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April was just a marvelous month for bunnies and baseball. Yeah, it always begins with the exceedingly funny Feast Day of St. Stupid, of course. (Come on! Youze gotta know the First Church of the Last Laugh drill by now.) In the meantime, wild ‘n crazy, hippity-hopping’ Easter bunnies and major league baseball teams were engaged in spring training for their big/opening day. Which was rapidly approaching, oh my!

I put a groovy Easter outfit together, and yes, I did find a FABULOUS hat. And I also purchased some fab earrings to match, created by the lovely Linda. You will see her every weekend on Telegraph Avenue. (Photo of moi will be included in an upcoming post.) Unfortunately I was deep in the midst of an upper-respiratory thingie, and I could not taste any of my waterfront restaurant entrée. I wasn’t even hungry. At least I had a gorgeous view. My Easter breakfast was also a bit of a bummer. My tasteless Hot Cross Buns could have been delivered by a hunk with extra hot buns of his own….so what? I love HCB’s, and you can only buy them once a year. And fuggedaboud my beautifully decorated eggs, cause no amount of salt was gonna make me taste them either. I know, I know, boo hoo. It was an absolutely beautiful day, however…if you like some early-morning rain.

And we do in drought-stricken California, Mother Nature. Thanks!

Thank goodness the Bender household was gifted with an Easter visit from our very own resident “rabbit.” Rosie Rabbit, that is. She really dressed for the occasion, she did. (See her groovy photo.) Our little “wascally wabbit” has many fans in the neighborhood. My neighbor Creesh (hippie name!) is a major fan (she’s not in the military!). She loved Miz Rosie’s Easter photo so much she created this wee bit of whimsy for me to enjoy:

There once was a pooch named Rosie –

A Diva from head to toesie,

The threads were made –

For the Easter parade,

As she posed for her close-up –

Way Groovy!

Get this: According to my neighbor, I might want to get “Rosie” her very own website. Or perhaps find a card company that will feature Rosie’s pooch photo on their greeting cards. Hmm, maybe she could she earn some cash to help pay for all those doggie biscuits she demands. I have to admit I’ve seriously considered renting her for cleaning jobs. Yes, cleaning jobs. After observing her oversized bushy tail, I had a brilliant idea!

Who needs a Swaffer or whatever they call the gadget? Why not rent a doggie duster – a real sWOOFer – who will work their tail off for you. Just remember to give the hound a hug and a biscuit or two after the job is completed. And puleeez don’t blame me for any breakage that (likely) may occur. Capeeche?

I don’t know if Rosie is OK with any of these wild ‘n wacky ideas. Stay tuned.

Get in touch if you are at all are interested in opening your very own doggie duster franchise. We could really clean up (literally) with this. Oh my!

Baseball season is now in full swing. I just wish more of my winning team’s hitters were doing a little more productive swinging while at bat. Like in winning more games, man. There were a significant number of pre-season injuries, including the awesome Hunter Pence –known as the Reverend because he gives encouraging “sermons” to his teammates. Find that hard to believe?  Well what about the THREE –count ‘em- World Series Championships the SF Giants have won, and then say that you don’t believe. GO GIANTS!Dreamcatcher

The baseball team on the other side of the Bay –that would be the Oakland Athletics- or the “A’s” as they are fondly known- is playing well. And that could very well be because of a player that had previously flown under my radar. The dude’s name is Billy Burns!
NOT my bro Billy Burns, however, but a younger guy from the South. This Billy is quite the babe. Don’t hate me bro. YOU are my fave and a pretty darn cute leprechaun to boot. (Rosie will happily dust them off for you if you ask her nicely.)

Peace, love, baseball, and less dust bunnies for y’all.

(Remember: For dust bunny removal all you need is “Rent a Rosie,” the Doggie Dusting Diva!)

March Modness!

You probably think I’ve made a mistake titling my post “March Modness.” But you would be oh so wrong! Yeah, March Madness is usually associated with some type of ball sport –I believe that it’s called basketball or something involving a net. But I could be wrong. No, really, I could be wrong. It does happen occasionally. (I find that the real “madness” is with all the crazed viewers like my husband. The hubby’s delirious dive into his recliner to watch this “madness” is about the only exercise he gets while the games are televised.) Although a seemingly unending, warm, nearly rainless weather (save for a few splashes here and there) here in Northern California this past month is definitely a sign of a planetary March Madness. (More about “Modness” to come.)


(“In this land of drought and sun, we don’t flush for number one”….or howzabout this?


“Save water and shower with a friend.” These wild ’n crazy one-liners are gems from an earlier California drought that ravaged the state in the late 70’s. The population has grown by the gazillions since then….so fugeddabout watering that grass. Brown is the new green.)


Speaking of green, March 17th was St. Patrick’s Day. Now for the past couple of years I’ve missed the wearing of the green at my fave Irish pub in Berkeley. I know, that’s a real bummer. I was so ready for 2015. I may have gone a wee over-board with my green theme this year. My dog “Rosie Colleen” had the good sense to go into hiding when she saw me strolling into a soon- to -be over-decorated room. She could see I was laden with a gazillion green garlands & stacks of sparkling shamrocks galore. (A wee bit over the top? I’m so sure.) And she somehow knew I would not leave her fur unadorned for long! Come on, I live for this, you guys.


This St. Paddy’s I somehow managed to avoid a contagious disease (Hooray!), but I had to cope with a hurting head. I had NOT one drop of celebratory liquid cheer. I did make some lovely Irish scones on the 14th. Even found a recipe for a salted Irish whiskey butter which I found the strength to refuse. The hubby was anxious to have a scone –with the butter, of course, but I told him they were for the big day. Not sure what happened, but I recovered the next morning and that was good enough for me. There’s always next year, huh, leprechauns? Did not need them for a parking space again this year. My bro Billy Danny did not party so much this year as he has let-go of 82 pounds of excess avoirdupois and will need all the luck o’ the Irish to stay his now slender self. Oh, that young lad will really look groovy in his kilt now.


I noticed a photo of a mischievous leprechaun on my 2015 Irish calendar, and the wee fellow looked exactly like my late father (if he were a leprechaun, that is), who left his beloved Corned Beef ‘n Cabbage behind as he departed the planet on St. Patrick’s Day, 2001. Slainte, Daddy.


