TAP...TAP...TAP...IS THIS THING ON?

Hello, dear friends near and far.  

My mo-ther can't come to the blog right now, so I decided to pick up the ball and run with it today.  The old lady has been suffering from a case of the grumps lately and has not been feeling well, so I gave her a nice refreshing glass of juice with a little something "extra" in it and pointed her back to the big girl sleigh bed for a few minutes.

(We should rename that thing the big whiny why can't things just go my way tor once sleigh bed, but that's another story for another day.)

Life with Spinster has its moments...it really does, but I suspect that the real cause of our problem lies solely on the shoulders of my little "helper" in the screen shot above.  You see, I had a pretty good gig going here up until HE decided to move in, and now I have been relegated to my little bed in front of the window to contemplate my loss of world domination.

I get it...the poor little guy has nowhere to go, and despite my refusal to admit it, HE and Mo-ther really do have a very special bond.  I also understand that one must be a gracious host and treat guests with special latitude, but my patience is wearing very thin.  I was always top dog around here (no pun intended, I'm sure), and my fragile ego finds it hard to take a back seat.

My little cousin is tolerable, I suppose.  He is a bit daft, unfortunately, and does things that baffle one's imagination, but I am learning that his desire to play with plastic dog toys or roll in the grass are what most of his ilk are wont to do.  I, however, simply cannot understand his refusal to don a proper dinner jacket before wolfing down his Purina Little Bites, but that, as they say, is not my monkey...not my circus.

I continue to monitor things as best I can without staff.  Mo-ther has decided that we are to become a household sans butler, gardner, cook, and driver in an effort to belt tighten, but I am hoping that the subsequent exhaustion on her part in fulfilling all of these roles will quickly change her mind.  I know that she has been diligently looking for employment to return us to the manner of living to which I am accostomed, so there is hope that this little experiment in frugality will cease once and for all.

As for Mommie Dearest's physical capacities, she is most definitely on the decline, I'm afraid.  In my professional opinion, I think that age, illness, and stress are all plying havoc with her usual good cheer, thus landing her in rather hot water with her medical team.  I no longer have access to her chart ( since the prescription sedative debacle of 2007), but I think I overheard her fretting about some recent labwork that revealed an advancement of that damn kidney disease.  We will travel the .2 miles to the Nephrologist's office later today, and I promise to report back with any updates.

In the meantime, I have re-mounted a fresh piece of canvas on stretcher bars and re-selected thread colors for the poor dear's Twilight project.  As soon as she returns from her appointment today, I intend to install her in the Happy Chair with a nice tall glass of something cold to drink, and I'm going to take the little guy for a pedicure.

(On the way home, I think we'll stop at my tailor's and have him measured for a uniform.  He won't wear a silk smoking jacket, but nobody said anything about him not wearing a butler's apron.)

So that is the latest report, my dear friends.  I hope that you are all well and that you will come again soon.

With love from your pal,

Stewey