Kidnapped By Aliens

I was sitting on my patio, near dusk. I saw a cigar-shaped light in the sky. It hovered over the river near us, then landed in the strip of lawn behind the townhouses.

They were sexless, faceless, ageless, a sort of aquamarine color, with great three-fingered hands and splayed feet. They came to my knees, but I'm a tall woman.

Their ship was cool and serene. They offered me sharp cheddar cheese, rosemary and olive oil Triscuits and a fine Chardonnay, as if they knew my favorite snack.

They gave me a marvelous mani-pedi, a massage, and trimmed my hair, cooing over the length and the curls. Their magic made all the split ends and grey disappear. It was better than a day at a spa.

When they released me, they embraced my knees with tender affection.

Not really, but hey, I'm BACK.

Tonight, 8 p.m.

Crazy Dog Lady

Anyone who knows me even a little knows that I am a Crazy Dog Lady. At one point, Martin and I had four dogs. We didn't plan it, they just sort of happened. Kind of like polygamist wives and babies.

There is little doubt that when I die, I will be found by a meter reader, the mailman, or a distant relative charged with looking in on Crazy Cousin Lisa (Hello Brian!) once in a while. I will be prostate on the kitchen floor, a shredded bag of Kibbles & Bits nearby, with all of my limbs ending in bloody stumps, after having been gnawed off by my 18 dogs.

I started today by washing the dingleberries off the Pomeranian's butt to prevent her from wiping her ass on the carpet. The result was five pounds of very pissed off Pom and one very disgusted Crazy Dog Lady. I wish our sink had a spray nozzle, it would have been so much easier.