Sasquatch and I got up early as usual and while I drank coffee and read the paper, she napped. I think she'd stayed up pretty late watching the Crime Channel. When I went to bed, she was engrossed in some stupid show When Good Dogs Go Bad...all about dogs who suddenly get the urge to dig up flowerbeds and boost Buicks. She seemed far too familiar with the entire concept and I wondered if she'd been corresponding with someone from the outside. I know for a fact that she sees my emails and she understands far more than she lets on. Not long ago, I found the draft of an email to our old friend Foghorn Leghorn. It was poorly spelled and the grammar was atrocious...dere fog...stoopid humn clled frm mag bar 4am an siad cal taxy but sas 2 smrt fr tht. brng treets soon...sas hngry. chuckwlry hngry. billclln hngry. bobbrkr hngry. skwerls out ther but sas caint gt out dore. chk palice stashun, see if stoopid humn in jale. probly iz.
Well, there's no way I ever called from the Mag Bar at 4 a.m. The whole thing is a fabrication and a pathetic bid for attention. I do not know what gets into her sometimes! And even if I had been at the Mag Bar at 4 a.m., if I could call Sasquatch, I could call my own taxi! So she's not as smart as she thinks she is! It's not true...not one word. Well, fortunately, she couldn't figure out how to send it, so I was at least saved that embarrassment.
H and A showed up to do some more work on the floor, but they didn't stay long and didn't really get that much accomplished. I hope to have everything put back together in time for Christmas. I really don't think a Christmas tree sitting on a plywood floor says Happy Holidays very well, so I hope it doesn't come to that.
While Sasquatch napped, I thought I'd catch up on some emails. And wouldn't you know, there was one from one of the gentlemen of HELL. This gentleman's name was spicydog4u and he said he was from INDY and explained that was a city, I assume in Indiana, but have no proof. It could be anywhere. He also explained that he was divorced (I suppose that's an improvement over the latest rash of married ones.) and that his bratty teen aged daughter lived with him and had driven off this most recent wife! He noted that I had looked at his profile (I had not) and asked what I thought. He also said that he didn't like people very much and preferred cats. Well, he was racking up quite a few strikes. He was disabled and was awaiting a big check from Social Security. He wondered what he should spend his windfall on...perhaps a hot tub?? (It seems to me, if one is disabled and cannot work, one might be wise to save any windfalls for things like paying bills and buying groceries, but that's just me.) He loves tattoos and wondered what kinds of tats I might sport. And if he was not broke, it was his intention to add to his collection of 10 tattoos on himself...mostly of Norse gods and symbolism because he was involved in some crazy heathen cult or something that seemed to be based in Scandinavia. He said he also had one over the "spiritual third eye, if you know what I mean wink" Well, I have heard of the spiritual third eye, which I believe is in the brain...some have suggested the pineal gland. Somehow, I don't think this is what he meant and I don't want to think too long about it because, well, you know, eeeewwww. So, I thought about it carefully and decided not to write back. I don't know...I'm sure he's quite appealing in his own way, but there's the cat issue and all those tattoos, but the dealbreaker was that third eye thing...
And so it will soon be time for the Derby, perhaps Kentucky's biggest claim to fame. I like horse racing quite a bit and have had some good luck in recent years with Derby bets and so have been following the prep races and doing some research. There are several promising colts this year, and even a filly or 2 who might have a shot, but I have been most captivated by one colt, whose name I will not reveal, lest the thousands who read here bet him down to ridiculously low odds. A most charming and attractive gentleman caller from HELL has also become enchanted by this colt (unless he is feigning enchantment and I don't think he is this time) and has agreed to join me in a bet to win and win only. A most romantic notion, in my book. Our horse, our bet, ours to win. Although I won't tell the colt's name, I will include a photo so you can judge for yourself. Take note of the beautiful head and the intelligence in the eyes and the remarkable color of his coat.
--Ina
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