Have I ever told you that.
My ode to WordPress was a waste of time and effort. I should write a love poem to all of you. Because without you, I am just some idiot typing on a keyboard and sending my weirdness out into the void. But with you out there, reading my words, looking at my pictures, I feel like I am connecting with you, and really, isn’t that what life is all about? I mean, I am still just some idiot typing on a keyboard, but the void seems much less frightening.
I think perhaps I will write a poem to you. Because without you, I am alone with all my crazy thoughts.
Pouring My Art Out 
Make that “4purpose.” Free upgrade.
Take your pick. http://spongebob.wikia.com/wiki/Pearl_Krabs/gallery. Sweater and all.
That’s funny. Whenever we talk about the whale thing, I think of Pearl.
With a sweater with a P on it for persuaded3purpose:
Even though a lot of people have told you already – I appreciate you.
Yay. Thanks.
Too many jokes so little time…
What, are you going somewhere?
Nope, my fame keeps me busy
I would imagine that it does.
yeah the autographs alone…
Must be a drag.
well, writers cramp and all..
And blisters, no doubt.
yeah, you know my pain..
You didn’t have to become famous.
it proceeds me…
I guess it would.
when you’ve got, you’ve got it 😉
I had it… once.
you know the dilemma then…
Deep? Yes…it is getting deep here…as in…barn “deep”.
Can’t you just hear those cows coming to a neighbourhood near yours?
WAIT! It IS yours….
You figured out the secret ingredient…
Just to let you know, Arthur. I told my wife the other day you’re the kind of guy I wish lived next door. I told her I would go over and watch ball games with you and I don’t give a spit for watching ball games. I usually don’t know who is playing the “big” game. The world series and Superbowl are not on my todo list, but I would just enjoy being in your company and listening to you rant. We appreciate you too. That exchange last week between you, me and El Norte, she of the flaming beavers, was the most fun I have had in a long time. It’s fun to match wits with like minds. I don’t have that around me. Like you, I’m an odd duck around most people, especially other men. Sports, cars, hunting, fishing, yard work, naw. I do like fishing and baseball as sanctioned sports excuses to do nothing but hang,eat and talk. Beyond that, I get too serious for most men. Not much on topics they find interesting. You can’t bullsh#t forever. At some point I like to talk about things of substance. If you aren’t curious by nature, I will likely find you boring pretty early on. It’s never boring here.
Thank you. Just so you know, I was born without the ‘organized sports’ gene. Or the ‘fashion’ gene. I think we would make a good pair of neighbors. And I have enjoyed our weird comment streaming quite a bit. If you like me here, you would like me in real life. Because this really is me.
Neighbor’s eh?
I’m pretty sure my rubber balloon launcher could send reach far enough into both of your yards for a little fun. Just saying. You know it’s always that darn poodle who does it when you’re at your BBQ…she just hates the smell of burnt steak…
SPLAT! Oops. She’s at it again.
Smells more like burnt beaver to me, Art. She can’t really be issuing another declaration of war?
Here we are, just hang’n out in the backyard bbq’ing and she is raining foreign fetid fecal fido fusillades (aliteration, A. Best that. HA) down upon us. Is there no peace?
My, my, my you are on edge, little one.
I’ve locked the dog up. All the beavers are dead. The chocolate has been eaten. This is simply a tiny little rubber splash of affection flying at the back of your heads before I dash back into my house and lock the door.
fantistic. fierce. friendly. fun.
fantistic. fierce. friendly. fun. Speaking of me, I’m sure.
Perhaps…
Do not try to sweet talk him into abandoning the side of rightness.
The wicked wiley wench is going for my soft underbelly. Her teeth will be at my throat next.
Don’t do that… making her sound both strong and sexy isn’t going to win us this fight.
Ok…Let’s let HIM CHOOSE whose side he’s on…
You choose, Dan…sunglasses or short shorts?
Building my fence now…
See… this is how she got us last time. Don’t give in to the siren song of the flaming beaver.
