Lean back. Tuck your chin under. Bring your hands up like you're a begging dog. And stick two Bugle snack chips beneath your top lip. Now shuffle forward to... and fro.... to... and fro while your pets watch you. There, now. You have officially become a cute little dinosaur walking thing. And a very odd looking housewife walking around the house. (Neighbors can see through windows, you know.) No, I haven't done it. I haven't! Okay, maybey not recently. But as with everyone, there is a public side to me and a private side.

I find it fun to sit Indian style on my couch in Grannie pannies and messy hair holding a spoon like a shovel eating. And what am I eating? Why, microwaved marshmallows and peanut butter. Hershey's syrup on top. (Interesting fact: A single marshmallow while microwaving can take up the entire circumference of a bowl. It's true, I watched it. Unlike a circus peanut which is more likely to burn. (Do you agree that circus peanuts are like....really weird?So, I enjoy my morning snack hoping that the meter man does not not pull up again in his little maroon S-10 truck and inspect that ....well, meter. (Come on, you KNOW at some time or another in your life, you have studied that little black bar driving around that white dial like a little caboose.I think it should be the 8th wonder of the world, even a rocket scientist has no idea how to read it, that is why it takes 'Meter Mannnn').But every time he shows up, it turns my cute apricot colored, floppy eared toy poodles into salivating Cujo's. Not to mention I end up having to run for cover, hiding and crouching like a scared chimp near the washer and dryer which is below window level, chocolaty spoon sticking out of my mouth. Then, while tip toeing to the window to make sure he is gone I have to console my dogs not to worry, and that no mean man is going to come and get their best snack giver ever. Last time it was a lady! What's that about? (No offense to the women's libbers).Recently I saw a woman delivering mail in an old Toyota, a US Mail sign stuck to the top of it. What, is Domino's, Papa Johns and the postal service sharing stock now? Does the postal service have any type of criteria anymore? Just curious. And that whole driving on the right side of the car bit might be hard to master. Ah, well. What better place to practice than suburban streets full of running children. And by the way, I know an 8 can look like a six, Ms. Mail 'man' but 3 times in a row? Please stop delivering A Boy's Life magazine to my home.(I didn't even think they made that magazine anymore). Coincidentally, while I am flipping through pages of how to achieve my Kodiak bear hunting merit badge, there's a lady up at 1828 sitting on the john, undies down at her ankles flipping through MY Ladies Home Journal, which I haven't seen in 2 months (please keep it), learning how to make fabulous dip for the Superbowl. Lets get it right next time, please. Because I'm certainly not hopping on my ten speed to deliver accordingly. I have to fight with myself enough to drag the garbage out 10 feet onto the driveway. Maybe I'll be a good 'Do-Bee' when I finish the page on building a 'lean to" (snicker, snicker). Who knows...If I should break both legs on the walk back from getting the mail and lie stranded in the middle of my yard, I might be able to make something out of a few stray sticks. Shelter's important. Might need that information.Before I go, did you know, one can burn off a lot of calories while aerobicizing to Captain and Tenile's 'Love will keep us Together'? I didn't either, but I tried it. I really don't recommend it unless you already have really good self esteem because even I couldn't hold my head up high after that one.Well, some good news. We bought a cheap cordless phone the other night so I could move about the house and talk to my good friend about important things, like how her spiral perm didn't take, But I keep finding myself grounded to the same spot where the wall phone is. Isn't that a riot? Talk about being a creature of habit. But At least I don't 'stretch' to get a pen.