Weaving a spiderweb of planned events and past delineations. My Papa taught me that. A social strategy is important if your livelihood depends on your reputation. Though if I was honest I really think it's a power struggle. Not between good and evil, but just to feel powerful enough to bend destiny to my will. Okay that's a bit dramatic...but you get the idea.
Papa B and me also know everyone else's beeswax. Nicknames- which we've probably given, their relationship status, or if they have anything unusual protruding from their body. I guess we look interested. And really who doesn't like a gross medical story? But that may be more my Momma. People who have gossip, love sharing it with us, and even though I do love a good chin wag-I forget most of the secrets I'm told as soon as they're told to me. Cuz for the most part they aren't that juicy a secret to begin with. Except that thing oh, with the Ewww yeah- that was juicy.*insert dreamy eye roll.
My Papa and I are simpatico. Same strange tan lines and deadly baby blues. He gets my jokes- the first time- no explanation. And it helps me to have a strong voice on my side especially since some of the voices in my head put up such a fight. I know he's proud of me. I've almost bankrupted him because he thinks I am talented and wants to support me -literally- in all my endeavours. Which reminds me Papa B, can I borrow $500 bucks?*wink- half kidding. But Papa B, the very best thing about you is that you gave me the creative flu. Symptoms include verbal diarrhea and a sensitive gag reflex with nil filter. I hope it's contagious- cuz Hubby and I would be lucky to have a mini Papa B someday-well, mostly lucky.
I love my Puppa-Roo. I mean love love her. Even the days when I don't like her, I still love her. It's easy. She snuggles sweetly and is completely dependent on my whims to survive. Somedays she gets overachieving über-momma, somedays not so much. My Sushi Goose? She's another story. I know she at least likes me-most of the time- despite what BFF says. And that when she wants lovin' she gets it from me; as long as there's a Claritin nearby. It's easy to love a fluffy kitty who wants to purr with me occassionaly. Then there's my Momma; easiest person to love ever. Her sense of humour and unwavering support keeps her in the top 3 of easiest things to love. #4 being ice cream sandwiches and #5 swimming pools. The rest of us seem to make it so hard for each other.
Somedays you hate the people you're supposed love the most. Okay, okay, hate is a strong word. And I don't hate them; I hate animal cruelty, thong undies and smog. I just really, really don't like the way we treat the people we say we love. These are the people who are supposed to know you best and sadly the ones who let us down the hardest. These people know our weaknesses and stories from our past. They know the mistakes we've made. But those same loved ones are the worst people to us, and we are to the worst right back.
For example I am meanest to my Hubby, not often, but he takes the brunt of a bad day or my wrath if I'm hangry. By marrying me he made a decision: I agree to this level of mean and I don't mind dealing with her temperament. But sometimes I'm not easy to love. I get soo snappy until he looses his mind and snaps back, then I cry. But I love him. I love-love him. I laugh harder with him than anyone else. He's one of the funniest people I know and I hang out with a lot of comedians. Sometimes I am hard on my Bro who doesn't always deserve it, but needs to hear it anyways. I get frustrated with my Papa B who knows the only person he can change is himself. I know he knows this, because he taught me. All we can do Papa B is hold out hope that our change inspires change in others.
I wanna love these people everyday, why do I have to fight so hard for it? But that's on me. If I apply the philosophy of my daily practice to loved ones I should be thanking the sun for peeking through, instead of cursing the rain clouds. But it's easier said than done. Each one of these people acts as though there will be more time, time for forgiveness, ease and love but always saving it for later. I'll tell you what there isn't a lot of- time. Instead of fighting so hard we could be spending all this wasted time together. Celebrating how we've all managed to get this far. And for the most part without an epic fail. We are so lucky to get this time to spend together. But we're not going to take advantage of it are we? We're gonna to hide behind our snappy remarks and our old grudges and stubborn personality traits. I know that I can get over my hurt feelings and frustration, but I am scared that by then the cat will be in the cradle with the silver spoon and it will be too late. By all accounts I think it's time I say 'I'm sorry. Things haven't always been easy, and Roddammit, you make me crazy but I love you anyways' was that so hard to say? I want to tell you now, because you deserve to hear it.
