Beauty speaks when words fail

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Inaugural video message from your Wildhair

Oh, nice still frame! I look like I'm about to heave or I'm doing my impersonation of Jabba the Hutt. This is an impromptu idea. I wanted to give my friends, family and readers something special for the end of the year. Let me know if this version of my randomosity is something appealing for the future. My random blathering takes on a whole new meaning when you witness it live ... or almost live. Happy New Year!
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WARNING: Eye contact may cause unwanted conversation

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Today makes the third day off work. Seriously, I need to find a way to make money doing this; screwing around online and in the process maybe hammer out a coherent thought that resonates with whomever stumbles up on my blog (either by accident or intention). This mornin g I had no inclination to do my laundry after Mancub left for school. No, what I fully planned was crawling back into bed for another hour or so. Then, once fully re-rested, I'd make a pot of coffee and chillax with the morning news. Oh, who am I fooling? I would have parked my carcass at this amusement box and goofed around on Plurk or Facebook with an intermittent perusal of one of the blogs I have listed over there ----------> Maybe I should always plan on being Miss Slackerass because, rather than going back to bed, I put on clothes, sorted laundry and hauled my tuchus to the local gas n'sip /launderette. Small town living is just so freakin ' peachy. For a Monday, the gas/laundry facility was ...
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This is probably TMI

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I'm not one for keeping an immaculate home. I grew up in a house that was clean enough to be healthy and dirty enough to be lived in ... or something along that vein. I tend to avoid cleaning beyond the regular chores of washing dishes and laundering our clothing. I know our cats turn the countertops into their own stage. Because I have visions of the two cats doing their strippers on crack routines on the counters, I keep anti-bacterial spray on hand at all times. What I'm confessing to is not getting into the nitty gritty of cleaning on a weekly basis. In fact, if it comes twice a year I consider it OCD. I have a distinct recollection of my mother only cleaning our kitchen floor by means of scrubbing it on hands and knees. That is drilled into my head as the only way to truly get the floor clean. I own a Swiffer Wet-Jet, but that thing doesn't really get the floor clean in my opinion. I use it between times when I break down and get on all fours to scrub the kit...
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