Buenas Tardes, Mi Amor!

Awwwww, dang it Budd, when ya gonna git it thru that sweet head o’yers ‘at I not only love the beer-bellied redneck in ya, I LUST after it!!! The redder the bedder, I always say. I know it’s an acquired taste, but I’m a woman with a sofistikated palate, in case ya dint alreddy know. Cob-teeth and bow-legs are jest icin’ on the cake t'me! It’s the good, old-fashioned meat ‘n’ potatoes real man in ya ‘at’s my thrill. Not that you kin compare wit’ ANYone, darlin’, but if’n you’ll indulge me here whilst I step up on my soapbox - I’m tired of all those she-males thatta bin PC’d t’death! Gimme my ONE sexy untamed magnificent beast anyday! His druthers are my ruthers – ain’t that wut the pitcherfull o’mai tais wuz after anyways...??

But bein’ that as it may, darlin’, ya dint hafta lower the bar on my account an’ gimme such an easy word. I dint even hafta look it up, I sware, my hand t’God! If I’m a not mistaken, a turducken is wut John Madden put t’gether when it dawned on ‘im a football dint ‘xactly make fer a good second-string bird on T-Zone-Givin’ day! So, he invented an edible one – a turkey wut et a duck wut et a chicken! An’ I hear tell it’s ruther succulent, so I won’t even begin t’spoil the thought by tellin’ ya the kinda kids’ activity it really sounds like!

Now sweet-heart, I hafta admit, I did done took leave o’my senses fer a momento thar, ‘cuz t’aint ever’day a gal onna dieto’cold cyril gits offerd up a hot Happy Meal…I wuz litterlee salvitatin’ wit’ visions o’liver n’ o’nions piled high onna platter ore a nice shiny checkered oilcloth n’ a candle on th’hearth t’light our tab’blow…‘cuz I jest know you prolly kin whip up sumthin’ gooder ‘an the best sooshef in the finest ‘stablishmint this side o’Omaha! ‘Sides, the cow’d be practiklee family!

Speakin’ o’heards, didja hear yessirday atta few cows are worse p’luters than all the cars ‘n’ tractors ‘n’ pickup trucks put t’gether?! Seems thar digessive blasts are makin’ fer the worst smog in the entahr U S of A! ‘At’s almost ‘nother one fer ole Ripley’s! Seems t’me sumbody cud find a way t’pow’r up those v-hickles wit’ summat cheaper gas!

An’ BuddE, ya are a livin’ doll fer writin’ me such sweetness ‘bout that li’l miss hummin’bird - what a bootiful memory ya made, offrin’ her the chance t’freshen up like that! I’ll betcha dollars t’doughnuts she finds her way back, too, now that she knows yer kind heart an’ steady hand... An’ it touches me deep, yer thinkin' o’me then - I too wish I coulda bin with ya, bein’ rill still ‘n’ quiet so’s not t’scare her aways. Then pullin’ ya near me when she wuz flown, wit’ a kiss fer the miracle-maker...

It was written in the stars
What was written in the stars shall be
It was written in the skies
That the heart and not the eyes shall see

And so whether it bring joy
Whether it bring woe
It shall be done
Now suddenly I know
You are the one

Here as in a daydream
By my side you stand
Here with my tomorrows
In your hands

It was written high above
That I have to have your love
Or I'll never be free -
And cloudy though the day be,
Crazy though I may be,
What the stars foretold shall be -

And so shall it be...


Robin


XOXOXOXO
Yer ever-lovin’
Deanie