slow down, idiot.

Last night, after I gleefully turned in my last letters page chock-full of falsified election propaganda, Seth and I ate a pizza, and I enjoyed a Starbucks liquor-induced night cap. I was later told I slept on the coach for 12 hours. (Confirm this with your unfinished text message conversations that may have abruptly ended around 7:30 p.m. ) I was told I woke up screaming at Steter and Maybel for wrestling too loud, and, after a brief outburst, settled back into slumber. Two minutes later,  I woke and screamed ”WOCKA WOCKA WOCKA!” — as in, the famous catch phrase of Fozzie Bear. It was a good sleep.

Ahhhhhh, a sigh.

I just finished the last of the pumpkin pie Gimpy Thumb and I made from the pumpkins in our garden. It was a much more successful venture than our previous attempt. It was delicious, and there are four more pumpkins out there! Stock up on your whipped toppings, my friends. I can’t emphasize that enough.

In other news of food, we have entered the “weird chunks of pork” portion of our deep freezer.  I used Percy’s shoulder to made scrumptious pulled pork sandwiches the other night to overcome my grief. It was a good death. I only wish someone could similarly enjoy my shoulder, but alas.

Man, is there anything better than cooking up pork from a pig you raised accompanied with veggies you grew and canned, and following the whole thing up with desert made from your own fucking pumpkins? No. There is not.

All we need is a doctor and a pharmacist out here and we can finalize our commune. We also need wheat. And a mechanic.

There has been so much.

I will tell you in pictures:


Mom sent me Half Marathon photos. It seems like I may have spent a good portion of the race flailing my arms or standing around. This may have affected my performance.

A week later, my father and I ran in the Dead Celebrity 5K. See if you can guess which one is BEFORE and which one is AFTER:



 It  should be noted that Dad ate a Baconater five hours before the race and that he is 54 and a smoker and finished in 31 and some change. I thought I was flying, (“This is going to be a 25-minute run!”) had just run a half marathon and was slightly disapointed with 29 and some change. Regardless, we are going to get him in shape for the 5 mile Turkey Trot in November.

There are several things (!) :

  • I saw ANGIE at the Olive Garden where BRITTNEY got attacked by a giant, unidentified bug.
  • MATT GERISH wandered into our GROUP PUBLISHER’s office (while he was meeting with the CEO) and asked him for a notebook. I will send him over there next time we run out of non-dairy creamer.
  • MOM and DAD and AMANDA came over this weekend to help us reattach our heating ducts, the roofer man came to fix the hole in the roof, and we have a new sill, new floor joists and subfloor covering everything! MAYBEL no longer has to worry about going Downtown.
  • steter-thumb.jpg 
  • he-hears-her-thoughts.jpg

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  • Anonymous

    I can barely work up the energy to grocery shop and you are growing, canning and cooking? No wonder you’re so hard to get in touch with.