Love is an easy thing to give. All you need to love someone is the courage and will to do so. While forgiveness is something those closet to you may have the most trouble asking for. Loved ones be loved, even though I wonder why sometimes we make it so hard. Sigh. Life and love would be so much easier if we had furry tails and our only worry was 'when do we eat?'
While riding up north in the backseat of yet another rammed car, I was beaned by a flying chess set in a metal box. While recovering from the shock; I started this list. And it must've been some bonk to the noggin. Cuz here's all the mental floss. So what I thought about this long weekend.
1. It's called a long weekend because that's how it feels- long.
2. That cottages are far from the city andr by the time you get there you've missed half a day.
3. Jilly is allergic to Puppy cupcakes. They transform her into a poltergeist shooting from both ends.
4. Air mattresses have a central vortex that acts like a black hole.
5. I forget how to write a blog.
6. Almost everyone on my side of the family writes.
7. A year is a long time to feel sorry about not saying you're sorry.
8. Going 8 games undefeated inflates an ego, priming it for popping. Even while playing lawn games.
9. Drunk people don't make much sense, if you're sober.
10. Bro finds immeasurable pleasure in saying the Eff-word in front of my religious relatives.
11. Turning 80 means never having to say thank you.
12. Jilly and her cousin Reese get along and share toys quite well. Except the teeny tennis balls that Jilly cracks like a walnut- splitting yellow fuzz and plastic everywhere.
13. Gin and club soda with lime is a great and classically thirst quenching beverage. Especially in a giant Coleman thermos.
14. When someone owes you $100 they make sure you give them the $5 they just lent you.
15. People pay attention to couples using their silent language.
16. Banana boat sunscreen smells like summertime.
17. I clean to show people I love them.
18. Jilly likes ice cubes and cauliflower.
19. You can lead a man to the shower but you can't be sure he'll come out clean.
20. Bluegrass is the best driving music, but Graceland is a very close second.
21. People like repeating stories. Especially if they got a laugh the first time.
22. Pontoon boats were invented for long weekends and dancing to Bryan Adams.
23. A weekend without a watch on is required every so often.
24. Bathing suits aren't designed to last for 6 years.
25. Packing light means leaving stuff behind. Even though you might need them later.
26. Even when BFF isn't there I feel the influence she's had on my life enjoyment level.
27. I need to Shining myself in a northern cottage for 2 months and write.
28. Swimming in a lake and making a joke about snapping turtles causes them to suddenly appear. Sending a gaggle of girls screaming and an Uncle yelling at us to be quiet.
29. Stargazing apps are wicked sticks.
30. A hot July is way better than a wet one. Mosquitos like to bite my bum.
31. I really like my new sister in law.
32. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day if your coffee has Bailey's.
33. A pavilion is a fancy way of saying concrete floor with roof.
34. Coolers should be see-through for efficiency sake.
35. If there's anything lovelier than queen Anne's lace I haven't found it.
36. Diving into a lake is nature's netti pot.
37. Traffic is terrible when you're between radio stations.
38. Bacon and eggers from A&W are worth every penny.
39. When a stat falls on a Sunday everything is closed and they take Monday too.
40. People want to show off their garden, even if their thumb is more brown than green.
41. Sunscreen makes clean hair look greasy.
42. Soy beans are a very popular crop for Ontario farmers this year.
43. If you're in a town with an asylum, expect to see crazy people.
44. Girls ask questions about boobs and laugh at farts.
45. One big zit provides fodder for a whole weekend worth of jokes.
46. KFC is the perfect picnic saver. Mayonnaise is essential for every summer salad.
47. 80 year olds love playing the piano without their hearing aids.
