Weekend Winks – Legally Blonde, Margaritas and Partying On

This was one of the best weekends I’ve had in a long, long while. And everything started off on Friday – which as of now, will go down in my world as the most outstanding, fabulous fucking last day of the work week in history.

It all started when I saw on the news that over 250,000 peeps across the pond were protesting the person with the highest position in this country.

I kinda wanted to be a Brit there for a second on Friday.

My fave thing was the spin POTUS put on it…”Many, many protests in my favor.”

Uh huh.

Then I realized via social media that it was just 50 days until the Iowa Hawkeyes first kick-off of the season.

Bring on the swarm!

This was all before 8am. So I was already practically skipping around the office.

THEN SOMETHING ELSE FABULOUS HAPPENED.

You know, I lost my baby girl Precious three weeks ago.

Partner in crime, upstairs now doing her time.

Well, Mama CBXB is in Iowa watching the twins.

Camp Gigi

While Mama was perusing Instagram, Princess B looked over her shoulder and said, “Aunt Juju got a new puppy?”

Wait for it…

I wonder how she got the impression?

Oh hi. It’s just me. Aunt Juju Spoon.

Regardless, if I could still do a cartwheel, I would have been doing them in my stilettos.

More fun after work took place at Avo, where they make avocado margaritas that are beyond.

When I posted my pic on Instagram, Avo reposted on theirs. Pretty sure this means I’m now considered an influencer, right?

Right?

And ending the FriYAY off right, I’ve started a side hustle, Animal Queendom, pet sitting pooches and pussies. So I made a stop at a clients house for a cuddle.

Side hustle doesn’t suck.

Saturday was a sun’s out, bun’s out pool party kinda day.

Three pool stooges.

Prince B and Princess B were very busy catching lightning bugs while I was playing Shamu in the blue water.

Bug catcher shenanigans in very professional attire.

I put on very unprofessional attire to attend a birthday soirée for my Cycling Queen.

Celebrating the birthday gal.

Sunday as I was scrolling through social media, my Facebook memories popped up. While I have a love/hate relationship with them, this one was a photo of Aunt Crazy Pants from a wild night at Robert’s Western World six years ago.

“Take my picture! Put it on Facebook.” Direct quote from ACP.

Funny enough, it was also National Ice Cream Day yesterday too – her favorite fucking indulgence.

Coincidence? I think not.

Rainy Sundays are the best for being lazy as fuck. So, I wallowed in bed, reading a new book finding enough energy to move my ass to the bath.

Who’s the fave gonna be?

I have a new cable system that lets you talk into your remote (which has been around quite a few years but I am slow to change because I hate it BUT this has been a TV watching game changer). With this system, it also suggests new shows I may like because of my previously watched history.

I got sucked into binging a show called The Affair on Showtime.

WHERE HAS BINGING BEEN ALL MY LIFE?

And then it became a family watching affair. I could not stop.

Neither could Fabio.

Neither could Rocky.

Princess Elsa Pants was only present for the chin rubs.

Ruby Sue was the most committed.

I finally had to make Sleepytime tea because even my sleeping pill wasn’t making me want to tear my eyes away from the screen.

It worked.

I found myself waking up at the time I’m due to work this morning but still beat my boss in…although my so-greasy-it-might-have-bugs-in-it hair that I was supposed to wash is in a bun (thank gawd for long hair). As I was scrambling around the mini manse to get my ass to work in 20 minutes, these three were beyond concerned.

Go earn us food money.

Here’s hoping your Monday is as chill as my pussies.

Cheers!

CBXB

CBXB!

 

Weekend Winks – Whipped Cream, Women and Wind Downs

Ever try to jam four months of activities into a weekend?  It’s been a hot minute for me but I managed to make the most of the gorgeous Nashville weekend. Starting with a trip to Warner Music to meet up with my friend M.Star.

Developmentally declined.

We were going to see my favorite radio show – Free Beer and Hot Wings that is on daily here in Music City on 102.9 The Buzz. It’s most likely on whatever the best rock station in your city mornings is from 5am – 9am. We hitched a ride over to the Wildhorse Saloon where we (I) sprinted to the meet and greet line.

Being that I have ample experience with artist management and production, I have been through this dog and pony show before. Except I acted like a total fucking fan girl because I have been listening to this show, laughing with these dudes and feel like somehow I am their invisible side kick. They went to shake my hand and I made them hug me instead.

The Free Beer and Hot Wings crew, a sane lady and a crazy ass clown.

