Obvs and Wins

If you’d been stalking me throughout this week, you’da been massively entertained. I was nearly massively entertained myself, cept I kept yawning. Every morning this week has been me sitting in bed staring at the trees, my sleep center all, bitch, you know it ain’t no 7:00, this feels like 6. I abhor time change and it’s worse in the spring. What time is it really? Is it really this time and the other time was a lie? It is, isn’t it?

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me too, zerd-guana


I didn’t have downs this week, I only had ups and weirdness. I’d like to share all the details with you as a three-dimensional, in living color, animated me, but I can’t, so I’ll share the bloggable bits here.

Last summer, I tried to return some cello strings to the music store by carrying in the bag of light bulbs I needed to return elsewhere. We all had a good laugh about it, and one clerk said, “Yep, so that just happened. I can’t believe that really just happened.”

My life lately? A lot of me doin impressions of that guy at the music store.





Have you ever left a bag at the grocery store? I did. Moo asked for the following meals, and I quote:
“Potatoes and onions with meat in the red thing,” and “the chicken with the stuff and the leafs on top.”
For that, one needs salsa. Bought it; didn’t have it. Didn’t have the new bottle of maple syrup on breakfast night. Don’t have the pound of coffee I bought that day, either.
FYI, chicken with the stuff and the leaves is not nearly as tasty without salsa.



peace-seeking squawker


Our kid told us the banquet was a dress-up event. Made a big deal about us all dressing up. We all dressed up. The boy one put on a handsome shirt and almost died. For no good reason whatsoever. Just us round-table Motterns sittin like some sorta well-dressed, sad cult. Tsk.

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cletus the dog kitten


You know what’s awkward? When your kid thinks she told you what time to pick her up and she calls and asks, “Are you here? I don’t see you.”
“No, but Daddy can be there very quickly.”
Because “First we play and then we get an hour of instruction and then we go home,” is not an answer.
The unknowable is real, merely undefined.



shady peeps


Googled a place. Said place is on a street we’ll call Lido. I said to The Mister, “Isn’t Lido street familiar?”
“It’s here isn’t it? Right around here somewhere isn’t it?”
“I think so. Where do I know that from? I can’t place it.”
I looked it up.
“Heh. It’s literally that street beside the thing,” I showed him the map.
We LOLed.
We have driven on Lido street thousands of times, maybe even tens of thousands. And yes, it’s right around here. Now it’s gonna be a game I play with local people. “Ever heard of Lido street? Do you know where it is?” Mind. Blown.


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she still can’t believe it


Moo, like someone’s disenfranchised granny, was hoarding her medicines to make them last longer. Now that she knows about refills, she’s decided she’s worth slathering cream and taking a pill every day. It’s amazing what you have to tell people. Parents, do not stop to think about all the things you’re responsible for teaching. You don’t have time. You have to cram it all in there. “Make the cookies last, but use the medicine as prescribed.” You have to tell them that. How else would they know?



stripey fella


My mother lost a recipe in Hurricane Irma. That’s her story. I need to email her a recipe because ever since the hurricane, she can’t find it. Interesting premise, isn’t it? Hurricanes ransacking homes for valuables and meaningful goods. Your house looks livable after the hurricane, but you’re actually missing a recipe, an embroidered hankie, and one of your favorite books. It happens all the time when you move house, why not in a hurricane? Put down the scissors and run with that.


goina gramma’s!

Happy Friday Everyone!

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Several times a week, I leave on my lunch break and drive to the McDon’ts to get my beloved swate tay.

Y’all should treat me like other addicts. Sweet tea is like methadone, okay? Just be like, “Good for Joey, stayin off that Coca-Cola.”
I’m super sensitive to these issues, cause we all have our vices, and just because I have twenty-fuckin-five of them while you have only five doesn’t make you a better person and if you don’t think you have vices, or your vices are lesser vices, then it’s likely your vices include self-righteousness about your vices in comparison to others.

I am kind and compassionate, but bitchy.

Anyway, on my lunch break, often I see the same man on the corner. He’s got a good coat and boots, and a beard to rival Moses’s, but I know he’s still cold. Sometimes I give him monies. Sometimes I buy him a coffee.

Extraordinary Things Here:

#1 — I found out that if the coffee is for that man on the corner, it’s on the house. They provide him coffee regularly. People care. Doesn’t that make you smile?

