Reason for My Season

As a kid there wasn’t anything worse than the last hour of Christmas because I would sit and think that I had to wait another 364 days for the fucking fun to come around again.

Just your typical family Christmas chaos.

Santa would not only eat the milk and cookies, he even tracked in ashes from the fireplace when he came down our chimney. The man in red also responded to the letters we’d leave him and when we asked for him to give us a kiss while we slept (totally not creepy asking an essential robber breaking into your house through the chimney to also age inappropriately kiss but whatever), we’d wake up to jingle bells by our beds for proof.

Kiss the Girls

There was also never short a short supply of cousins to share in our Christmas spirit.

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These family gatherings and traditions have waned over the years, as everyone but me  grew up, flew the coop and started procreating their own spawn and time gets prioritized differently. I do miss our large family get togethers but with everyone peppered across the states, it’s difficult.

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However, that has never deterred the Christmas in my heart all year-long type of person you want to punch in the face.

Christmas cheer overdrive…always.

My mini manse never not looked like I was singlehandedly going to host Mr. and Mrs. Claus for the season (naturally I was always hoping that would happen and I could adopt a reindeer and an elf – and yes, I’m being fucking serious).

Serious outside decor.

Not until, that is, Rapegate occurred. It is insane that something that happens in an instant can alter your world so hard that you don’t even recognize yourself. Getting out of the bed was feat enough, how the fuck was I ever gonna be able to muster the energy to pretend I felt joy about celebrating anything when my world was now nothing but gray?

The past two Christmases I’ve twinned with Alice Cooper.

However, with therapy and through my evolving recovery, my holiday merriment is back. It doesn’t feel like a mask I have to put on, making sure those around me don’t feel burdened by me or worry about my state of mind. And oh boy, is it ever the fuck back on in full force.

The past three years, dealing with PTSD, chronic fatigue, severe stress and depression, life continued on which it always fucking does and should. That doesn’t make shitty situations any easier, and some that I’ve loved deeply, have passed on to party in the sky since I last celebrated Christmas in 2015. And, they were all a part of my Christmases, be it from childhood, adulthood or being my fur baby forced into Christmas costumes for a photo every year.

Those that I have lost all loved celebrating the season (whether forced by moi or not).  And this tinybuddha.com quote really resonated with me when I read it.

I celebrate for Ted.

I celebrate for Aunt Crazy Pants and Gma.

I celebrate for my sweet Precious.

I celebrate for Big Al.

Celebrating for those who have passed before is melancholic at times. But I also have 400 million other reasons to celebrate – including you reading this post currently.

So, I’m throwing my sequined antlers on and running the goddamn hap-hap-hap-hap-happiest Christmas since Bing Crosby danced with Danny fucking Kaye.

I’m baaaaaaaaaaack.

Blitzen – for all kinds of reasons.

Starting with the celebration tree I’ve had up all year, it’s now adorned with all things Christmasy.

The mini manse….has been in transition from ultra gaudy to ultra ultra ultra gaudy. I have no less than 16 bins brimming with Christmas cheer that I haven’t touched since 2015. So it’s basically been like a supermarket sweep only with tinsel and all things sparkly.

Work in progress.

This is the first year that The Pussy Posse has witnessed the madness of the holiday season with me.

Exact replica of my four pussies reactions to all decor.

So if you’re wondering what I’ll be up to the rest of December between holiday parties and merriment, I’ll be decorating until the new year.

Very busy with my tinsel pillow.

Please feel free to stop by and receive a festive as fuck guided tour. It will only cost you a bottle of Captain, box of wine or bag of cat food. Seems reasonable, right?

Go get your festive on. NOW.

Cheers!

CBXB

CBXB!

Weekend Winks – Losses, Lounging and Little Things

We all know life isn’t fucking fair. There are constant small reminders of the good, fabulous, bad and ugly.

Current life status via photo.

But then there are the gigantic catastrophes that just take your breath away. Last week, with extreme suddenness, a friend, former colleague, father of three, stand up, bad ass, nicest kinda guy you know passed away. While twists and turns are inevitable, I can never fathom why bad shit happens to good people. But it does. Big Al, you will be missed beyond measure. We love you.

Support your peeps at all times, friends.

