Da Goddess

I did it! Finally!

I lost my virginity.

Silly thing for a mom of two to write, but hear me out.

Craig Ferguson took my virginity. True. Fucking. Story.

October 7, 2023, is a day that will live in infamy for it was the day I finally got to go see Craig Ferguson on tour with his stand-up act. Not only that, but I met him, got a hug, he touched one of my tattoos (neener neener, wouldn’t you like to know which one!), and…and…and…it was all perfection. Mostly.

Yes, I’d been to tapings of his show many times over his ten year run as host of The Late Late Show with Craig Ferguson. Yes, I’d been mere feet away from him. Yes, I laughed myself silly. But I hadn’t seen his stand-up show before.

I’d envied those I knew who had been many, Many, MANY times. They had met him. They got their picture taken with him. They…touched…him. I was happy for those people. But I stewed in my own bitter juices of jealousy in private. I feared I’d never get my moment with THE GREATEST, FUNNIEST, AND MOST HANDSOME SCOTTISH LATE NIGHT TALK SHOW HOST AND COMEDIAN IN THE WORLD. But I did. It happened. And now my life is (mostly) complete. I say “(mostly) complete” because there was just one teeny weeny little problem with our conversation (okay, two teeny weeny little problems) (maybe three teeny weeny little problems, but definitely not more than three). Main problem the first: I’d forgotten to ask if he remembered a sketch from the show where a particular name was used. Why would it matter almost 20 years later? Because I was author of that name! Well, the author of half the name. And I wanted him to sign one of his books for me using that name. Big problem the second: I forgot to bring the book. Don’t look at me in that tone of voice! I know what I did and I know how stupid that was. Look, it’d already been a very long, hot day full of emotion* before I even left to make the journey out to the middle of nowhere to see him. I couldn’t possibly be expected to remember VERY IMPORTANT items I almost desperately wanted signed by THE GREATEST, FUNNIEST, AND MOST HANDSOME SCOTTISH LATE NIGHT TALK SHOW HOST AND COMEDIAN IN THE WORLD! It’s like you don’t know me at all, people! Have you fallen so out of love with me your blog reading that you’ve forgotten all my (very) charming (and occasionally frustrating) quirks?

Le sigh.

I’m disappointed enough in myself, I don’t need your help in that department.

Problem the third: I also forgot to ask about his kids. Oh, the stories he told about his kids! So funny! So absolutely charming! So clever! The only kids I knew who were as funny and charming and clever as his kids were mine. Truly. I wanted to know if they continued to be funny, charming, and clever…like mine. Because: parents. IYKYK, right? Right.

All said and done, it was a beautiful day punctuated with the most magical evening of laughter and absolute joy. If I ever figure out how to post photos here again, I’ll post the pic of me beside THE GREATEST, FUNNIEST, AND MOST HANDSOME SCOTTISH LATE NIGHT TALK SHOW HOST AND COMEDIAN IN THE WORLD. And you will once more envy my glamorous life. (Glamorous in that I had one night away from GmaB and the farm, but it still counts!)

And that’s the story of how Craig Ferguson took my virginity.

* My best friend got married and I photographed her wedding. She was completely stunning! She looked so happy! And the latter part is and was the most important part of the equation. I really want her to be happy.

The sunsets here are incredible. Every night, I’m treated to the most brilliant display of gorgeousness. It’d be boring if they weren’t so spectacular.

Can I share one here? Apparently not. I no longer see a way to do so. Oh well. Close your eyes and imagine the vibrant green of the lawn, the purples and greens of the alfalfa, the silhouettes of 50yr old trees and a windmill, all against the pinks, oranges, blues, and purples of a sleepy, warm sky. Maybe throw in the silhouette of a heron or egret while you’re at it. That’s what I suffer through each and every night. It’s torture. Pure torture. And I love it.

I fell deeply in love at first sight this morning. So did Crackerjack.

