Waking to Chaos
Our dogs wake up at 5 a.m. and consequently so do we.
"When I do not want to say things in real life I often say them here." — Mimi Smartypants
If thought corrupts language, language can also corrupt thought – George Orwell
Our dogs wake up at 5 a.m. and consequently so do we.
How childish do you have to be to insist on setting off fireworks ten days after the 4th of July just because you weren’t here for the main event?
I guess I share too much, because my son Gregory keeps cautioning me not to mention this or that until he gives me the go-ahead.
We bought prepared Thanksgiving dinners the last two times, and guess what? Between reheating and prep, they’re almost as much work as a DIY feast. Our only takeout this year will be the traditional Costco pumpkin pie.
Twenty-two years on, one scar’s still tender to the touch: the failure of our intelligence agencies and leadership to prevent an attack anyone could have seen coming (and many did, including me).
My dyslexia is not the normal kind.
I think in the future we’ll look back on this era of pronoun experimentation with embarrassment.
This morning I looked up shiggy in the Urban Dictionary. Turns out I was pretty close.