In Somerville, Massachusetts, where I spent the first five or six years of my life (it seems to be hotly debatable in my family), people often put statues of the Virgin Mary in their front yards. And she is ‘protected’ in a lovely arch of white.. which is often … and I am not kidding… a partially buried cast iron bathtub.
The way to invoke the deity without being hit by lightening for taking the actual name in vain (Side benefit: Also fits in with a Boston (Baw-stun) accent). You have to capitalize it though (just to be sure, and also because of reverence).
Much better than a hole in your heart, or scars. Heart wrinkles form as you go through life’s tough stuff. Wear them with pride. We’ve earned every one (and I think our hearts are way more beautiful with lots of heart wrinkles).
Hit the Button
Make the coffee.
A child angel who greets all the animals when they leave our world. Every single one. Every single time.
Nearly Perfect Husband
Self explanatory. Occasionally known as JoHn.
Freeze-dried beef liver bits that we buy by the bucketful for our addicts.
Not really the same as wHierd or wHy. My friend Karen breeds German shepHerds, and so many people send her e-mails asking about her ‘sheperds’ or ‘shepards’ that once I think her head really did nearly pop off. She needed help making her point. So I’m helping. Because that is the kind of friend I am.
You know them. They know how things “should” be. What you “should” say, and do and wear and eat and and and and and (and they give me a hive).
Spanky Baby Jesus
An expletive you can utter any time you need an expletive or you want to express surprise (like, “Jesus H. Christ” or “Jumping Jesus on a Pogo Stick”). It came about when I misread my friend Katherine’s description of her toilet paper nativity scene, where she noted her ‘sparkly baby Jesus’. Sad. True.
Getting really, really mad really, really quickly (and often embarrassingly so)… “Oops, sorry. I spiked.”
The Chipmunk Channel
The ShepHerds’ (and all dogs who have gone before) favorite channel to watch in Maine (basically we just throw the windows open in the Vampire Room and they climb into their comfy chairs, lean their chins on the window sill, and boob in front of the “tv”. The chipmunks on the front lawn can entertain for hours.
The Freakin’ Egg Thing
That plastic egg container that comes with every refrigerator. It requires far more anal retentive attention than I have. It makes me crazy because I really don’t know how to only have the super organized egg thing instead of the cardboard egg container because I will never have one dozen eggs and use every single one before I buy more eggs. Once I bought another freakin’ egg thing to solve this problem but it was still an issue so I finally destroyed them.
Our house in Maine. It is not an inn anymore (hence the “a private residence” on the sign out front) but it was, in the early 1900s.
The Vampire Room
The room in Maine that was once a three season porch that was sinking into the ground, but is now (we hope) somewhat sturdy. It is our wake up room (with comfy chairs), and also doubles as a dining room. It is painted this red color and has windows all along three of the walls, so at night when it is super dark outside and all the windows are black, it reminded us of a paneled room from a Dracula movie. And who wouldn’t want to live with that?!
Similar to ‘wHat’, ‘wHy’ and ‘JoHn’. In Dingleville, we tend to pronounce the ‘H’s’ in these words and I don’t know wHy it started, or wHere or by wHom. Sometimes we even add H’s where there are none. It’s wHonderful.
We have medical proxies. We have legal proxies. But what about the most important stuff? What about the stuff that makes our lives worth living? Who is going to take care of making sure wonder remains available to us when we can’t seek it out ourselves? Who’s gonna sneak us off to the ocean, make sure to bring us our dogs, create playlists of the songs we really love… sing with us, tell us our stories… remind us of the love we still have to give, and also to receive? A Wonder Proxy, that’s who. Don’t get your affairs in order without one!
The strangest, most wonderful little muse a gal could ask for.