"Deep Thoughts" by Lizzie

"What if a donkey was using a Jack Hammer?" -- she giggled a little at her own thought

Exploring the idea she added, "What if there were two donkeys? What if one donkey jack hammered the other donkey? (another chuckle) The hammer would do one (clicks her tongue) and the other donkey would be dead."

Dear Blog

It seems like forever since I've posted on you. I see that it has only been twelve days. They are long days without you blog.

It's not that I don't love you, I do -- and I wish I had the time to tell you all about how I feel about movies I've seen and what I think about certain movie trailers. Oh blog yes, I know you would understand and enjoy just how much there is to say about movie trailers -- like the one for the Adam Sandler movie coming out in Spring -- holy Bob Dylan look a like, Batman. And, holy dramatic chops? Even though they showed the whole movie in that one trailer, I still want to see it.

Or what about that Hills Have Eyes 2 trailer? I don't want to see the movie, my dear blog, even so -- it was everything a movie trailer should be. If I were into creepy I would have to go see that movie even though I saw nothing but some ropes, slow walking and slow dragging of things while a weird folky song played -- shudder.

They should stick to that teaser and not ruin it with the long one that will remind me that it's just a stupid and unnecessarily horrible movie.

And blog, when will I ever find time to tell you about Gurty and why her legs were shaved? Or wonder aloud if I'm turning into a doggy blogger and if it's a category worse than "mommy blogger" -- and if I'm both, what does it mean? I bet it gets me blacklisted from my space.

Oh that there were more hours in the day, blog, I would share my hopes, my dreams, my artistic aims. But alas, time management is not one of my gifts and it is for this reason that you suffer neglect.

I love you blog and I hope to type more soon, but if I don't, please know it's not you -- it's me.

Don't quote me

Rich and I went to a movie the other night and as the credits were rolling Rich broke into a little Yoko Ono, "wOman eees thay neegah of thay world."

I asked what made him think of that and he said it just popped in and that he was thinking of one of his favorite of my blog posts. I said I didn't remember any such post, but that it couldn't have been good. We both burst into hysterical laughter and I spat through it telling him it's best he doesn't refresh my memory.

He says my rants are his favorite because he cracks himself up with his funny rebuttles in his head and he day dreams about logging on and posting them. We laughed at that for a second as I thought, yeah, that would be funny.

Then I thought again and the sobering fact that I've already heard his rebutles again and again -- after nine years they are rarely new and often of the kind which remind me that he JUST DOESN'T GET IT and make me want to fork his eyes.

So, no babe, on second thought -- don't post a thing.

New Year's puking eve

No, not from too much celebration -- I ended this year with the flu.

Both of my girls went down the day after Christmas. They were so sweet about it too, with each of them saying, "at least it didn't happen yesterday." Their new baby dolls on one side and a puke bucket on the other.

All those days later, I thought I was safe. I was wrong.

I'm still feeling a little jelly-ish, I can't look at butter or grated cheese (the brick form is okay).

I'll take the aversions, I know I can handle this familiar territory -- I did it for three months at a whack per kid. Sunday -- Sunday was one of those days you realize that most times you are just walking around taking your health for granted and judging the idea of euthanasia a bit harshly.

I hope I am well enough for coffee tomorrow.

I miss you coffee.