La la laaaaa….
That is the sort of comeback I would expect from such a child-like mind.
It’s a beautiful siren song….you’re just jealous because only a real true knight can hear the words…looks like your sword is plastic.
La la laaaaaaa…
ummm… check my name again… I am the king of the knights… and the nights…
Plastic swords don’t work very well, do they? Are they foiling your confidence?
Groan… I am on the fence about that joke.
Just pushed you over. You can thank me now. Or later. Whatever.
Great… I just got hit by another bus.
Not a bus. A fence…just a fence. I’m the Canadian, and it was the first time I witnessed an indecisive American. It disturbed me, so I helped you out. You’re welcome.
It was a sword joke… fencing… and you almost killed me.
Oh. Right.
Hey, that was funny.
For the glory of the joke you were supposed to fall on your sword.
Agreed. Let me know when it’s all over and I can look again…
It’s all over and you aren’t here to look anyway. You and Mrs. Hogwalllop done r-u-n-n-o-f-t.
You done did.
Ok…
Speaking of Mrs Hogwallop:
……………….
One little prick and it’s all over.
She may feel a little pressure.
This is going to hurt you more than us.
Uh…
HA!… oh… wait…
Now who’se foiled again?
Okay, I need to break for a while. The fun stopped. No one’s fault. My own problem. I’m okay.
Sniff 😥
Crying only wins arguments, not wars!
Well you won this round, so you must be crying hysterically.
I never do that.
Then I guess you didn’t win any arguments!
Once you are in an argument, you already lost.
This isn’t about me.
And I don’t join arguments anyhow… I diffuse them.
That isn’t what you said at first.
Well then stop paying attention. I reserve the right to change my mind without notice.
Again palying the primordial genetic birthright card.
Everyone has rights. Not everyone utilizes those rights.
There she goes again… always right.
Right.
It is just a state of mind, not an actual state of being.
It is hard to win an argument with a woman. We have to face that fact.
That’s spelled “i.N. -fuse them” I believe.
Or just fuse…
And a hat tip goes to the Master.
Twern’t nothin’
Hmmmmm…
And it was so peacful for so long. Somebody in their lair must have slept in.
We always win… until she wakes up.
We had a spam issue… she was making whale spam.
I read something that triggerd me someplace. Healing is a long process.
My fault. I’m sorry. Well Art, it looks like you won this round. Enjoy your trophy: it’s a sour pickle.
Not your fault at all. “Let HIM CHOOSE and buiilding my fence now” triggered a recent unhappy memory I won’t go into explaining here. Things are getting better though. Not to worry. Really.
She goes right for our weak points.
😥
Friends are in short supply and I almost lost one recently. I just flashed on that. Sniff ;( indeed. We’re currently in a process of renewal I hope. I’m trying anyway.
Hope so.
That’s cast rather a pall of gloom over the evening, hasn’t it?
I guess I should stop inviting myself to the party…
The pity party, you mean?
Yeah.
Now you’ve done it. I warned you not to acknowledge the bid. You should have kept your face buried in the blog and just grunted implying I heard you but I’m not listening. Now you have to be nice and invite her back or get the crap kicked out of you. Your call. You got sucked in. And I had such high hopes for you. There’s work to be done, I see. This game is in her primordial genetic makeup though and she plays it well.
I should have left her in the spam folder.
Hmmmmmm…
Hmmmm again already. The fuse is lit. Duck and cover.
And cover the duck.
That little ploy there, “I guess I should stop inviting myself to the party…” is what John Gottman, the social psychologist calls a bid. Now we have to decide whether to acknowledge it and respond or go LALALALALALALALALALALALALA. Where have I heard that before.
She is welcome at any party… that needs a pooper.
Perzactly.
Every party has a pooper,
that’s why I invited you.
Party pooper, party pooper.
The minute you walked through the door,
I knew that you couldn’t take any more.
