The Postess With The Mostess!

Friends, this is my one-hundredth post!

 Hiya, Friends!  Welcome to my one-hundredth post!  Didja ever think we'd make it?  I admit, it was dodgy there, for a little bit.  But here I am, with Number One Hundred, and I'm pretty proud of myself.  I'm not gonna try to downplay it.  One hundred posts is a big deal, especially for me!

Since it's my one-hundredth post, and yesterday I said something that ended up confusing some people, I'll go ahead and clear it up!  I forget that not everything I say over on the Facebook comes across over here on my blog, and I can't call myself the Postess with the Mostess if a buncha my readers are all confused because they're not on the Facebook, and I'm referencing something I said over there, over here.

Does that make sense?

Anyway, the phrase in question is the one where I said "I'll ketchup with ya tomorrow."

People often ask me where I get my ideas!

 People were all like, 'Zoe, what on earth does that mean?  Ketchup is a condiment, not a verb!'

Well, I'll tell ya.  Back when I was a little kid, I heard somebody say to somebody else that 'we haven't seen each other in so long, we'll hafta get together for coffee and ketchup!'  I thought they were going to get together and drink coffee with ketchup in it!  That'd be silly, though, and kinda gross, so I KNEW I musta misunderstood. 

And then, I overheard somebody talking about being out of the office for a week and having to ketchup on their work.

Whaaaaaaaaaaaaat?

I think if you put ketchup on your work, your boss would get mad!  It would definitely jam up the FAX machine if you had to use it, and your work had ketchup on it!

Then I had a breakthrough moment, Big People.  The ol' lightbulb really went off for me.  They weren't putting ketchup in their coffee or all over their work!  They were getting themselves and others up to speed!  You know, ketchup!

Here's where my ideas are from!  The top of my head!

Except, they weren't saying 'ketchup,' actually.  They were saying 'catch up.'  Where I life, 'catch up' and 'ketchup' sound similar, so you'll understand my confusion.  I believe I've mentioned before that my first language is actually Babese, so when it seems like you Big People are speaking a foreign language around me, it's 'cause you are.  I'm learning the language of the Big People, but sound-alikes still trip me up with humorous consequences.

But you know how I am, Friends.  I didn't let my misunderstanding get me down.  I just picked it up and ran with it. So now, when I say I'll ketchup with ya tomorrow or next week or whenever, I really do mean "catch up," but I just like saying "ketchup" better.  It's an inside joke here at The Daily Zoe, and now you're on the inside of it, too.  How about that?!

Well, now you know.  So until we ketchup again tomorrow, Friends, remember that Zoe loves ya!  Muah!

A Cupcake-inator

You know what's missing here? A cupcake.

 Hiya, Big People!  Well,  you know that Wendy's commercial where the fellow is at a yard sale, trying out a previously owned recliner, and the slightly snotty redhaired girl says "You know what's missing from this picture? ... A BACONATOR!" And the fellow says "Sold!" and the next thing you know, he's driving around a Wendy's drive-thru, presumably purchasing some sort of large sandwich with a lot of meat on it, and that slightly snotty redhaired girl pops into the frame and says something about "blah-blah-blah.  Blahblahblah blah-blah."  And then my show comes back on.

What's that? ... Oh, that slightly snotty redhaired girl is the New Wendy for the Wendy's ads? ... I see.  Well, good for her.  I'm not sure I like her much.  Time'll tell.  I wasn't mainly concerned with Wendy anyway.  I want to talk more about that Baconator sandwich.

No! No! We've been through this: I don't have a problem with cupcakes!

Or more to MY point, I want to talk about a brilliant thing I just thought of, called a Cupcake-inator!  Instead of hamburger and bacon, a Cupcake-inator would be a cupcake all baked and frosted, with ANOTHER cupcake all baked and frosted and stacked on top, and then the whole thing would be covered in cupcake-shaped sprinkles!

And the whole thing would cost only ninety-nine cents. 

Except for me.  For me, the Cupcake-inator would be free, because the idea was my idea, and I retained the rights and royalties.

I have a problem not having cupcakes!

It's just been a while since I've had cupcakes, Friends, and I miss them.  I miss the sweet and spongy texture of the cake part, and I miss the burst of butter and sugar imparted by the frosting portion of the cupcake.  And I miss the prettiness of the cupcake wrapper.  It's the whole total, sugary package I miss most, Friends.

