I'm sorry, but you are not getting the best part of my brain today. She is just about gone...someone stayed up too late last finishing this for Mini's birthday party:
As promised, the Elevated Risk of Mullet goes to liz, for this sentiment: I am holding on tightly to the thought that these are the last, lingering farts of a dying breed. Originally referring to her duly elected state Senator, we at Wednesday Whining can think of so many other worthy antecedents.
The Cluestick Posse has new personnel: toy (including Legos)-strewing three-year-old birthday party guests. Sure to strike terror in the heart of anyone over the age of 7 1/2. And these little darlin's will be busy: work, internet service providers, people who don't appreciate broccoli-cheese soup, sinus infections, negative temperatures, muscle spasms in muscles you don't want spasm-ing, and tummy bugs (one party guest had to call and cancel because of yucky tummy bug going around Our Town).
Homemade! Bagels! to: husbands who make dinner, the producers of Downton Abbey, lives with lessened drama and smoothly-running boyfriends, and friends who help clean up after birthday parties.
Snorfles and a Style Award for kathy a's haiku regarding the ConEd misunderstanding. Sue and I speak the same preacher-speak, so I knew what she meant and was mighty confused by the electric company talk!
Sympathies and tears for all who continue to deal with the results of gun violence.
Tune in next week (that being tomorrow), when kathy a will host the Whiners' Ball!