Now this is where “March Modness” comes in: Just three days after St. Patrick’s, I was sufficiently recovered to make the trek to Concord, California. (Actually, it’s the town next to Pleasant Hill, where I spent a significant number of my academic years at JFKU.) I spotted an ad for a British Fish ‘n Chip shop named “Scousers.” A scouser is defined as a person who comes from Liverpool, England, especially one who is a Merseysider. That’s living yer life close to the Mersey River, and the Beatles were considered right scousers, mate. Liverpool is the shop owner’s ancestral home. He hopes that Scousers will become your fave British Chippy. There’s a lot more to being a scouser, but go there and let the friendly owner, Kevin, explain it to you. You won’t be disappointed with him or his yummy food.


Why, the man even put on Beatles music just for me. I suspect he played it for himself as well. He saw the Beatles in Liverpool before they were called the Beatles. Far out! You just might feel like you’ve crossed the pond, I say. This smashing place looks like it “jumped” the pond. The place is festooned with Union Jack items, assorted British paraphernalia, photos of the Queen, and a clock the owner stopped at the exact hour John Lennon died. Owner Kevin has earned himself a place in my personal Beatles Hall of Fame.


Kevin didn’t forget the Irish either. Hello, that’s his name. There is a picture on the wall (see me grinning in photo) which shows the ancient church of St. Kevin. (I visited this church when I traveled to Ireland.) The British Kevin told me that the Irish St. Kevin lived to be 120! My own son Kevin hopes he lives that long. Drinking Guinness could help, I’ll bet. And don’t discount my salted Irish whiskey butter, either. You see, I did experience some March Modness after all. Aaahh, it must be the Luck of the Irish.



Peace, love, joy, laughter & a scone -or two! – slathered with salted Irish whiskey butter, of course,



OK, so that’s a whole lot of celebrating for the shortest month of the year. (Oops, I didn’t even mention National Margarita Day – my bad.) I wasn’t even sure I could handle all the fab February frilovity, but (somehow) I did. February 3rd was the anniversary of the day that my late Mom and Dad were married in Chicago. Of course, I miss them a lot. Not missing the brutal Midwest winters, however. I totally get why they decided to wed on this particular day: The Feast of St. Blaize.

St. Blaize (French spelling) is a patron saint of healers and a source of protection through bad winters. Hellooo, this current winter may be the mother of all Chicago winters! When I attended Catholic school we always had our throats blessed by a priest on her feast day. We knelt at the altar as a priest attacked our throats….um, I mean, blessed them with two crossed candles. (Thank God they were unlit.) According to my Mom (and she said this every year), she was married on the Feast of St. Blaize and ever since then it had been holy smoke! (You may try to forget these kinds of things but you can’t….and you don’t really want to either.)


Valentines Day we dined in Berkeley at our fave Tibetan restaurant. Oh, yes, you can find Himalayan cuisine in more than one eatery in Berkeley. You knew that, come-on. We are talking about Berkeley here people. But this is our way fave place to indulge in epicurean delights fit for the Dalai Lama. The beautiful owner is a former pastry chef who still makes her own FABULOUS desserts. Her Tibetan-styled desserts are particularly nice if you are a Tibetan and miss your mother’s home cooking.


However, just in case I haven’t previously informed you: I AM A CHOCOHOLIC. There, I’ve admitted it right here in the Laugh Laundry. It’s true. I eat the addictive stuff everyday; I always lick it off the plate (sometimes NOT even my own), and I’ve been known to sniff empty chocolate bar wrappers AFTER I’ve licked them squeaky clean! I’ve got it bad…no good, that’s how good chocolate tastes. Don’t even try to reform me. You know darn well this will make me wolf (sorry wolves) down a humongous hot fudge sundae with extra, extra chocolate, man. Oh, like you wouldn’t do the same thing if given the chance. (Give chocolate a chance…Yeah!)
I’M A CHOCOHOLIC and this is why I simply must lick the dessert menu at this Tibetan hot-spot. Just reading about her dark chocolate mousse cake – loaded with nuts! -sends me way over the top…and the top is really, really WAY up there in the Himalayan peaks. If I’m truly blessed and able to eat more mousse (a lot more!), I’m certain to achieve Nirvana. (Is there such a thing as Chocolate Nirvana? That would be so OM sweet OM.)
It’s a shame that Presidents Lincoln and Washington no longer have their individual birthday celebration. They are supposedly honored on “Presidents Day,” but usually all it means is a day without snail mail, a day off from school and work, or an excursion to the Mall. Well, leave it to the Margarita producers to use George Washington’s actual birthday as an excuse for a National Margarita Day! How utterly American, Si? AYE, AYE, AYE, AND CHERRY PIE! I CANNOT TELL A LIE.
The Lunar New Year began on February 19th. The Chinese, Vietnamese & Tibetans all celebrate at the same time. And this year they all share the same animal in the Chinese zodiac: The Ram or Goat or Sheep. They all seem to have agreed this year it will be the Sheep. (My dog Rosie voted for the Goat: She snatched a paper fortune left on my hubby’s recliner -it was about smiling more- and the little vixen chewed it up! She could not resist essence of fortune cookie, obviously.) I have included several photos of my fireplace mantle decorated for February’s holidays. The Lunar New Year mantle is mainly Chinese motif with Vietnamese (Tet) and Tibetan (Losar) symbols at each end. Pretty groovy, huh?
Long ago and far away in my grammar school, there was this little ditty we recited because it sounded oh so naughty for a Catholic girl to say. Don’t know where it originated, but it seems appropriate this Lunar New Year:
Mary had a little sheep

And with the sheep she went to sleep

The sheep turned out to be a ram

And Mary had a little lamb


Hmmm….Fifty Shades of Sheep?


Peace & love & laughter,


Please lovingly remember the gear George Harrison who would have celebrated his 72nd birthday in February.

Doing Downton

It’s a brand new year and many of you make an annual attempt to eliminate your excess avoirdupois. You know what I’m talking about, folks: Over the Holidays you found yourself hotly pursued by pepperoni pizza, chased by extra-chunky chocolates (next year direct them to me), and an army of artisanal appetizers. Oh yeah, and you people surrendered.SAM_1723

(Alas… now get off your a##).
Now many of you are going all Flitzits or Nitwits or whatever they call this newbie- techie- fitness gadget for your wrist. Somehow, this devise follows your every movement, me thinks. It’s kind of like Santa Claus (I know he’s not a good example of the physically fit, huh?), cause it sees you when you’re sleeping, it knows when you’re awake, it knows if you’ve been bad or good…
(Oh, just toss it out the window fer Heavens sake!)

