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Morning Manatees, Royal magic and cheesecake

Good Morning to you, good morning to you.
We’re all in our places
With sunshiny faces,
and this is the way
to start a new day!

I beg to differ.  My face feels like a handful of sand was tossed at it by a drunken Sandman.  He did get some granules in my eyes – that must be why they’re sore and grainy. 

OR … or … it could be that my dog pulled her ‘there shall be no alarms, who wants to be alarmed?  C’mon, I’ll gently rouse you from sleep by creeping around the bed, then staring at you” routine again.

It IS Saturday right?  Yes.  And yet, at 5am, I was up.  Stomping to the front door being led by my manatee with hair.


I’m getting pretty redundant writing about Butters. 

I’m thinking of changing my blog name to ‘Musings-from-the-laundromat-about-Butters’  That would pretty much encompass my posts. 

So, I am in fact up.

It is what it is.  She is what she is.  The morning has broken and since I’m too tired to start cleaning it up, I’ll share some exciting news.

It’s not my news.  Or is it?  If I’m sharing the news – is it technically … oh, never mind.


I have a brother in the UK.  He works at Warner Bros.  Well … (she says, like an eager, sparkly eyed gossip) … guess who he got to meet yesterday? 

Click Here

AND … (she leans in closer for effect)

He was the one that got to hand Prince Harry his wand!  (If I am to believe my brother-in-law’s post on his wall, which I do.) 

Haven’t seen anything on my brothers wall about it yet, but he’s been too busy hob nobbing with Royalty I suppose. I’ll be grilling him  soon about all the details.  The horse’s mouth will be parched by the time he’s done answering all my questions.  Wait, he’ll be typing.  Horses hoof?

Pretty cool if you ask me. 

I had 2 pieces of cheesecake yesterday.  That was pretty much the hi-light of my day. 

I had been coveting the cheesecake through a glass door. 

There was a meeting going on that was none of my business, but the dessert caught my eye. 

It’s who you know people, it’s who you know. 

That meeting broke and I had already sent my ‘don’t think I didn’t notice that cheesecake in there’ email to someone who’s business the meeting was.

Dessert tangent.  Sorry.  Hey – ‘Dessert Tangent’.  That would be a great name for a little shop. 

Back to my sibling story.

He’s talented too – made Nic and I these wand replicas before he worked there.  (Oooo!  Foreshadowing!!!!)


Perhaps I can wave one at Butters while saying: Expecto Patronum!  That should clear the area of Butters the Demented.  Or does that just work on Dementors?  Hmmm ….

OR, I could just stick one up her nostril until she gets the hint.

I’ll give it some more thought when my brain wakes up.


*update … Story confirmed and got some other tid bits I can’t share … Also had to remove my brothers name due to strict social media rules. Warner Bros. has a privacy thing with their staff. But let me just play Perez Hilton for a moment and say … One person who was there has an epic imagination ;)*


Sleep deprived Buttery post

I could have sworn it was Saturday this morning.  It really ought to have been.  Nic was off for ‘April break’.  What IS that?  And why is it only one day? 

Anyway – I slept like a baby last night.  Woke up every 2 hours upset with something or another.  Not quite screaming.

Drama + Butters + Sinus Tachycardia + son chatting on his ipad = no Z’s.

(I mean, he was seriously chatting – full on – carrying his conversation buddy around the house. In a moment of delirium, I actually thought a girl was in the bloody kitchen with him.  Then I sussed it out.)

ANYWAY (she says again, and this time she means it)

My pitter pattering heart has been trying out all kinds of fun new ways to present itself to me lately.  ‘Ben Gay like warmth’ feeling … left armpit pain … then last night, it got sassy on the drums … brrrrrrrrm, burr, brrr-bump.  And then something in my chest grabbed a tambourine and started showing off.

A friend taught me to cough to get myself back into rhythm – so I lay there, coughing like a dork.

THEN there’s Butters.  Oh Butters. 


Don’t let this image fool you.  She does. not. sleep!

For two weeks or so – every few hours from 9pm until my alarm goes off at 6am (not that it’s had a chance to go off for the last week), she stands inches from my face and whines and wags. 

I get up, let her out – and then leave the flipping front door open so she can get back in. 


You see the crack?  And you’ve seen her nose – so seriously, WHY can’t she ‘nose’ her way back out?!?!  She sure as hell can do it when a cat walks w/in a mile of the house.

I might as well just put an ad on Craig’s List inviting any local wackos or serial killers to my insanely unsecure house at night.

“Come on in! Doors open!  I’ll just be in my room, trying to sleep.  Be as quiet as possible when you kill me.” 

Why does she sleep inside?  Our fence is chicken wire basically … I think intended for really apathetic, frail chickens.  And we have coyotes out and about. 

In between the fun excursions to the flipping door – the tiny snatches of sleep I grabbed onto, (which, resulted in nightmares) Waking up to Nic church mousin’ around the house and my heart getting all excited, I woke up (pffft … didn’t really ‘wake up’ so much as ‘give up’) none too pleased.

I tried to have a chat with her.


She didn’t care.  She assures me she’ll be doing it tonight too.  And the night after that, and the night after that. 

And the thought occurred … when she’s older, and not energetic  – probably I’ll miss the spry insomniac that she used to be.