Nov 8, 2012


My mom can't come to the blog right now.  She's sitting in her office waiting for the plumber to get here, and based upon the conversation I heard her having with my Aunt Chrissy last night, she is all a-twitter with anticipation that she's going to see his heiney.

Apparently, plumbers are known for short pants and exposed derrieres, since all Mo-ther could talk about was the fact that a M-A-N was going to be in the house for the first time in eleventy-senven years and that if the gods were good she would get to ogle his bottom.

My Aunt Chrissy pointed out that the plumber would probably be a guy called Matt and that he would probably be about nine years old and definitely not have a propensity for short pants and an exposed derriere, but evidently, Mo-ther is still hoping.

(Seriously, though, Mo-ther and Aunt Chrissy are getting themselves new kitchen faucets today, so the old lady spent the better part of the morning scrubbing and washing and spritzing things so that the nine year old plumber might marvel at her homekeeping skills.)

(But can I just point out that she's presently attired in pajama bottoms, a Hanes old man white t-shirt and a v-neck sweater that should have been sent to the rag bin AGES ago?  Throw in the Grandma Slippers, and she's sporting quite the ensemble for plumber seduction, I must say.)

Stitching time was rather limited last evening since I felt the need to cuddle in Mo-ther's lap and stare deeply into her eyes.  I have to do this every now and then so that she'll feel useful and loved.  Trust me when I tell you that a few minutes of faking it goes a long way toward keeping her quiet.  If I mind my own business and leave her alone for too long, I hear her on the phone whining to Aunt Chrissy about the fact that I'm cold and aloof.  So ten minutes of "Oh, how I love you, Mommie Dearest" should see me through to the holidays.

I hope that you are warm and safe and dry and you're getting your very own version of plumber's heiney today.  Please know that until we meet again I remain your loyal and devoted friend.

With love from your pal,


  1. I'm glad to know I'm not the only one, Coni...

  2. Stewey, you write the best blogs and your lovable nature (no matter what your moth-er says) just shines through every word. Keep on bloggin.

  3. Hilarious! The only male heiney I get to see is my dog Reggie's and believe me, he loves to aim it my way during the night because I seem to always wake up with it practically in my face!

    The last time I saw what you speak of was at my work when the phone guy came to see why we were getting kicked off the internet every 2 minutes. Unfortunately, the router/modem/whatever is under my desk, so the guy had to bend down to unplug it....HELLO??!! In a dental office no less! Hope your plumber was more than nine years old and looked like George Clooney!

  4. My 28 year old middle son is a licensed plumber, and might I add, he is one good looking guy. You know the type, he looks like he could be a bad boy with that devilish gleam in his eye, but is the greatest guy ever. If you pay well, you just may persuade him to travel from Illinois...although, he doesn't have the plumber's crack. Guess you can't have it all!

  5. Oh Stewey...I am so glad you give your Mother her adoration time. We Spinsters need that every now and then even if it interferes with our stitching time.

  6. OMG too funny! Coni I have been reading your blog for about three years and this is my first time commenting. I cannot tell you how you brighten my day! You could truly be the literary replacement for Erma Bombeck! Your post today reminded me of something Paula Deen said on a recent show. Her husband was leaving the house and she said, "Don't let the door knob hit ya where the good Lord split ya!" Wish you and Stewey lived in my neighborhood - I'd love to have tea and stitchy time with you.

  7. *grabs Stewey and kisses him*

    There...I just had to do that...

  8. Stewey, my main dog, you're learning. We, the higher form of animals, must every once in a while stoop to feigning adoration to those lower forms who operate the can openers and scoop our (my, actually since you still haven't mastered the art of "the box") litter. Yes, a few hours of cuddling does keep the old girls happy, doesn't it? And I am loath to admit it, but on a cold evening, I don't find it half bad myself.

    As to plumbers, at least your mo-ther has the common sense to call one. You should have been here last weekend for all the mayhem and foolishisness when my furrless, witless parents attempted a minor plumbing job. One would think with decades of higher education between them,the two ninnies would have been able to do something as simple as replace a laundry room sink. Ha! I tried to help, but my fa-ther's language turned a trifle blue and I stalked off, offended. By the way, they did finally finish the job but only after daddy dearest realized he hooked the drain on upside down.
    Go figure. Humans. Can't live with them. Can't live without them.
    Your feline friend, Elvis

  9. So? How did the plumbing visit go? Did you have a plumb happy reaction? Was it a cracking good time? Ü

  10. Stewey, Stewey, Stewey. It's ok to admit that you need affection from time to time. You don't have to put on a tough guy act. (And believe me, your Mo-ther would know if you were trying to snow her. She knows the meaning of every twitch and every sigh. We critter mommas know these things.)

  11. You "crack" me up.

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