Sitting and snacking at the local tea shop surprised to be sucking up whole tapioca in a wide straw.
Bloop.
Endlessly elevating.
Fat and flavorless and full of --
Bloop. Bloop.
Never smooshed though smooshed should be in my not-so-smooth smoothie.
Why is 6 afraid of 7?
True-fact dialog tonight between my 6-year-old daughter and my 3-year-old son:
She: “Why is 6 afraid of 7?”
He: “Cuz 7 is a monster.”
And I don’t know. I just find that funny.
I mean, yeah, the more traditional response would be “because 7 8/ate 9.”
And sure, that’s what they want him to say.
But really, strictly speaking, he’s right.
9 is gone. 7 is a monster.
And 6 is wise to fear.
x-post: The real John Kerry
Political aside: New edgewise post on the real John Kerry, here.
Close to never
I almost never do this. Almost. Never. So clickety close to never.
Not never actually, Not actually "never."
But like -- this close.
Crispy yum yum child of God
The cinnamon chicken slid off the car roof.
Gourmet exploding. Big messy boom.
Plate shards, scattered like shark teeth. Chicken shards, scattered like chicken. On the driveway. In the lawn.
And jeez: what a strange fate
for this lightly basted cinnamon flavored crispy yum yum child of God.
Three things I noticed today
- I am a monkey what likes to learn.
- I know this sounds whacky, but keeping a semi-regular journal, which I’ve started doing these last few months, seems to kinda maybe sorta be improving my long term memory in strange and spooky ways.
- Coming up with a decent joke that uses the phrase “long term mammary” at 11:48 pm on a Monday night, is much harder than you might think. In fact, it’s impossible.
Cat-pinned
Cat-pinned warm butterfly me beneath the blanket with my warm beneath the blanket in my crook she's a tack pinned me down till I flutter flutter stop.
she stays warm I can't move she don't care.
and I stop.