News You Can't Live Without

First up: There's a reason I've chosen younger men all these years. Rephrase: there are MANY reasons I prefer younger men. Though I'm trying to "go older", those guys aren't making it easy, and I'm about out of Cougar-Be-Gone.

Two: Fragrant Liar made Amazon's Kindle's Top-rated 100 Humor Blogs list. I think I'm #61. Lots of faves on this list with me. If you wanna get Fragrant Liar on your Kindle, click here. Leaving a review will help me move up the rankings too. I mean, if ya wanna.

Three: I got a new J.O.B. Yay. My full-time writing gig has been temporarily chopped to part-time. But whew! Just in time for Christmas, which I will spend, for the first time in history, without even one of my kids. Merry fucking holidays.

But I do get mini-rugrat updates, which I relish. See, youngest nanababy Shaboobka turned one. To celebrate, here she is doing a little extracurricular excavation work. How could anyone get mad at this face? Besides, that's a pitiful palm. You ask me, all Shaboobka's missing is a few Hot Wheels. That's my girl, tear it up.

Four: On December 4th, my parents celebrated 56 years of marital piss and vinegar. Nobody does it better than those two. I'm serious. Look who they raised. Me: Piss and Vinaigrette. And I'm a great catch. Depending on how old you are . . . obviously.

Five: I saw Leap Year on HBO. Twice. Despite what the critics said, I liked it a lot. Makes me want to hit Ireland and let a feisty Irish lad sweep me off my feet. Slainté. On that note, why do people who go to Ireland always stand on cliffs and look down at the cold, deep, violent waves a bazillion feet below? Don't they know they could fall off? I mean, you're just tempting the universe when you stand that close to an edge. I make it a policy never to go near something that could kill me. It's why I look at the Grand Canyon from as far away as photos.

Six: I WON! Debbie from Suburb Sanity held a contest for questions to ask tweens about texting, in conjunction with TextEd with Jane Lynch. Being the deeply critical thinker I am, I came up with real posers for the kiddos; and somebody, in his/her infinite wisdom, crowned me the winning recipient of a $25 gift card. Woo-hoo! Disposable income!

If you're not already a regular Suburb Sanity reader, go here and see what you're missing. Thanks, Debbie!

Happy December, y'all. Hope you're staying warm.
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How I Ended My Summer Vacation

The summer of 2010 will go down in Fragrant Liar history as one of the greats. I set out on a new adventure and accomplished some things I'd been working on for a long time. Saw most of my kids on my June road trip and since then my Atlanta girl, TG and her family.

Fragrant Liar and Lisa from That's Why

Atlanta jaunts will always be fun. One of the coolest things that happened this last trip is meeting this fabulous blogger, Lisa at That's Why. She and her hubs, the infamous MathMan, drove 45 minutes to visit me. If you're not yet a fan of Lisa's, head on over there and revel in her coolness.

We have much in common, Lisa and I, most notably our love of writing. She's a talented and fun blogger and an interesting and smart woman. Plus, she's about as tall as me, so she is naturally a super-awesome individual that glows from the inside out. Heh.

I hope to see Lisa on return trips to Atlanta where we can talk about things that always get up people's ire:  sex, politics, and novels in progress.

I am the Corona Extra (emphasis on the crown, yo).

Y'all, the kids were determined we play games. I do love games, but I confess, I never once played Candyland with my daughters when they were young. I know. That's equivalent to depriving them of jelly. So I had some making up to do with Destructo and Miss America. Unfortunately, all their game pawns were either jammed beneath a sofa cushion, ground up in the disposal, or sucked down a toilet chute. So I improvised. Can you guess which bottle-cap-turned-game-pawn led me to victory?

Hey, just cuz they're kids doesn't mean I have to roll over. Winning is everything, people. I know you know that.

Mmmmm, chunky salsa!

I made this scrumptious salsa. Rachel Ray, eat your heart out. Of course, making salsa means you have to eat the carby tortilla chips. Ours were shaped like footballs. Getting drunk on salsa is not easy, but I totally did it, as evidenced by the not-so-pleasing hangover around my waistband. There was a Corona involved as well. Obviously. Go Saints!

Udder Hysteria, this one's for you too!

So I went to Atlanta this time for my daughter TG's birthday. This plaque was the coolest gift she got (besides moi) from her sister, Coco. High-sterical and so appropriate for their relationship.

But, Coco, who actually showed up for the partay? Yeah, that's right. Mama rules.

Miss America and Destructo giving me a tour.

Miss America and Destructo showed me around their neighborhood, which is hilly and lush with trees. What a gorgeous area. During the trek, Miss America was indulging in her usual chattery (where does she get it?), and I was paying close attention for her special brand of wee wisdom. (See, I work for you people nonstop.) So it was particularly noticeable when Miss America stopped, covered her mouth and made the gag face, and pointed to this (look down):

The sad remains of an inattentive squirrel.

Y'all, that's what remains of an inattentive squirrel. Estimated time of death: last spring.

Note the blue chalk line, which is an arrow pointing toward the street. Forensically speaking, this marker probably misled the little guy into thinking all the nuts were on the other side of the road. This once happened to a chicken.

TG, you'll be happy to know that the kids don't need anymore education, because I personally schooled them in the basics of road kill, decomposition, and where that nasty smell comes from (my creative juices really flowed for that one), and I think maggots. Yeah, there was some talk of bugs that live inside you and only come out when there's no more oxygen or something like that. Whatever. They believed it.

You're welcome.

No story of Atlanta would be complete without the requisite bragging over Shaboobka, who at nine months is on the verge of walking.

Foxy, check out that hat! Y'all this is a hat my good Hoo-Ha buddy Foxy made. She's all Etsy over there, and definitely worth a look.

People, I can't wait to take Shaboobka around the 'hood with the other kids. Think of all the wisdom I can impart.
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