Back to the Cupcake-inator, anyway.  I was thinking.  What if, instead of two regular-sized cupcakes stacked on top of each other, we had a regular-size cupcake baked and filled with a creme filling and iced and taken out of its wrapper and then PUT INSIDE A GIANT CUPCAKE that was also filled with creme filling, so that the first, regular-sized cupcake is nestled ever so gently in a pod of delicious creme filling- I think an Angel Creme would work best for this, rather than a Bavarian Creme.  Wouldn't wanna sog up the cake in the cake, after all!

Magic Basting Brush, magic me a Cupcake-inator, please!

And then, by some mysterious magical magic, the giant cupcake would form itself around the regular-sized cupcake so nobody could tell where it was split open to put in the regular-sized cupcake, and from there, it was put in a pretty paper wrapper, and frosted and sprinkled!

Woah.  Now THAT'S the Cupcake-inator I'm talking about!

Friends, I've got some sketchin' to do.  Got some fancy thinkin' to do.  I'm pretty sure I can magic myself a Cupcake-inator like what I just described, but you hafta have a clear picture of what you want in your head before you can just use your magic basting brush and bling it into existence.  So I'm off to do just that. 

I'll ketchup with ya tomorrow!

HAH!-Key and HAH!-beeeeeez

Uh-oh.  HAH!-key season's over. What am I gonna do now?

Hiya, Friends!  Well, that's the whole ball of wax, right there.  The lights are out, the party's over, and next week, they're gonna melt the ice at the First Niagara Center.

What I'm trying to say here is this: HAH!-key season for my Sabres is all over.  Now I know, Gramma's team, the Pittsburgh Penguins, are in the playoffs.  I get it.  I understand.  But I'm a Sabres girl.  Whenever I hear Rick Jeanneret's voice, I know there's HAH!-key going on somewhere.  I just don't have that deep psychic connection to the Penguins.  I think they're nice and all, but they're just not my Sabres.

Will I watch some playoff games, even though my team's out of contention?  Sure.

Well, I s'pose I need to find me a HAH!-bee, don't I?

But it's got me thinking.  I need something else to do in the not-hockey season.  A hobby, perhaps, or as I like to say, a HAH!-bee. 

Daddy has his old cars that are his hobby, and I like the old cars, but there's a lot of ways I can hurt myself on his old cars, so basically, they just let me sit in the seat while the car's just sitting in our drive, and that's fun and all, for about five minutes.

Mommy knits.  Now, I like knitting.  I like my scarves she's made me.  But I've tried helping Mommy with the knitting, and as it turns out, it's easy to make yarn tangle into hopeless knots, and that makes Mommy cry.

When Mommy cries, I cry.  I can't help it!

Can anybody suggest hobbies for your pal Zoe?

 So what I need to do is find me a hobby that doesn't involve dangerous old car parts and yarn that tangles into hopeless knots that make Mommy cry.

I like to take things apart and hide the pieces.  That's a lot of fun.  But that's more of something I do to pass time and gain attention.  It isn't really a hobby.  It's not the kind of thing I can take to a show and say 'See the missing rubber foot on that chair?  I took that and hid it!'

I've thought about getting into some jewelrymaking with pasta.  That's doable.  I have a toy that's a string with a round bead on one end, meant to look like a caterpillar, and I thread colorful beads on the caterpillar.  And I've noticed my Pasta Tubes have nice big holes in them, perfect for threading onto a piece of string.  I don't know though.  Does anybody really wear pasta jewelry around anymore?  I don't want to go to all that trouble, designing and planning and stringing the pasta jewelry, only to have my creations languish in a drawer.

Don't you worry, Friends!  I'll figure out a hobby!

Where would you even store pasta jewelry, anyway, Friends?  I'd think in a jewelry box at first, because it's jewelry.  But it's made from pasta, which obviously belongs in a kitchen.  But if you kept your pasta necklaces and bracelets in the kitchen, would you remember to put them on before you went out?

Maybe that's the trouble, right there, Friends.  Maybe that's why you don't see people wearing pasta jewelry when you're out and about.  Nobody knows where to store it, and they forget they have it.

We might have figured something out, just now, Friends.  We might have, and we weren't even in the tub!  How about that?!

I'm still quite without a HAH!-bee to replace HAH!-key, while my Sabres are in the off-season.  I'll probably figure something out.  I mean, I will.  Hockey and the news are the only TV I get to watch, and I don't like the news, so that leaves me with lotsa time to think about this, I suppose!

Anyway, whether it's HAH!-key season or not, you can be secure in the knowledge that your pal Zoe loves ya!  Muah!

Bathtub Philosophizing

I do my best thinking in the tub.

