Don’t miss my new line of absurd Donald Trump greeting cards in The Howdygram Store.

Happy Monday morning from Howdygram headquarters! It’s 8:45 a.m. and there’s significant weather on the way as I write this post … with wind, rain, possible hail and thunderstorms. We’ve been in the midst of an intense summer drought in the Dallas metro area, so any rain we get is needed desperately. It’s like a demented version of “The Grapes of Wrath” around here. We’ve got tumbleweeds rolling down the street … and they’re coughing!

Sam invented The Million Little Meals Diet Program for Elderly Women Who Can’t Walk Any More.

At some point in our lives everybody has to deal with loss, and for the last couple of years I’ve been dealing with loss in spades. For example, a couple of hours ago I told Sam that I don’t remember how it feels: 1) to walk to the study; 2) to take a shower; 3) to wear clothes or shoes or lipstick; 4) to drive a car … or even ride in one; 5) to feel the wind in my hair; or 6) to live without pain. As a matter of fact, I’m lying on the chaise lounge in the family room — easily the most comfortable spot in the entire house — and I’m squirming around to “adjust” my left leg because the skin on the back of my thigh is burning.

I love ordering products for the first time from Wal-Mart, and today’s order was packed with first-timers.

It’s Saturday at 6:03 a.m., Sam is already on the way to Samuell Park for his morning hike, and I’m holding down the proverbial fort at Howdygram headquarters with a MacBook balanced on my stomach. Sam said he’d stop at Wal-Mart later on the way home … we need another bag of frozen Pillsbury Grands biscuits and a box of Stove Top Chicken Stuffing. Is this a great little life, or what?

Sam enjoys a multi-mile hike every morning at Samuell Park in south Mesquite.

FRIDAY, JULY 27, 2018. Happy Friday night, boys and girls. I’ve had a strangely lazy day today that involved all of the following activities: 1) sleeping; 2) peeing; 3) eating things; 4) sucking Popsicles; 5) talking to my sister Robin; and 6) watching Sam tighten several loose bolts on the nice upholstered bench at the foot of the chaise lounge. I know, I know. It’s a full life. And now let’s take a look at the weekend — and the entire week — ahead, shall we?

I want Fake Salisbury Steaks for dinner tonight with Immediate Wonderful Gravy.

THURSDAY, JULY 26, 2018, 5:03 P.M. Wondering what’s new at Howdygram headquarters today? I guess you’ve come to the right place, people, because there’s more than enough to tell. For starters, it’s been a day of aches and pains and demented discoveries, each introduced here with a teeny neon subtitle. Thank you.

Tonight’s post is jam-packed with all kinds of amazing crap. Also new graphics and new fonts.

Top o’ the mornin’ to you … from Howdygram headquarters! It’s a few minutes after 11 a.m. on a bright and sunshiney Wednesday. My hospice C.N.A. — translation: certified nurse’s assistant — was here more than an hour ago to give me a bath, and Sam is presently headed to Wal-Mart to buy things, some of which include baby carrots, a bag of chopped-up salad materials and a box of Tropical Fruit Popsicles.

Looks like there’s almost nothing left that’s safe to eat any more, although nobody ever got salmonella from Cheetos!

SUNDAY, JULY 22, 2018, 4:48 A.M. It’s Sunday morning, shortly before 5 a.m., and I keep trying to talk to the tall potted plant next to the TV because I think it’s Sam … but it’s NOT. On the other hand, however, I’m starving, so I think I’ll ask my resident spousal unit to heat me up a can of Bush’s Country Style Baked Beans for an early breakfast. The aforementioned beans are pictured below for your possible interest. Thank you.

I might be the only immobile coot in the U.S.A. with a jam-packed Saturday schedule.

Yo, everybody! I’m starting my day with the GREAT SATURDAY TRIFECTA: Pills, Popsicles and What’s for Breakfast! Having successfully completed the first two, I’m pleased to introduce today’s What’s for Breakfast menu at Howdygram headquarters … a nice big yellow bucket of CREAM OF WHEAT. You betcha! OH BOY! It’s the perfect Texas breakfast for housebound invalids on a blistering hot — 109° — summer day! And I’ve already figured out what I want for my second meal of the day … a Costco grilled Angus burger with ketchup and a mountain of chopped green olives, plus a bottle of Green River pop! (Please shoot me an email if you’d like to be invited, but I can’t promise you any Green River as there’s only one bottle left ... and it’s MINE.)

I’ve been having some severe side effects from my glorious liquid Morphine.

