we have the friendliest accommodations in town

The most spacious, too.

So friends and family, if you ever want to visit us here in this fair suburban city, don't for a second entertain the notion of staying in a hotel.

There's no reason you can't bunk with us, and it doesn't necessarily mean you'll spend a miserable night on a rump-sprung sofa covered in cat fur.

Here at the Rogers Manor, we have two full-sized guest rooms. One is decorated in the style of a 4-year-old boy. But I guess we goofed somewhere, because no 4-year-old boy has ever expressed a desire to sleep there.

The second caters to the needs and comforts of distinguished canines. A futon sofa can comfortably sleep two large hounds.

But again, we must not have gotten something right because the only time any dogs seem to be in there is when they're in time out.

Meanwhile, our own sleeping quarters look something like the photo below.

Logan's not in there to tell us goodnight before retreating to his own room. Instead, he's about to climb in.

Once everyone's in position, I'll stake out a few inches for myself.

Thanks to the Ambien I guzzle about a half-hour before hitting what little amount of sack remains, I still manage to sleep like a baby.

But when I do wake up, it's sometimes with a start when I discover a paw, tail, child's toy or human limb draped across my face.

Nighty night.

dear mr. trash collector...

...I need to apologize. Early one recent morning, you were treated to an unsavory view as I beat a hasty retreat from the curb where I had just deposited our trashcan.

Unfortunately, instead of seeing my jeans through the gaping hole in my pajama pants, you were unwillingly subjected to a view of my jiggly posterior.

By the way, those dingy white drawers of which you caught more than a subtle glimpse were vintage. I've had them since at least 1995. Mama does love her antiques.

But there's no need to turn in your notice for fear of a future encounter with the ripped pants. That is, unless you take a peak in our can during this week's pickup.

Warmest regards,
The Mama Bear

a few additions to the banned words list

I always look forward to the release of Lake Superior State University's annual banished words list.

That's because since I was a kid, I've had a love-hate relationship with words. Back then, I remember such innocent-sounding terms as "nostril" sending me into a teeth-gnashing rage. ("Gnash" would've had the same effect).

No particular reason; I just thought certain words sounded stupid. It was probably just a foreshadowing of my eventual persnickety temperament.

Growing up in Texas, a word often fell into disfavor after I heard it pronounced with an exaggerated southern drawl.

Did I feed the dawg today? Go the beach and pick up shayells? Want something to draynk?

Sometimes, the words spoken by a fellow Texan would sound so garbled that I'd have to ask the speaker to repeat them. For a tightly wired type-A personality like me, it was irritating.

So even though it doesn't address pronunciation, the LSSU's word-banishing list is completely up my alley. It always gets me thinking about words and phrases - as well as grammatical and punctuation liberties - that raise my hackles.

Here are a few additional picks from the Mama Bear.

Discombobulated. This word falls into my "sounds stupid" category. It drudges up visions that include dismemberment or taking a dump.

Making. A. Point. By. Separating. Words. With. Periods. Clever the first few times I saw it but tiresome and irritating now.

OMG makes the list, too. It's the middle school teacher in me, I suppose.

Fricking, as well as its inbred cousin, Freaking. If you're going to use the "f" word, might as well go for the gold.

What about you? Are you as anal as me? Any words or phrases you'd like to see take their leave?

Hmm...anal. Add that to my list.