Hiya, Friends!  I have a confession to make.  I do my best thinkin' in the tub.  I'm quite a bathtub philosopher, when you get right down to it.   It's why I get so skinny around the nose whenever my bathtime gets cut way short.  You never know.  I could have had a Major Breakthrough Thought of Epic Proportions if my bathtime hadn't been cut tragically short.  You just never know, Friends!  You never know!

Now, as you can see, I like to put on a bubble goatee when I do my bathtub philosophizing.  Whenever I think of Great Thinkers, I see them with goatees on.  Even the women Great Thinkers.  It's just a thing I have with goatees.

Do I have any single specific topic I philosophize about when I'm in the tub?  Not really.  I just commune with whichever and whatever thoughts flutter on down to my tub on any given morning.

The bubble-goatee helps the ideas flow!

I like to ponder things like why you're not supposed to wear white shoes after Labor Day and before Memorial Day.  I don't have white shoes.  I have silver shoes, purple shoes, a pair of red cowboy boots, and a pair of pink cowboy boots.  No white shoes.

After a lifetime of puzzlement over that no white shoes after Labor Day and Before Memorial Day rule, it finally occurred to me the other day in the tub why that is.  See, a while back, maybe this time last year, I was terrified of shoes.  I'd put my feet in them, and my feet would disappear and go to another dimension, I just know it.  I mean, think about it!  Your feet go in, you can't see 'em, so the only logical conclusion to come to is that shoes are tiny portals to another dimension, taking your feet to where they're revered as five-toed deities.  Unless you're wearing uncomfortable shoes, in which case, your feet are transported to a dimension where feet are tortured.  That's bad.

Of course, it's important to think without the goatee, too.

This time last year, I didn't know I could control what kind of dimension I was sending my feet to when I put them into shoes.  I've since learned that comfortable shoes send your feet to a nice dimension, and uncomfortable shoes send your feet to the torture-dimension.  And that brings me to that rule about no white shoes I've mentioned.

See, oftentimes, in the months between Labor Day and Memorial Day, there's snow on the ground.  It's that way where I'm from, anyway.  So just suppose that somebody wearing white shoes stepped into some snow, and their whole foot, shoe and all disappeared!  Whaaaaaaaaat?!  I don't think anybody has to imagine that horror.

And I would be willing to bet that the person who made up that rule had that exact thing happen to them one day.  They were afraid that the snow was going to cause a short in their white shoes, and send the whole works to the Antarctic Dimension, where feet freeze on arrival.  So to save everybody from that terror, they said no white shoes during winter.

Makes sense. 

But bubbles make everything better!

But I bet that person didn't see sneakers coming.  Or white snow boots with Thinsulate lining inside.  So even if your feet get sent to the Antarctic Dimension, they're gonna be warm while they're there, thanks to those new modern technological advances. 

Think about it, Friends!  I figured all that out during my bath in the tub one day! 

Now, last week, I was thinking on this governmental sequester business.  I was thisclose to figuring out a solution to all the problems, but Mommy dragged me out of the tub when I'd only been in there for about a minute, and by the time I got back in the tub the next day, I couldn't wrap my head around the sequester and could only think about whether I like tartar sauce made from sweet pickles better, or tartar sauce made from dills better. 

We missed out on some serious brilliance on that one, Friends, and it's all Mommy's fault for prematurely ending my bath that day. 

Tomorrow's a new day, though, so you never know what I'm going to philosophize about.  We'll all just hafta stay tuned, won't we?

I Saw The Sign

I saw the sign, and it opened up my mind!

Hiya, Friends!  Have I told you that I've been learning how to talk with my hands?  I think in Big People parlance, it's called sign language.  It's pretty fun.  I have a whole set of DVDs that teach me how to talk with my hands, and I'm getting pretty darned good at it, if I may say so myself.

See, I'm still just learning how to verbalize in your language.  Babese is my first language, and Big People is proving to be pretty tricky for me to wrap my mouth around.  I have some words I say, but mostly, I fall back on the language of my people, still.

It causes me frustration and Mommy confusion when I do that, so we agreed that I'd learn some of this sign language.  Plus, I think someday, if I meet another little kid, and that little kid can't hear, I can talk to them with my hands!  And then they won't feel left out!

So anyway, my favorite word to sign is "banana."  I picked right up on that one, because you stick up your pointer finger on one hand, and then pretend it's a banana, and peel its imaginary peel with your other hand.  "Cracker" is another favorite of mine.  You knock on your elbow to sign cracker.  "Cereal" and "milk" are other favorite signs of mine.  I think the sign for "apple" is fun, too!

