THE HORRORS OF IT ALL: Swamp Horror

THE HORRORS OF IT ALL: Swamp Horror: If you keyword search "swamp" in the THOIA Archive you'll find a bunch of stories set in said saturated Soggsville. They&#39...



I laffed.

It's Xmess Eve.  Paul, Louis and Frieda are sick with the same shit I had earlier this week.

I'm listening to "Welcome to Night Vale."  Hope the mysterious hooded figures will overlook my blog.  I hope Cecil and Carlos' beautiful hair will hook up soon.

Longest, darkest night of the year.  Lunar eclipse; it's supposed to be visible here.

How About A (Cork) Screw, Baby?

How About A (Cork) Screw, Baby?

Thanks MTV -_-

I just got rickrolled by MTV.  MY GOD, I LOVE THIS SONG, AND I STILL DO!!

Big Bands, Small Ensembles

Duo:
Paul and I are alone tonight.  Bernie went back to her guardian's, Louis is at work, Sol is in Henderson and Frieda is at a friend's house.

We listen to Music Choice, listening to big bands on "Singers and Swing".  We're on our computers, in our own little worlds.  Sometimes one of us takes a break to get some water or a snack, and we'll ask if the other wants something.  Mostly, it's us, on our computers, listening to something old and beautiful.

Solo: 
I could listen to Benny Goodman or Artie Shaw until I orgasm from the high notes on the clarinet.  I used to make something like theirs, as beautiful.

Women's Quintet (with a panicky soloist):
Mom's coming home on Wednesday.  Something in the back of my head is setting off the alarm bells.  Are they sending her to her apartment to die?  I feel like a panicky kid.  I AM a panicky kid.  Hang on Mom, I want to bring the girls up to visit you.  But if it's no, ok.

Ed is right.  I AM a selfish bitch.

Sextet (less one):
Going to Henderson on Sunday to celebrate Passover with Solomon.  I don't know if Louis is planning on joining us.  Seders are not for the weak of heart, but I have prepared seders for over 20 years and like any other holiday, the cooking, timed right, does itself.

Crushed.like a bug

I dropped the ball on spreading the word on my mom's dead phone.  My brother is angry and snappy about my "incessant Facebooking."

Well, guy, I guess you'll get to bitch about my blogging, but I doubt it's worth your notice.

I feel like I've been swatted across the nose like a dog that crapped in the corner.  I wanted to tell him, "I'm sorry!  I know I've been bad!"  This last post I asked if he knew why Mom's phone crapped out prompted him to respond, "I have no idea.  I don't have a rootkit."

Excuse me.  Just excuse the shit out of me, will you please?  And stay up on your throne, please, I do NOT wish to be judged.

Sunday Sunday SUNDAY!

Sunday was the visit to Henderson to see Sol.  It was a great visit.  We stuffed ourselves silly at the Dutch Kitchen on varenckas (I HOPE I got that one right).  Varenckas are "down home" German food, little packets of dough wrapping a cottage cheese, pepper, salt and onion filling, much like blintzes, raviolis, perogies.  These little lovelies are either boiled or fried - either way, they're tasty, and don't forget the cream gravy that goes with 'em.

We walked off that killer luncheon at the Mennonite site.  There was so much stuff I saw that I remember seeing in other museums (and at grandparents' homes) - amazing.

Sol was taking this all in very quietly.  I don't think I've ever seen him so quiet.  (It was ok for him to be quiet.)