The Cellist leaves tomorrow for three weeks of performing and teaching in both North and South America. Know that I will miss her terribly but also know that this introvert is pleased to have three weeks of morning coffee without commentary.
Welp. That’s enough news for me today.
A brown pit mix with a white chest is sprawled on his back with his legs in the air. He has floppy jowls.
Get a job hippie
In a storm, it is not pouring. No indeed. It is pouring down the rain. Also, Canadian geese are Satan’s chickens.
Right back at you, my dear.
Right back at you!
Oh Lily! All the best to you. I am not as active on this platform as I was on the other one, but I am so glad to be connected to you regardless.
Hey @jwfhusker.bsky.social, you see this? Her Grace Duchess Goldblat approves.
All the best to you, today and always.
Jimmy, Duchess Goldblatt was the highlight of my Twitter days. I would never stoop to hijack her account. She is a goddess.
But you do know that the hard candies are the butterscotch discs found in Grandma‘s purse.
Beloved, my cousin just quote tweeted this to me and asked if I had hijacked your account. Never would I dare! I shall put him in his place.
By the way, the hard candy is butterscotch.
Today I learned that my dictionary has merch.
I’m not 100% certain, but this may have been an entry in a regional contest we have here in these parts called the Peep Show, wherein rural Nebraskans submit Peeps dioramas for judging.
Peeps in general have that effect,
A purple cocktail garnished with the abomination that is two yellow Peeps marshmallow candies.
Peeping Tom?
Alive, well, and finally home, where different local beer awaits.
I just had four local beers at the hotel bar. Tomorrow’s wake up call will be painful. Worth it.
I get to go home from my conference tomorrow. I am going to buy a brisket and brine, because St. Patrick’s Day is a state of mind, not a date. Also, I am filled with stout.
I’m away on business. But oh, the poor cellist!
I had two local beers and one of the best burgers I’ve ever had outside of the Midwest at a dive bar upon which I stumbled. Still sad about my inability to cure a brisket in time for the day, but much less sad.
Well, a dive bar that serves only local beef and local beer oh god I’m home.
Went out seeking seafood and found a dive bar instead oh well
At a work thing. Met a nice woman from Canada, to whom I apologized profusely.
That name alone is worth the price of admission.
I am, alas, at a work conference, so no brining of the brisket for me this year. I had beer and fresh seafood, so I’m not entirely unhappy.
I’ve already had a beer. And it was not green, because I am not a Philistine.
Context: my mother is currently in a rehabilitation facility, following an ankle surgery.
Her: I met a nice retired navy man here. He asked me if your father and I played cards because he needs another couple for… Pinocchio?
Me: 😐
Her: 😀
Me: Pinochle, for God sake.
I am with you on this 99.9% of the time, but you will have to pry my dirty gin martinis from my cold dead hands.
On it like white on rice. Bless you.
My liver is not going to survive this administration.
