Susanne’s heifer Dixie gave birth two days before my hysterectomy, on a day I was out of town. Eric and I met Susanne there the next day so she could show off her baby.
Ah, he is so cute! All black, too. But then I took a closer look. There was a flash of white on his belly.
I can’t even make this up, y’all: the little bull has a snowy white wanker. And I’m just going to leave it at that, because anything else I would say at this point would be wildly inappropriate, and I already said it all anyway to Susanne, who did not appreciate my wicked funny sense of humor.
So then I had my hysterectomy, blah, blah, you can read about it HERE, if you’re so inclined.
That next weekend Susanne and her girlfriend (who shares a name with a protagonist in one of my novels—but I’m not telling you which one because I only call Eric and myself by our real names in my writing) came beebopping into the room where I lay on my reclining bed like a queen. They were headed out to get BRAZILIAN WAXES, and THEY WANTED ME TO COME!! WELL, thank God for my hysterectomy, because if it wasn’t for that I might not have had a good reason to say no. HA. As if. I have about a million good reasons to say no, starting with what happened last time I allowed strangers access to my nether regions. Yeah, laid up in bed, hormones raging, popping pain pills. Not that I thought the same thing would happen with an Brazilian waxer (what do you call people who perform those, anyway?). But at a minimum, two words: INGROWN HAIRS.
I declined their kind invitation, knowing full well they just wanted me to bring my credit card anyway.
So fast forward two days. Who’s standing in my door way all frog-legged, wiggling her drawers and hot footing around? Yep, Susanne.
“Why didn’t you tell me how bad it would itch?” she moaned.
“I believe I offered my opinion that it would itch, but admitted that due to a lack of personal experience I did not know it would,” I said, and adjusted my neck pillow so I could get a better look at my youngest daughter. “Honey, don’t scratch there. It’s not ladylike.”
“But it ITCHES!”
“Take your itchy crotch down the hall to scratch then, if you must, where I don’t have to see you.”
She walked off, still kvetching, and—for all I know—scratching.
That’s all I’ve got.
p.s. I have Earth to Emily back from my fabulous content editor. You can pre-order e-books now, everywhere. Here’s the fab cover:
We are on target for an August 6 release date, and I start Hell to Pay on June 1. Woot!
Did you see my other new covers, for Puppalicious and Beyond and for Hot Flashes and Half Ironmans? We’re redoing three more of my nonfiction books as well, re-branding if you will, to give them the look they’ve always needed. Thanks to my sweet husband and cover artist Heidi Dorey for working together on these facelifts.