As we also all know, life moves on just as quickly as it changes. I’ve started a side hustle, pet sitting, dog walking and basically loving on all fur balls. I was beyond thankful to have a fucking cute client (I’d like to kidnap) at the mini manse for some playful diversion. He seems to take after my beloved Teddy Bear, by killing tampons and presenting them to me as presents.

Tampon terror.

The Pussy Posse is less than thrilled with some visitors but on the plus side, they can climb away from the mini manse menace.

Shedding on the clean, black laundry, avoiding tampon time. And yes, I see the typo – it’s slowly driving me crazy.

I also welcomed family into town and as I do with all visitors, being that I reside in the Bible Belt, I took him right to church.

Just kidding.

I showed him the alley door from the world-famous Ryman Auditorium (the old Grand Old Opry) where the performers used to leave the stage and head straight to the bars without being bothered by fans. Funny how I know that…

Back alley church.

We also headed to Bailey’s bar downtown Nashville to watch my Hawkeyes football with the Nashville Iowa Club.

Glitter for game day.

Touchdown tradition shots ensued – even though Dada CBXB wasn’t present, with some technology we were able to cheers together. But, it just wasn’t enough. My Hawks lost to a last second field goal scored by the Purdue Boilermakers.

Family Tradition FaceTime Fail.

So, we went to eat our emotions at Outback, a restaurant not found in small town Iowa.

We’re sorry, not sorry Sherri!

With a busy Saturday under our belts, we hung around the mini manse and enjoyed the fall weather Sunday.

Venturing out for some brunch at a new spot that I fell in love with (due to their availability of gluten free bread – what? what?!), Wild Eggs. The buffalo chicken omelette didn’t suck either.

Food coma fabulousness.

A final wine(d) down on the weekend includes bubbles and vino via lavender candlelight, as always.

Sudsy self-care Sunday.

Sometimes, it really is the little things that keep the wheels turning.

CBXB

CBXB!

 

 

 

Weekend Winks – Back to the Future

Is it just me or does it feel like 1991?

Funny how my history teachers always said history repeats itself and here the fuck we find ourselves in the dramatic throes of a SCOTUS nominee scandal, with sexual assault being at its core – AGAIN.

Proud as fuck of Dr. Christine Blasey Ford.

I chose to follow the hearings as closely as possible because I want to be as informed as possible. Others I know chose not to watch, read or follow anything in the media for all types of various reasons.

Can’t stop. Won’t stop stress eating.

The testimony from Dr. Blasey Ford and the SCOTUS nominee could not have been more opposite. It was like watching a bad reality show, only it’s for real unfolding in front of your eyes. Lucky for me, I had my therapy Thursday and then an evening in with my band buddy, A-Ha.

Sometimes wine out of pumpkin glasses is just what the day ordered.

Another distraction which is funny as hell but not to one little lady in particular. My nephew, Prince B has lost three more teeth than Princess B – all within one week.

AND RUBS IT IN.

Ah, the good old days when all that mattered was who was losing teeth before whom.

I was asked/told several times that I was attached to the SCOTUS drama (along with the millions watching America’s politicians around the world) because I’ve been a victim of rape. Well, that’s partially true because my trigger bell went into high force when the person in charge of America started victim blaming and shaming publicly and others joined in the prior Friday.

All I can say is I know in my bones that Dr. Ford Blasey is not lying. I would bet my life on it. I would bet my cats’ lives on it. I also know that as a woman, this took me back to the first time I found a hand in my pajamas at 14 years of age and didn’t know what to do. I can’t tell you all of the details but I sure as shit know who did it to me. And the “minor” incidents – the ass grabs and slaps from strangers, unwanted come-ons from superior co-workers, just ultimately knowing that most of the women in my life have had some degree of harassment – even if it didn’t culminate into a rape. Shit like this reopens deep seeded wounds and memories whether or not we like it.

On a happier note, Dada CBXB retired on Friday! His company had a breakfast par-tay for him and then we went to lunch with his department. I adorned his college football practice jersey and a football card from when he played for the Baltimore Colts.

No work, all play!

As soon as the lunch was over, I sat in my car, trying not to have a come apart. First, I was enraged last week. I was furious watching the hearings on Thursday and then Friday, knowing how there would be a confirmation, the feeling of pure defeat washed over me. A feeling I couldn’t shake.