Who needs a gadget such as this? Just say No and get yourself a mother –your mom or any mother that’s handy- if you really think you need someone to monitor your every movement. I know that my late mother did. She had quite a knack for it. Mothers just do. It’s sca-a-a-ry, sisters.

(And your mother doesn’t need no steenking battery, either.)

Well, I hung-in there (over a heavily-laden buffet table, too) during the Holidays. I used some serious kung-food moves ™ as I fought back the French fondue, barely dipping my festive fork into a cauldron of chocolate chiffon. Then I nearly gave in while enduring a massive margarita mugging. Although, I finally did give-in because they were extra –heavy with the luscious limes, man.

(However, nothing fattening clung to my cleavage or attached itself to my hippie hips as far as I can tell).
So while some of you were going down –a –ton (oh, lighten up), I was doing Downton – PBS’ Downton Abbey, that is. The hubby and I got free passes to see the new season’s initial episode a day before you commoners did. However, we had to go to San Jose in order to view it. There were two showings at theatres in either San Francisco or San Jose. And the San Francisco seats went like hotcakes, so the old man and I traveled by coach (not!) to the theatre. It really is a magnificent theatre for the performing arts as both the Sillicon Valley Symphony and San Jose Opera hold concerts there. We were initially entertained by a distinguished gentleman playing the Wurlitzer organ. What a spectacular venue for downtown San Jose; it originally opened for business in 1927.
Many of the ladies dressed in Victorian finery (Downton has now moved into the “Roaring Twenties”), including moi…well, kinda, sorta. Please see my posh photo that the hubby took after the show….well after the event, if truth be told. Rosie Colleen – my doggie diva- thought I was going to see “Dogton Abbey,” and got her self all glitzy fur the gala. She was bummed that they would not let her in…they likely would have in jolly old England as pets rule there.


We were also treated to “The Prime of Miss Jean Brody,” a late 60’s film starring Maggie Smith. I say, it’s quite easy to hear the voice of the Dowager Countess in this award-winning role.
We had a jolly good day, despite the incident where I nearly knocked out some snooty Count, or Earl, or Duke with my tie-dye cane.

This past week we traveled to Stinson Beach and Muir Beach for a one-day staycation. It’s not that easy getting there because of the main entrance to both towns being blocked by landslides caused by torrential December rains. But we were given directions by someone who knows the area well, and we did have our newish GPS. (Yeah, “she” got us home from San Jose after the Downton preview.) Lots of ups and downs, then more ups and downs, and even more on narrow mountain roads, but SO worth it! It was sunny and fairly warm weather: perfect beach weather. The Pacific Ocean looked awesome.
Henry got some FAB ocean photos before we took the only route that was available to Muir Beach with its Elizabethan styled Pelican Inn. And another lovely lunch was had there. The Inn couldn’t have looked any better. It may have been January, but it felt –and looked- like early summer. A crop of newly-planted red flowers greeted us as we approached the front door. Celtic music (perhaps Irish) added an enjoyable soundtrack to our veddy British lunch. A yummy Ploughman’s Lunch & a shandy for myself, while the hubby enjoyed Fish ‘n’ Chips with a Guinness. Lovely, it was. After a visit to the stables across the road to see some very cute horsies, we were ready –although not really willing- to re-cross the pond.

Now back to “civilization,” man.


Peace, love, joy, laughter, & doing Downton Abbey,



I asked you guys, I really did: PULEEZE stop it with all this “FROZEN” stuff. But you like totally ignored my sage advise at your own peril, dagnabbit. Yeah, you folks are partially responsible for the uncharacteristic FROZEN conditions occurring here in coastal California, both Northern and way, way down there in the Southland.SAM_1689

Our palm tree fronds are positively sagging from the weight of all that ice that you FROZEN fanatics unfeelingly sent this way. (I can no longer even feel my fingers to remove the FROZEN lemons from our backyard tree, either!)   Oh, and think about what y’all have done to the red-tailed squirrel community that resides in our towering palm: Even if they could safely make their way in and out of said tree, the avocados that they so highly prize from assorted trees in the Hood look like iced green bowling bowls –if you were a squirrel that is.

It’s time to stop this FROZEN madness.  For your own peace of mind, just let Californians chill in our own unique way, OK? However, before the Arctic chill arrived, we had a pretty groovy month. St. Nicholas Day (Dec.6) always make my heart ping just a little. I attended Catholic grade school and we   received crunchy candy canes to celebrate the European cousin of Santa Claus. Yeah, and we were SO envious that children thousands of miles away were getting their holiday presents early. And we had to wait until the 25th.  There were nineteen (count ‘em) more days to worry about being good! The hubby and I made two excursions to Berkeley for the Telegraph Avenue Holiday Fair. On the first trip we discovered an acquaintance who sells his handcrafted button pins each Saturday on the Avenue. This is one hip, older dude (91), who gifted me with one of his “Fuggedaboutit” buttons several years ago. He is a long-time master photographer and a real sweetheart. If you go to Telegraph on a Saturday he’ll be easy to spot. You don’t see many old guys rocking tie-dye accessories these days –except maybe in Berkeley that is!

We were recognized by a goddess dressed in glorious tie-dye style at a vendor booth towards the end of the Avenue:  Sunshine (Sunny) Powers – a genuine hippie – said she saw the hubby and I at the Haight/Ashbury Street Fair in San Francisco. I told you we were famous –and fabulous!  Her title is the “VP of Awesomeness” at Jammin on Haight, a very visible Hippie/Bohemian shop on the corner of Haight Street and Masonic Avenue.  You can Google it, man.


You know we dressed rather hippie (well, I did!) for the Telegraph Fair, don’t ya?  I like to put at least a wee smile on people’s faces. There is a photo of moi with my groovy button purveyor, as well as a solo photo of the “VP of Awesomeness.”  What really tickled me was the young couple who commented on our festive tie-dye attire as we sauntered into the street on week two: “You two win the photo contest.”

Tis the season for people pleasing. (It’s NOT the season for freezing folks!)


Early Christmas morning I heard some wee tapping at my front door. Too early for leprechauns, I thought. And no gnome would dare knock at my door.  I opened the door to see a Santa (not Santana) wannabe who looked amazingly like the late Jerry Garcia. “Merry Jerry” I said to the little guy. Although he rocked the white beard that Santa sports, and he was wearing a red shirt with “Merry Christmas” on the front, somehow the surfin’ shorts and flip flops told me he wasn’t the real deal. No, this guy was so very Jerry, and he was freakin’ freezin’, man.