48. Orange hibiscus are beautiful in the overheated Camp grounds.
49. Most conversations with an 80 year start with; did you hear about -blank- they died.
50. A country Mommy will not tolerate 60 in an 80
51. Sometimes your journey takes you back to where you've started, and gives you a chance to start again.
52. You can make ice cubes out of anything- including oil, broth and milk
53. A dog tumor feels weird to accidentally run your hand over it.
54. Actors don't get vacation pay.
55. The winter wheat is ready for harvest.
56. You'll always get complimented on your old 'I only wear them at the cottage shoes'. My calluses get worse the more I wear these shoes.
57. Wearing dress with a strange neckline generates a strange tan line.
58. Puppa will strangle herself to escape the danger of fireworks.59. Being jammed into a full car is more fun than being alone in an empty one.
60. There is no place as comfy as your own bed. Except a five star hotel.
As always it is nice to be back, and starting up my routine of going to be at 10pm again. It's always amazing how I need a vacation after my vacation. I think I might be trying to pack in too much fun, but who complains about having too much fun? Oh wait. that's me:)
Ladies and Gentlemen, may I present to you the incomparable, the delightful, the diligent Melicious Mona!*insert Kermit the frog arm waving scream. Alright, alright that may be a bit of an exaggeration. But I heard through the grapevine there were folks reading this blog to whom I may not have been formally introduced. To them: welcome. To the rest: please, please stay.
This blog has become an infatuation. I write between 250 and 750 words 5 days a week. Most of which are about random events in my life and the nutty day players therein. So, I thought I would do their character breakdowns:
1. Jilly Bean- aka Cutest pup, My Pupparoo, pooh bum stinkeroo. These are all accepted names. Though her response time leaves something to be desired in general. She is stubborn and smarter than she lets on. No matter how often or for how long she is brushed she continues to shed. Her stiff hooked fur crocheting itself into your clothing.
2. Hubby- aka the Commissioner. A quirky handsome dude with a passion for policing the universe. Generous and kind, I love him all days. He is Danny DeVito and Clark Kent, the underdog- but worth the bet. He is getting better with age and time and a little direction.
3. Lucy- aka Sushi-goose. Our bedazzled kitty with the tap shoes. Clicking and stretching. Her days are filled with chasing the sun across the floor and giving herself lengthy tongue baths. BFF claims she is the forgotten baby, but that's how she prefers it. She is a chubby bellied sprite with a tendency to swipe.
4. Momma- a true lady with class and a caring touch. She is the blog's biggest supporter; as proven by her near-daily blog comments. Loved by those who know her and envied by strangers. Her smile is contagious. Her enthusiasm is unending.
5. Papa B- the strong silent grump. A soul leader, goading all to attempt bigger and better things. Pushing himself to change the world. Trying to zero in on the next big thing. A step ahead, but a dollar behind. He alters everything to fit. His clear blue eyes expressing his thoughts; which at times can be horrifying.
6. Bro- a brave life fighter with bigger potential than he credits himself... slowly being convinced otherwise;) very very slowly. His head is above the game, because he likes watching all the action.
7. BFF- the fire to my gasoline. My pretty soul twin who wins every race. Because she is smarter, faster and stronger than everyone else in the whole wide world. Also a high maintenance lady, who will disagree with that statement. But this gift can't be returned, the tags are long gone.
And last but not least; this blog's headliner:
8. Melicious- a strange and clumsy optimist with an IDA (I deserve attention) problem . I mean she blogs 5 days a week for free because she needs the "credit". That's nuts. Interests include the first 7 cast members, her stubborn uke, mojitos, brunch and this blog. Her identity has become tied to this website. Her life is filled with snapshots of the things that people take for granted. She hopes you like it too...
So, that's the main stage 8 for this online variety show. Not everyone plays their instrument well, but together they sound like the high school garage band who's gonna win the 2nd term talent show. Though I am sure there are days they wish they didn't appear as often. And there are many other players with walk on parts, but we'll get to them eventually. I can't tell you how much fun these past 3 months have been. The countless hours I've spent with you, and the support you've been sending my way. I will keep up this break neck speed all the while pretending I am doing it for you. But we all know it's really just my Melicious attempt at creative sanity.
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