#2 — A local car dealership bought him a bicycle. People really do care. Smile bigger.

You are unprepared for this next bit. Sit down. Brace yourself.

#3 — As I handed the man his coffee, a woman hopped out of her vehicle and ran wildly to him.
“Sir! Sir! We’ve brought you some clean water!”
He turned around, “Thank you. Thank you.”
“I know people probably give you a lot of coffee,” she looked right into my eyes, “but you really need water in this weather.”
I gave her some of my polite WTF blinking and a smile.


did she just try to shame my generosity?!? bitch, please, you are a visitor here.

Obviously, I couldn’t even.

Of course it’s nice she gave him water. I’m certain he needs water. Whether he would be able to drink all two gallons of it before it froze, I cannot say. Picture that. “Don’t drink water, kids. You’ll end up on the corner drinkin two gallons a day, suckin icicles from cars, and still Jonesin for fresh snow.”
Truly a downward spiral of addiction.

In a way, even with the wrong attitude but the right intention, it’d be spectacular if everyone tried to out-charity everyone else.

Imagine the escalation of that scenario.

I wonder if on his blog, he writes about us.
“Swate tay junkie came by again today, brought me another stupid coffee…”

Happy Friday Everyone!

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We Finally Went

I came home ravenous Friday night. The Mister said I was hangry. I was supposed to make salmon patties and a wedge salad, but honest to goodness, I just wanted to not cook but also not to be hungry. Sassy had a thing, and we had to wait to take her to the thing before we could go, which did not help my hanger. By the time we got her to the thing, it was prime time and everything was crowded of wait.

You can say it was date night, but it wasn’t a typical date night for us. One, we didn’t plan it — there was no heightened anticipation. Two, we were in our weekender clothes. Three, while he may have been wooing me, for me, it was all about the food.

We went to Gregory’s, you may recall that post, and if you don’t, that’s okay.

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It was not crowded. Upon our arrival, there were several couples and a family dining.


The first thing that hit me was that it was like a piano bar, but with food instead of smoke. We both agreed the pianist played beautifully, but could have lowered the lid. He played classical, jazz, show tunes, even a bit of pop.

We were glad no one was singing. We’re awful like that.

It smelled yummy in there. My hanger plateaued.

We had a pleasant server. She recommended the carrots. More on that later.

She brought out rolls and I detected imported flour. They were so airy. I saved half to get at the leftover sauce in our next dish.

We ordered something called Julien, which was this:


I was charmed by the individual pottery and the miniature spoons. It tasted like chicken and rice. I mean southern food: chicken and rice. Except there wasn’t any rice. It was chicken and mushroom and cream and cheese and it was yummy. I’m tellin ya, throw a lil rice in there and you could pass it off as chicken and rice at any potluck. I ate the mushrooms, The Mister ate the chicken.

We both chose Caesar salads. They were good.

I liked this tidbit — salt, pepper, matryoshka.



As people left, the owner would come and change the red tablecloths. She asked how we came to be there, and I told her about Chad. She said, “Was long ago then,” and nodded. I’m guessing Chad is no more. Perhaps he didn’t recruit enough door hunters.

The Mister ordered lamb. He liked it.


I ordered potato cakes. (Draniki) I liked them.


They put some pork on the plate, but I didn’t eat that. Still, can we note that they serve Joey-sized meat portions there? Like, that pork’s not in my way.

Y’all, the carrots. The carrots were unbelievably good. They were amazing. I know it sounds ridiculous to go on about carrots, but I cannot explain how incredible the carrots were. They were magical carrots. They were glazed, creamed, hell, I dunno, they were delicious. I ate them all and then I was sad. I would go back, order a main course of carrots, with a side of other veg and a potato cake, okay? Just give me the carrots! Dear me. Oh those carrots.

They do not rush you there. If you like a nice leisurely meal, it’s ideal.

I’d sat next to The Mister initially. You know, romantical. But once I stopped eating, I realized I was freezing. I couldn’t feel my toes and I huddled into my husband wishing he’d radiate just a bit more heat. Every time someone came in or out, I was certain I felt Siberian winds. I noticed the children dined with their coats on. I hadn’t worn a coat. It was well above freezing. Outside, anyway.

Now, as you know, my family thinks I live like a polar bear, so when I’m cold, it’s fairly entertaining.
I said, “Oh Baby, we shoulda dined in Hell, where they always have a fire going.” He thought that was hysterical, but when he roared with laughter, he created quite a breeze, adding to my misfortune.