Really, I haven't met a sign yet that I didn't like.  Some of them are easier than others, and there are some that are really fun.  And I betcha noticed all my favorites have to do with food.  That's because I really like to eat.  Always have, for my whole entire life.  I have had a lifelong love for food, Friends!  I don't understand those babies that hafta be begged to eat, because that has never been me.

I wanna EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAT!

I guess if I had to tell ya which literary character I relate to the most, it'd be the Very Hungry Caterpillar.  Most of the time.  Of course, Mommy would say it's all five of the Five Little Monkeys.

You know, sometimes, I just don't understand where Mommy's coming from.  Take the whole thing about me being like all five of the Five Little Monkeys.  Sheesh.  You know, I take one swan-dive off the couch in my office, and I climb the stairs all by myself one time, and next thing you know, Mommy's nerfed the whole inside of the house, and the stairs are all blocked off with gates.  What a drag!

Five Little Monkeys, indeed!

But anyway, back to my signing.  I think it's a very useful thing, even if you can hear, and the person you're trying to talk to is able to hear as well.  I still think you ought to learn sign language.  That way, if your best friend at work works at a desk WAAAAAAAAAAAAY across the cubefarm from you, and you wanna tell them it's time you guys headed to lunch or that you didn't get your TPS reports finished in time, you can sign at them from across the room, and they'll know.  And you don't have to rely in instant messaging, just in case your computer's being watched.

If your computer's being watched right now, let me just say I love your boss's choice of ties and/or footwear and accessories.  You TOLD me they were very snappy dressers, your bosses, and that all their jokes were hilarious, and also that you love working there, and now I see you were telling the truth, Friends!

... Are they gone?  Anyway, you can sign to your friend across the room, then.  And don't worry about everybody else in the cube farm seeing what you're signing.  Most people won't take the time to learn, and if they happen to look up and see you signing to your friend, just do like I do in a pinch and put your finger up your nose and wave at them.  They'll think you're gross for the time-being, but at least they won't be horning in on your lunch with your best work friend, and they won't rat you out about those TPS reports.  And besides, everybody picks their nose at one time or another, so anybody who gets all funny about it is kind of a hypocrite.  That's what I have to say, about it.

So there ya have it, Friends!  It's never too late to learn something new, and I think you ought to learn to use sign language with me, because it's a lot of fun, and it's easy, and it's useful.

But even if you don't learn it, I'll still love ya, Big People!  Always!  Muah!

Eight Months Until Christmas

What's that? It's eight months until Christmas?

Hiya, Big People!  Guess what?!  There's only eight months until Christmas!  Didja know that?

...Hey!  Why are you throwing things at me?  That isn't very nice!  I'm just stating a fact!  Today's the twenty-fifth of April, and Christmas is the twenty-fifth of December!  That's eight months!  Don't be mad at the messenger, Big People!

Don't worry!  I'm not trying to rush us through the summer.  I love the summer.  I get to swim in my mushroom swimming pool, and wear a big sunhat, and listen to the peepers at night, and also, I get to see Aunt Colleen and Uncle Lorentz a lot more during the summer months than I get to see them during the winter months.

But a fact's a fact, and the fact is it's eight months until Christmas, and I, for one, wanna make sure I'm ready.

I'm a think-ahead kinda gal, when it comes right down to it.

I might have brought my Christmas list along today.

It doesn't hurt to be prepared, you know.  Why there are some organizations that use the phrase "Be Prepared" as their motto.  I think it's a good way to live.

So I've made out my Christmas list.  Not for what I want.  I still don't know yet.  Well, maybe I want a me-sized tractor, since that Mommy hogs our big tractor.  Or maybe I'd like a Power Wheels Jeep, since I outgrew my Pink Jeep. 

Mommy still hasn't forgiven me for outgrowing my Pink Jeep.  I can tell.  She keeps bringing it up about having Daddy take my Pink Jeep up to the attic.  And I said to her, "Mommy, just let it go!  I'm just doing my job, growing out of stuff, so I can grow into cooler, more expensive stuff!"

She didn't like hearing that come out of my mouth, either.

I did bring it! I won't apologize for being prepared!

So I'm putting that Power Wheels Jeep on the back-burner for the time-being.  Laying kinda low until Mommy finally just builds a bridge and gets over me outgrowing my Pink Jeep.

In the meantime, I've compiled a list of things I want to be on the lookout for, for my friends and family and coworkers, for me to give to them for Christmas.  Sometimes I'm allowed out and about, and other times I get on the World Wide Web. ... Friends, did you know the Internet's a veritable emporium of goods to purchase?  It is!

And I like to think about Christmas as I go throughout the year, so when something catches my eye that I think would go nice to somebody I love, I can snap it right up.  Why wait until December? 

