DINNER WITH THE CHARACTERS

The other night Mrs. Bird and The Scottish Dreamer wandered by and sat on the lawn swings and we had a rip roaring, laughing time. The Scottish Dreamer said we should go to dinner and hang out. So we did, but the Scottish Dreamer who now weighs 103 pounds, did not feel well, so Mrs. Bird, my friend who the angels help write her personal histroy so beautifully, and I went anyway, because we don't want to miss a good time, even though we did miss the Scottish Dreamer.

This is a terrible photo of Mrs. Bird but I know people want to see her. She'd die on the spot if she saw this but she's not an Internet girl and so she won't see this.

Mrs. Bird--outside of Mimi's--said, "Oh, look, here's some lavender. If you ever need to make lavender bags just come here."

I said, "you can't do that, Mrs. Bird--but I used her real name--that lavender belongs to Mimi's"

"Oh, I do it all the time," she said. And since you never know if she did or didn't we just laughed and went inside for dinner.

She told hilarious stories, I can't recall the one I could tell--the other one is, well, a little racy. I'll tell it another day because tonight, I'm tired. And because House is almost over and now I have to rewind and see why the alien hand was acting out, because I missed it. I did see the part about the squawking man, so I won't have to rewind everything. And House is finally going in for treatment. And the hunky Dr. Chase got married. And that was the season's finale.

Lisa, who blogs here--but not very often--and here--more often with a bunch of other sassy women--, says I should order all the House DVD's from Netflix and get this whole show figured out. Do you KNOW what would happen if I ordered House from Netflix? I already order 99% of our choices and 95% of them are weird, foreign films, grade B movies or Chic Flicks and Phil is not amused. Well, maybe he is a little bit amused as he holds his head in his hands, smiles faintly and says, "Not another one." And then he laughs, in a feeble sort of way.

And that is why I watch House late at night, after he is in bed.

There's an explanation for everything.

Well, maybe not for Mrs. Bird. Some things just cannot be explained.

Ooh, and I think I just heard someone at the front door and it's 1:10 a.m. and now I'm spooked so I'm taking the baseball bat and going to bed. Quietly. In the dark. If I never blog again you'll know why. Send flowers.