Good morning, good morning, good morning. I’ve made considerable progress since last night, drug-wise. For instance, I understand how come Wal-Mart is charging $565 for my Lantus insulin refill … and Sam and I are actually okay with it. After talking to a very nice rep from my health insurance provider I found out that I reached Medicare’s annual “donut hole” level ($3,700) for prescription coverage earlier this month, which means I have to pay full price for my drugs until I reach $5,000, at which time my co-pay drops to only $8.50 … and trust me, that’s practically free. So we’ll stick with the plan as-is and suffer with $565 for a three-month Lantus insulin refill. (Shit.)

Today was Marcy’s Unforgettable Drug-Fest. I celebrated with fish fillets and tartar sauce. And half a bun.

Yup. The day after you practically bleed to death you spend the next 24 hours unconscious and scare the living shit out of your husband, but when you eventually wake up you’ve got a case of the “tremors” so severe that you dump a full glass of cranberry juice on your ivory carpet. You never saw a person recover from tremors so fast in your entire life. (Thank God we have a Bissell carpet shampooer in the closet.)

Remember when I told you I was bleeding to death? I wasn’t kidding. I was bleeding to death!

TUESDAY, 7/17/2018, 12:06 P.M. Happy Tuesday to you and yours! It’s a few minutes past noon, and I’m trying to choose between two really important activities: 1) eating lunch; and 2) pooping. To tell you the truth, though, I don’t really want to choose between them, I want to do BOTH ... but not at the same time! And only one of the aforementioned activities (#2, no pun intended) would require a dose of liquid Morphine first, because I can’t stand up and walk without it ... even if it’s just a few steps to our portable commode.

I almost bled to death today.

MONDAY, 7/16/2018, 5:57 P.M. I’ve had quite a day, boys and girls, and I guess I’ll begin with a simple statement: I ALMOST BLED TO DEATH TODAY. Early this afternoon I was sitting at my computer workstation in the family room, and when I glanced down towards the floor I noticed that the entire left side of my nightie was completely saturated with blood. The darkest, reddest blood I’ve ever seen. Some of it was dried, most was not. And I was still bleeding! I shrieked for Sam, who — poor baby! — had been sound asleep on the sofa. Thank God he’s not squeamish (like me), because he had to do a brief investigation to discover the source of the geyser (my belly), and then brought a plastic pail, warm water and a pile of washcloths to clean me up. Even my left arm and hand were soaked in blood, and fresh blood was dripping onto the carpet, too. Shit.

I definitely plan to get up on Monday or the muscles in my legs will atrophy.

You know your pain meds are excellent when you actually pass out while you’re live-blogging. And that’s exactly what happened to me last night! Seriously.

Introducing the world’s first Live Blog Opioid Festival.

Happy Saturday morning to you and yours! I have absolutely zero plans for today, and that’s a good thing because I’m virtually immobile and there’s nowhere I really want to go, anyway. Being home is fine with me. I’ve got Sam, plenty of Popsicles, all kinds of assorted canned goods in the pantry, a million reruns of “The Andy Griffith Show” on Netflix and lots of great movies stored on my DISH Network DVR. And after the hospice pharmacy delivers my liquid Morphine today, I’ll have everything in the world! Woo-hoo!

I ordered Campbell’s Brown Gravy with Legitimate Onions and two jars of Manischewitz Borscht with Diced Beets.

And so I show up on this hot, sticky Friday morning to discover that I’m not connected to the Internet ... with no incoming emails and no access to the Howdygram. Fortunately I can still compose today’s post with my MacBook’s Text Edit software, so all this free time won’t be a total loss. I can’t do much about the graphics, though, or those nice bright red subhead titles or the attractive horizontal rules that I always insert between sections. As soon as my connection comes back I’ll do a speedy copy-and-paste hoo-hah and get on with my life.

We had a seven-hour thunderstorm today. When the power went out my oxygen generator had a brain hemorrhage.

Hi-de-ho, everybody! It’s the crack of 9:30, and I woke up half an hour ago to discover that I never took Wednesday’s bedtime meds — including pills AND insulin — because I apparently conked out last night after I ate my Popsicles. Therefore I injected last night’s bedtime insulin (Lantus Solostar) and took most of my bedtime pills a few minutes ago … at least, the ones that won’t be duplicated when I take my Thursday morning meds. This is both irritating and depressing, however, because it’s not a unique situation. I’VE DONE THIS TWICE SINCE MONDAY … and now Sam and I have to figure out how to prevent it from happening again. I guess just kissing me goodnight isn’t enough any more. Now he has to sit down on the bench next to me … and watch me swallow my pills and inject  my insulin!

Ever notice how just about all the citizens of Mayberry are single women except for Barney and Andy?

