datura via Jerome

Pic was provided by Brother Jerome – second time he got it to bloom. Lexi is madly allergic to them, so if you’re reading this don’t start sneezing when you see the pic, just enjoy the glorious symmetry and strangeness of the inflorescence.

On a more troubled note….IT WAS SNOWING at the top of the hill this morning. Since I am no longer swearing on my blog, I cannot precisely express the wave of bilious fury which coursed through my body when my brain finally acknowledged that indeed, that white sloppy stuff pasting itself with such vigour to the bus windscreen was NOT Oobleck, but snow. I had the same realization as everyone on the bus, and we all went “EEEEWWWWWW!!!!” at about the same time and volume. There followed a spate of subdued profanity and the sound of umbrellas snapping open. By the way, in Scotland, that’s pronounced Aw Naw, Snaw!

more pumpkins?

The blessing of the animals went extremely well. People talked briefly and happily about their animals, living and dead, and I am very glad I didn’t bring my two in, even in picture form – there was plenty of action anyway. I light candles for Kira and Zeek! who are okay as companion animals go. There will never be another Bounce; all I can do is ask God for a cat that will sit in my lap as I type. About three people commented on my outfit – nothing negative. Jumping Jimmy Christmas, if I can wear this to church, maybe it’s too square for Fet Night? 1 down, 4 openings/closings to go.

Off to Stuporstore soon to pick up supplies. I really feel it when I don’t take my vitamins; missed them last night for some reason.

You won’t believe it, but I found another pumpkin out back. This one’s the size of a soccer ball. I think I’ll just eat it, after I take out the seeds.

And screw grass. I am going to grow pumpkins next year. Everywhere. Off of everything. Whole front yard. And sunflowers. Billions of dem. You will see. It will be a symphony of yellow and orange.

a blogging we will go

Katie was punking me, the little tad, so I am glad I didn’t unleash the full force of my squirrelly wrath. To get the full flavour of this cultural reference, go to illwillpress.com and listen to the squirrel sing about…. ten guesses, squirelly wrath.

I am now working on a routine about tattoos that move. This is because the technology for this is closer than you think and I believe that as a cultural commentator I need to prepare you for the notion that the next time you go down to the swirlpool at the rec centre there will be a guy with a pornographic and moving tattoo. Sitting next to you. You know, two skeletons having sex doggy style and the head keeps falling off the one on top, endlessly looping. (Thanks to Vampire Mamma for providing this image, big wink). It’ll be skeletons because then the guy can tell the cop They’re wrestling, ossifer. Honest. Okay, last bloody Halloween skullington etc reference this year. My children will be amused… yours, maybe not so much. And I can think of other tattoos that move, dogs that bark, devil girls that wink and angel wings that flap. Flags that wave, for those patriotic types. Motion capture of favorite artists dancing or singing or otherwise flailing about. And all run off your body’s electrical system. Yes, I know it sounds bizarre, but it’s CLOSER THAN YOU THINK! I’m going to get a scorpion that waves its front claws and then tries to sink its stinger into you. Hai! Ya harri hoy! Oi! Or maybe I won’t.