After the excitement, M.Star and I went to pose in front of the stage. Except I forgot to include her in the photo.

Dynamic Duo.

Realizing my mistake.

Take three.

Finally a good one.

While my partner decided to feed herself, I headed to the watering hole where I was served a hearty glass of whipped cream because…why not?

Whipped to perfection.

As I guzzled my vodka and side of whipped cream, M.Star could hardly contain her excitement over the comedy of the show taking place.

She loved it.

While she’d had enough at intermission, I went back for more of the creamy goodness and stayed to laugh my ass off.

Saturday came waaaaay to quickly but I was up and at ’em to head downtown in order to participate in the Women’s March 2.0. Naturally, I had crafted a totally appropriate t-shirt.

Power to the Pussy.

Rasta was my sidekick for the day and we walked every inch of downtown, soaking in all of the sun, speakers and signs.

Turns out, over 15,000 peeps made their way to the march.

A few of my closest friends.

And the signs, oh the signs were my favorite part of the day –

My personal favorite of all time – I have no idea from which city it was displayed, nor who captured the photograph but genius nonetheless.

An after party was held at ACME Feed and Seed, with all proceeds benefiting Planned Parenthood. There was a killer line-up including Michelle Branch and the fucking insanely talented Alana Royale. I even met a new bestie, who used to boss an ex-boyfriend of mine around.

New besties.

I kept bitching about how Michelle Branch never sang “A Thousand Miles” (like the time I went to see Alanis Morrissette and she didn’t fucking sing “Ironic”). Turns out, Vanessa Carlton sings the song I was waiting to hear.

I’m a music genius.

While I was ready to call it a night after the show, Rasta wanted to hit downtown, so who was I to say no?

Celebrating the day.

Until I accidentally went to get a drink and stuck my straw up my nose. Then it was time to call it a day.

Night night.

While every bone in my feet ached Sunday, it was well worth it.

Post protest pretty.

After a long soak in a hot bath, it was time to nestle in and ready myself for NFL playoff games.

Yep.

Desperately wanting this shirt prior to Sunday, it was an OK thing I never ordered it after the ass beating the Vikings took from the Eagles.

I snuggled down on the couch with a new buddy, Rocco, who may as well be a gigantic cat – sleeping for a solid two football games.

Naturally, I hated every minute.

Regardless of your political stance or outlook on the current state of affairs in the world, Saturday proved to me that when people from all walks of life come together peacefully, it can really be a positive affirmation – a reminder that one person really can make a difference. If you don’t like something, you can take the initiative and try to implement change. Power to the polls in 2018.

You may or may not see me voting in this giddy up.

Now go get a cup of whipped cream. It makes everything better.

Cheers!

CBXB

Weekend Winks – Freezing! Fiesta! Football! Fun!

One of the joys of living in a city that isn’t equipped to handle any type of winter weather, is it’s kinda fun when it comes. Freezing rain on Friday meant that I was able to slide out of work and into my bed for a day of conference calls and cat naps (the cats, not me of course).

When you’re given the option to work from home…

YOU TAKE IT.

No one was excited about it at all.

My mom checked in from Iowa to make sure I was all set with necessities because it’s a fucking freak out frenzy when there is even mention of the “s” word – SNOW. Nashville citizens (and anyone else who didn’t grow up above the Mason Dixon Line) all but lose their goddamned minds.

While I was hunkered down with my pussies Saturday, my Iowa twins were getting hyped up to par-tay. Why you ask? Because they are turning five – FIVE – FUCKING FIVE YEARS OLD – on Wednesday. I mean holy fucking shit how did this happen so fast?

FIVE!

Due to the fact that Princess B eats salsa like its soup, the day was a fiesta complete with the best cakes on the planet.

Crazy over cake.

My artsy sis even crafted a pinata for the occasion.

FUCKING FIVE.

Fiesta fun!

Naturally, there were outfit choices to be made and Princess B did not disappoint.

Just a little gussy up.

Nor did she get any salsa on the sequins.

I finally mustered up the energy to walk over to Rasta’s pad on Saturday night, forcing myself out into the blustery cold I’m not used to anymore. Speaking of force, Rasta isn’t a football fan of any sort and I made her watch the Titans game in her own house.

I’m so sweet.

While I drank her wine.

Tailgate City.

My Titans were playing actual football titans, the New England Patriots and so I was hoping for at least a touchdown. And we scored one first! Then, just as quickly as that happened, my dudes ended up getting an ass beating. Rasta kept up with the team spirit though, assisting me through the horrendous game.

