Oldest Chicken and Baby Pea are having a baby. When they told us at Christmas, Oldest Chicken got a little choked up. His tears were hastily swept aside. Middle, Baby Chicken and myself had no problem openly blubbering, dancing and squeeing. I was given rules. No telling the best girls until I had the go… Continue reading Happy Mother’s Day Y’all…
Tag: #duchessdolls
Becoming Diane…
I'm wearing a lot of turtlenecks. Partly because it's been unusually cold on the surface of the sun and since I'm such a delicate flower, I'm freezing. There's another reason. I'm entering my Diane Keaton in Something's Gotta Give phase. All I need now is an age-appropriate lover to take a scissors to my sweater… Continue reading Becoming Diane…
Sunday Scaries…
A week spent amongst Chickens is always good for the soul. A holiday week spent with Chickens in a brand new home and a first Thanksgiving dinner is a treasure. It's Middle Chicken and Lawyer Boy's new home and their first holiday in it. Le Sigh. Alas, Oldest Chicken and Baby Pea are on their… Continue reading Sunday Scaries…
Manners, Manners Everywhere…
Hiatus took me by surprise. Just kind of stopped writing and a day turned to another and another. And then I was a little lost. COVID has taken its toll in the house of Duchess. Skittish Tabby and I eat a lot of bad food, absorb way to many murder mysteries and see far too… Continue reading Manners, Manners Everywhere…
Putty Face…
I bought a primer called "putty." Can you imagine the cosmetics peeps sitting round the table? "Let's call it putty." "You mean like spackle?" "Exactly. I bet it calls all the old ladies to the yard." Have to say--it worked. This woman of a certain age got the message immediately. Putty--like fill in all those… Continue reading Putty Face…
The Netflix Whisperer…
Seems The Duchess has a new moniker, Netflix Whisperer. Admittedly, no one is more in the know. The Goddess and I venture to a birthday celebration. Of course, we wore our masks. Pfft. During dinner, The Goddess, always bright, cheerful and beautiful, leans over and says, "Whatcha watching?" as if my Netfix goods are of… Continue reading The Netflix Whisperer…
Hello, California? Party of One…
I left the state for the weekend. I had to. Watching others show off their pandemic coping skills now that it's summer--hiking, boating, lake play, poolside lounging, open air shopping and dining--leaves a girl bereft of cheer. Girls that live on the surface of the sun are doubly locked in. COVID plus heat was supposed… Continue reading Hello, California? Party of One…
Where Are My Cancer Girls?…
I didn't realize until Dear Goddess sent over a text. "Five years today." The pic of yellow balloons, friends and smiles signals five years ago as the final day of radiation. Where are my cancer girls? I felt your stomachs tighten. The magical mark may arrive, but there is still a whiff of terror at… Continue reading Where Are My Cancer Girls?…
Blame The Thighs…
Writing suffers in the time of Coronavirus. Unlike Gabriel Garcia Marquez and Love In The Time Of Cholera, I don't become more determined, undeterred by obstacle. I blame my thighs. Thigh growth and spread engulfs all in its path leaving little couch room for even Skittish Tabby. He looks at them, eyebrow raised, "What the… Continue reading Blame The Thighs…
Lazy Takes On A New Level…
I have been known to wrangle the remote with whatever is nearby. My first and second toe have amazing grasping ability. I turn my couch cushions every week to fool visitors into thinking there's not a permanent butt indention. Lazy has never had anything on me. My spirit animal is the sloth. If I could… Continue reading Lazy Takes On A New Level…
