1 possum
1 bird
1 turtle*
1 frog*
1 raccoon*

That's my roadkill list. What's yours?

*all in the year 2009, whilst driving to-and-fro my boyfriend's apartment in BFE Texas.

My little wall flower:: happy birthday!

I won't indulge in my memories about harassing the shy little girl born four years after my mother welcomed this holy terror into the world. All these years later, it's still painful for me to remember that I didn't appreciate, couldn't understand and consequently troubled my younger sister.

Now I know better.

It turns out she knew she was a bit of a wall flower. She used that very word in a song she wrote and sang for her husband at her wedding reception.

Wall flower. This modest bit of finery that makes a drab little room livable is the name we have given to the quieter, more withdrawn people in our acquaintance. There was a time when papering your walls with flowers was a sign of luxury. Bare walls meant hard times and hard living.

Now we know "wall flower" to mean the quiet, the shy, the overlooked. So this is how my sister felt? It grieves me.

Instead of today's wall flower, I see yesterday's wall flower. Joy is a soul that gives energy and beauty to my little life. I can't imagine my heart without her finery. When I have splashed my bitter little walls with black and grey, she colors over them with soft shades of yellow and blue.

In the most unexpected, unobtrusive ways, she even manages to peel away what was there, leaving a fragrant trail of daisy assurances.

Damn those unhappy younger days! God has turned them into an ash heap and presented me instead with a bouquet, "a thing of beauty that is a joy forever."

A trusted confidant. A constant spring of comfort. A best friend.

My darling wall flower Joyous--I celebrate the day you were born!

Grocery Store Meanderings

I don't normally have a super awesome time at the grocery store, so today I was very pleased with an actually pleasant trip to the grocery store. On a Sunday afternoon. With my two year old son.
It was as if I was in a dream like trace walking around the store, protected by some kind of force field bouncing away all of the things that normally drive me crazy.
I felt compelled to share because I'm trying to focus on the positive these days. (Please slap me if I become one of those people who you want to strangle because they are so upbeat.)
Normally, I would be yelling at my children and slamming the grocery cart into the corral as hard as I could by the end of a run of the mill grocery trip, but not today.
I even had some classic triggers, like trying to avoid waiting at the deli, so grabbing my number and sneaking down a couple of aisles only to return and they had passed my number and I had to grab another number and wait anyways.
It turns out while waiting, there was a guy from MN who was striking up a conversation with one of the deli workers about her being from MN as clearly exhibited by her Viking's shirt. (There is nothing like a little chat about how horrible the weather sucked in TX last summer, "I was ready to pack up and move back," he said, to lift your spirits.
Mainly, I think Douglas' (aforementioned two year old) chipper mood, is to receive the credit. It is amazing what non-whiny children can do to your outlook on life!
My favorite moment of the trip was when I crouched down for a can of chicken noodle soup on the bottom shelf, he peered over the cart down and me and said, "How are you do-wing down dere?"

It Is With Great Sadness

That we bid a farewell to Don and Betty Draper for a horrifically enormous number of months until we will see you again, deep in the abyss of your childish and dramatic ways.


Predictions: Pete will go with Duck. Betty will, yet again, ask Don to leave. Sterling will make a more aggressive pass on Joni and/or try to get her back to the agency. We'll get some kind of story line with Sal. That's all I have.

Have I mentioned how depressed I am that the season is already over??? Maybe this will give us a chance to finally watch 6 feet under. Netflix here we come!

So hard to choose, but favorite moment of the season so far.....

Welcome to Objective-ville Located in Beautiful Subjective County.

*****SPOILER ALERT***** FROM TONIGHT'S PROJECT RUNWAY








It was pretty obvious from before they spent their 300 dollars at Mood that Christopher and Gordana were the weakest of the remaining 5 contestants on Season 6 of Project Runway. I did like how they made you think that the judges might just possibly overlook skill and put a designers humble beginnings at the forefront of their choices for the top three headed to Bryant Park. But, they did no such thing and so we await next week's triple bitch fest featuring Carol Hannah, Irina and Althea.
The way they judge this show is kind of like ice skating at the winter olympics. You think you pretty much know who is going to win, but there's always that one crazy German judge who gives the latest Sonja Henie a low score. In PR's case the judge isn't German, she's Nina Garcia.
I miss Michael Kohrs.

He doesn't look the way I expected him to look and his voice is a definite surprise.

New at MBC

Quick self-promotion: new post at Moonbat Central on the nature of government and its relationship to freedom. It might be useful, but there is no cake to be found anywhere.

Reverting to form

So, I was sitting around the other day and I realized that I hadn't written anything worth reading for quite awhile, and I felt faintly disgusted with myself. And then I wondered why.

As it turns out, sometimes we write for others, sometimes for ourselves, and sometimes for the sheer bloody pleasure of it. I have not been writing for my own pleasure for quite a long time, and that is sad.

The thing is, life is short enough without doing stuff that other people think we ought to do and have fun with. If we give into the Siren Song of Shuddah, we end up writing crap that no one wants to read anyway, and end up where I was...wondering where the Muse trotted off to.

Well. My Muse is an imp, a trickster, and he has a really warped sense of humor. He is not kind to people who do not deserve it, and he has a tendency to drop banana peels in the most entertaining places. He is full-tilt bozo, an inveterate moonbat, and, as it turns out, I have the most fun writing when I channel him and let him bang on my keyboard.

The Snark is back. Send the kids out of the room.