Party pooper, party pooper.
As I look at you through wasted eyes,
you look like you’re wearing a disguise.
Party pooper, party pooper.
Just give me another drink,
so I can continue not to think.
Party pooper, party pooper.
So tonight if I say something wrong,
like you really don’t belong.
Party pooper, party pooper.
Then tomorrow when I sober up,
while I’m holding my coffee cup.
Party pooper, party pooper.
I won’t have to apologize,
saying drunkenness spewed the lies.
Party pooper, party pooper.
But at this party I don’t care,
life really isn’t fair.
Party pooper, party pooper.
I’ll just dance and sing my song,
knowing that you won’t sing along.
Party pooper, party pooper.
Every pooper has a party
that’s you you you you.
Pooper party pooper pooper.
•© Pamela Mae Rhew Bush, All rights reserved.
awesome
NEVER! Besides, you flatter yourself thinking you crashed our little party. It hasn’t occured to you, you may have been suckered in by two crafty connivers from below the 49th parallel. Wake up and smell the coffee, Sister.
Oh, snap.
TMI? Trade secrets? Oops.
I wasn’t sure, butt I think you may be correct on that one. Next time I’ll ask for an honorary win before I run off…
Fear not. We are merciful conquerors. Yeah, I could have said winners or even victors, butt conquerors evokes the smell of flaming beaver smoke. Venimus. Vidimus. Vicimus. OR Nous sommes venus., Nous avons vu. Nous avons conquis. for the linguistically impaired. Lest we forget Frau Blucher: wir kamen, sahen wir uns erobert. Gotta love the net.
Ich bin ein tortellini!
Stuffed with cheese in Alfredo sauce.
On a good night.
Your Google French is coming along nicely.
Never French a Google.
Indeed.
Good to know. Actually a tiny bit of it is from another gaffer I know here from Lyon.
Don’t let her get to you… compliments proceed a beating.
Why ask… you always assume you won anyway.
In vino veritas. Pour us another glass.
It’s a little early.
I beg your pardon. It may be little, but it’s not surly. And the potential for growth is exponential. I know. “Hey now.”
Take that.
I don’t assume. But every game deserves a cheerleader. And this cheerleader only cheers when she wins…so…it’s kind of a catch 22.
I guess I could stop cheering.
But still wear the outfit of course. I mean, there aren’t any rules against it. We can aways put it to a vote. I hear you Art. That’s two in favor. We win…..yet again.
Only if you say “the” words.
Uh oh. I feel like I’m in the guy one of those romantice comedies and about to blow it. You know:. where she says “Say that thing you know turns me on so much” and he says something like “Wanna do it” and she smacks him upside the head and storms off. The mind is racing.
Say “You win.”
Are pictures of you in the outfit part of the deal? You gotta sweeten the pot first. And not some old funky, fuzzy B&W photos from back in the day. New, in color, hi-rez digital with enough megs to blow up to poster size. Count the hairs in your eyelashes resolution.You’re a photog and have the camera and the skills. I’ve seen your work. How bad do you want to hear it? This is a negotiation.
I’m falling asleep….
Asleep. You slept in this morning. We had to start without you.
Oh… that put a damper on things.
You’re telling me!
I am telling you.
As if anyone could tell bossy Miss Right anything. Making that comment rhetoritheoretical. (Thank you, Linda.)
It does need to be a real word.
She’s gonna sleep through the best part and miss all the fun. Oh well, she can see the facefook post of the photos.
I do want to do a Photoshop picture of a whale in a cheerleader outfit or short shorts.
If we see her like that she really will win.
Well then, let’s not let her win cheaply.Even winning must have its price.
I know… I watch Let’s Make A Deal. She could end up with a giant rocking chair or a life-time supply of Eskimo Pies.
Don’t you dare.
Yes, ……Mistress of the Dark. Speak. to. me.
Say. WHAT??? Mistress?
You are filling up my limited storage space with all those movies. You are going to have to get me an upgrade for Christmas.
