I’ve gained a stone this month. 14 pounds. 6.4 kilos. Whichever way you do it. This is just a rough estimate of course. I haven’t actually been on the scales. I value my state of mind too much. But I can feel it in my thighs and all over my face – because that’s where
Browsing category blogging
The last time I saw her she had one child and wasn’t pregnant. Or maybe she was and I just didn’t know. Or maybe she told me and I just forgot because my life was in total upheaval and I’m really horrible like that. Anyway, she’s still not pregnant. But she does have an extra
1. Neck it. No. Not nekkid. Neck it! 2. Panna cotta. Whoever came up with such a dreadful thing? 3. It’s not climbing into a medieval tower that’s the hard part. It’s getting down. 4. West Virginia. North Carolina. It’s all the same. Mountains and banjos right? 5. So my mom says ‘There’s no need
After the Haymarket incident this morning I thought I’d give her a few hours – eastern standard time – to calm down. Phone her at the evening and ease her “the terrorists are coming and you’re right in their way” mentality. Then the whole Park Lane thing popped up and I rather thought better of
Here’s to Boeing getting their bums in gear and giving us in flight wifi. Until then, I’ll have to settle for setting posts to delay until arrival. Snapped this photo sans Jesus cloud (isn’t there always a Jesus cloud in this sort of thing?) over the Alps while managing to spill a single shot of
I can’t look at George Clooney without going all to pieces. I break out in nervous giggles and begin mild hyperventilation whenever I see him on the telly. Seriously. But I’m the same with hermit crabs and polka dots so go figure. My sister gets me completely. Jon Bon – as in Jovi – and
Chester High Street Today we went shopping in Chester. And by ‘shopping’ I mean ‘bought some soap and ate a lot’. It’s always so warm and humid in June and I’m not as fond of the city during the summer as I am during the winter. But there’s something to be said for dining in
Is it twitter or flitter? Or flat as a fritter? I can’t remember. I have an account. I don’t use it. That’s what blogs are for. Right? I’m devouring Flannery O’Connor right now. I bought a book of her short stories in a college town a few months back and carry it around with me
He got married. Stayed that way for nine months. Now he’s almost not. That wife of his decided it. She was too young and he was too busy. She liked pretty things and he liked to give them to her, but she didn’t feel the romance or the pedestal anymore. The one she thought she
Old hat. But not to me. Anxious for my Snark fix I jumped on over to The Queen this morning only to realise… “Two years; two million hits (2.5 actually as of 5/20/07); yes, Miss Snark has run out of new things to say.” …the lovable old drunk has retired. And when I say ‘drunk’
A few years ago my my brother and I got into an argument over whether or not my friend’s car could fit into the back of his truck. He had never seen the little auto, or anything like it, but he knew cars, he said, and there was no way one could climb into the
Her shoes were blue. Her dress was not. She wore her hair bundled atop her head in a muted scarf; her lips in a kind of pout that wasn’t really a pout at all but a ‘what do I do with my mouth when it’s not forming words’ sort of set. She called herself an
