ｷⓤ¢ズ you, zombies . . . I'm an Anteater!

All this freakin' talk of the 'Rapture' has pissed me off. Mightily so! 6pm California time, they say. 2% of the population will immediately ascend to heaven, they say. The remaining 98% will be consumed by zombie-roaming beings and then everyone goes to hell, they say. Well, CRAP! Now, I won't even pretend to think that I'm going to be part of the 2% headed skyward *pausing to snicker*. So, here I am, 48 years old. I've been scoping out the opposite sex since I was about 11. If you ask me, I've dealt with more than my share of scuzzy personalities. Finally (FINALLY!) after about 37 years of men who excelled at the age old game of 'bait and switch', men who by the leanest of standards didn't even come close to being worthy of my time, I finally (FINALLY!) begin to have my faith instilled in the male gender of the species (yeah, you know who you are!), I begin to have some semblance of happiness take up residence in my life and now I have to worry about all that (and more!) coming to an end AND having to worry about starring in my own version of the Thriller video on top of everything else?!? All I know for sure is if I'm going to be carried off by a zombie, he'd better look like Rick Genest or I'll kick and scream for all I'm worth.

So, to all the undead who may or may not show up at some point this evening, I wave my ticket to LA at you and say ｷⓤ¢ズ you, zombies ... I'm an Anteater

I'd be safe and warm if I was in L . A . . .

Ok, I'll admit it ... I was certain that my newly acquired passport would sit around collecting dust for a while before I would put it to use by either crossing the border at Lacolle or Phillipsburg to go shopping in either Plattsburg or Burlington. Mais non, les amis! Instead, my ticket's booked and I'm giddy with excitement to be headed to Califor - ni - a !!! Swimmin' pools, movie stars! Now I know why Elly May was so bubbly and giggly!

I headed out today to run some errands, my lovely co-pilot, Julia, by my side and my trusty pup in the backseat. Once in the store, I reminded Julia that I needed sunscreen for my upcoming trip, I picked up a tube of 70 SPF. 'Mom! 70???' Julia makes a grab for a tube of 60 SPF and exclaims it will be more than enough. I pause, wondering how I could have possibly slept through her graduation from dermatology school and instead recall my own dermie telling me that I should never even think of going out in the sun with anything less than 60 SPF slathered on myself. Now, I'm one of those people who believe that if one is good, two can only be better ... so, if 60's good, 70 can only be better. I get one of those disgusted, eyerolling, upper lip slightly curling, 'I can't believe you're my mom!' looks and she gives up trying to convince me of the error of my ways. She will never understand me - she who needs only to lie in the scorching sun for a couple of days to look as though she lives on some tropical island ... she who retains her tan lines well into the winter months ... she who I've dubbed 'Cinnamon Girl' since she was a teeny lil thing running around in a monokini. I, on the other hand, need only to think of the same scorching sun to have my freckles seemingly triple in volume and my shoulders burn. 70 it is. Suddenly, my eye is caught by another tube and I squint disbelievingly. 110 SPF! I had no idea such a thing even existed! I tap Julia on the shoulder and point to the tube, asking, 'Why bother even going out?' 'Seriously!', she replies and we giggle, walking away.

So yeah .. California. Me. If I'm dreaming, don't you dare pinch me! Mmmm ... California Dreamin' ...

PS Happy 81st, Daddy ... xoxoxo