No wonder he knocked on my door! What a long, strange trip, this man had.  I let him in. I promised everyone a December surprise in my last post. Remember when I explained to you Paul McCartney fans that my hubby “accidentally” erased some absolutely fab footage of Paul complete with fireworks in order to take more pictures on our vacay to the Southwest?  I know, that was months ago, and while the pictures he snapped were awesome, I was inconsolable over the loss of the never to be repeated at Candlestick again history. But guess what?  Hubby discovered the missing card on which Sir Paul’s awesome video is recorded.  “Accidentally,” he said. I don’t really care how he found it, just that he did.

My heartfelt thanks to the Universe & the gods (and goddesses) of Rock ‘n’ Roll for your most groovy gift.

Let me finish my post with a slightly skewered version of some writing by Ralph Waldo Emerson, and hope you will apply at least some of the  wisdom in 2015:
To laugh often and much;


To win the respect of intelligent, fun people and the affection of children;

To earn the appreciation of honest, humorous critics and endure the betrayal of felonious fiends; To fully appreciate the humorous, to find the humor in others; (You know it’s in there.)


To leave the world a wee bit better, whether by a child with a healthy sense of humor, eating a garden burger (organic, of course on Meatless Mondays), or hoping for a revamped Congress wearing total tie-dye! To know even one life has laughed a little easier because you shared the gift of laughter;


THIS is to have succeeded.  (My apologies to Ralph Waldo Emerson)
Hippie New Year! Peace, love, joy & laughter,


004 003a

Freakin’ Frozen

Mother Nature may be freakin’ frozen (or hot as heck depending on where you live), and at her wits end. And who could blame her? What with all the harm that has beset Planet Earth, the profound disrespect shown her, and with the way she has been thrown out of balance, well it’s no wonder Mom is now in a steady decline. Come on people and show your Mother a little love. Mom’s SO confused. Why else would all 50 states experience freezing temperatures on one day in the middle of November?
Hawaii… really, are you kidding me?

"I'm so not Pumpkin pie!"

“I’m so not Pumpkin pie!”

A prime contributor to this weather wackiness could be an unceasing demand for anything related to the FROZEN flick. You know what I’m talking about: Oodles of frozen themed “stuff” have cropped up for you to spend your hard-earned cash on. (You may have even abused your credit card buying all those goodies and found your card has been frozen!) Stop talking about this film, folks. I get the chills even thinking about it.

Of course, I’ve been here in drought stricken California and have not had to deal with all those snow blizzards that have plagued much of the country. (Please send ALL un-used snow to California Ski Country ASAP!) But I feel your chills, man. And I have some suggestions that just might help:

1): DON’T turn on Holiday music until December 25, if you really must have it. Like none at all. Nada. You don’t want to mess with Mom. Do you really want her to listen to lyrics telling her that the weather outside is frightful, or she should just let it snow, let it snow, let it snow? I think not in her current condition.

2): Drink HOT liquids only –Give the ice cubes a rest –PLEASE! (Avoid ICE rinks, my friends).

3): Absolutely NO purchase or display of any SNOW Globes can be allowed this year. Come on, this one is easy, man. (I think I’ll immerse most of mine in industrial strength lotion with a VERY high SPF factor.)

4): This next suggestion could get me in HOT water with particular family members or neighbors (you know who you are), but think of how much it could help yo Mother Nature!:
Lay off the FROZEN Margaritas –and those yummy ones “on the rocks” – at least until things warm up a bit, OK??

(And NO, I will not go suck on an organic lime! Where do you get these craaazy ideas, man?)

5): Do NOT buy any new fashion boots. I repeat, DO NOT buy any new boots, ladies. You don’t want to encourage more snow to fall. Put those cute UGG boots down –NOW!

Ode to Thanksgiving

Over a dwindling river,
and through the Hoods
To a funky food feast we go.
We won’t have a roast,
Tom Turkey’s fled for the coast
Tofu Tim was persuaded to stay
He’ll be served as a vegan entrée, oy vey!

Hope your November was at least a little groovy. Next month I have a wee surprise for y’all. Stay tuned for some extra special Beatle joy while you snuggle close to your fireplace (or loved one) for some holiday warmth. Excited? I thawed so! Tee hee.

Peace, love, joy, laughter & warm wishes to everyone,

Let’s Party in Rocktober!

If you don’t already know (you bettah), the San Francisco Giants baseball team just won game 7 of the World Series in Kansas City, Missouri. (K.C. claims to be some kind of big and bad barbeque town, but it will take an entire San Francisco Bay filled with their best barbeque sauce to compensate us for the humiliating defeat of our Boys in game 6 by the Royals!) SAM_1530

Oh yes, the Giants put their fans through torture, as they refer to some of their, ahem, challenging innings, but in the end “THEY GOT IT DONE.” It was an awesome orange and black experience (the Giants team colors are also the colors of Halloween). Orange you glad I told you about this?

Congrats to the team, to their legion of devoted fans & to the San Francisco Bay Area. I’m really down with both Hunter Pence & Mad Bum….Madison Bumgarner, that is. Did ya know that we’re BOTH left-handed? He was SO calm, cool & collected while he pitched.  I was SO NOT. (I hope that nobody royal in the United Kingdom is too upset over Kansas City’s loss.)  It has been said, that while K.C. may have the ROYALS, San Francisco got the CROWN!

JOLLY GOOD SHOW, I say. Gooooo Giants! October is also a month for par-tays:
The old man & I recently celebrated our wedding anniversary at Phil Lesh’s Terrapin Crossroads in San Rafael, California. I went there for my birthday dinner two years ago and the hubby took a photo of Phil dining near the top of the staircase. No live music in the house that evening and no birthday serenade from our European waiter, either. That was summa bummer, but the ample, fantastic food and the setting by a scenic canal left me in a quite joyful mood.
So for this year’s wedding anniversary we decided that brunch at the Terrapin Crossroads was just the ticket. (What I really wanted was a ticket to a Furthur concert!)  Our big day was on a Sunday and there was a live Dead performance (sounds funny, huh?) from the Terrapin Family Band scheduled for early afternoon. Phil’s restaurant staff asked my hubby if we were celebrating anything special when he called for a reservation, and he told them we were. A smart move on hubby’s part, as they gifted us with a tasty, tiered arrangement of fruit-filled, sugar-dusted donuts with a lit candle placed on top.  Good job they didn’t use a candle for every year we’ve been married, ‘cause if we set the place ablaze, patrons likely would have flung them-selves en-masse into the canal.  And we would have been so busted on our wedding anniversary. We chowed- down on our yummy brunch entrees and I quaffed sparkling wine and lemony chilled water. (Not from the canal, I hope!)  After all, it was a very hot day in San Rafael (95 degrees), and the house was packed. After drinking all those fluids I really needed to visit the facilities, and who do you think I saw tuning his guitar on my way to the loo? Why, Phil Lesh of course!  What an unexpected anniversary surprise. I yelled out, “Hi Phil!” excitedly wielding my tie-dye cane.  Probably thought I arrived via Crazy Train.  I may have given him that impression.