And while I want to be brave and strong when people say, “there’s nothing you can do about it,” I call bullshit. I can speak up. I can write. I can vote. I can demand better for my niece and nephew’s generation. But, it’s exhausting to try to move through normalcy when the culture of this country regarding women has hardly budged in 30 years.

 

 

I share these videos and emotions to show the vulnerable side and the aftermath years after incidents take place on survivors. I want to share how I truly feel. How it feels for people – women especially – to over prove, over think, over compensate themselves in every.single.situation. To think about what you have to wear before going to jog – can you insert both headphones or leave one out? My key goes in between my fingers as a weapon. To have your mom remind you to wear a hat while driving at night alone, so you look more like a dude. To be careful about walking alone to your car, cause you never know when someone may try to mug you.

You are not alone.

Through all of this, humor is the one thing I can always cling to and happily welcome from Sister CBXB. Along with the hundreds of you who checked in on me all last week, lifting my spirits. My sister noticed something very key that stood out to her in the videos.

The lipstick is Urban Decay for the record. And I put one coat on Friday morning. I took the videos Saturday am, FYI.

Heading to the park for a walk while bawling underneath sunglasses (so chic and not weird at all) helped ease some of the sadness.

Fucking preach.

And so did strawberry martinis with Mama CBXB who demanded a lunch date.

And so did some vino with Bird Lady and First Mate, who have seen more ugly than pretty in me the past five years. I’ve cemented their friendship in happier times, so they’ll need a jack hammer to remove themselves out of my life.

Stuck like cement.

Oh, and speaking of humor, I want to personally deliver an Emmy for a guest appearance to Matt Damon and his spot on, perfect depiction of the SCOTUS nominee at the hearing on Saturday Night Live. Luckily, I recorded it and have watched the cold opening no less than 461 times. So on point. If you have not watched it, Google it now. Right now.

Sunday, Rocky and I got sucked into binge watching and football.

Not wanting to acquire couch sores, I made it to the bathroom for my bubbly routine.

Then it was time to love on my youngest boy, Fabio (who is also known as Fartio because he farts when he gets nervous). It was our one year anniversary together and we celebrated his “Gotcha!” day.

Fabio hearts being mauled.

Starting a fresh week, there’s a few things I know for sure…

I think this bun makes me appear smart.

This still rings true…

And…

Oh, and in case you were wondering what to write down in your calendar/journal this week so you can look back on it 36 years from now when hopefully there isn’t a circus full of ass clowns – and yes, I’m talking about almost all of them – “leading” the country here’s a suggestion:

Write it in permanent marker, just in case we go back to the future and need reference.

Cheers!

CBXB

CBXB!

Weekend Winks – Best Day of My Life…and Then Some

Due to the current football season underway, we were encouraged to decorate our work spaces with items showing off our #1 team last week. Per usual, I went with subtlety.

Just me, over here in my Hawkeye sequins jersey.

Overboard much?

I hate the Iowa Hawkeyes, obvies.

On Friday, we had a pot luck BBQ and there were raffle prizes to be distributed. When it was said that we were having a few “special guests” help draw the raffle names, my interest was beyond piqued. Then, in skipped two Tennessee Titans cheerleaders, which was pretty cool. As they were getting ready to draw the first prize, it was announced that there was one more special guest. My stomach dropped. I was thinking please don’t be the new head coach Mike Vrabel, please don’t let it be the quarterback Marcus Mariota, but pleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease let it be my T-Rac. The official mascot of the Tennessee Titans.

See, I have a thing for mascots. You know, those fur coated creatures that accompany my fave sports teams. It sure as shit was my lucky day.

In waltzed T-Rac. My face went red, I screamed like a girl seeing The Beatles on the 1964 Ed fucking Sullivan show, and about broke my metal folding chair pumping up and down on my plump rump. With my heart racing, the cheerleaders started drawing names for raffle winners. T-Rac was the one distributing the awards and I had to get my hands on him. The final prize of the day – a $100 gift card and commemorative Titans glass was on the line. The blonde beauty drew that last ticket and….said MY NAME.

I reacted with real class.

I jumped like a fat rabbit up to get my prize while giddily giggle screaming the entire way.

HUG ME ALREADY.

In the span of 25 seconds, I managed to make a gigantic ass hat of myself in front of my entire office. I also managed to not only maul T-Rac but told him that I loved him AND announced that this was the best day of my life. It wasn’t even noon on a Friday yet.

