Me, Lou Rawls and a Dog I Will Eventually Kill

I discovered this morning around 5:17 a.m., that it’s not that I don’t like getting up early, it’s that I don’t like getting dressed.

And then at 6:42 a.m., I discovered the smart sister was awake.

Phone rings.

Me:  “Oh, my God.  HELLO?”

Her:  “I know you’re up.  You just ‘liked’ a status update on Facebook.”

Me:  “Are you kidding me?  So you call??”

What is she?  The damn family stalker?

Conversation was had.  Mostly by her.  I just occasionally grunted in agreement to whatever she was rattling about.

(Hang on.  I’m gonna go kill the neighbors dog real quick.  It has a bark that isn’t rhythmic and well…it’s just got to go.  Unless the neighbor is out there.  I’ll be right back.)

(I’m back.  I don’t really hate this dog. (Yes, I do.) It’s just that the idiot owner comes behind MY balcony and throws the ball that causes the non-rhythmic barking along with some chasing.  I’m sure it won’t happen much anymore though.  They saw me glaring at’em when I was just taking this picture and probably think I’m some creepy neighbor that’s gonna complain about their yappy ass dog.  Which I sho’ don’t mind doing, if necessary.)

Anyway.  Back to this morning.

I got up and got dressed.  Loathe.

Mom and Dad’s neighborhood was having a big ol’giant garage sale, so I headed that way.  And yes, smart sister met me out there.  I mean, why not?  SHE WAS UP, RIGHT?

Here’s proof of the garage sale and that I ain’t lying:

Uh, huh.  Lou Rawls.  Vinyl.

We’re at this big garage sale, walking around, dodging old men, the weather is fabulous and all of a sudden…Dancing Queen is blaring.

The song.  Dancing Queen.  Blaring.  Loud.

And lo and behold, our (her) mother is involved in some flash mob thing going on.

I started to pray to die, but then pulled back on that one.  I realized I didn’t really know anyone out there but smart sister and Dad, so…HE could be embarrassed because HE knows EVERYBODY out there.

She told me afterward during the flash dance or whatever it is, that she felt a gust of air.

Yep.  Her tube top under her long-sleeve shirt just rolled on down.  Exposing her red bra.

(Red?  Really, mom?  Can you for once act your age and maybe wear a white Cross Your Heart or something?)

I was elated she even had one on.

I’m beginning to see that this “getting old” stuff is pretty cool.

About the Writer

Carrie’s a redheaded southern girl from Texas with a little splash of spice and sarcasm sprinkled through and through.  She’s been called a spitfire.  (And much worse.  God love’em.) She discovered her passion is writing/blogging and no longer limited to just paying bills and keeping gas in the car.  Humor is the best pill for making life worth it all. Find more Carrie at her blog A Sassy Redhead.