See, Big People, I've had two Christmases under my belt so far, and they both kinda snuck up on me, and I said to myself 'Zoe, third time's a charm.  No more last-minute shoppy-shoppy when the calendar turns to December!'  and this year, by golly, I'm living that. 

Making lists is easy. Keeping them secret is hard!

Well, I'm gonna live it.  I have my list all made out.  I just haven't put it into action yet.  Keeping my eyes open, watching for sales and steals and deals.  That kind of thing.

You know who taught me that?  My friend Santa Claus.  He said if he waited until December to think about Christmas, he'd be in BIG trouble.

Now, you might have noticed that I haven't given away any specifics about my Christmas list.  Of course I haven't!  Why would I do something like that?  I like to keep my presents a surprise!  It's all for me to know, and everybody else to wonder about.

Until Christmas, that is.  Which is eight months away.

Now do you see why somebody like me would get all excited about something like that, so far ahead of time, Friends?

Coffee Klatsch Into Me!

I've always wanted to just get together with my friends for coffee!

Hiya, Friends!  Well, you know what?  For my whole entire life, something I've always wanted to do is have a coffee klatsch with all my friends, but the thing is, everybody's so far-flung that it's hard to get together, especially just for some coffee and socializing.  

That's where the magic of the Internet comes in, Big People!  All's you've got to do is grab up a hot beverage of your choosing- just 'cause it's a coffee klatsch doesn't mean you've gotta drink coffee.  You can have tea, or chai, or hot cocoa, or even bouillon-cube water if you wanna.  Heck!  I won't judge!  So grab up your hot beverage and a snack, and sit down and hobnob with your pal Zoe.

Ooh!  Whatchoo drinkin'? Is that a cappuccino?  It looks good!

 Now, I'm kinda new at this whole socializing thing, and since we're relying on the Internet, you could be here, socializing, and I could be taking a nap in real-time.  Yeah, I'm still saddled with the burden of a nap every day in the afternoon.  Thing is, Mommy's let me go without a nap a coupla days before, and I'll tell ya what, it just makes me feel like I've been run over by a Smart Car.  You know.  Not wiped all the way off the planet like if a minivan or a Mack Truck hitcha, but feeling uncomfortable and annoyed, and kind of testy, just like you'd feel if some clown driving a Smart Car ran into ya.

Those Smart Cars.  They're just weird.

Anyway, back to my point.  I'm new at this socializing, and right now, I'm the only one who's really here, so I'll just go ahead and take the conversation by the horns, mmmmkay, Friends?  If you'd like to talk about anything with me, you can leave me a comment.  That'd be fun!

Well, yes, I do drink right from the pot. Why dirty a mug?

So I guess where I'd like to start is things I've been reading lately.  I've read all the Five Little Monkeys books that I have, at least a dozen times apiece.  And I like the Curious George about the ice cream shop.  Aunt Colleen got me that, on account of us both liking ice cream.  And I've been readin' the dictionary. 

Don't look at me all weird like I'm a weird nerd!  Readin' the dictionary is a really good thing to do, to learn new words and also to get new ideas!  That's how I found out about coffee klatsches and got the idea to throw one!  How about that?  And I'm just new at this language thing, but I think it's a lot like investing.  You know how when you invest, the earlier you start and the more money you put in, the better off you'll be?

Oops.  Time for a refill!  I need to drink out of a bigger pot!

Well, that's what I'm doing with words and reading the dictionary.  I'm collecting those words like they're money, and putting them in my memory up in my head, and by the time I go to school, I'll have a nice little nest egg of words I can use to wow my classmates and teachers on comprehension worksheets and essay tests!

Not to mention I ought to be wicked on the Scrabble Circuit by the second grade! 

So that's my thing lately, Friends.  Learnin' new words, forming new ideas.  I can't complain.  I submitted my request for a crab tank for my room yesterday, but the system bounced it back because I filled out the request form in duplicate, and Mommy requires all requests to be filled out in triplicate, so I've gotta start all over again, but it'll be okay.  I know I'm gonna come out on top in the end.  I'll be so convincing in triplicate with my request that Mommy will have no choice but to say yes to my proposal to adopt a crab and name him Kingston and keep him as a pet in my room.  Perseverance pays off!

