Tag Archives: Blue Bell

Buttered pecan and Guy: a great combination


“Is it my day yet?”

She looks up from her laptop. “Darling, you can tell time now that you are SND. What do you think?”

A furrowed brow. “Hmmmm. Judging by that clock by the bed–it is not.”

“That’s right. We have several hours to go.”  She gives him a sidelong glance, a smile playing about her lips. “Of course, there is the possibility that I shall post a little early.”

A pair of kohl-rimmed blue eyes brighten as he tilts his dark head to one side. “Really?”

She shakes her blonde head and expels a soft sigh. “It’s not as if I haven’t done it before, you big lug.”

A smirk and a raised brow. “Chiding me affectionately again, are you, my lady?”

A shrug of her shoulders. “I have to tease you, Sir Guy. You are so–teasable, dearest dark knight. Friends do tease one another, after all.”

It is Sir Guy who sighs this time, rubbing the bridge of his aquiline nose. “I suppose I am still getting used to having–friends. People who like–me and aren’t just–using me for their own ends.” His voice is a bit gruff.

“Oh, Guy.” Ladywriter says softly and reaches out her hand to him. Clasping his broad hand in her smaller one, she presses a kiss to the back of it. “You have ever so many friends who adore you now, including a certain SND cat.” She frowned a little and glanced around the room. “Speaking of–”
Sir Guy drawls: “Oh, Puddie is catching up on her beauty sleep. I told her she was quite beautiful enough but she insisted.” He returns the favor and presses his lips (always so very soft) to LW’s hand for a kiss.

Ladywriter smiles, “Ever the diva, our Puddie.” She turns back to her computer. “I need to finish this up. Don’t suppose you’d be interested in bringing me a bowl of buttered pecan ice cream?” Ladywriter queries n a casual tone, keeping her eyes on the computer screen.

“Blue Bell?”

“Uhmmmm-hmmmm.” She cuts him another quick glance. “Get yourself a bowl whilst you are at it, of course. It’s quite delicious.”

“I’ll be back in–what is it you say?–a jiffy!” For such a large man he really can move amazingly fast.  Such is the enduring allure of Blue Bell ice cream . . . and of the quite yummy SND knight who craves it.

Ladywriter is feeling as if she might fall asleep earlier tonight, although it may just be wishful thinking. She is certainly yawning very enthusiastically.  Wherever you are, whatever time of day or day it may be, Happy Guyday Friday, my dears.

Ladywriter and the furry visitor


Ladywriter felt something tapping her nose. Something—furry?

Her eyes flew open. A pair of sea green eyes were gazing down at her.

“Mother . . . wakie, wakie.”

LW’s mouth dropped open. Not only was her SND cat Puddie standing on her chest, looking as fluffy and gorgeous and diva-like as ever, she was also—

Talking. You can talk now, Puddie?”

Puddie gave a twitch of her gloriously plume-like tail. “One of the perks of achieving So Not Dead status, it seems. Now I don’t have that wimpy little meow, as you used to refer to it, Mother dear.”

Puddie gave a somewhat disdainful sniff of her dainty little pink nose and twitched her tail once more. That sniff reminded LW of somebody . . .

“Wow, Puddie . . . you sound like a cross between Marilyn Monroe and Scarlett O’Hara. Sort of breathy, sexy and softly southern all at the same time.”

Puddie licked her paw and began to wash her face. “It’s the voice you always imagined me having, remember? If I had been able to speak before I crossed over, of course.”

LW nodded slowly. She was feeling slightly addle-pated, to be perfectly honest.

“So, let me get this straight—when Thumper and Callie cross over, Thumper will sound like a female version of Peter Lorre playing a mad scientist plotting to take over the world, and Callie will sound like–”

“Yep,” Puddie interrupted. “A flighty teenager hyped up on too much Red Bull.”

Ladywriter grinned. She’d always carried on conversations with her pets, but they did tend to be a trifle one-sided.


Puddie settled down on LW’s chest. She still put out some serious BTUs (Beauteous Tabby Units) and she still had her lush V-8 Caddy purr. LW could have done without the warmth (it was, after all, Alabama in August) but she was truly glad to hear that deliciously smooth purr.  She would love to have a car with an engine that purred so deliciously.

“Gizzy thought you’d be pleased. About me having a voice.”

LW raised her eyebrows. “Oh, Gizzy, is it? Are you getting chummy with the Dark Knight?”

Puddie smiled (cats can and do smile; they just don’t show their teeth like those silly dogs) and gave a slight incline of her pretty head.

“He’s been lovely. He gets me my own bowls of Chocolate Moo-llineum Crunch to enjoy. Another perk of being SND. I can eat as much Blue Bell ice cream as I like—including chocolate!—and never get sick or gain an ounce.”

Puddie was so smug, she now looked just like the cat that swallowed the canary.

“Sounds as if Sir Guy is spoiling you rotten—well, rottener.

Puddie blinked. “Well, you did it first, you know.”

Ladywriter stroked Puddie’s fur—oh, how soft and luxuriant it was once more!—and shrugged. “Yes, I suppose I did.” She paused. “Thumper really misses you, Puddie.”

“Really?  She was always up for a good cuddle, weird kitty that she was . . .” Puddie gave a small sigh. “So—she really does miss me?” There was a certain wistfulness in her voice now.

Ladywriter nodded. “Yep. She’s been crawling into bed with me on a regular basis, looking for a cuddle. You know that isn’t typical.”

Puddie smiled. “Too true. Wait until winter. She’ll be glued to you, Mother.”

LW chuckled. “Yeah. Guess it will help cut down on the electric bill, though.”

“Puddie . . .” A certain deep, dark chocolate voice called out.

The kitty’s eyes brightened and she stood up and stretched.

“That’s Gizzy. He’s going to make us banana splits.”

Puddie butted her LW’s face with her head, rubbing her cheek against her mother’s.

“I love you, Mother,” she whispered and then bounded out the door,  plume-like tail held high, plenty of spring in those four fuzzy paws once again.

LW felt something suspiciously like a tear rolling down her cheek.  “I love you, too, you big ol’ fuzzy cat, you,” she whispered.

She heard an odd scrabbling sound. A black and white head popped up, bright green eyes goggling at her, and a rotund body hurled itself clumsily onto the bed.

LW smiled and crooked her finger. “Come here, you weird kitty, and get some lovin’.”

Thumper, the three-legged tuxedo cat, was only too glad to oblige.

Sometimes, you just have to lean on each other.

Blue Eyes on a Lazy Sunday Afternoon


Update from Chez Long.  A lazy Sunday afternoon, slightly cooler than of late.  Slept fitfully, dreamed of Christmas programs with cute little kids. Have no earthly idea why. Haven’t watched that adorable movie with Martin Freeman, Nativity, in a while. Have that hungover feeling of not being all awake and it’s 5:30 p.m. Haven’t accomplished much today.

Hubby is killing baddies on the PlayStation.  The dogs are napping, Callie is cuddled against her mom, Thumper is dreaming and, no doubt, plotting world domination (our three-legged tuxedo cat with the Hitler mustache is secretly an evil genius).

Puddie is–well, Puddie is doing pretty much the same, still hanging out in the kitchen.  We ply her with Fancy Feast  and “people” tuna and extra cooking oil (seems to make things go down more easily for her) and a little Blue Bell.  One day at a time.

Speaking of “blue,” I have also been thinking of blue eyes. A particular set of beautiful, expressive, intelligent, smouldering, sweet, sad, kind, amazing blue eyes.  You may be familiar with them . . .