WHY I'M NOT SUPPOSED TO SMELL LIKE GINGERBREAD, BY MASTER STEWEY ANGUS WILLOWSWAMP, HIS VERY LITTLE SELF

My mom can't come to the blog right now. She's in bed with what I presume to be the flu.

Now before you start to feel sorry for her and you run right over to your 'puter to type messages of sympathy and get well, may I just point out that this latest little health issue is TOTALLY her own damn fault?

Last night I was minding my very own business under my blanket when the old lady decided that I needed to have a b-a-t-h. You all know how I feel about baths by now. I am not at all convinced that they do anything to further the wonder that is me, and the fewer the better.

(Especially when one is subjected to all forms of humiliation because their stupid mo-ther insists on soaping them up with bath products that can only be found in a bordello or through late night shopping excursions on the QVC. Why she can't just pick up a bottle of dog shampoo at the damn PetSmart is simply beyond me at this point.)

So she plopped my fanny into a tepid bath of soapy Gingerbread Man water and scrubbed me to within an inch of my life. I was relatively good and only bit her a half a dozen times when she got a little too close to my personal area. She insisted that she was only trying to get all of my nooks and crannies, but unless I'm in some kind of TSA pat down, I don't think anybody needs to go south of the border. Know what I'm saying?

I ran around the house to speed dry while Mom took her own shower (using the very same bath gel, I might point out), and to express my displeasure over the events of the evening I pooed on the bath mat. This, of course, did not make for a good conclusion to the evening.

When she got out of the shower and spied my deposit, she rushed me outside so fast I didn't know what hit me, and she proceeded to stand there in the front yard in all her apres' shower glory demanding that I go potty. (And, may I also point out that her choice of outside attire was underpants and a big t-shirt. Not exactly cold weather and/or polite company gear if you ask me.)

Since I didn't have to go potty anymore (see bath mat deposit above) and since I was still a little damp from my bath, I decided to sit on the front porch and glare at her until she got the hint that I was cold and wanted to go back inside to the relative warmth of the living room. She, unfortunately, picked that moment to have a battle of wits and to show me just who's boss around here.

Fast forward to 4am, when Mommie Dearest awoke in a cold sweat with a fever and chills. She grabbed about eight more blankets, took a couple of Tylenol, and decided that she was perfectly happy to acknowledge my reign over this particular dominion once and for all.

Stupid Mommie. She could have prevented SO much grief and anguish if she'd only realized that she is totally outmatched and that acquiescence to my every whim is the only way to go.

Today will be nice and quiet around here. I'm planning on a little movie watching and might blog surf the afternoon away, provided I can get my Wi-Fi working in my fort. I've been having a little trouble with it lately, but I'm sure it's nothing that a visit to Best Buy won't fix.

Thank you for all of your lovely comments about Rusty O'Toole. Yes, it's absolutely gorgeous in person, but let's give credit where credit is due. This particular project looks the way it does because of the genius that is Ms. Laura J. Perin Her Very Self. All Mom did was follow the fabulous chart and directions.

That's the report for today. I hope that you are having a wonderful week thus far and that you'll come back to visit with me soon! After a lot of kvetching, I finally got some proper tea cookies, so if you drop by for a cup I'll have something lovely to serve you!

With much love from your pal,
Stewey