 

Afterward, the gentlemanly raccoon and his cheering sidekicks stayed to graciously take pics with the peeps.

Four’s a crowd.

demanded asked the hot mammas to please move over and allow me a solo photo with my main plush squeeze.

Move over bitches. He’s all mine.

On top of being in the arms of a giant stuffed animal, my life was absolutely complete when I made my debut on T-Rac’s social media page as the inaugural “Fan of the day”.  Of course I turned right around and added it to my Instagram.

Stand by for our “Save the Date” wedding invites.

How could this day get any more exciting?

An email went out announcing free cans of wine in the breakroom. I had to steady myself as I sprinted down the hallway to hoard the loot.

Mine all mine – now safely in my fridge and damn good.

My adrenaline was pumping pretty high, so I was excited I had plans to celebrate one of my nearest and dearest gal pal’s birthday after work.

Birthday girl sandwich.

I could hardly go to sleep since I had such a positive karma filled day. Luckily, Ruby Sue was wide-eyed with me.

Too excited to sleep.

With it being a balmy 90 degrees on Saturday, I hauled ass to the pool, trying to make summer last.

Saturday sun soak.

While I was hoping Saturday wasn’t the last hurrah in the sun, my Iowa twins were up and at ’em with a clever activity. They put coins in pans to freeze overnight.

Different version of Frozen.

They had to break the ice open, count the coins and exchange them for dollar bills from their parents.

Big money for Prince B.

Princess B headed straight to the Dollar Tree.

Saturday night my Hawkeyes played and I headed out to Dada CBXB’s to get the tailgate going.

Who doesn’t love boxed wine and wings?

Positions assumed.

The kitty didn’t stay cozy for long, as Iowa scored five touchdowns. You know what that means…

Five Family Tradition winning shots, baby.

Easily soaked up the next morning by my omelette making father.

What shots?

Being back in the maniac celebrate-everything-for-fun-life mode again, I started decorating for Halloween all day Sunday. My fabulous Fabio could have given two shits about my hard work, turning the mini manse into a haunted fortress.

As I was going back and forth to fetch my Halloween bins from my car, it was raining lightly. When I looked up in the sky, there was a full on rainbow. I seriously considered getting in my rust bucket and searching for the end, hoping for a pot of gold.

For like, a full five minutes.

I mean, I had fab karma going on.

Instead of looking for lost treasure, I plopped down in my tub for a soak and a People magazine read (side note – I get Meghan Markle is now a princess from America and all but if I wanted to read about the Royals every week, I’d move to fucking England).

Then it was time for a snuggle down on the leopard couch with my new fall scented candles.

No better way to wind down after an exhaustingly excitement filled 48 hours. Amiright?

Here’s hoping your mascot equivalent finds you this week.

Cheers!

CBXB

CBXB!

Summer Swirldown

How in the fuck is it the middle of September already? I mean, south of the Mason-Dixon Line we’re hitting 90 degrees today,
so it still feels like July. However, I am ready for all things Hallothanksgivingmas to commence and you can bet your ass I’m beyond thrilled college football is in full swing.

The tests of life were full throttle over the sweltering months of heat and while I tried to remain armored and ready to fight, I found myself more than exhausted.

*most of the time*

Much of the summer was spent lounging on my leopard couch with The Pussy Posse, admiring my seasonal celebration tree adorned with flamingos and sunglasses.

Yep. That’s Cousin Eddie’s camper beneath the tree.

 

 

 

The first punch of summer was coming home to the mini manse one Monday after work, finding my sweet Precious had passed on to the Rainbow Bridge. She was the last link to my “old” (aka pre-Rapegate life) and losing her really took one of the last pieces of my sparkly black heart.

Ted and Presh reunited over the rainbow.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Of course loss is a way of life, and with the horrible, comes the fabulous. One of my fave peeps, 5 Degrees, flew me to Phoenix to par-tay over the Fourth of July.

I have the best friends.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I packed my leopard print suitcase (which still isn’t unpacked all the way – 5D, does that make your OCD skin crawl?!) and took my American Bad Ass south, not being able to wait to get the fuck out of Dodge.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I was able to not only cut loose with 5D and my beloved gal pal, Dumpy, I also was able to finally sleep. Instead of a puke and rally like performed in college days, I napped and rallied. In the middle of the party, I went to my bedroom, slept a few hours, work up and started all over.