I moved opposite him, a good four feet from the window. Which is when I finally noticed his hat.



We ordered a tiramisu and a Napoleon to go. We also ordered Moo some chicken and Crimean potatoes.

The Mister suggested I go out to the car while he wrapped up the check. I swear to you, the car that had been sitting out there over an hour was warmer than the restaurant.

We took Moo her chicken and then we sat outside waiting for Sassy’s thing to finish. I know you want me to say we fogged up the windows, but we played word games. Very sexy.

Once we got home, I split the desserts and it took all of us to eat them. Large dessert portions. Highly recommend the Napoleon.
Moo said the potatoes were wonderful and she wanted more of them. I like knowing she’d have a good meal there, too.

So yeah, interesting place, good food. I’d go back, but I’d wear a chic scarf and hat, and sit a lot closer to the kitchen.

One thing’s fersure — It’ll be the first place I think of next time our air-conditioning goes out.

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What is Fine?

I’m sucking on a chocolate square, staring at my monitor, wondering what’s fine. Fine is an interesting word. Much usage. Not to put too fine a point on it, but fine is often a lie, an omission at best. Most of my fines come with a disclaimer.

“I’m fine apart from the gnawing agony of reality and the horrifying realization that time is finite unlike the never-ending nightmare of anxiety that comes while figuring out how to live while I still have time. Also, my shoulder is killing me. Nice weather, though, isn’t it?”

I mean, how real need we be with people we will likely never see again? Real friends don’t ask how you are, they pinpoint, “How’re you handling — ?”

… the loss of my father? Alright. But today I saw a man who looked like a young version of him and it took the air right out of my lungs.

… returning to work full-time? I’ve passed all the headless chickens.

… Homophobic chicken eliminating chicken salad from the menu? I’m recovering. I do eat more yogurt.
(What, you don’t grieve petty shit?)

… the upcoming wedding?

We all have worlds behind the fine.

There are also a lot of things better than fine. I don’t know why I’m still wearing jeans and a bra and jewelry, but I’m in a warm, cozy spot and my animals gather around me like I am a veritable Snow White. I have squares of chocolate, yellow tulips in a vase, and not a single pressing matter to attend to.
I’m convinced no one in the history of the world has ever been more in love than I am. I love how in the winter, The Mister grows his face coat and every year it’s snowier and snowier. He loves how I get cold and let him hold me a lot. I love how the day begins with him, wordless and warm. I love how at the end of the day, he smooths me out like a cat whose fur’s been brushed the wrong way.

Sometimes, when the things don’t feel fine, or we don’t feel fine about the things, we have to remember all things, fine and rough, come and go. And supposedly, everything is fine as it should be, just as it is. It’s hard to remember that, to experience gratitude when the complaints are so much easier to access.

Still, life does its best to show us reminders — small kindnesses, blips of beauty, a knowing smile, a word of encouragement, a hearty laugh.

It’s like a Spirograph. It feels random and jerky while you’re doin it, but at the end, it’s sacred beauty. I keep hope, and that’s fine enough.


Stream of Consciousness Saturday — SoCS ‘fine’ is brought to you by LindaGHill

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SoCS — Good

Last weekend, one of my tires was low and The Mister put some air in it. On Thursday, I got in my car and the tire sign was on again. I don’t know how anyone would know it’s a tire sign, it looks like melting ice cream to me. ooh! where’s the ice cream, bonnie blue? Fortunately, for people like me, there’s also a wording part which read Tire Pressure Low.
I called The Mister and asked him if it was the same tire, and it was, so I said if he put some air in at again, I’d take it to the fixit place.

Walked through the door. Just a basic standard glass door with chrome handle. Talked to the man, left my key.
They called me mid-morning, all done. Walked over there at lunch. Man showed me the screw they pulled from the tire. They patched it up. As I was about to sign I looked over at the right column — 0.00. “How much is it?” i am signing for this. i should know.
“No charge.”
“What? That’s so nice! Thank you!”
“Eh, it’s no big deal.”
“Well that’s very kind, thanks again.”
Y’all, I literally have no idea what it costs to have a tire patched. I seriously do not know, but it was free and that’s an unexpected kindness.

Good place, Good Year.