She’s officially my wine coach now.

Yeah, it was that bad.

She wins the sportsmanship award for sure.

Football fun.

I was up at what felt like the ass crack of dawn on Sunday to watch a segment on CBS Sunday Morning. It was regarding the Time’s Up movement and Oprah interviewed several prominent women who helped initiate the campaign. Being that I take great interest in this due to Rapegate and the #MeToo movement, I expected support from my pussies.

Only one showed the fuck up.

#whywewearblack

The others were busy having a menage à trois in the unmade bed.

Thanks for the support, assholes.

While watching other NFL playoff games, I started to take down the few Christmas decorations I put up this year and toyed with the idea of Valentine’s Day. But promptly stopped after dressing my Glamingo.

I also somehow came across a hideous Pucci hat that a lady who thought she was famous and was my boss at the time gave me as a leftover present (she would regift her unwanted Christmas presents to me for my birthday in March). You want it? It’s yours.

Her exact positioning and expression in every photo.

After throwing one helluva classy fiesta, my sister pulled through in our white trash ways when storing leftovers.

After getting her text, I was craving Mexican and justlikethat First Mate sent a text wanting to meet up for wine at our fave joint. Talk about fate.

We come for the handsome pours of wine, not the margaritas.

The Minnesota Vikings game (which was one of the best last second endings ever) was on at the restaurant. The fans chant skol and my sister and I were confused as to what it meant. We had an Iowa-Tennessee-Georgia family tutorial via text from my cousin Tballs – a huge Vikings fan.

My guess of “yeehaw” was way off.

After heading home with a belly full of wine, salsa and chips, I settled in for a night cap.

A literal night cap.

Here’s hoping your week is full of fiesta-ish fun.

SKOL!

CBXB

 

 

 

 

The Little Things…

Being an Iowa Hawkeye football fan leaves most folks with a sense of pride (I mean, hello, ever catch my blog during football season?) even if their season is sometimes less than stellar.

We’re #1! Even if it’s just in our hearts.

Iowa is not only known for its corn, it’s truly dubbed the Hawkeye State. I grew up singing a song that included the line, “where the corn grows tall and the kids grow great. I’m glad I live in the Hawkeye State!”

If any strings are attached in being associated with this university, they’re welcomed. Now that I live in Nashville (or if you live anywhere outside of the Corn State) when I tell people Iowa is my original home, I’m received with “Oh the Buckeyes!” or “The Potato State!” and living in the South, some peeps think I say Ireland when I say Iowa (no fucking clue how they hear that, as all Iowa schools taught phonics but whatever).

Raygun t-shirts always on point.

My point is the University of Iowa may be little known by others but man, the people there are some of the fucking greatest. And it’s not because they’re mostly from Iowa (although I swear to god that the state produces the nicest, most modest (aside from me of course), hard working, earnest, salt of the earth people ever).

I was surprised yesterday by an act of kindness that almost (I said ALMOST) made me ugly cry in a happy way (which pretty much means hell would have frozen over because the first and only time I happy cried was five years ago after finding out the twins had arrived).

Happy cry, sad cry, neither is pretty.

I have a Hawkeye football poster I get every year from the Iowa State Fair (one of the greatest events on the planet) hanging in my workspace, along with a few other pieces of Hawkeye memorabilia.

Pride and joy.

Letting the love show.

Even cups get the Hawkeye treatment.

I’m sure my co-workers are all “OK. OK. We fucking get it.”

The poster has been a great conversation starter and almost any college football fan stops to comment upon seeing it. One vendor stopped and asked if I knew of CJ Beathard (quarterback) and George Kittle (tight end), both who played at the University of Iowa and both of whom were drafted in 2017 by the San Francisco 49ers. Almost responding with a “fucking duh!” I was excited this dude knew past Hawk players. So we chit chatted about how Beathard and Kittle were the shit and then the gentleman slid in that his son also was drafted in 2017 by the 49ers. His son roomed with Kittle and is tight with both former Hawkeye players.

I couldn’t wait to text my dad and tell him the scoop.

You know, because he’s a little bit of a fan, too.

I looked up Trent Taylor, who is a wide receiver (from the Nashville area!) for the 49ers and my new buddy’s son. Every time Dad Taylor came to our office, he’d stop to talk football shop and I enjoyed hearing a little inside scoop. Well, yesterday was just a dreary winter day and I got a phone call from Dad Taylor asking if I was in the office and then he instructed me to meet him in the lobby in 15 minutes.