A gent, a lady and an ass clown.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After gracing Phoenix with my presence, Rasta and I celebrated Nashville Pride by having duct tape slapped over our loud mouths. Kidding. It was for the NoH8 campaign.

I know many of you would like me to wear this tape daily.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Best lazy days are spent at the pool and I put hard time in over the summer.

Pool days for days.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Girls just wanna have sun.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Now that I’m moving along in PTSD recovery, I can actually concentrate and read again without forgetting what I just read when I turn the page. I’ve immersed myself in books thanks to Sister CBXB, sending me all the good reads.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

If I wasn’t at the pool reading, I was in the bubbles.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Speaking of reading, my Iowa twins started kindergarten. Fucking kindergarten!

Two tall weeds.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Not excited about it at all.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After twirling myself down to the concrete and gaining a concussion, I hobbled around like a 92-year-old with a broken hip (when I really just had- have- a broken toe).

The Steven Tyler of cane decorators.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

While rest proved to be just what the body ordered, it was the time of year where I could either choose to celebrate life or grieve in sadness as the first anniversaries of the lost loves came. The magnitude of losing my best friend just hasn’t gone away. The time has helped to ease the heaviness in my heart but there really isn’t anything that helps with the void of our daily routine. And how he was always there when I came home from Rapegate therapy every Thursday as I cried in my closet – he never left my side. Holy fuck was I lucky to be his mama. I can’t wait to see him again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The first anniversary of the passing of Aunt Crazy Pants was a cruel reminder that I have yet to realize that she’s actually gone. I didn’t see her every day or talk to her every day but I sure as fuck still think to pick up the phone and call to bitch about a bad day or ask how to what the fuck shallots are for some ludicrous recipe because I’m no genius in the kitchen. While tears were shed, Mama CBXB, First Mate, Bird Lady and myself cheersed to ACP at the Cheesecake Factory with her fave cocktail, a Gin Rickey.

Celebrating ACP.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Then, we shopped for shoes and sipped champagne at Tory Burch.

Cheers to the life lived.

 

 

One of the end-of-summer highlights…I, most likely along with every other customer, received a VIP card to my beloved Dalts. Which, in my opinion, I should have received 100 years ago.

About fucking time.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The best part of the swirl down of summer? It’s the start of college football season, bitches. And Coach Kirk Ferentz of my Iowa Hawkeyes is not only celebrating his 20th year as Iowa’s head coach, he’s also the longest tenured coach in college football and just nabbed the all-time wins as an Iowa coach, surpassing Hayden Fry.

 

 

You know what football season means…it’s time for weekly tailgates with Dada CBXB!

Family tradition touchdown shot time!

 

 

 

 

Feeling a little stuck in the middle of muck this summer, the rest, family, friends and fur balls have kept me plugging along.

Stuck in the middle…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Now I’m ready to tackle (pun intended) the rest of the year.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Love ya, mean it.

CBXB

CBXB!

Weekend Winks – Room With a View

Being that I’d been in slow recovery from my recent twirl down, resulting in a broken toe and concussion, it’d been a bit since I partook in any evening activities. This weekend called for a celebration of Bird Lady’s birthday and she chose to spend it at the fabulous Opryland Hotel in Nashville.

First Mate and yours truly arrived early to make sure the room approved our standards (I use the term “our” loosely as I used to be in a band and my standards are way lower than hers) – and did it ever. Except we didn’t find the refrigerator until just before checking out the next morning. It looked like it was a cupboard under the desk. How were we to know? So we ended up putting the ice maker to good use.

Blonde and Blonder.

We were also beyond excited about our balcony, overlooking the Garden Conservatory where we could judge people watch and sip our vino awaiting Bird’s arrival.

Room with a view.

Like, a gorgeous view.

Being that I’ve recovered from my recent concussion (which I confusingly refer to as my coma – so if you hear me say that, just roll with this blonde brained lady), it seemed like a fabulous idea to hang off the side of the balcony.

Not like I’m accident prone or anything.

Upon Bird Lady’s arrival, the celebration commenced.

Birthday Bird.

What’s a party without crowns?

Three times the fun.

Sushi was the choice of supper and for once, we asked someone else to take our photo. I mean, my arm does get tired when I have to take 1,978 selfies of us in order to get one approved by everybody.

