~”He went to Jared!”
~Junk in the trunk
Please bring the retailers of America calendars this year, as they seem to be under the mistaken impression that Christmas comes right after Halloween!
~All over it like white on rice
~Occupy Wall Street (Not a commentary on the movement…other than to say that I’m tired of hearing about it.)
~zombie (this year’s vampire)
I was filling my cat’s water bowl yesterday morning when the sink spoke to me. Or, more accurately, wrote to me.
Now, I don’t expect you to just take my word for it. You don’t know me. I could have been tired, and imagining things. I could have a fanciful imagination. I could even be lying, inventing an interesting story so I’d have something to write about. But
pictures don’t lie pictures taken by people who don’t know how to use Photoshop don’t lie. And so I present:
If my sink has to be inhabited by a ghost, I’m glad it’s a friendly one.
(Editor’s note: The editor thinks it’s possible that ghosts exist, but does not truly believe that one is living in her sink. Unless the faucet goes on by itself. That might convince her.)
I was all set to post a poem in which I lamented my neighbor’s recent foray into early-morning carpentry, when, perhaps mistaking today for Halloween, the cosmos decided to play a trick on me. Along it sent what I can only imagine were the two loudest machines in existence to congregate outside my window. (Oh, and did I mention the guy in the tree?) “Um, Wendy?” it said, not tapping me politely on the shoulder, but smacking me about the head. “That’s noise.”
The Yankees lose! The-e-e-e Yankees lose!
But in news that makes me even happier, the Chicago White Sox have hired my all-time favorite player, Robin Ventura, to be their new manager. From what I’ve been reading, White Sox fans seem about as happy as if I’d been named manager, but I’m thrilled. Baseball, and, at the risk of sounding overly rapturous, the world need more good guys.
The soft whoosh of planes
All I hear today