Speaking of filling things out in triplicate, I'd better check up on the status of my request for a disco ball,  I submitted it months ago, and I should have heard back with an answer by now.  I'll hafta check my calendar, because after ninety days, if I haven't gotten an answer on a request, I've gotta start all over again, requesting in triplicate.  It's better to just take the initiative and do it without being asked, because sometimes, if you draw attention to not hearing an answer on your request, they remember they've seen it before, where if you just send in a new request in triplicate, they probably don't remember getting the first one, and since it's a new day and all, they might look at your second request in triplicate as though it's the first time they're seeing it, and they might just approve it.  That's the game I've been playing for most of my life, about requesting that disco ball.  One of these days, it's gonna work.

Well, it seems I've got my work cut out for me, Friends, so I'm gonna go, but if you're just now sitting down to your hot beverage and a snack, and you wanna talk to me about something, leave me a comment!  I read 'em all!  I really do!

And I love ya, Friends!  Muah!

Lerbert the Lobster, Revisited

No, I don't work at the Krusty Krab.

 Hiya, Friends!  How are you today!  Me? I'm not really crabby.  My outfit has crabs on it, because I was thinking about the Red Lobster, and how I never did get to adopt a pet from the giant tank.  Did I tell you about that? 

I was gonna name him Lerbert the Lobster and keep Lerbert in a tank in my bedroom.  He would have told me stories of the sea, and I betcha he woulda had a Bahstun accent, so when he talked about his family, he'd talk about Lawbstahs.  It sounds funny in my ears, because I'm not from Bahstun, and my speech patterns fall more in line with the Great Lakes accent.  That's when I use English.  Most of the time, I like to speak Babese, my first language, because it keeps my grown-ups guessing.

I would like to try a Krabby Patty, though!

Back to Lerbert, though.  He would have entertained me with stories of the sea, and I would have regaled him with tales from dry land, and at night, we'd count the bubbles coming from the thing that'd keep his water oxygenated.

I had it all planned out, Big People!  I had it all planned out just where I'd put Lerbert's tank, and which books I'd read to Lerbert, and when we'd eat lunch together and when we'd strike out on our own.  It was gonna be so much fun!

But Mommy said no.  She killed my dreams of owning a pet lobster named Lerbert before they even really got started. 

If I did work at the KK, I suppose I'd run a cash register!

What a mean Mommy, doing that to a little kid!

So the pictures of crabs on my outfit are to symbolize a friendship than never got to be, Big People.

I never stopped thinking about Lerbert, Friends, but I have moved on to another strategy.  I'm also wearing a dress with pictures of little crabs on it, because I'd like to adopt a pet crab.  I understand that maybe lobsters are a little touchy to take care of,  and they can be really big, and all.  So I'm going to pitch the idea of adopting Kingston the Crab to Mommy and see what she has to say about THAT! 

Now, crabs don't need as big a tank as lobsters, so I'm thinking I'll find a spherical tank for Kingston to live in, and I'll put a little light under it, and when the bubblemaker inside his tank is making bubbles to keep his water oxygenated, and the light's on, Kingston's crab tank will be like its own light show.  I'll make sure the little lights are different colors, that we can change the colors of the lights.  That'll be fun!

Well, I'm too little to be a fry-cook, aren't I?

And I can put Kingston's tank on the dresser beside my bed, in front of the mirror, so Kingston can admire how cool his tank looks, all lit up like we'll have it. 

If that isn't an un-shoot-downable plan, I don't know what is, Friends.  There is no way Mommy can say no to me getting a crab and naming him Kingston, and keeping him beside my bed in my room.  I understood about her not wanting to get involved with Lerbert the Lobster, but Kingston the Crab is a completely different matter.  I'm very sure of it. 

When I get my crab tank all put up, and Kingston the Crab comes home to live with me in my room, I'll have a party for him, and you can come, Friends!

Maybe by then, I'll have my disco ball for the party.  You'd think after all this time, I'd have a disco ball, but I don't.  Isn't that weird, Big People?  I think it's weird. 

Anyway.  Remember that Zoe loves ya!  Muah!

The Dark Side of Being Fluffy

I want my sparkly hat and some Tim Horton's, and nobody gets hurt!

Hiya, Friends! Well, I said I wasn't afraid of being called "fluffy," and what do you know?  Now my fashions are reflecting such.  The last couple days, I've been wearing around skirts that are very fluffy.  It's a new thing for me, but I hafta say, I kind of like it.  They're not all scratchy or heavy, like you'd think a fluffy skirt would be.  They're just fluffy.

It must be what a marshmallow Peep feels like!  Except I'm not afraid somebody's going to come bite my butt off and stick the rest of me on a velvet painting of Elvis.

When you think of it in those terms, I betcha it's kind of dicey, being a marshmallow Peep!

Yes, that's better.  Thank you.