She came to get me from her grandmother’s house so I could move some of my belongings over (I’m staying here overnight now because Grandma B’s dementia is getting worse). We stopped at Dollar General, which is out all-around favorite place to stop for Red Bulls. As we walked up to the door, this beautiful mini border collie came up (she was ignoring a man who was smooch calling her — is there another word for this?) and I asked her to sit, which she did immediately. She gazed up at me and I was instantly besotted. I mean, absolutely, positively, flat-out in love. I apologized to the man once he drew up to us. I said I figured it was better to have her sit and wait for him and I complimented him on what a VERY GOOD GIRL his dog was. And gorgeous, too! He then explained she wasn’t his dog, but was just running around loose and had been for a couple weeks. Crackerjack and I looked at each other as if to say, “we’ll take her until her owners are found!” Of course, that really wouldn’t be a possibility because the other dogs at the house would likely attack her. Instead, the man said his wife runs a rescue and she was on her way over to scan the dog for a chip and if there wasn’t one, they’d take her in.

While that was great news for the dog, my heart kind of broke into a million little pieces. I was so captivated by this petite pup, I had — in less than 20 seconds — already adopted her and trained her to herd cattle out here on the dairy ranch (it’s more of a farm now and they don’t do the dairy part as much, I guess???), where she could live her bestest life. I know, I know, my imagination overfloweth. The other scenario was that she would turn out to be more of a couch potato and want to spend all her time beside her new grandma and grandma’s caregiver. (A girl can dream, can’t she?)

Anyhow, Crackerjack and I reluctantly left the dog with the very nice man and went on to do what we’d set out to do: get Red Bull and move shit. We did that…two trips, in fact, with more to come.

In between the first and second trips, I asked if we could swing by the store to make sure the dog wasn’t still there. I’d been thinking about her the entire time I was packing and loading. She was gone. I was relieved because I couldn’t stand the thought that she was left in the lurch once again. I still don’t understand how she was just hanging around the store for two weeks without anyone coming to claim her or anyone calling a shelter to get her off the street. Apparently, she’d been seen on both sides of the (busy) road and, even worse, both sides of the freeway! Ugh! WHAT IS WRONG WITH PEOPLE? How is there this gorgeous girl running loose with no one looking for her?

So, there you have it: my tale (tail) of instant love and almost instant heartbreak in a kind of wordy nutshell.

The hedgehogs have been arguing a lot lately. I’m not sure what they’re arguing about most of the time, but I know what tonight’s beef was: Spike pooed in their house and Ash was having none of it.

I arrived on the scene just as Ash was chasing Spike out and telling him to get lost. She was mad! Spike was squealing like he was snakebit, but it was just him being dramatic. He pushed back a couple times, to no avail. Ash is simply bigger and more assertive.

When Ash went for a nosh, Spike ran back in the house and tried to keep her from getting in. More squabbling, hissing, and skittering about. Guess who prevailed?

After an emergency counseling session (I’m charging double next time), they both returned home and snuggled in close.

Honestly, I wonder about them. Will true love prevail? Or will Spike’s predilection for shitting in their house, in their food bowls, ON their house tear them asunder?

Answers to these questions and more on the next episode of “Soap”.

I am currently filled with hate. I’m not proud of this; it’s just a fact. A painful, loathesome fact.

We have mice.

We had mice in Texas. For the most part, they were never seen. Arizona mice, however, are everywhere. They rarely even run when they see us now. We’ve become their bitches.

I hate them.

We’ve released 7 into the wild, including a pinkie*. We’ve opted for humane traps, though I’m beginning to resent this as what they’re doing to us is akin to torture. I can’t even sit on the toilet in peace without the occasional mouse running over my slippered foot and then hiding on a shelf behind supplies. This is one of the only times these mice run upon contact with us. Apparently, they’re shocked to see us and get so discombobulated they scurry about. To that I say, “what the fuck did you expect? You’re in a HOUSE! People live in houses. Don’t like us? Get. The. Fuck. Out.”

We don’t set the cats or the snake out after the mice. 1.) The cats are healthy, well-fed, lazy, and don’t need to pick up anything that would be detrimental to Crackerjack’s or the baby’s health, and 2.) live rodents and captive snakes aren’t really a match made in heaven. In fact, live rodents can be dangerous for captive snakes. They can scratch or bite the snakes and that can lead to infections. Plus, I don’t know how we’d get Sneaky Snek back after she went on her rodent-seeking mission.

I’d post pics of the little shits, but I’m still experiencing issues with the “how” of it. Just trust me when I say the mice aren’t as cute as those found in children’s books or even those you see in the wild. To me, when I see mice indoors, all I see are vectors of disease and destruction. Hence, Get. Out.

*Pinkies are babies without fur.