I must have blogging in my blood along with the red food coloring.
Or maybe I'm determined to stay connected with all of you whom I miss and love.
Yeah, that's it. I miss you. I'm going to blog until I absolutely cannot. When I'm not feeling well (commonly known as "I feel like shit"), I'll just put up my serene photo that says "Resting." That way you won't have to write so many nice things that make me cry. And you're always welcome to take those nice things back or add something like, "You're a big doody-head."
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My friend (and yours) Wandering Coyote has been wandering all over Nova Scotia and Prince Edward Island with her mother and aunt. She's been eating lobster like this was their last mating season, and she sent me this postcard between mouthfuls:
|(Click for enlargement)|
She and I were talking on the telephone (remember those?) last evening and I told her how much the third panel made me laugh; Her reply: "When I saw that panel I instantly thought, 'THIS is a Charlie card!' "
I'm somewhat disturbed by the number of female bloggers who, over the years, have made reference to my antenna or used some other euphemism for my, uh, equipment. In the case of Attila the Mom, "Prong" has sent her into fits of laughter (and some blue comments) for years. What I want to know is, where were you pundity babes when I was young and frisky? I was looking at my high school yearbook not long ago and I know where all those girls were: they were grazing on the football field both for the roughage and to save the school the cost of a ground crew. I must have grown up in an ugly neighborhood.
I'm sidetracked here, so visit the Coyote and her Flickr photos—all 467 of them—of her trip eastward. They're spectacular, from flowers to architecture to scenery to . . . lobsters.
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Please take a moment to visit Savannah and sign the guestbook for Miss Daisy, her mother-in-law who just passed away. Or, as Savannah titles it, Miss Daisy has gone home.
Also from Savannah is this wonderful flash mob video. Ravel's "Bolero" was an excellent choice, beginning with a simple snare drum and growing until the entire Copenhagen Philharmonic was assembled. Notice the parents. teaching their wide-eyed children about classical instruments and music. Thanks Sav—some sage once said, "Imitation is the severest form of flattery."
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Until next time, dear readers, I'll be resting . . .