Delete as needed, No foul. I shall try to restrain myself from embellishments in the future. My commenting is down because of an IE8/Yahoo mail issue in which CPU usage hits 100% and really sloooows things down. Each comment takes 2-3 minutes to post and at times I have to close and reopen mail with task mngr when it all hangs.
I feel your pain.
You are letting her get to you, I swear it.
She has the kavorka.
Or the Kavorkian, Jack.
I guess Art is pomping his circumstance and I am about to leave the building for errands.
Soon enough I shall be joining you on errands. It has been a weird day.
We can save gas and go together. I may be too tall for the Mini though. We can take my van. Promise to wait and not leave without me?
Too late. Errands all done. Just waiting to pick the kids up at school now.
Look at the gas I saved. Too many snow days? The kids around here were out last week.
One more week to go. Your guys may get out sooner, but you also go back sooner…it all works out.
Don’t try to baffle us with logic.
I didn’t think I was……………
It isn’t hard.
Apparently.
Hey now…
Indeedy.
something is wrong with this computer…
What are you proposing?
I try to be careful with propositions.
The coup de gras…
Indeed 🙂
I have lost you again. The dark side calls.
I feel like I am talking to dead people from the past.
Zombies?
No. More like I am hearing echos of an old conversation that I missed.
Sigh. I got bored.
I just mean I had to go to my kids graduation and I missed it all. But when you start typing ‘indeed’ a lot, yeah, you are bored.
Time to stop replying, I guess. I haven’t done a post in a while…thanks for the distraction. But I guess it’s back to work. Ha.
Stop farting around like a… cheerleading whale… HA!
Just try to stop me…
I will let the water out of the tub and give your pom poms a haircut.
Yeah. Zombies. Back from the dead.
Half way back… ha!
You weren’t here. We had to play amongst ourselves.
The Holy Roman Empire… neither holy nor Roman… discuss…
I missed the whole thing.
We say only generic words.
Indeed.
That is my generic word. Knock it off.
It was mine first. Play fair, Art. I win.
Of course you do.
Thank you for wrapping this conversation up so nicely. Yet, suddenly, I feel guilt.
I knew you did.
WHAT! DID YOU JUST SAY? Tell me she has a gun to your head. You did hold her to the photos acting as my agent in the negotations we entered into I hope?
You do know I have the attention span of a gnat on crystal meth, right?
WHAT do she promise you? Bacon?
A pig in a cheerleader outfit.
“Indeed” and “right.” Limited vocabulary. Right indeed?
Indight!
Yeah we do.
Slap me 5 on the high side.
I would never slap you on the low side…
Cheers. And salud.
Your friend fell off a fence? I almost broke my back on a tree stump doing that when I was a kid.
Naw. He fell from grace. Stil in modus introspectus.
Better to fall from grace than to never have been there, I guess.
She does feel guilt!
Is it a full moon?
A big, white moon… with cherry red legs.
Grrrr…
HA!!!
See. I warned you about this earlier. She found our soft sexist underbelly and now she is growling, baring her fangs and going for out throats. She was all little miss temptress for a while with her shorty shorts and carrot picking, pickle making bending over behind. She’s let us grab her tail so she knows exactly where we are and now she’s going to turn and gnash out at us. We’re one step ahead of her though. We see her plan.
I got my attack dog training suit on.
Good thinking. She won’t tear into those sock monkey footy pj’s. She breaks the 10th commandment for those boys.
Maybe she likes monkey-boys.
Great minds…….. Twin sons from different mothers.
Yeah. A big white one. Got that safe word yet. Don’t blame me. You had to go there. I’m just along for the ride.
Arrrr… there she blows… the great white one herself. Call me Ishmael.
Ishkabibble? Are you a member of Kay Kaiser’s Kollge of Musical Knowledge? Look out! She’s breaching again. Don’t let her get under your hull.
But Olive, I needs me spinachk for me musckles.
