An incident happened this weekend I’m not proud of. In fact, I’m a little embarrassed to share it with you. But hey, it’s just us, right? So, picture this: it’s late Sunday morning. Charlie’s snorin’ in his Barcalounger. Scamp’s with me in the kitchen, dozin’ on his doggie bed. I’m putterin’ around, minding my own business, when all of a sudden, I feel one comin’ on. You know what I mean. Nobody ‘cept the dog is near, so I just let ‘er rip: long, loud and unapologetic. A real twenty-one gun salute. “What’s that?” Charlie yelps, nearly fallin’ out of his chair. “Don’t know,” I yell. “Must be a car backfiring.” Could have been my …

The other day, I had the misfortune of seeing some photos taken at our New Years day brunch at Celeste and Bud’s. Rita got a new digital camera for Christmas, and while I’m happy for her, it was like spendin’ the day with the paparazzi! The posed shots are OK ‘cause you have time to assemble your parts and put ‘em where you want ‘em. You wedge yourself between a couple of friends and turn sideways. That makes you look thinner. Then you suck in your gut and do the Princess Diana bit. You know, tilt your head down a little and look up. This kind of camouflages whatever double chin action you got goin’. …