Stream of Consciousness Saturday — SoCS ‘door’ is brought to you by LindaGHill

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Recappa 3

Over the weekend, The Mister took me out for sushi and new shoes, which afforded me the energy to roast two chickens and make pasta e fagioli, and praise be to puppies, we none of us had to use Moo’s red shorts as a napkin.


Monday was another holiday my employer doesn’t grant us, so I went to work while my family lay snug in their beds. Hard to leave. I had a good day, and my evening was even better because The Mister did the grocery shopping, heated up goat cheese pizza to put in my belly, and then he surprised me with a pint of Culver’s chocolate covered strawberry ice cream. I do so love the way he cares for me.

Also, he makes me laugh. Tuesday morning was like this:

It was a freakish 74 degrees Tuesday. The wind blew warm. Strange. I’ll not say unwelcome, but unseasonable days always weird me out. Tuesday was long. It was the longest day of the week, by far. I worked late and thought i will never get out of the weeds. By 9 I was swimmin with Sassy — the very best part of the day, even though she was all, “Butterfly now!” and I was all, “Mimom is tired!” I kept this same mood when she commented on the ‘old’ people and their ‘special joints’ and I was all, “You can shut the fuck up with that, and then when you’re done, you can shut the fuck up s’more.” I was fifteen once too, that’s when I found out I had special joints, and Bitch, I was born old. Still, we had all the LOLZ and swam all the laps and I slept like a baby after that.


On Wednesday, I struggled with the herfderflooper.


Y’ever had one of those things you learned wrong but didn’t know it was wrong, so you kept doin it wrong, and then when you did do it right, it felt wrong, and your brain sizzled and fizzled and finally you decided i must write down the herfderflooper because i can’t even trust my own mind? Like that. Kinda killed my Wednesday buzz.
But then, I came home, and Moo, who had been asked to ‘Tidy up’ remove Sassy’s 9271 glasses from the living room, the 238 hairbands the cats chase, recycle the 139 empty cans of diet Pepsi, fold the 490 blankets and fluff the 48 pillows had actually, tidied up, cleaned, and swept, and I was all aglow in the maturity and thoughtfulness of Moos as well as the smell of Mrs. Meyers.
And my Amazon boxes had arrived! Woot!

The Mister and I stayed up way too late watching show. Morning sucks anyway, but I began to fear we would never actually fall asleep and I decided we should just turn it off.

Thursday morning came like this:IMG_5258

Thursday day, my grumpiness was astounding. You know how people don’t know all the things? They shouldn’t know all the things. I don’t expect them to know all the things, but where I work is sometimes downright hysterical of people not knowing things. These same people must want their hand-tailored suit, five-tier wedding cake, re-built transmission, ready when they finish lunch. When I say hysterical, I do mean hysterical. Legit, hysterical.
I refrain from asking, “Oh, do you have a time machine, then?” BUT IT IS ALL I CAN DO TO STOP MYSELF.


By mid-afternoon Thursday, I had to break into a peppermint patty and I had dreams of a hot bath and a martini.


I didn’t actually take a hot bath or drink a martini, but instead, took a bowl of Rice Krispies to my bed. Mmm, bed.

I’m sure today will be sheer madness. Which will make the evening even sweeter. My fate is in the hands of a large group of teens. They think they’re voting on an outing, but really, they’re voting on which day and for how long I’ll have solitude, peace, and quiet.

Happy Friday Everyone!



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Recappa 2, Apparently

This is what I do now, apparently. Recaps. Heh. Maybe it’ll be different when …  oh, who the fuck knows.

I have to do a lot of this.

I think I’ve been fightin off a pack of germs, an army of flus, bug ninjas. I dunno. I know I don’t have enough spoons to blog or gym or stay up past my bedtime.

Lemme tell ya, last Saturday I did what all the people do, apparently — I went through the car wash, filled up my car, went to the goddamn grocery store, yadda yadda. Do Not Recommend. In my city of not quite a million people, there were at least ten million people driving around and waiting in lines. It had been a very long time since I did all the things on a Saturday, which is how I got the energy to do all the things on a Saturday, and that reminds me why it’s so important not to do all the things on a Saturday.

Shopped only for what was requested, which makes me look like I am, in fact, shopping for four different people. Schizocart.

“Nice breasts,” The Mister said.