Compassion.
You are softening on her… or something…
Moi?
oui wee
Watch out. Don’t trigger that pissing obsession with her. Between just you and me, I suspect penis envy is behind it. I don’t know if she wishes she had one or wants to claim one as a trophy. Either way, watch your goods, Hawkeye. You don’t want to find yourself driving sitting on a towel while searching along some desolate roadside.
I thought it would be funny to go around drawing little wiener-shaped chalk outlines by intersections.
I don’t care… it is the victory that tastes sweet.
And next time it will be mine (if we’re all taking turns, that is). Don’t feel bad that you won by default.
I don’t. That is how I always win.
You didn’t win last time.
So you say.
Indeed.
No doubt.
Totally.
I, Forehead won. But it was a team win. There’s no “I” in forehead.
I have two ‘eyes’ in my forehead. And one in my afthead.
Don’t forget the all-seeing, all-knowing, all-doing eye in the masthead.
And the brown one in the poop deck..
Bested again, my liege.
That was a good one wasn’t it.
When our youngest son was an infant we lived on some secluded land and used to let him run nekked. Like all parents, we videoed him a lot. When he would climb up onto things his butt would stick up into camera. We named it the one-eyed, brown-eyed butt bird.
That is just adorable. Maybe not to everyone, but I love kids.
Now you wounded him… see how evil she is?
Grace. She didn’t do anything intentional. It’s my issue and it hasn’t flared of late. She a good person. You too. It’s not the fault of you two that I’m a sentimental type.
Maybe guilt will crush her.
A commodity that’s never in short supply. See, I’ve gone introspective on you. No fun now, huh? Time to consult the DSM-V. Oh, nurse Ratched, I’m ready for my meds now.
It’s all good.
ehhh… I give that a 3.5 on the comeback scale, and we are on the same side… sory.
fantistic. fierce. friendly. fun. Speaking of me, I’m sure. Si la chaussure s’adapte….?
It was better with the French at the end.
That’s why they call it editing. I hit that post button just about a second to early on the first foray. “If the shoe fits,” in French. Gotta love it. Worth a 7.5 minimum.
At least.
Vive le morte!
Vive le gerre!
Vive le sacre mercenaire!
Venimus, Vidimus, Vicimus. I actually enjoyed Latin. I learned more grammar there than in English class.
I am a high scholl dropout, so there.
See I even spelled skool wrong just to make my point.
Proceeding to pelt us with poo is probably a poor position of power to pick. Perhaps providing us with pastries and pickles would prevent possible parcels of Poodle poo being placed on your porch.
Why, I would love to bake you something…what a great idea. I’ll just get the dog to make some of her special chocolate chips and bring over some brownies for dessert…
I’m sure someone else can make pickles.
Maybe that is for the best… your pickles would be too sour.
Let’s just say they would be…
Perhaps another day then…
Perhaps, indeed.
Suddenly, I’m craving pickles.
Maybe you are going to be a mommy…
Maybe we are talking about pickles…
Okay, but if you want it with ice cream…
I’m lactose intolerant, so no ice cream.
Absolute bummer. Just when Art and I were getting ready to take you for a treat. Look at the money we saved. No Pina Coladas or Velvet Hammers either I guess. I’ll bet you’re a hoot with about 3-4 ounces In two hours in you. A good place to stop too, I’ll bet. I hardly ever drink, but when I do, a great analgesic if you are in physical pain is a Long Island tea……or two.
Margueritas…
Vodka is my poison. Unfortunately, after our trip to Cuba…anytime I act remotely goofy the kids ask me if I’m drunk. All I had was one Black Russian…
`See what happens when you go to Cuba.
I know, right?
Setting a bad example.
They’ll get over it. I think.
Or emulate it.
I’m sure they’ll forget allllll about it…
No. Not right, But now you know. Didn’t give us one tiny thought. Not for a solid week or better.
Indeed 😀
INDEED, indeed!
