With my luck, the following will turn out to be the one, true religion:
Frisbeetarianism: The belief that, when you die, your soul flies up onto the roof and gets stuck there.
Just so you know
There are rumors floating around that some pet birds can do things like sing and dance that my birds can’t do. I just want to make it clear that it’s not that they can’t do it, it’s that they do not choose to do it. I believe their distaste for performing comes out of the fact that they have had the misfortune to observe the sad results of one of the flock learning how to sing and dance from me. They feel their dignity will not allow them to repeat the activity.
Abdul, my African Gray who knows no better,
Still from Blue and Blondie
She’s still lying there, under the covers, muttering she can’t type because her fingers are all cracked from the cold. But all is not lost. She can still work the can opener.
from Blue and Blondie
Hi. This is Blue and Blondie. We are writing this for mom because she refuses to get out of bed. She just lies there muttering something about the cold and that people should be allowed to hibernate like bears. Can’t quite catch all she says but every time we wag our tails and make a breeze in her vicinity she yells something about her old bones freezing and pulls the covers up over her head. We are worried about her.
Rumor has it that she once lived in Barrow which, according to what our doggy senses tell us, is way
Their love should be recognized
A very dear friend of mine recently got some bad news. She’s ill. Very ill. The kind of ill that involves hospitals in the lower 48, chemotherapy and a lot of fervent prayers.
My friend is an amazing woman who generates deep love and affection in anyone who takes the time to know her. She and her partner raised two beautiful young ladies, the kind of young people who give hope for the future.
Her partner would like to stay with her during the next month while she’s in a hospital so far away. That’s not too surprising considering that
It’s reaching that point of winter
By the time I put on the extra socks and the boots with the metal things on the bottom, put on a t-shirt, a sweat shirt, a polar fleece liner, my parka, a scarf and my gloves, I feel as though I’ve already done all my exercise for the day. The walking just seems extraneous. Yep. I’m ready for spring please.
My mother is looking down and laughing
I lost my checkbook in my office for over 30 minutes after having it in my hands and putting it down without ever having left my office. That either says something about the state of my mind or the state of my office.
A thought from 3 AM
If no one likes black jelly beans, why do they still make them?
Happy Birthday, Emily
Since I didn’t remember to get a card in time, the next best way to tell you happy birthday is through this wonder of modern communication. So happy birthday to one of the most beautiful young ladies it has ever been my privilege to know. And a big kiss for Rhodes.
Am I the only one who doesn’t remember ads before
I guess Don Young must be running scared because I never remember him running ads like he’s running in the papers now. And honestly, I find they make me feel dirty. Does Don really think we can tell when he is sucking up to us? Paying attention because he might lose his cushy job in DC helping Florida developers? Suddenly we’re important because we might vote for someone else. Yet I’ve always felt that for years now he’s just taken Alaskan support for granted and not viewed it as something he needed to really work for. Maybe that’s why his