 I mean, you'd think it'd be all happy and sweet and sugary, given what it is that marshmallow Peeps are made of.  But I bet they have real concerns, not the least of which is getting their butt bitten off and having the rest of them stuck to a velvet Elvis painting.  That'd be just awful, don't you think, Big People?  That'd be almost as uncomfortable as being the fish in the McDonald's Filet-O-Fish commercial that sings about wanting the Filet-O-Fish back.

Could you imagine being that Peep, stuck to the velvet Elvis on the wall, and seeing the very person who bit off your butt and stuck you up there?  Maybe that person actually would have the nerve to sit right down on the couch under the velvet Elvis, even.  I bet that'd be just awkward.  Awkward as all get-out, Friends!

Yes, I'm feeling much more relaxed now!

But I bet that fate's not as bad for a Peep as getting left up on top of the refrigerator to get crunchy and stale.  I was reading on the Internet the other day that some people LIKE to do that to their package of Peeps.  They do it on purpose!  There's a whole method to it!

First, they cut a slice in the cellophane wrapper around the box the Peeps come in, and then they just put the Peeps up on top of the fridge to get all dry and hard and crunchy, and then they eat 'em!

I thought that was the weirdest thing I'd heard all day, and I thought for a minute the Internet was pulling my leg, on account of me being little and all, and looking gullible.  I bet the Internet LOVES to trick little, gullible-looking people, but I'll tell ya what: that's not me!  I am not as gullible as I look, by golly!  Not even a little bit!

You've gotta know whatcha want and be honest about it, Big People!

So I asked Mommy what she thought about letting Peeps  get all stale and crunchy on purpose, and she said it's true, and that she even likes them that way, sometimes.  She likes them the regular way, too, but she said letting them get crunchy is nice for variety's sake.

Friends, I'd be lying if I said that didn't flabbergast me, finding out my own Mommy would fiddle with the fluffiness of a marshmallow Peep, the very thing I think makes a Peep a Peep!

It also made me realize that it takes some real nerve to be fluffy.  So now I don't feel at all bad about setting out to be your fluffy destination on the World Wide Web.  I used to think it was all fun and laughter and crunchy sugar and marshmallows, to be fluff, but as it turns out, there's a dark side to being fluffy!  Strange things can happen to you!  You can get your butt bitten off and wind up on a Velvet Elvis, or you can get left on top of the fridge so you get all dried out and crunchy!  Or I betcha could even wind up on a skewer, getting roasted over a fire! 

And right now, I want my sparkly hat and another coffee!

Holy cow!  I'm starting to scare the fluff out of myself.  But none of those things is gonna happen to me, Friends.  I promise.  If somebody thinks they're gonna stick me on top of the fridge, I'll rappel down the side!  And if they think they're gonna bite off my butt and stick me to a Velvet Elvis, well, let's just say they'll get the surprise of their lives, by golly!  Yes they will!

As for me and how I like my Peeps, I like 'em nice and fluffy, with their crunchy, sparkly sugar, just like they were intended to be enjoyed.  Why mess with perfection, I say?  Why mess with it?

If I RRRRRRolled Up My Brim And Won!

"If I had a million dollars..."

Hiya, Friends!  There's this oldie song I hear every so often when Mommy has me driving around in the Jeep called "If I Had A Million Dollars."  And these two guys sing about all the things they'd do if they had a million dollars. ... Huh.  Guess that's where they got the idea for the title of the song.  That's pretty clever!

Well, sure, I'd also buy more Tim Horton's coffee!

Anyway, the other day, I had a coffee-cup from Tim Horton's.  They've recently completed their "Rrrrrrrroll Up The Brim to Win" promotion, where you roll up the brim on your TimmyHo cup, and see if you've won anything.  My cup wasn't the kind with winning things on the rolled-up part of the brim, so obviously, I wouldn't have won anything even if I'd have rolled up the brim, but it did get me thinking:

What if I DID RRRRRRroooollllll up my brim and find out I won?  What if I won like a million dollars? 

I bet Dijon ketchup is good!

I looked to that old song for some guidance, but I don't want a real green dress- I have a few green dresses.  I don't want a K-car.  I have a Jeep, so I don't need a nice, Reliant automobile.  And for Pete's sake, I already have a monkey.  She's a purple monkey named Appie, and that's all the monkey I want.  Holy moly!

No, I don't want a K-car.  I like Jeeps!

So that oldie didn't help me out much on what I'd do if I rolled up my brim and won a million dollars.  And then it hit me.  If I suddenly came into a large sum of money, yes, even a million dollars, I think I'd hire the Cleaning Pixies. I saw a television commercial for the Cleaning Pixies one night during the news, and I went to their site on the World Wide Web to check them out.  You know what, Big People?

