“Red Flag”. Really? That Was So Not Very Helpful.

Elle C just commented in the last post to ask if we’re ok.  She is a super-sweetie.  We are not, as it happens, on fire.  Which is always a good thing, as far as I’m concerned.

Possum Kingdom is a ways away from us, which is where they’re continuing to have the Big Fires.  We’ve had a few more small ones today (which isn’t surprising, the surprise is that we haven’t had more before now).  We’re under a red flag warning, but we’ve been under that since… um… May.  So that’s not really telling us anything. At all.

On the other hand, my eagle-eye view on the overpass at 5:00 pm showed the entire sky for miles and miles was filled with a haze of smoke and right now (7:30 pm) everything on the ground is hazy and smells like the world’s biggest bonfire-night.  So I’m not sure if that’s blowing in from PK or if something else is burning that we just haven’t heard about yet.  Here in town we’re most likely not going to feel the worst of any fires, unless something really catastrophic happens or we just happen to be unlucky and have a local house fire.

Anyway, we’re all good.  Well.  The Evil Monkeys are on their second week of school.  Apparently they formed some sort of evil plan between them to the effect that they think their bedtime should now be 10 pm.  They are sadly mistaken in this belief but as they persist in trying to stick to this devil’s pact they are, shall we say, a wee bit crabby.

I’m contemplating making them run around the backyard in the smoke for a little while.  Surely a little smoke-induced asthma will make them, uh, sleepy.  Right?

What?

R.I.P.

 

It’s official.

The vintage look is dead.

 

In lieu of flowers, please send a charitable donation to a fashion victim of your choice.  Preferably, uh, me.  I like knit tops.  And whimsical shoes.  And red stuff.

I Bought A New Friend.

Her name is Fifi.  She’s French.  La. Dee. Dah.

Actually, I don’t like her much.  I mean, look at her.   She’s a size 4.

Sheesh.  Some people have all the luck.

Of course, I’ll probably like her better after a few weeks of my corruptive influence, after which she’ll end up looking Just. Like. Me.   That’s my plan anyway.  I’m all about corrupting bi-atches with hourglass figures who are a foot taller than me.  They will go from a size 4 to a size, uh, Not 4.  (You might think I’d at least be happy that I have size 4 shoulders… I’m not.  This just means the rest of me looks that much more Not 4 in comparison.)

Hmmph.  Stupid size 4 French friend and her 24” waist…

‘Course, I didn’t pay much for her.  I guess you get what you pay for in store-bought friends.

I’ll keep you updated on the ongoing corruption.  It requires quite a bit of effort from me, so y’know… it’ll be slow going.  I don’t like effort.