So I think my delicate flower of a southern Granny might be secretly reading this blog because I got an e-mail from her OUT OF THE BLUE suggesting that I might want to have some sort of gastro-intestinal surgery to correct my abhorrent flatulence.
This makes me realize that I have spent a lot of time writing about my public announcement system and / or poo recently, and that I have failed to point out that while I am able to achieve great VOLUME, it is not in the least bit offensive because I produce a smell quite like Night Blooming Jasmine.
At any rate, I think I should leave all subjects related to butts alone today and focus instead on underwear.
Specifically, fun with men’s briefs…
Here at House of Joy we are avid fans of the book, “A Prayer for Owen Meany” by John Irving.
We’re such big fans, in fact, that if my husband and I were being honest we would have to admit that our son The Mayor is named from the book.
“I am doomed to remember a boy with a wrecked voice- not because of his voice,
or because he was the smallest person I ever knew, or even because he was the
instrument of my mother’s death, but because he is the reason I believe in God;
I am a Christian because of Owen Meany”
I remember the first time I read the book thinking, “What IS Owen’s obsession with THE SHOT about?” only to sob and sob at the book’s end.
The King of the House of Joy (also known as He Who Does Not Live in Spain) has his own SHOT.
Last night…he shoots… HE SCORES!!!!!