In need.
ouch
Now you’re trying to make me feel GUILTY?
The judge did that, not us.
We all need a vacation now and then.
Did you get a single card or letter? Me neither. How long has she been back and no photos, gifts, souvenirs or Cuban tchotchkes? “Oh, I missed you guys so much and thought of you all the time and wished you were here.” Bunkum.
Not even a cigar.
Don’t you ever sleep. It’s barely past 6A there.
Kids graduating. But no, I never sleep.
Congrats to the kids. So you will be departing shortly to pomp their circumstance.
It was a crazy day.
Yeah, right. “Bartender, I’ll have the Black McRussian. Supersize that please.”
Simmer down Boris and Natasha.
You mean Moose and “Sqweruhl”
ha
It was the first one I ever had…
“First one I ever had” In Cuba. On vacation. Before breakfast. From a quart Mason jar, Through a straw. In one long pull. With brain freeze. I hear you talkin’, sister.
You are empathising. Empathizing?
No way. Just letting her know we won’t be duped by that “Just two beers, Officer” kind of shell game. All of the above was how the first one really went down. Chug. Only thing missing was the bong.
If it was missing.
lol.
Then you shouldn’t have supersized it.
Indeed…
Don’t be intolerant!
I wish I had a choice.
You have a pont there.
And a “pont” is something that can’t be trifled with.
I tried to go edit that.
Looks like your reply finger is faster than your edit finger.
All my fingers are fast.
Apparently.
Fast, flying facile fingers fomenting frequent falsehoods and fanciful flights in a friendly fasinating flirtatious fashion.(What’s that called, A?) A momentary visit from my muse.
I got a flying finger for that.
The perfect insignia for our glorious battle flag. On a field of blazing beavers and fringed in tattered Everlast kickboxing hand wraps, as a talisman of victorious defeat and subjugation of El Norte’s.
The one finger salute of opression.
No. It was French silly. She meant “you have a bridge there.”
Yeah. It’s complicated.
Like a woman. ;P
Like a tuba
More like a French (HA) horn with all those convoluted twists and turns. Leave it to the French never to do anything in a straight forward fashion. The never would have come up with the trombone. Here’s where we see how sharp she really is.
Or flat… get it… musical joke slam… one more point for me.
Indeed 🙂
Tjo borrow from Art, in need indeed.
Double snap.
sheesh
I can’t know everything. I barely speak my own language.
Indeed.
I only speak enough French to get my face slapped.
You’ll have to get in your own line for that.
Oh, I have.
Backhanded by her with that velvet glove.
I could live with that.
She is a natural born trouble maker. With a flying poo fetish. No wonder she has trouble with relationships.
Nobody invited you to move in to our new sim city neighborhood!
I know. But I was the only one with a vegetable garden and short shorts so some guy just let me in. Sucks for you.
Bending over in short shorts to pick carrots is just plain cheating.
Like I said…sucks for you.
I win.
You might have… but ever since he started calling you a whale, all I can see is a whale in too-tight shorts. It ain’t pretty.
He called me a WHAT?!?!?!?!!!!!!!!!!!
This was also spam, although it tastes a little like blubber… hey, he said it, not me.
I don’t recall the comment. Must’ve gone straight to my Spam folder.
Everytime someone calls you a whale, another angel makes some spam…
hilarious.
You need to tweet that 🙂
No one would get it.
I know. Do it.
You’re not the boss of me.
I know it sounded bossy, but it was more of a cheer than a command.
I believe you.
That’s it Mowgli. Keep looking Kaa in the eyes.
It’s the flicking tongue that gets you.
The tongue giveth and it taketh away. When it’s not licking, it’s going LALALALALALALALALALA.
And it’s sharp too.
And forked, kemosabe.
I sort of like that.
Again with the denial ploy, Frau Blucher?
It’s not denial…it was the tone and the pom poms that were missing. It would have mattered, but I ran away, so….
