shouting hallelujah
I found this in the basement of our library as we moved out today.
Apparently there is a big Mason Dixon difference between what you tell whiny children. I had always heard, “You get what you get and you don’t care a bit,” which rhymed locally, obviously, but it seems in these parts it’s “You get what you get and you don’t get upset” which makes more sense when you don’t pronounce it git.
Just when I thought we were beginning to fit in…
Watching the royal wedding at work, because, honestly, what is there better to do at 7 am on a Friday morning, and let me just say: THE HATS.
These little structures, sort of branch lean-tos, are all over the park where Bonnie and I walk, and I can’t help but think….witch houses?
(What about my childhood has warped me in this way?)
I am a mole, and I live in a four-window basement mole hole. Food photography is absolutely out of the question.
How is it that I convince myself I don’t like peanut butter cookies, then every time I make them for John I end up gobbling at least one myself?