On Saturday, I also told my children, as I do every week, to put their laundry in the bins. They didn’t do that. I am publicly shaming my children, yes I am. TSK.
Sassy finally took the last load out of the dryer after I lost my shit over the lack of washcloths in the main bathroom. i own more than forty washcloths. should i wash my face with fucking toilet paper?
“Yes, Catticus, I too am alarmed by the lack of clean dish towels and napkins.”
This weekend, I may take laundry hostages. It’d be a real shame if all their most favorite clothes went missing, OR if I used them as dish towels and napkins. Wouldn’t that be terrible? Wouldn’t you like to be a guest that day? Lil roasted chicken, lil carrots, wild rice, pretty plate, shiny fork — JUST WIPE YOUR MOUTH ON MOO’S RED SHORTS.

Sunday was grand, cause that’s what it does. It does grand, I do laundry and nothin. BUT! On Sunday, a small crisis — I got to the end of my beloved word game. It was sad, but I moved on to another word game, and that was happy.

Monday I worked early and over, but I left dissatisfied. Apparently, I needed two Mondays.
The Mister made the salad, and chili for Tuesday, nearly all by himself. When we went to bed, he said, “I dunno how you do it,” but I didn’t know what it was — parent so wisely, wear a bra all day, go more and sleep less than him, grow hair… 
“Do what?”
“Cook two meals at once.”
“Oh. Practice.”

Tuesday was not cruel. Tuesday was just fine. On Tuesday, I said aloud, “I’ve gotten a lot done and my tasks have all been going swimmingly!” And then I waited for the ceiling to cave in or the internet to go out, but nope.
I left on time, ran to the Aldi quick, and went home to that chili! And a solid half hour of peace and quiet!
However, Tuesday night, when Lady Do Hair came over, my whojawhatsit did not take and she had to redo my whojawhatsit. Apparently, that happens with the whojawhatsits from time to time.
Annnd, my new book was supposed to arrive by Tuesday, but it didn’t. That was fine, cause I was too tired to stay up and read.

It came on Wednesday.

What the hell did we eat Wednesday? OH! Tacos! Jesss, tacos, lovingly prepared by Moo.
No, we didn’t do anything special for Valentine’s Day. Well, we did go to bed early TO SLEEP.

Thursday was exceptionally warm — go without a coat warm! I wore my pink lacy sweater and my sparkle shoes with the earbobs The Mister likes.

I had doors, I did.


I was too tired to write about the doors I have. I needed to sit in my bed until 7:30. It was rainy and the cats wanted me to stay. My toothbrush was too heavy and my concealer was too light. Still, I trod on.
And good things happened because Thursdays are kind.
Look what I saw!
Through my sheers — Can ya see him?


I never can get a good picture of my cardinals, and I have more than two pair.

Thursday delivered my new arthritis-friendly stapler!

It’s the little things, y’all. Notice the cracked mug of fondness. Aw, mug.

Then I came home and made breakfast for dinner. I am a French Toast Person in a house of Pancake People, but apparently, don’t nobody complain if there’s bacon!


Today was a good day, if busy. I was told it’s busy season, but in my own nonsense head, I think of it as Chaotic Neutral. I worked late and I went to the goddamn grocery store on the way home because I will not go on Saturday!
When I got home, we had two group hugs and dessert before dinner.

Happy Friday Everyone!

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I wasn’t on Facebook Sunday.
I got on Monday night and saw people wishin one another Happy Superbowl as though it’s a special holiday and I was like, “Why am I friends with these people?!?” but then I thought about it and I was like, these people are friends with me when i post a neurotic vaguery of swear in my own special nonsense language, so right on, a very happy superbowl to y’all, too. 

Meanwhile, I’m like, Supersnow Sunday! Hurrah! Powdery stuff, all floofy and sweet. On Sunday I lay on my husband and sat my sofa. I petted the people and the animals and played my word games and smiled at my clean house. Then I made chocolate espresso cake.

The Mister deejayed, so it was old sad bastard music all the way. (If you know what book-slash-movie that phrase is from, you make my Top Five. *wink wink*)

On Monday, I went to work early and it was challenging. Then I went home, dropped people at rehearsal, went to the goddamn grocery store, went home again, and made myself a big ol crispy salad. My husband kissed my neck for such a substantial length of time, Sassy made gagging noises. As you all know, making salad is hawt. I bought French dressing. Y’all ever had French dressing? I never bought it before Monday. I only ever ate it at our friends’ house. I found myself delighted every time they served salad, knowing that tangy dressing would be offered. I thought, i could actually buy this. it’s not like how i only buy poppycock when i go to the home store… it’s just salad dressing. So I plopped in those sugar snap peas and carrots and radishes and waved my new dressing over it and I ate that shit up.