Oh my God! A former cheerleader. I didn’t know hockey and lacrosse had cheerleaders. Let’s hear and old school cheer.
That explains the perkiness.
And dog ears in ribbons and short shorts.
I need to stop thinking of her like that. It gives her power. Go back to the whale thing.
Exercise your authority, man. Give her the LBJ. Jerk her up and dangle her by those dog ears.
But I love animals…
But I don’t cheer on demand. I only cheer when I’m about to win.
You must be way out of practice then. Do the sweater and skirt still fit. Just asking. A fella can dream can’t he?
Don’t dream… never dream…
We have only your word for that.
Back in the saddle again. Done pomping, I see. I have an early call tomorrow. You’ll be on your own tonight.
I am travelling tomorrow. I have time for a few comments.
What else do you need?
Bacon.
Alrighty then.
sweet
Actually bacon is more savory. But I’m sure there are maple flavored bacons that are sweet.
applewood smoked bacon.
Did you cook it on your computer? I’m begining to see a connection.
No… just day dreaming out loud.
A breakthrough at long last. This may be the first time he has acknowledged we too have needs. I suspect is is misdirection. Something is up the other sleeve. Keep your guard up. By the way, really enjoyed Now You See Me and didn’t guess the ending before it got there.
Double reverse back hand flip…?
She will renege on that acknowledgement so don’t hurt yourself with the gymnastics just yet.
I meant that about your comment, but I am always careful when I do my gymnastics.
She has an answer to everything.
Miss Right. Toujours et pour toujours
More Hit and Miss Right.
It’s more of a song, really…
But not the forbidden Oh Canada. You are allowed to sing Oh Canabis however. Now I have the Feds linking to your sight. Like Dick Cheney wasn’t enough to do it..
The drones they are a comin’.
Take a sad song and make it worser…
That’s my comrade in arms. She thought she could stealth her way in and usurp your authority. BAH!
Canadians… what are you gonna do, eh?
Yeah, wadda ya gonna do? Can’t live with em………………….so why try? HAHAHAHAHAHA
If we didn’t need their syrup…
She concedes the victory to you and then starts giving orders again. She’s trying to run a puppet regime.
She likes puppets… keeps her hands warm.
Visions of round mounds… of carrots. Cucumbers and zucchini. I warned her. She opened the door with her short shorts.
I am not thinking about mellons at all…
So tempted. Discrete restraint. Just remember later, YOU brought up the short shorts.
It was the only way I could think to get permission to move into the neighborhood. It’s not like my pickles were gonna cut it…
See… she is a pickle cutter… we all know what that means.
Getting a pickle now. *Cheers*
She did, I heard it, your honor.
Not true, I read all that bouncing back and forth yesterday. If not enjoyable surely it was entertainment…
I can’t be enjoyable and entertaining at the same time?
You sure as hell can!
Since my comment thing isn’t working, I have no idea what it is that I can sure as hell do???
Be both amusing and entertaining. And you are. Gotta go fix something to eat. Bailing out for now.
Chiao… or chow, as the case may be.
I think they only FP posts that no one else would read otherwise. I don’t think you have that problem.
That is looking on the bright side.
A poem to all of us. Hmmm. I can’t decide if I’m delighted or terrified. 😉
It could go either way.
I don’t believe that for one minute. You have your beautiful daughter — (s?) more than one, if I remember? — your wonderful family, and of course that crazy kid, WILLY! When is that kid coming back, anyway?
Also, I learned that I can type Photo Shop in your search bar and find a bunch of my favorite posts plus others I have missed and are soon to be new favorites.
You make me feel special, too. Especially when you can’t let me get the last word in your comments. I’m pretty sure you never have. I would miss you if you suddenly stopped posting to your blog.
That was the nicest comment ever. I am going to see Willie this summer, so I should have some pictures. And, though this will sound pompous, I try to tell people that if you poke around in my old posts, you will almost cetainly find something you like. Thanks.