The band put on a FABULOUS show: two sets of more than 45 minutes each, with Grateful Dead tunes galore.  I was so close to the stage as Phil played and sang along with his son Grahame & three other musicians. Their stage may have been teeny tiny, but the music totally rocked!  What a thrill to actually see a member of the Grateful Dead perform many of the band’s famous tunes. The fans were in a euphoric state of bliss…or was it just me?  I did notice a very hot (and not from the indoor heat) bar server boogying-on-down, balancing his tray thru an aroused Deadhead crowd. (I know, I know I was there for my wedding anniversary, but this particular employee should not dance that hot. Mama Mia.) The hubby was thrilled he only had to pay for brunch, which was our cheapest “Dead” concert ever! I was thrilled to see even one member of the famous band perform at such close range. Merci, Henri: YOU rocked! We continued to party throughout Rocktober: Six days later, we headed to MLK Jr. Park in Berkeley for the first annual “Shakedown Street Festival.”  Yours truly & the old man were decked-out in our usual celebratory tie-dye for this freeee event (did I mention it was free?). There was a sizable crowd on hand for a show that wasn’t that heavily advertized.  But it’s destined to become a major event for the Deadhead community and the city of Berkeley.  There were lots of groovy craft booths, food, beverages, and lots of groovy people to see and commune with. The famous photographer Rosie McGee was there selling her fab new book and Grateful Dead pictures that she herself took back in the day. A great lady, she is. You can find out more about her at

The live music was even wilder than I thought it would be. Love that tune, “Shakedown Street.” Oh, and David Gans, KPFA Radio host of “Dead to the World” is himself amazing.  He rocked the crowd playing numerous Grateful Dead classics along with other established musicians of note. The guys played until after 8pm and nobody wanted this festival to come to an end.  (Well, maybe my terrapin-topped hubby did.) See you next year, man. My next reason to party was my birthday, and don’t bother asking which one.  The old boy and I traveled to Marin County to have afternoon tea at the British Inn I told everyone about in April.  It was another beautiful weather day, with just a finger or two of fog visible on the coastal mountain road leading to Muir Beach. I could see a horse being led from a barn across a quiet country road, while Celtic music emanated from somewhere in the Inn. It was all very idyllic. I just love sipping tea… it’s so very civilized.

We took the winding coastal road back to the highway that leads to the Golden Gate Bridge and into the City of San Francisco. You do know what they say about drinking too much tea, don’tcha? Oh, yeah, you do.  Unfortunately there were NO public restrooms or port-a-loos anywhere to be found.  But a whole lotta traffic, however. Following a truck laden with portable potties, I BEGGED the driver to pull-over so I could use one: “It’s my birthday, and I gotta go …NOW!” “Sorry lady, but they’re all over-loaded, filled to the brim.” “And so am I!!”…. leaked I.

It was a pity I could not use a potty after my birthday tea party.

The old man had a par-tay, too, and I’ll say goodbye to Rocktober by asking that everyone please remember the late John Lennon whose birthday was on October 9th. This former Beatle asked us to “imagine all the people living life in peace.”  Do imagine that. And then I’d like to suggest that we also “Imagine all the people laughing as they live their lives in peace.” Imagine how healing that would be.


Peace, love & the absolute joy of healing laughter,



Jerry, Sir Paul & Jerrie: Part Two


Hope y’all enjoyed the exciting first installment of my August blog. Now, all you lovely, fabulous fans – I want you to keep on reading my monthly mess, so I am totally jazzed to recap a few of the highlights of Part One: Well, Jerry Day was absolutely awesome & awesome. I mean, Jerry’s birthday bash can’t possibly get any better next year, can it? Dunno…but I wouldn’t bet against it. Remember that trippy, tie-dyed couple from the Haight/Ashbury Street Fair that told us they would see the hubby and I at Jerry Day? (There are quite a few photos of this South Bay duo on my June post.) We did not see them anywhere while we partied in McLaren Park, and I supposed they may have been hangin’ amidst some Deadhead-loaded tree branches?

However, I’m thinkin’ they may have been in attendance after all.

Noooo, I didn’t spot either of them in any near-by trees. Although numerous trees were packed with Deadheads, their outrageous tie-dye colors likely would have given them away- no matter how high in the tree they happened to be. (Ahem… I bet they could have been very high while hangin’ in a tree branch). But as I again looked at my hubby’s photos from the bash, I believe I may have found them, although I’d probably refuse to testify in court.

If you look closely at the photo of the two skeleton Deadheads “relaxing” in the oh so groovy psychedelic motorcycle (I’m standing next to this bad boy bike), you may draw the conclusion that this jolly well is them! There is a slight resemblance, no? However, they were awfully quiet, unlike the pair from the Fair. But oh my gawsh, hope I’m mistaken, though if they arrived at Jerry Day far ahead of time and were unable to find their way out of the park, who knows what may have happened??

Or, perhaps they fell from some tree branches into the motorcycle while looking for a primo view spot. Oh, like that couldn’t have happened.

Dunno, but really hope to see them next year at the Haight/Ashbury Street Fair.

(Note to exhibitionist in my video near the amazing dancing diva: Dude, put on your clothes, puleeeze! At the very least have the decency to get out of camera range if you are there in 2015, and try getting some serious sun exposure before the show, ok? Believe me, your wanna be vampire hipster look just doesn’t cut it.)

Of course, seeing Sir Paul was one of the most awesome experiences ever, man. Ok, so I said that Jerry Garcia Day was awesome & awesome. And it was. But being present at Candlestick Park to see the magical Paul McCartney close-out the rapidly deteriorating stadium was beyond AWESOME!! I can’t emphasize it enough. I hope that you Googled Kathleen Bender, Paul McCartney. I just can’t emphasize it enough. It’s all very groovy, I say. Also Google Henry Bender, Paul McCartney and keep my old man happy.