Still having trouble with a regular fucking phone and a headset. But I’m here.

Assuming he had something for my boss, I moseyed up to the front and waited his arrival. Dad Taylor had a FedEx envelope in his hand and as I went to grab it (ever the classy gal that I am), he put his hand up. “I have something for you and I want to see your expression when you open it.” What? What?!

Then he slid out a photo from the envelope. And I immediately saw football players. And I immediately tried to not be too excited who those football players might be on that fucking photograph.

It was an autographed photo signed to me with the inscription, “Go Niners! Go Hawkeyes!” along with signatures from Trent Taylor, CJ Beathard and George Kittle. FUCK ME IN THE GOAT ASS.

Be cool! be cool! be cool! be cool! becool!becool!becool!becool! BE!FUCKING!COOL! I kept thinking in my head while my mouth was wide open (so it was basically to the floor) and at the same time I thought don’t cuss, don’t cuss, don’t fucking cuss. Because all I wanted to do was throw my arms around Dad Taylor and scream holy fucking shit! This just made my year!

I haven’t smiled this hard since 2015.

I realize that it’s just a picture. But the idea that someone who doesn’t know me well, just wanted to do something nice for the sake of being fucking nice. Trent Taylor’s dad reached out to him and Trent took the time to not only sign the photo himself but get Beathard and Kittle to do so as well. Standing there trying not to shriek my brains out, with moist eyes, all I could utter was “I can’t say anything right now or I might cry and I’m never a lady with nothing to say!”

Dad Taylor did what most dads would do and gave me a great big hug and said, “I’m so thrilled you’re thrilled.” I basically skipped my way around the office the rest of the day showing anyone who would look and listen (and gave no shits) my photo and back story.

I ran around searching for the perfect frame and naturally got something ultra studly to home the picture. A matted, mirrored frame. That sits proudly underneath my Iowa Hawkeye poster.

A very subtle, footbally frame.

I slept with a grin on my face that night. I know I woke up with one in the morning. And I haven’t smiled so hard since 2015 – that’s no lie. What I’m getting at is you know that saying – you never know what battles others are facing (or something along that fucking line)? These peeps don’t know any struggle I’ve endured over the last three years. All they know is that I’m a huge Hawkeye fan (and now the Niners #1 fan) and did something nice because they fucking wanted to. And now I have a treasured story and possession to remember the feeling of specialness because of strangers’ kindness.

Aside from making my fucking day, week and month, this act basically made my year. Which is a fabulous sign because it’s still only early January. Whoop!

Once a Hawkeye, always a Hawkeye.

Now go start someone’s year off on the right foot by being nice.

Go Niners!

GO HAWKEYES!

CBXB

Weekend Winks – Gizzards, Griswolds and Gaming

Over the river and through the woods to the mini manse they came…

So, I haven’t ever cooked a turkey (or mowed a lawn, washed dishes without rubber gloves, changed a dirty diaper… because you know, my nails are jewels, not tools) but my friend Rasta decided to bake a bird for the Thanksgiving holiday, as she wasn’t traveling back to New York. I had family from Iowa coming into Nashville, she was kind enough to invite us over and it was a Griswolds meets the Iowa Hillbillies meets City Chic. In other words, the best kind of holiday mash-up.

I’ll let you guess which is which.

I went to help prep the evening before and basically sat on my ample derriere washing the evening away with wine, BUT I did help with snapping green beans, K?

Being a sous chef is hard work.

Upon my return to the mini manse, I called Mama CBXB no less than 31 times in 25 minutes because I was attempting my first casserole with a whopping six ingredients.

What’s a ¼ lb. of cheese?

Do you drain the corn or leave the juice in it?

What’s a ¼ lb. of butter look like?

And voila!

Corn and noodle casserole was a hit.

OK, I may have eaten half of it but still, a success.

Rasta baked her tail off, as I supplied a cases of much-needed vino.

My contributions.

Rasta stirring up a storm in her kitchen.

Upon completion of the bird baking, no one in the place had ever before carved a turkey.

How many peeps does it take to carve a turkey?

The bird got divvied, the casserole was a hit and Precious the chug may have had the tryptophan kick in earlier than the rest of us.

Tired turkey.

Friday, after shaking off our turkey comas, we headed down to Bailey’s Irish Pub to join another 125 Hawkeye fans to cheer on our fave team for the last game of the year.

Hey-oh! Hawkeye time!

