Ahhh, the beautiful Ozarks

Yesterday morning around this same time I walked out my front door ready to take a morning jog. Upon noticing that the temp. was an unseasonably warm 70 degrees I very quickly shed my sweatshirt and bobbed down the street in nothing but a pair of pants and s sports bra.

A mere twelve hours after my half naked out door run, the temperature in Springfield had dropped forty degrees and I ended up standing in a ridiculously long line at the grocery store watching people buy a plethora of canned goods, bottled water and trash bags in preparation for the first "big snow storm" of the winter.

Why does the snow bother me?

1. Meteorologists predict it is supposed to snow…this is not Armageddon people…like all of the sudden if and when snow hits the ground the entire food supply will disappear and in order to sustain during the maybe three days of winter wonderland we will be forced to eat other humans and drink our own urine.

2.I now have to debate on whether or not to drive to the gym with my morning bride-of-Frankenstein hair only to jog on a smelly treadmill…I compare this form of physical activity to that of a hamster or guinea pig running on one of those wheel things. Or I could pull on seventeen layers of clothing and jog my marshmallow man ass down the street and try not to get doused by the slushy wake of every vehicle that drives past me.

3. If and when it does snow…Springfield drivers (some of the worst drivers in the nation) morph into one of two things. A. being the "my-grandma-walks-faster-than-you-drive driver" and B. being the "hi-I'm-Jeff-Gordon-and-I'm-drunk-and-I'm-on-ice" driver.

4. My dog does not do well cooped up inside all day. He reminds me a little of what Robin Williams would be like if he were ADD and smoking crack. So I now need to invest in the largest dog bone in the world and hide all of my shoes.

5. Johnny is off work today. He does not do well cooped up inside. He reminds me a little of what Robin Williams would be like if he were ADD and smoking crack. So I now need to invest in at least five new DVDs, red meat of some sort and hide all of my shoes.

To do list: Christmas Tree

1.Beg Johnny to move the dog-hair magnet a.k.a. the futon out of the living room and out the front door to it's final resting place next to the trash can. Now we have room for the tree.

2. Dig around in scary garage to find the box that contains the fake Christmas tree. I think it's under the old weed-whacker and the mullet wig that SOMEONE refuses to throw away.

3.Unpack tree. Locate bottom half of tree because it was not in the box.

4. Buy new tree because dog drug bottom half of old tree into the backyard and ripped it apart.

5. Assemble new tree.

6. Buy new multi-colored Christmas lights. Apparently I got frustrated and decided to cut the old strands off with scissors last year around February.

7."Now why the hell can't you just put the futon in the back of your big garbage truck and be on your merry way? I have to pay you to haul that nasty thing off?"

8. Decorate tree with the gazillion ornaments I have collected or made including fancy bubble lights, lots of beaded things and every little Elvis ornament, shoe ornament and fish ornament I was able to find on E-bay (It's eclectic).

9. Teach dog that if he touches the tree or the ornaments he will die.

10. Ask Johnny to put the star on top of the tree. Listen to Johnny complain about tree cluttering up the living room. Plug in tree….ahhhhhh…beautiful.

Charles Manson's Garage Sale

I always try to be friendly with all the neighbors 1. So our dogs can play together, 2. So they won't call the cops on us during the occasional party, and 3. The elderly lady down the street makes delicious banana bread around the holidays

I recently visited a neighbor's garage sale. I have this weird thing about buying 25 cent coffee cups and just about anything else that's only 25 cents. These particular neighbors are a little strange…they have very suspicious looking gnomes outside their house and I'm pretty sure there is a fake deer family in the back yard.

I walked past the tables of comic books, pot holders and sweatshirts from 1994. Then I saw it. What the hell?

I am not joking around, these people were selling a human scull and some other bones (possibly human). Now if I was digging around in storage and found oh say A HUMAN SCULL my first thought would not be, "Gee honey…we can put this in the garage sale".

However, I have to give it to them, if these people are serial killers, what a clever way to get rid of the evidence.