Well, well, well--my car is again in the shop. Why, you ask? Why was my car in the shop AGAIN? Because it is smashed, and once again not my fault. Three times in six months:
--once in a parking lot, an elderly gentleman thought he could get between my car and the row of parked cars on my right. He couldn't.
--once when my son had it, another gentleman thought it would be a good idea to go around my son already in the process of making a turn instead of stopping and waiting for him to finish.
--and now, last Saturday, while on our way for our weekly date-night at our favorite restaurant, a car coming the opposite way hit a deer that then came flying into my car (husband driving) and demolished the front end. I have no idea how I'm still in one piece. That thing came sailing up my windshield--there is actually fur embedded in the paint up the side--and did not come through. I'd be dead, I think; or at least seriously injured.

The deer is dead though. We didn't kill it, but added insult to injury, poor thing. My husband, who feeds the deer (because they were eating the bird food; now they eat the bird food AND the deer feed!) will not consider it was one of his "baby deer*."

Frank: I don't think it was one of mine.
Me: What makes you say that?
Frank: Because I don't want it to be.

Poor darling. It was less than a quarter mile from our house. It probably was one of "his." And he's seen one fewer baby-deer the last couple of nights, so...yeah...

We had a Superbowl Party yesterday. Lots of fun. We don't get together with our friends enough these days, so it's nice to see them. We've been a possie for nearly 20 years now. All the kids are growing up and/or gone. I have a feeling we'll be spending more time together in the years to come.


Last, I'm up over on Heroines Of Fantasy. Last month, I wrote about the "not so nice girl." This month, (Not So) Happily Ever After. I'd love to see what you have to say!


*They are not babies. Frank calls everything "baby ___." We have baby-fat-squirrels, baby frogs, baby possum, baby raccoon, baby doves...anything he feeds is "baby." My man is crazy, but he sure is cute.