Welcome to the crack of dawn at Howdygram headquarters! It’s 2:03 a.m. and I’m not sleepy following three short but very effective naps, the last of which ended at 11:50 p.m. last night. So let’s just say I’m not tired any more and we’ll let it go at that, okay? I’m comfortably positioned on my chaise in the family room with a convenient glass of Golden Peach soda on ice. If I need anything I can always wait an hour or two until Sam wakes up … usually around 3:30 a.m. Yes, we keep insane hours around here.

Welcome to the home of the Ear Wound, the Big Red Nose Bruise and the Screaming Baby Toe.

I am completely upside-down ever since I pulled that screwy all-nighter the day before yesterday. It’s not that I’m turning into a graveyard-shifter or anything, but I find myself conking out for hours on end and I’m never awake long enough to start — or finish — a Howdygram post. I apologize for that. I tried to write a post last night but never got past the lede paragraph. (And it was a good one, too. I might use it again sometime.) Incidentally, Sam is in the same predicament … so at least we’re doing this together!

Do you think you’d remember if you received the same birthday card from me two years in a row?

I’m not sure how to begin this post because I’ve never been this unconscious before. I first opened my eyes today at 9 a.m., put on my glasses, took my morning drugs and fell back asleep … and I remained comfortably asleep until 6:45 p.m. Eighteen consecutive hours of glorious sleep, and that’s NOT a typo, people! I woke up today at 6:45 p.m.

It was an eventful Saturday full of new pains, new injuries and some cool movies on Cinemax.

Howdy-do and shalom, everybody! It’s a nice, quiet Saturday morning here. I’m chillin’ on the chaise in the family room while Sam’s on his way to Costco for a trunkload of our favorite edible merchandise (chicken salad, teeny tacos, guacamole and so on) plus a quick stop at the store’s food court on the way out so we can decide what’s for lunch today. I learned a couple of days ago that Costco has been featuring grilled Italian sausage sandwiches — Chicago-style, with soggy green peppers and onions! — at their stores all over the United States, so I asked Sam to find out if ours has them, too. (Plan B would be a Kosher hot dog with onions. Costco always has hot dogs.) Stay tuned. This could be HUGE.

My favorite cereal is Special K with petrified strawberries and almond milk.

Know what happens every year after the Fourth of July? THE FIFTH OF JULY! Woo-hoo!

The Howdygram keeps me sane, focused, authentic and entertaining (I hope).

Whoa … where the hell did 2018 go? We’re already into the second half of the year — it’s the Fourth of July, for God’s sake — and before you can blink your pruny little eyelids I’ll be writing posts about wonderful ideas for Hanukkah presents and where to buy them. (Hint: How come you’re not shopping at The Howdygram Store?) In the meantime ... happy Fourth from Sam and me, and I sure wouldn’t mind a couple of grilled hot dogs if you’ve got any extras. Also cole slaw. (Actually, I’d rather just have the cole slaw. Nix the hot dogs.)

The Fourth of July should only be celebrated on the weekend when people have time.

Hey, boys and girls … I’ve had a busy day! It’s only 2 p.m., and so far I ... 1) woke up at 7:45 a.m. while Sam was still out enjoying his daily walk; 2) consumed my last antibiotic tablet chopped-up in a mound of Cool Whip; 3) took my regular breakfast-time drugs, including extended release Morphine and good ol’ ordinary Norco; 4) printed a Wal-Mart grocery list for Sam, who went to the store as soon as he got home from his walk; and 5) fell back asleep immediately after typing item #4. Holy crap.

Ensure is a liquid meal replacement for senior citizens with shitty appetites. (Like me.)

Another hot, sticky summer day in Texas … at 9:45 in the morning it’s already 89° outside, and the temperature is expected to reach 103°. As I write this post I’m waiting for a hospice C.N.A. to show up for my first bathing and powdering hoo-hah of the week. She’s running late today and can’t get here until noon, but I don’t mind because there’s nothing else to do, anyway.)

Louie Gohmert (R-TX) is a moron, a pussy and a coward. Forgive me if I sound mean, but I will elucidate.

SATURDAY, 11:45 P.M., 6/30/2018. Hi-de-ho, everybody … it’s a hot and sticky Saturday night, and Sam and I are enjoying one of our favorite go-to action movies, The Taking of Pelham One Two Three, the original from 1974 starring Walter Matthau and Robert Shaw. We always love this movie. ALWAYS! Sam is curled up on the sofa and I’m on the chaise with a Popsicle. For the record, I’m seriously under the weather tonight. I haven’t had a repeat of that problem from yesterday when I couldn’t swallow any food, thank God, but my issues tonight are actually just as bad.