It would appear as if I've gotten quite the reputation. 

People seem to think I can write about anything.  Throw a topic at me, I will run with it, and make no mistake about it…you will laugh. 

Case in point…Godzilla.

Godzilla is what happens when a girl has writer’s block at eleven forty-five when the blog is posted at midnight.  Just add a handful of writers on Twitter tossing topics into the stream and voila. 

I admit it…I fish. 

Sometimes the strangest things end up on my hook.   One night I caught zombies.  Another night it was a tourniquet.   Every now and then I throw them back…like the night someone suggested I pierce my own nose.  Or give myself a tattoo.  Other times I mull it over for hours before finally deciding it might be a bad idea to cut my own hair, no matter how bad I might need a cut, or a laugh. 

I’m almost afraid to admit how often I fish in that open stream.

Like tonight.  I was wading around the Twitter stream, looking for ideas in my rubber hip boots and lighted miner’s hat, and what I found reminded me of the inside of a shark…a couple of license plates, a baseball glove, half a fish, and a roll of aluminum foil.  So I tossed everything back but the foil and a bag of cheese that was lying around the boat and decided to MacGyver my way through the blog tonight.

I used the foil while I made dinner.  I had to kill a bug, and as it turns out, you can actually use foil to squash spiders.  It’s thicker than paper towels and compared to the size of a spider it sort of feels like a wall of steel or something.  You can also use foil to make a helmet to protect your brain from mindreading aliens or weak solar flares.  Apparently you can cook with it too, but I wouldn’t know much about that. 

Once the spider was dead and the foil helmets were in place, I took the bag of cheese that landed in my boat to make macaroni and cheese carbonara.  Don’t laugh.  I said I hate to cook, not that I don’t know how. 

It was pretty good, all things considered, but I would still rather not cook if given the option.  I still haven’t recovered from the heat in the kitchen.  I know I’m a wimp.  I can’t argue that fact.  I never said I was good at roughing it.

Which reminds me…my husband started talking about living in the woods again.  I think he’s trying to use child psychology on me to get me to appreciate the comforts of indoor cooking and bathrooms.  It’s not working. 

I have my sights set on room service and linen sheets. 

Until the next time…It’s wine coolers and ice cream sandwiches for me!