You give the Cleaning Pixies money, and they come clean your house!  How about that?!

It's Mr. Dustpan for me, until I roll up that brim and win!

If I had a million dollars, that's what I'd do.  I'd hire the Cleaning Pixies.  And if there are Cooking Pixies, I'd hire one of those, too.  That's one thing I can agree with the fellows in the song about:  I like Kraft Dinners, but I'm getting so I like a little more variety in my diet, and Mommy tends to stick with the same sorts of things.  Lotsa fish.  Lotsa salad.  I eat Kraft Dinners.  So a Cooking Pixie to come do our cooking would be just the ticket, and a coupla Cleaning Pixies would just be great.

And maybe if I had some dollars leftover, I'd buy some Dijon ketchups, just like in the song.  I like Dijon mustard, and I do eat a lot of frankfurters with ketchup, so I betcha Dijon ketchups would just elevate a meal of frankfurters and ketchup into an experience.  I bet it sure would!

That's what I'd do with a million dollars, Friends.  You can do your own things with your million dollars, if you had a million dollars.  But that's what I'd do with my million dollars. 

Fluff Isn't A Bad Thing!

The news this week made me go like this.

 Big People, this has been quite a week, hasn't it?  Lotsa awful stuff going on.  Lotsa awful stuff, and then the usual arguing and fighting and accusing and just general negativity in general.

I don't know what to make of it all.  I don't even know what to do about it.  I'm not sure what I can even do about it.  It's kind of like what my Mommy says: "Haters gonna hate."  I think that can be applied to so many more people than just haters. 

For instance, "Whiners gonna whine."  "Losers gonna lose."  "Slackers gonna slack."

"Helpers gonna... HELP!"

I worry aboutcha, Big People. 

I wanna be a helper, Friends.  But I'm little.  I can't drive a firetruck or ambulance.  I can't help people get out of pain when they have tooth aches like my Daddy can.  I went to CPR class with Mommy, but I'm still too little to resuscitate somebody.  Plus, my hair's already curly enough without me handling the AED.  I see that going all kinds of wrong.  I'm not gonna lie, Friends.

But at that CPR class, you know what I did?  There were two dummies there, and they were named Annie.  I guess that's what all CPR dummies are named.  It just simplifies things.  Anyway, I watched everybody do the CPR on Annie and Annie, and I couldn't do anything to help.  I didn't think so, anyway.  Because like I said, I'm just little.

I worry for the world, Friends.  For all of us.

It made me fret a little bit.  It really did.  I don't think there's many things worse than having to stand by and not be able to do anything to help.  So I leaned down to Annie and Annie and started telling them jokes and patting them on the head to let them know I was there.  If they'd'a had hands, I would have held their hands, so they'd know they weren't alone.  I feel better when I know I'm not alone.

Then it hit me: that's how I can help right now.  If I can take your hand, even over the expanse of the World Wide Web, or if something I say or do can put a smile on your face, then I'll be happy, knowing I helped in my own little way.  It isn't much, and some people would call it "fluff," but it's all I have to offer right now, so that's what I'm offering.

Wait!  I have an idea!

I'll be your friend.

I realize lately, I've become less of "The Daily Zoe," and more of "The Occasional Zoe," and I don't like that.  It's just there's been so much going on, and I haven't been able to wrap my head around it all to have anything important to say about it.  I've had an attitude adjustment.  I don't have to say important things.  There are lots of people out there saying important things.  I just wanna put a smile on your face and make you feel like you've got a friend, even when it's dark, and when it looks like the bad guys are gonna win.

I wanna be the voice you hear in your ear that says "Zoe loves ya!  Muah!"

I don't always get things right, Friends.  I'm not always consistent.  I'm prone to my toddler moments, just like everybody else.  I can't make it all better, but I'm going to do my best to make you happy and to make you laugh.  I wanna be aggressively positive when I can be, by golly!  Call it Pollyanna.  Call it fluff.

You know what?  I love fluff.  Especially the marshmallow kind.  So there.

I'm gonna be fluffy!  Fluff makes ya laugh!  Laughing makes it all better!

So that's my plan in a nutshell, Big People.  I don't have superpowers, so I can't save the world, but I can be your friend, and Lord knows, pretty much everybody can use a friend right now.  And always.  So that's that.

I'm gonna be more "Daily" and less "Occasional," Friends.  And not be so worried about only saying something important.  Tune in when you wanna see me, and don't bother when you don't.  We all need a break once in a while.  No hard feelings.  But my break's over.

I love ya, Friends!  Muah!