I’ll never forget my trip to the Southwest to visit my dear friend and her “children” (two “Westies” & a kitty cat). We had some wonderful adventures in the Four Corners area of New Mexico, Arizona, Colorado & Utah. Heck, we even had culinary adventures involving green chilis & Margaritas. It doesn’t get any better than that. Or does it?

After we sadly said goodbye to Jerrie & family, we drove for an eternity (it seemed like 4evah) through a Navaho rez (reservation) on our way to the Grand Canyon. (Come on, it was way over 200+ miles and hotter than Hades. Yeah, I’m exaggerating a wee bit, but not much, folks.) Talk about living an isolated life; I guess these tribal members would not have it any other way. We didn’t see very much traffic, either. We tried to follow the exact route the new GPS gave us. But not all the time while on vacay. I thinking the chick who guided us didn’t like me at all as she mispronounced every Irish street or road name.

The Grand Canyon ought to be experienced by all Americans if possible. The park was filled with foreign tourists who were filled with awe by what they were seeing. I wasn’t even sure we would even arrive before it turned dark. We had stopped along the way at a Grand Canyon overlook (views from outside the park) complete with a Native American “pop-up” jewelry stand. I still had some souvenirs to purchase and I was desperate to use a porta-loo.
You have NO idea just how desperate I was! It was quite a hike to the “loo,” and I nearly had an accident when I read the sign on the side of the lone outhouse. Let me attempt to paraphrase: “Warning! Cats & Rats & Elephants are known to attack occupents.” Ok, so no rats or elephants, but SOME kind of cats, maybe coyotes/bears, mountain lions & (this is the one that scared me) snakes! You can’t imagine what was running thru my mind at the time. Besides, I thought the porta-loo might go over the side of the cliff it was perilously perched on. And I would have had that “accident” if my hubby wasn’t ready to ride shotgun for me. I just wanted to get the hell out of Dodge and back to civilization, wherever the heck that was.
But we were able to view the awesome sunset and were then trapped in a ginormous traffic jam getting out of the Grand Canyon National Park What fun!

We made our way to our evening lodging outside of Sedona, Arizona. An awesome (there’s that word again!) place to visit. I would have liked to spend more time there as it appears to be an ideal setting to refresh your soul. The natural beauty is absolutely breathtaking. But our destination was Las Vegas, baby!

Las Vegas is not my cuppa tea, but the hubby had already purchased tickets for the two of us to see the Cirque Du Soleil’s Beatles, LOVE show at the Mirage Hotel. Thank goodness it wasn’t a mirage but the real deal. I LOVED IT! If you are a Beatles fan or not – get yourself to see this spectacular show. You will not be disappointed. You will renew your Beatles love and great affection for the Fab Four. And the sizable cast is amazingly talented. I got to spend time in the Beatles shop (the hubby got to spend his money) and my old man bought me some groovy Beatles goodies. I even got a Beatles 50th anniversary shirt, luv. How awesome is that?

We spent the night at the Mirage Hotel in a chichi suite and drove thru the Mojave Desert upon returning to California. Several hundred miles later (1a.m.) we turned onto a street close to our house. Yeah, it’s not Irish, but “she” mispronounced that too!

What a month filled with laughter, humor & joy. I enjoyed friends, fun and a Beatles trifecta to fondly remember. I shall 4evah refer to this month as Awegust.


Stay groovy my friends.

Peace, love, joy & Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!



Jerry, Sir Paul, Jerrie: Part One


I jolly well need two posts to adequately cover the month of August. This most awesome-ever month began with Jerry Garcia’s birthday on August the first as it always does. Then two days later, we made our way to Jerry Garcia Day in San Francisco’s McLaren Park to celebrate the man’s 72nd birthday with a proper Deadhead bash. Finding a parking space was NO problem at all even though a gazillion cars were strewn everywhere. (Om my gosh: Thank you parking gods and goddesses – You rock!) SAM_0987s

The hubby decided to go ahead of me to score us ample space in the bleachers, while I valiantly plodded down the winding sand-filled path to the Jerry Garcia Amphitheater. The path seems to be growing longer every year. Or maybe it’s just moi? I dunno. Another lone woman passing from behind asked if she could take my photo. You know I said yes. It was the first of many “snapped” that day. Yow! I could not believe that my old man was seated next to the mother and son we usually sit next to. Last year, they were too late to even find a seat in the stands, while we eventually found seats in the front row reserved for people with mobility challenges. I can see why they are so labeled: As the crowd grows in size your toesies are stomped on so much, you’ll likely need a doctor for your injuries hence the possible need for permanent mobility seating. It’s a vicious cycle, I tell ya! Get there real early next year.

Every year I think that the crowd couldn’t possibly get any larger, and every year it just keeps expanding, man. People were literally hanging from tree branches. And if there were any way to install rafters outdoors, people would be hangin’ from them, too!

The best thing is that the music just keeps getting better, if that’s even possible. I guess it’s because the bands -on- hand play Grateful Dead tunes pretty much non-stop throughout the year. And play it with wild abandon, obviously.

My terrapin hat-topped hubby and I posed for SO many photos just like we did at the Haight-Ashbury Street Fair. In fact, I was asked to pose for a photo with a gentleman from Rock Med, a Deadicated group of health professionals who aid ailing fans at rock concerts. They have a booth at the Fair every year and I was recognized by one happy hippie healer.

We had a great time, we saw a lot of wonderful people we’ve met previously (see photo of Deadhead friend in pink Grateful Dead Bear costume –she’s amazing!), and shared our joy with fellow attendees. A few folks remembered seeing us on Haight Street, and said our colorful attire helped make their day. Thank you for that. There was also a major fan of Jerry’s who added a hefty dose of style to the festivities with her magical movement. This lovely woman elegantly twirled a beautifully decorated fan as she grooved to the music. (Please view her video.)

All in all, a groovy time was had by all in attendance. Alas, the tie-dyed couple we met at the Haight Fair was nowhere in sight. Unless the two were somehow hangin’ there amongst some tree branches?
I dunno, you never know.


