More Errata

Tucson Trap & Skeet Club
Just Outside of Tucson

Why is it that

I put the same five scoops of coffee and the same 8 cups of water into the coffee maker every morning, but it delivers a different shade of … well … coffee every time.

I rewashed my jeans without soap yesterday, and there were more bubbles in the water than with the first wash.

The noise of my opening a book causes my husband to turn on the television.

There’s a single potato nestled in among my dishtowels. Maybe it’s not a potato. Maybe it’s a dinosaur egg or something equally profound. I’m leaving it until it either hatches or sprouts.

I’ll never need that baking pan cover until the day after I throw it away.

I have such a hard time throwing things away, anyway. I am my mother’s daughter. I still have her little black frying pan from the 40’s. The 1840’s, I think. It’s probably worth a ton of money, but I won’t sell it. Mainly because I couldn’t carry it to an antique dealer. That thing is mucho heavy.

Familiarity breeds contempt. I don’t know why I put that on this list, except for the fact that my wonderful brothers and sisters are showing me so much love now that I’m on the road. Who knew I was pissing them off just by being around. Miss you too, guys.

A sunny day in the desert is glorious, but a cloudy day makes the desert look deserted.

My dog prefers his peanut butter-filled cong to me. Thank you Jesus. And speaking of the Zeus-meister, why, when I find him once again nesting his little butt on my pillow, the one I lay my head on, and I order him OFF! does he simply move over to John's pillow? Does he really think only my pillow is off-limits? Or does he believe that I do not have jurisdiction over John's domain. Does he consider me only second in command in his pack, a mere co-dog instead of a human?

My husband won’t wear a cowboy hat when he shoots trap. Instead he wears this floppy cotton thing – for ventilation, he says. He looks semi-ridiculous, but at least I can spot him among all the shooters with cowboy hats on.

Life’s a mystery.

Betty