The outcome of the game looked rather bleak at halftime with the score being tied at 14-14 (and as the Hawks basically rolled over and died their last two games, it was anyone’s guess as to who would win). But, in the third and fourth quarters, Iowa scored an unanswered 42 points, leaving us with a winning 56-14 score.

Somewhere between shots one and four…

… and somewhere between shots five and eight.

Of course each and every time the Hawks scored, I had to Facetime Dada CBXB who was up in Iowa visiting the twins.

I can’t hear you but drink!

What do you do after a victorious beat down? Celebrate, naturally. We headed to Robert’s Western World for some of the best old school honky tonkin’ around.

Showing G’Lee a fun old-fashioned country time.

Enjoying the holiday leftovers in Iowa, my BIL was showing off his doughing skills, making turkey and gravy pizza.

Dough master.

No one was upset about the use of leftovers.

Of course, the second the clock struck 12:01 am the day after Thanksgiving, the twins were ready for Christmas. And the decorating commenced.

Tree trimming.

Old school advent calendar.

While the mini manse residents are still recuperating from the shenanigans – surely, it’s just a turkey hangover.

Snuggle train still ongoing.

A day of Hallmark holiday movies and moving from one side of the couch to the other worked wonders for us.

Working our wind down with wine. Duh.

Here’s hoping your well on your way out of a gravy coma.

CBXB

Weekend Winks – The Buck Stops Here

You know those weekends that you think are going to be low key? Mine started out on Friday with a heavy pour of pinot noir and snuggle down with the fur balls.

Wine down Friday.

Saturday rolled around and I could hardly get out of the bed, even though it was an Iowa Hawkeye game day.

Caturday canoodling.

I mean, with lay outs like the one below, I decided to crawl back into the throne and frolic with the fur balls.

A king almost falling off a queen sized bed.

The Hawks were going to play a number three ranked Ohio State University (whom I loathe, have always loathed and will continue to loathe forever and ever amen. Maybe it’s because you’re supposed to say THE Ohio State University…maybe it’s because they seem to piss every major bowl game down their leg, maybe it’s their cockiness….you choose). Dada CBXB and I almost didn’t get together because my he was having his cable worked on and we weren’t sure it’d be done by the game. I also think we both figured that being the 20 point underdogs, it may be the most boring game of the Hawkeye season.

Cheerleading from bed.

A game against THE Ohio State University several years ago is the reason we started taking touch down shots (to keep the games more interesting for us Hawk fans when we scored maybe one touchdown per game).

Then this gem of a text rolled in from my sister. Who, may I note, lives about 25 fucking minutes from the University of Iowa and Kinnick Stadium where kick off takes place. EVERY. SINGLE. Saturday she asks:

A) Who the Hawks play

B) What time the game starts

I, in turn, always love asking her who the Tennessee Titans play. Her guess this time goes back to when our dad played for the Baltimore Colts (who are now located in Indianapolis for you non sports fans). She’s a huge football fan, obvies.

I got all game day gussied up and headed out to watch what was possibly going to be the worst ass beating in the history of our team. It’s not that I don’t have faith in my Hawkeyes – I do – however, it’s sometimes heartbreaking being a fan because when we’re bad we’re very, very bad and when we’re good we rock.

On my way!

The game started and as I was saying, “Jeez it’s really lou-…” the Hawks got a pick six and scored for a touch down eight seconds into the game.

“At least we lead once this game,” said Dada CBXB.

Then, something miraculous happened and Iowa scored again.

Surprisingly a second shot as Dada said, “Well, at least we lead some of the game.”

Shot three game and we were silly with excitement.

NO ONE thought we’d have four touchdowns on THE Ohio State University during the first half (let alone the entire game).

Colin Cowherd, a sports media personality with his own pod cast hates the Hawkeyes with a passion. Even when Iowa had a perfect 12-0 season two years ago, he found holes to poke. Well, he taunted with a Tweet during halftime….

….SUCK IT Colin, ’cause the Hawkeyes kept on steam rolling. Cowherd really does owe everyone at the Deadwood bar in Iowa City a PBR.

We were ultra prepared for an OSU comeback in the second half but instead, the Hawkeyes kept on trucking and gave our livers a run for their money.

Shot fucking 5?!

Holy SIXTH!

Our reputation precedes us, as even our loyal Facebook touchdown shot counters noticed we had posted nothing during the entire game, as we typically document each shot taken.

HEY-OH we posted the last shot taken of the game!

THE BUCK STOPS HERE at shot seven.

With a final score of 55-24, all of the Iowa fans rushed the field…

…as did yours truly, only virtually.