It looked as though my dream of seeing Sir Paul McCartney at Candlestick Park –the site of The Beatles last concert ever – was not going to happen. Like, no way, Jose. It wasn’t that I had not attended any of his previous concerts in the San Francisco Bay Area. The hubby and I saw him in Berkeley with his late wife Linda & then band Wings, at Cal’s football stadium; we nearly slid down a rain-muddied hill at Shoreline Amphitheater (It was my birthday, man) to see him perform with the newly hip-again crooner Tony Bennett and other rock biggies. We even made the trek to San Francisco to see him perform with his current band of talented musicians at AT & T Park several years ago. I mean, it’s not like this might possibly be the last opportunity to see him, or that this place is considered sacred ground for many a fan of the Fab Four, or that they plan to demolish the stadium soon? SAM_1060ps

Na-a-a-ah. But the idea that I would not be present was becoming too much to bear. After all, I did see the Beatles in Chicago prior to their last performance at the Stick. I was even in the fourth row, baby, indoors where your hearing could be shattered. (Did you say something? I can’t quite hear you.) This fan remembers it well, even though it was long ago in ##!!Oops, oops, Mayday! Mayday!!## (Oh, you know when it was, don’t you?) I guess my carefully rehearsed gloom & doom routine worked on my old man: He got the tickets, I say. Yeah, we have no culinary choices but the cheapest eats probably for infinity, but all that lost gold bullion got us into Candlestick! It was totally worth it.

We arrived more than four hours before the concert was set to begin. Heck, I wanted to be at Candlestick even earlier. (I was all Beatled-up since early morn.) It was being held on Thursday evening and with thousands of people expected, it was prudent to avoid both the evening commute and concert traffic hell. (We did, however, thousands of fans were caught in a nightmarish traffic jam & never reached the concert.) For once the hubby reluctantly took my word, and we arrived at Candlestick practically stress-free –yeah, right.

Somehow I believed that nearly everyone would be attired in their best Beatles attire. Sort of like I imagine that everyone in attendance at the Haight-Ashbury Street Fair will dress like the hubby and I. Ha! Not that many make an effort. After all, this was a major celebration for Sir Paul & Beatles fans alike. How come people don’t even try to look festive, huh?   Why? Why? Why don’t they try just a teensy bit?

Well, your FUNcillitator and her old man always make an effort. It’s just who we are, I guess. Of course, the hubby did NOT put on all the attire I set-out for him. Bummer. What can ya do about it? I began to put a groovy outfit together from the moment I knew we had the tickets! That’s how much this event meant to me.

Apparently, the local & not-so local paparazzi took notice of moi & hubby. I dunno, it could be that the press was watching when the infamous wind at the Stick blew the back of my tie-dye skirt way-up in the air! I must have caused a stir at the Stick, because it then seemed like newspaper columnists and photographers appeared out of nowhere. I found myself peppered (these reporters were obviously well-seasoned) with questions about my Beatles cred, my age (classified information), and what seemed like a gazillion more things they thought they needed to know. Peter Fimrite, a reporter from the San Francisco Chronicle started the (at-least) twenty questions & his story was featured in the paper the next morning. I’m in it, baby!  Please Google Kathleen Bender, Paul McCartney and prepare to be amazed. Try Henry Bender, Paul McCartney for a photo of my old man which was printed in the SF Examiner next day.
A reporter/photographer from the Sacramento Bee newspaper took a special interest in yours truly. He was nearly on the ground taking photos of the hubby and I as we made our way to the stadium entrance hours before the show was to take place. He got a very close, close up of my chest. He obviously wanted to focus on the myriad Beatle buttons pinned to my Union Jack scarf. (He could have been looking up my skirt from the angle he used in still another shot.) The parking lot was swarming with paparazzi (now I have a taste of what Hollywood celebs endure) wanting to take our picture. And the photographer from the Associated Press did, assuring that his photo would be on news sites world-wide. We were in the London Daily Mail, I say. Can’t do better than that, as we are not (yet!) rock royalty.
The concert and Sir Paul can only be described as magical. I sang along with the majority of the many awesome songs, although I wasn’t certain that I would survive our little snack from the Stick: The hubby returned with extra garlic, garlic fries and an Irish coffee for me to drink. It’s odd that I didn’t spot any Leprechauns after such a concoction. But the magic in the Park was so thick, I didn’t need them. Lots of great photos for y’all, however, but there is not even one video to view. None, nada. Yeah, the hubby “accidentally” erased some absolutely fab footage of Paul – complete with fireworks – in order to take more pictures on our vacay to the Southwest. You’ll probably enjoy them, but at what cost?


I let him live, only because he bought the tickets for the most amazing show EVER held at Candlestick Park…except, maybe for the final concert the Beatles EVER did in ##!!Oops, oops, Mayday! Mayday!! ##.
So glad I made it to THIS one!


My dear friend Jerrie was so up to having us visit her. After all, we had not been together in many a moon. OK, she does live in the Four Corners area of the country, a place where the four states of New Mexico, Colorado, Utah and Arizona intersect, and her home is located in Aztec, New Mexico. That’s over 1,000 miles from Hayward, California. Jerrie has been dealt a heavy hand in life with many health challenges to her body/mind/psyche/spirit, yet remains an inspiration to all. This gal has mucho courage & a massive amount of spunk. We had to see her. Visiting with her pets was an added bonus. She has two adorable Scottish “Westies,” and an 18 year old kitty cat. She refers to these special animals as her “children,” and they are living the good life.SAM_1220js
They get complementary doggie-sized cones at the local ice cream shop. In fact, I had my very first green-chili ice cream sundae at this shop. Yes, green chilies? Uh-huh. With lotza nuts on top. I had recently heard of the Hatch Green Chile which is roasted over a hot fire in a rotating basket, and I felt compelled to try & eat some. Aye! Aye! Aye! I sampled green chili quesadillas, green chilies with an American Indian Taco, and a green chili burrito. Yum. Some people like eating the red chili as well, but my ancestry is Irish so naturally I wanted green.
Speaking of Irish, I found out about an unusual eating and drinking place in nearby Farmington, N.M. It’s a fun spot that my friend has been to many times: Clancy’s Irish Cantina & Sushi Bar, so you know I had to go! They have food fancied by Native Americans (many in the house that evening), Mexican & Irish dishes besides the sushi. It was kind of fun, not to mention tasty, to eat Fish ‘n’ Chips (Irish cut potatoes) and quaff a refreshing Margarita along with it. Still wasn’t seeing any Leprechauns, but maybe they don’t like living in the Southwest. The heat, you know. Google Clancy’s and enjoy the lilting Irish bagpipe music on their website.
We visited the Four Corners Monument on a nearby Navajo reservation, which I highly recommend. Our GPS had a crosshair on it showing we were at the intersection of four states. We stood in the medallion that puts YOU in four states at once! (Actually, five as you will likely be in an altered state as well.) Then you can shop for native crafts or eat a Navajo taco or try some frybread. We viewed “Shiprock” from our automobile. This rock formation is aptly named. We also soaked up ancestral spirits at the Aztec Ruins. This national monument is a Heritage Site that dates to 1100 A.D. The tribes who once lived there were Pueblo Indians, not Aztec. Somebody goofed.
We had an awesome time with our dear friend and her “children.” Her home is one of the oldest in Aztec, built in the 1870’s and filled with her creativity and charm. Oh, and can she ever cook. She lovingly prepared a most delicious dinner for us one evening. The hubby insisted we treat her to meals at local eateries. It was a joy & laugh-filled vacay with her. It’s just a frickin’ long drive, man. But we will want to do it again, right, Henry?


