My name is Ann and I am addicted to Angry Birds.

I’m late to the party on this. My brother had already long conquered all the thieving, good for nothing pigs when I first downloaded the free version of the game on my iPhone. It wasn’t long before I upgraded to the full version. And the rest is history.

For those who are unfamiliar (if anyone out there is), Angry Birds is a game in which these cute, crafty, snuffly green pigs have stolen the birds’ eggs from their nests. Now, the birds are understandably angry. The Flock consist of red birds, yellow birds, black birds, blue birds and white birds. As you get further along, a few new additions come into play. There’s a very frustrating boomerang bird, an orange bird that blows up like a balloon, and a big brother bird. Each jumps hopefully into a giant catapult to be launched at the pigs’ fortress in order to squash them. Each bird has its special trajectory and talent for destroying the various parts of the fortress, depending on how you draw back the catapult and aim.  

It’s awesome.

The game has been downloaded 50 million times. No, not by me alone. According to Paul Kendall at The Telegraph, everyone from Dick Cheney to John Hamm are playing. And you don’t need a smart phone for it. It’s available for PC and Mac as well.

Yesterday I played for probably – uhm, way too many hours. I refuse to calculate specifically for fear I will become depressed and launch into a productive frenzy to counteract my wasted Saturday.

I did realize somewhere along the way that my left hand was cramping from holding the phone and I was starting to list to one side from trying to encourage the falling lumber,  steel or rocks to land on just ONE MORE stinkin’ pig.

That technique doesn’t work, by the way.

There’s just something so satisfying about crushing those little green guys and having one or two birds left (who do little celebratory flips, by the way, and shout Wheee!) that makes me indescribably pleased.

The problem is, how am I supposed to answer on Monday when people ask how my weekend was?

“Great! Got stuck on the Birdday Party level 18-2, but think I’ve got that goofy orange bird sorted out now and fully expect to kick butt on Surf and Turf by Tuesday.”

People will talk.

In whispers.

While rolling their eyes. Their little piggy eyes…

I should seek professional help.

And maybe go do some laundry or something constructive.

Just as soon as I get to the next level.


“You’re goin’ down, pigs!”



After a Friday evening discussion with my stepson, the recent high school graduate, in which I learned he had no intention of brushing his teeth that night OR the next morning before being delivered to work by his friend, my brain shorted out. 

In a desperate attempt to escape the reality that I had failed to teach the most basic of hygiene practices in 8 years, (and afraid to ask exactly WHEN the last tooth brushing had taken place), my alter ego began channeling Auntie Mame. For those who don’t know who Auntie Mame is, please see the Rosalind Russell version of the movie as soon as possible. 

While I spent the weekend beating myself up and muttering a lot, the following is how my alter ego spent hers:    

Awoke from a delightful night’s sleep, excited about my plans for Saturday.  First on the agenda, outside to feed the chickens! (I highly recommend the apple laying chickens. SO much more interesting than the egg laying variety. Those are so…DONE.)

Next,  an al fresco breakfast in the garden by the water feature. It’s so much more peaceful now that the gnomes have been relocated. They did unmentionable things in the water feature. Ghastly. 


After breakfast, meditation.  The beauty of meditating is that you don’t need fancy equipment or mats. You just plop down wherever. It’s a state of mind, after all, and I can relax under the most austere conditions!

Feeling surprisingly rejuvenated, I popped back into the house to change for my dear friend’s wedding at the little white chapel. Not too dressy, just a small affair. It’s the bride’s day to show off her plumage, after all!


What a wonderful ceremony! And finally, throwing birdseed makes sense!

After a busy morning taking care of my mind and spirit, I was ready to do something constructive. I would finish that knitting project I’d been working on for weeks. It IS a rather large project. Imagine my frustration to discover the cat had gotten ahold of it! What a mess! (Dare I say it was a real catastrophe?)

I decided to give up on my knitted lounge chair and go back to my other project. I’ve been making a dress. 

Or a lamp. Or maybe it’s a “dramp.” Here’s the finished product. It’s positively  illuminating, if I say so myself. I don’t recommend sitting in it, though. It’s more of a standing thing.

Now, for a little relaxation. A good book. What to select from the bookshelf?

Reading should be educational, entertaining, or enriching. Barring those, it should FEEL rewarding. But where to read? I always choose a room reflective of the book itself. Thank goodness I have the perfect room in which to read “To the Scaffold – the Story of Marie Antoinette.” 

Time flies when you’re reading a good book! But it’s time to get ready to entertain my amazing friends! I have such fun activities lined up! We’re going to have a few drinks and ride my latest find: The big lavender hot dog. I was going to call it “The Weiner,” but that has such dreadfully negative connotations now, thanks to former Representative, Anthony… But we shall persevere! There’s nothing more innocent or childlike than enjoying a ride on a rocking, inflatable object. Full report to follow!  

I’m back! What a perfect evening! We talked and laughed; we had cocktails!

Don’t be silly. Cocktails. Like this:

Then, we played that game where you find shapes in the clouds. I found a duckie. My newest, DEAREST friend, Vida Beatrice (pronounce the “a” as in “hat”) Cassidy Brown insisted she could see a horse in this formation. I think she’s too competitive.


I’ll have to keep an eye on Beatrice.  Between you and me, she may be delusional.

A few of my delightful friends may or may not have “overindulged,” so I wheeled them to the guest rooms in my newest conveyance.

A leather wheelbarrow! So much better than dragging people. My back adores me now!

Tomorrow is another day, but for tonight, adieu! What a wonderful day! I hope tomorrow is just as imaginary! I mean magical!

Sweet dreams. (Brush your teeth!)

P.S. Beautiful and strange home decor images from


I have broken my weekend. It just doesn’t work the way it used to. Back when my weekend was working correctly, five o’clock Friday would come, and it kicked in like clockwork. I would spend Friday evening with friends, get up Saturday and work out, maybe do some shopping, pick up groceries, take the dog for a walk, wash the car, see a movie, go to dinner, have some drinks, listen to music, and it would STILL be Saturday. I had all day Sunday to do even more! By the time I do any combination of those things now, three months have passed.  

I tried getting up early. Saturday morning I was up at 7:30. (Daisy decided she was bored and needed company.)  I was dressed by 8:30, drove Austin, my stepson, to the first day of his new job, and bought some breakfast. Seemed like I was well on my way to actually having a productive weekend. 

Something went wrong. By 4:15 p.m. I had watched Bizarre Foods, Modern Family, a few minutes of Stagecoach (by accident), two episodes of Ingenious Minds, and fallen asleep twice. Oh yeah, and I ate lunch.  I know you won’t be able to imagine how I worked lunch into that harrowing schedule, but I did.  So much for selecting new glasses, going to the grocery store, walking the dog, and getting a little “hello, springtime” color over at Palm Beach Tan. That writing assignment?  Are you kidding?  There’s even a sale at Borders, and I have a gift card. No dice. Not happening.

Maybe it’s the winter doldrums. Maybe I’m depressed. Overworked. Overwrought.
Maybe I’m just lazy.

A body in motion tends to stay in motion. A body supine on the couch tends to become a doggy pillow.

If you know a good fix-it person, let me know. Or maybe I just need the proper motivation. One errand, one cocktail?

Now, how do I get the dog to stop staring at me?