I mean, how could I miss out on a moment like this – that will most likely never happen again?

Victory shot for good measure, along with how the rest of the night felt.

Even the Internet took notice over the ass beating we handed THE Ohio State University.

Being that I thought I would be sober Sally upon the completion of the game, I didn’t pack a bag to stay at dad’s….but I who am I kidding? I wouldn’t have changed out of my Hawkeye gear anyhow. I may or may not still be in my game day clothes and I may or may not change out of them until we lose again.

Not ashamed of this walk of shame.

Here’s hoping you’re having a week as high as I’m feeling. My head is still in the clouds because the buck stopped here.

CBXB

 

Weekend Winks – Panic, Boos! and Pussy Shenanigans

Friday started on the right foot with some prep for a Halloween party at the office tomorrow.

However, things took a hard turn when I had a panic attack out of fucking nowhere after lunch. I had to leave work, after catching my breath and then I managed to throw up while driving down the interstate. With my head out the window like a dog. And still  got my empty stomach contents all over my shoulder and down the inside of my door.

Adulting is hard.

I threw my newest armour on that I received last week via mail with no note. Now, obviously the sender really knows me, as the shirt not only included sparkly pink text, it read, “Onward Buttercup there’s fuckery to spread.” I had posted a blog about my own personal Harvey Weinstein on Friday (thinking back, possible trigger for a panic attack), and got this text from the sender.

I have the best friends.

Unable to un-tense any section of my body (even my eyeballs ached), I wallowed on the leopard couch, played Words With Friends that pissed me off when realizing my favorite state isn’t really considered a word.

WTF?

I was joined in snuggles from Iowa by my sister and Princess B.

Miles apart but the same at heart.

I was being mauled by my fur balls and I didn’t hate a second of it.

Fierce feline snuggles from Ruby Sue.

Precious and Rocky joined in, too.

I was mighty happy the Iowa game didn’t start until 5:30 pm on Saturday, so I was able to do one out of 100 loads of laundry I should have done, lay on the couch, and watch my 81-year-old boyfriend Lee Corso on ESPN’s College Game Day rock a skeleton outfit. It was pretty much a perfect fucking all day.

Game day ready.

Extremely conflicted as to wear a costume, Iowa Hawkeye gear or a combo of both, I went for the gaudier side. A little Halloween and a whole lotta Hawkeye.

Conflicted costume.

Traveling out to Dada CBXB’s for the game (also known as Pamela Anderson to my Kid Rock this time of year), we got to see Cousin Eddie and Clark that I originally rescued but they took to my dad so much so, that I wrapped them up and gave him to them for Christmas two years ago. He can’t tell them apart and calls them Cat 1 and Cat 2.

To me it’s beyond obvious.

Cousin Eddie

Clarkie

We were all Skinny Pirated up and ready for the 5:30 kick-off. Some of our crowd were more excited than others…

Although the first half was kind of a snore, my Hawkeyes pulled out a win and we take those no matter how ugly!

Two touchdown and one victory shot! Whoop!

We then settled down with nightcaps of Manhattans courtesy of my BIL’s famous recipe.

Nighty night.

I slept the most consecutive hours Saturday night in as long as I can remember. TEN hours. TEN! I’ve been averaging maybe four per evening the past two years, so saying I felt like a new lady is an understatement.

To top off the start to my Sunday, I was treated by Dada’s world-famous cheese omelette (according to him) which is one of my fave things he cooks.

Ah, yeah baby.

My Iowa twins couldn’t decide which holiday they wanted to celebrate more…

From Halloween. To Christmas. Back to Halloween.

Pumpkin perfecting.

With some elbow grease to finish.

Paw Patrol is still big at the Twin Castle, and my handy sister was able to create adorable ensembles for the most adorable duo on the planet.

Skye

Zuma

Then, all hell broke loose for me when fucking Facebook popped up a memory from a year ago and feelings started to seep into my soul. This time every year, I would be prepping Teddy Bear’s costume – this is the first time in eight years I haven’t been able to do it. And top that off with it being National Cat Day, I had a come apart of epic proportions.

Hole in my heart over my main squeeze who is gone too soon.

Not wanting my current fur babies to feel left out, (as I do have the cutest kids on the fucking block), I still celebrated my fave four pussies, of course.

My fab four. Rocky, Fabio, Ruby Sue and Elsa Pants.

I’ll leave you with a little wisdom one of my Nashville sistas gave me in regard to closing out 2017, looking forward to a new year:

Anyone have any cheese for my cracker?

CBXB