Peace, love, abundant joy & lots & lots of laughter,



(July got off to a rockin’ start this Independence Day, with a festive celebratory meal served by our Italian epicure neighbor, Al Fresco, on the Bender patio. “Rosie Colleen” was so eager to celebrate the 4th she donned her patriotic pooch finery. Until she heard some illegal fireworks, that is. Our doggie diva had been struttin’ her stuff & beggin’ for bones, but the raucous racket removed the stars & stripes right-off of her fur. She went howling into hiding for days, man. She is still somewhat spooked but recovering. She hopes you dig the photo that her daddy took.)


On Joyly 9th we ventured into San Francisco to see the newly restored “A Hard Day’s Night” at the historic Castro Theatre. That would be the first Beatles movie filmed by “the boys” in 1964. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah” I was attired in my fab, groovy Beatles gear, unlike most of the audience, who veered heavily on the male side. I wondered if any “girl” Beatlemaniacs were there. I enthusiastically sang along with every Beatles tune in the movie, beause I recalled them all. Heck, I even seriously considered dancing in the aisle & belting out “I Should Have Known Better.” But I knew I better not when it suddenly dawned one me why there were so many male couples in the theatre: Helloooo, The Castro. It’s the gay mecca of SF! (Come to think about it, they likely would have loved it…next time, ok?)

As we exited the theatre I was still in a celebratory mood. Not ready to return home, and fancying a Shandy & some English pub grub, we found a British-style restaurant pub not far from downtown. I heard a Paul McCartney song playing in an Italian pizza place on a busy corner as we strolled by. The hubby said “Do you want to go in?” and I just continued schlepping to the Pub across the street, happy that I heard yet another Beatles tune! “Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah” So my hubby had Fish ‘n’ Chips and I was served a right tasty Shepherd’s Pie (non lamb, man) with my thirst-quenching Shandy. And when the Beatles “Can’t Buy Me Love” came over the pub’s speakers, I headed to the restroom to belt it out because the hubby said the loo had fabulous acoustics. Jolly good time, we had.

But the biggest event of Joyly, I mean zee BIG event, was seeing Ringo Starr and His All-Starr Band in San Jose. The last time I saw Ringo was in the summer of !!??##??!!. I told you my fingers would be total ring bling and they were! (See photo) Unfortunately, the hubby used a different camera and his “photos” were mostly unusable video recordings. Bummer. But hey, it happens. The old man did take a photo of me in my new Ringo “Peace & Love Tour” tee-shirt after we returned home.
Ringo is NO old man, even if he did just turn 74. This former Beatle is so full of energy and is lookin’ so good. He’s a talented chap, he is. A man in the audience yelled out, ”Ringo, my wife loves you!” Ringo yelled back, “My wife loves me too!” (Ringo is married to Hollywood actress Barbara Bach.) It was so great hearing him do some of his old Beatles hits. However, I wanted to hear them all.

Although I wanted way more Beatles music, Ringo’s All-Starr Band is jam-packed with some very talented musicians in their own right: Singers and guitarists from 70’s & 80’s bands such as Santana, Toto, Mister Mr. (or is that the other way around?), including a second drummer (he drums while Ringo is singin’ & dancin’) were surprisingly delightful to many a Beatle fan, myself included. Yeah, I was in another celebratory mood and this time I had a Margarita. The last time I saw Ringo all I could order was a Shirley Temple!! I don’t usually order an over-priced Margarita, but when I do, I like to have a Margarita moment. I was thirsty, my friends.
After the concert, it was a bit of a trek to the car park as they refer to it in the U.K. San Jose’s downtown district is close to the city airport –perhaps a bit too close. These Jets were on a flight path right over a main blvd, big hotels on each side of the street. They were flying so low it was scary. People were waving out the planes windows at us & smiling! It must have been because I was wearing so much bling, baby! Even Ringo smiled at me. Winked too, he did.

The hubby knew his way to San Jose, but he had some trouble finding his way out of town. Our neighbor –not Al Fresco – asked Henri if we were going to be gone for a couple of days, and now I know why: San Jose is like the L.A. of Northern California. We returned home in time to go to downtown Hayward for the annual Grateful Dead Movie Meet-up Night. Nice to be with Deadheads again. They really know how to have fun.

Joyly is almost over and some pretty serious stuff is happening in the world. But last Saturday in Berkeley someone was trying real hard to put a smile on your face. A young guy was standing in the street on Telegraph Avenue as we drove by. He was holding a cardboard sign that said “SMILE.”

I was happy to smile & flashed a peace sign. As Ringo says,“Peace & love, man, Peace & love.”

How could I argue with that?
Gnome Update:
And you thought they were so over, huh? So did I. But these dudes don’t exactly ride into the sunset: Recently, I had an email from that featured mini decorated “mushrooms” for your garden. Somehow, I found there were gnomes galore to place with the ‘shrooms. Etsy has more than 5,000 gnome items! You can buy everything from custom, combat, funny, rude or fairy gnomes. Oh, it’s pretty scary, folks. There are petite gnome homes, a crawling zombie gnome, mooning gnomes, a gnome riding a Dachshund, and even a Zen Gnome described as a Buddha Gnome meditating.
My fave is a sign that extols,”Keep Calm and Go Gnome.” Keep Calm? Are you crazy? No, but I will be if these rude dudes won’t go away. The problem is that I want one of those 5,000 gnomes! Stay tuned to The Laugh Laundry to see how this all works out, ok?

Peace, love, Joyly & laughter,


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