Sushi, sake and smiles.

We then again asked for photo assistance while we played with horses and guitars.

If I had a bigger purse, the horse would have ended up at the mini manse.

Walking around the botanical garden-like wings of Opryland can be really pretty. Especially if you like fake flowers that are lit in your fave color, fuchsia – because that’s what was on display. And I not-so-quietly lost my fucking mind.

This definitely would be a lovely focal point in the mini manse.

Naturally, I had to get off the damn path and deflower the beautiful mesh sculpture for a photo-op.

Flower Power.

I was even able to coerce First Mate into joining in on the fun – although she is a classier woman than moi, so we posed in front of her favorite, rather than in the piece.

A whole lotta class with one gigantic ass.

After I threw a fit that this enormous hotel had no gluten free pizza, we headed back up to the room to polish off snacks.

Right before the party crash.

While I used to be the all-nighter, my sleepiness gets the best of me these days and I was the first to fall into bed.

Party pooped.

I spent a Sunday in my three of my favorite places…

The pool.

The bubbles.

The purrrrrrrrrrfect Pussy Posse.

I’m sure you are all keeping track just as closely as I am but as a reminder, my Iowa Hawkeyes start their football season in FOUR days.

In case you can’t count. Four.

See you on Saturday for touchdown shots!

CBXB

Weekend Winks – Bubbles, Books and a Birthday

It’s no secret that I’m batshit crazy.

However, due to the aftermath of Rapegate, I didn’t decorate my mini manse for the holidays for almost two years (this is the equivalent to giving my animals away). So it was serious business. When I put that goddamn glorious pink tinsel tree up this year, I didn’t have the heart to take it down. So it’s become my Celebration tree.

Just chalk it up to another reason I’m so fucking fabulous: cats, candles, books, and now a year round Christmas tree.

Christmas in July anyone?

At least it’s adorned with appropriate gear…flamingos, leis and sunglasses.

 

My cousin, B Master and his fam were traveling through Nashville and stopped for a quick bite to eat.

Being a bonus aunt doesn’t suck.

B Master had a relic with him and it’s a super doozie from a craft camp when he was a young lad.

A handmade wallet that won’t even properly hold a dollar bill.

However, it was designed to hold a photo of his favorite cousin, moi.

And, of course one himself.

As you can tell, good looks run in the family.

My side hustle is pet sitting and it was a fun week continued into the weekend with the foursome below.

Side hustle with this wild bunch for the week.

The bonus of this gig was the mega deep jet tub that I could hardly rip myself out of, as a bubble bath is my idea of heaven.

Friday Night Lights.

Princess B bucked up her bravery and had two teeth pulled.

No tears, no fear.

These days, the Tooth Fairy leaves behind a little more than I got back in the day.

Two bills a tooth, yo.

Even though Prince B didn’t have any teeth to yank, he proved his bravery by adorning his ninja warrior giddy up.

I’m glad he’s lacking a sword.

After a short recovery, it was time to head to an outdoor concert. Not sure why Prince B removed his red outfit.

Who wouldn’t wear a tutu to an outdoor concert?

Saturday was one of the most gorgeous of the summer, so Dada CBXB came in to enjoy the private pool at my side hustle (no, that also didn’t suck – along with the cute animals).

Sunning for fun.

A little gal pal gathering for our friend who was celebrating a big birthday and a move all in the same day.

Partay for a fave girlfriend, G Money.

Sunday was nothing short of a dream day for me. I woke up spooning a German Shepard, while butt-to-butt with the mutt and two cats on each side of my pillow. It took a long while for me to get my ass out of bed but when I did, I headed out to my private pool and relaxed the day away.

Sunday. Super, duper fun day.

After a book down in the pool and the sun said goodbye, I headed into that bliss bubble tub and read another.

I feel like I may have been a mermaid cat in another life.

I mean, hello!

Last week, I shared the love of rosé between Sister CBXB and myself in a post. My smart niece has taken to our slogan, “rosé all day.” You can imagine the family high fives when Bota Box liked the tweet, including my blog post.

Yes. Yes I will be her Auntager.

I’m already waiting by the phone for the Bota Box people to call my people. As well as prepping a filing system.

Just practicing for my future.

Cheers!

CBXB

CBXB!