Tuesday was Tuesday alright. I wore my black sweater with the asymmetrical collar. I should have worn chinkless armor. I cannot decide, even now, if I had it coming or if I walked into a trap. I worked late, but not as late as I’d expected. The sky did this:


I drove home croonin out Anna Nalick.

When I got home, I immediately soaked in a hot bath. I floated mermaid-style while Catticus lapped at my water and pawed at my nose and I thought about how hungry I was. is it me or does email burn a lot of calories? non? Moo and The Mister had made Moo Stew and it was delicious because they made it with love, of course and I was starved outta my head. Then The Mister did dishes, because he’s an acts of service kinda guy, and while I’m a words of affirmation kinda gal, him doin the dishes was about a thousand times better than him sayin he likes my pajama pants or someshit. Oh, and on Tuesday, we wear our favorite pajamas, too.

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Wednesday was splendid. The Mister brought me coffee in bed. Not only did I have few work emails, but I made it to zero blog emails on Wednesday — a feat, I tell ya! I talked to The Mister all the way home, but when I got there I realized I forgot to stop and get phone chargers. Hand to God, Sassy goes through phone chargers faster than she goes through shampoo. I made stir-fry and I want you to know that it was delicious, but I couldn’t eat it all. I hadda save room for a Klondike Bar.

Thursday was marvelous, as Thursdays can’t help but be. Work was busy and good. I left mid-afternoon to go run one errand and left early to run another. Some people don’t like to run errands on their jobs. Apparently they’re not into getting paid to drive and sing far from the pinging of emails? The sun was still up THE WHOLE TIME!

The Mister made Spaghetti That Is Not Spaghetti, which is what Sissy named it when she was but a wee thing. It’s spaghetti with marinara, but thick with Italian sausage and heavy on the basil. While he did that, I made us all chicken salad sammiches for lunch today. My big boy would NOT stay off me. Even when the kids climbed on, he would not leave his mama. He would sit on my head if he had to.

I know there were other kitties online, and doors, and even some word games, but y’all, he needed me.

Finally, Friday, Woot!

My hair wouldn’t behave. I put about two tons of silicone in it, and tried to knot it, but springy bits kept poppin out all over. I put another two tons of silicone in it and clipped the sides up in a barrette like it was 1990. Yes, I did have wicked good hair in 1990.
At the office, it was one of those days where around 5:00, you dunno where time went, but you know you will not finish all your work. In the background, people were talkin about Shapiro’s and I was all, i am a matzo ball floating in the broth of life… but also, we should have soup this weekend…
Only The Mister was home upon my return. He suggested we flip the mattress before heading out. Since my husband spent his youth surrounded by fundamentalist Christian women, the, as I call it, “Pentecostal Hair” always works for him.

The girls were in their very first concert piece together tonight and it was neato. (They’re not in the video, don’t look for them.)

Happy Weekend Everyone!

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#ThursdayDoors — Four Words and a Door


I dig those reflections.

#ThursdayDoors is part of an inspired post series run by Norm Frampton. To see other doors of interest, or to share your own, click the link and find the frog.

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SoCS — In Other Words

Moo got this word game on her phone, and we’d all sometimes help her find what she couldn’t. I liked it, so I put it on my phone. Then Sassy put it on her phone. Then The Mister would help us find what we couldn’t, and he didn’t always wanna give it back, so he put it on his phone. Now, three of us play the game, and Moo only plays when we need help.
We sometimes switch phones, like, “I’m tired of looking for this word.”
“Me too.”

There are times we lose the will to live over words as simple as TWO and things no one’s thought about since 7th grade science, like CATION. Earlier today, The Mister found SET for me, and I found UNION for him. Sometimes it’s 4 words, sometimes it’s 40. It’s maddening and addictive.
“My phone’s dying. Let’s have sex.”

I don’t have time to tweet, I have to solve Level 13 and get all the butterflies!


Yeah, yeah, I know the top word is BURDEN, you don’t have to tell me, heh. If I solve it, I can’t get a photo before the next one comes up.

What nearly mindless games are you into?

Stream of Consciousness Saturday — SoCS ‘in other words’ is brought to you by LindaGHill



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