42. I wasn't completely honest about the Starbucks acquisition. Some of the details were inaccurate.
43. A couple of Saturdays ago, before going to Slidell, Louisiana to spend a week doing Katrina relief work, my son, River, was helping me clean the garage. He was disassembling a broken aluminum step-ladder when he sliced his right index finger to the bone on some jagged aluminum. I took him to the emergency department for stitches, but Susan told me to take him to the Children's Hospital even though he is a large, muscular, fifteen year-old. Hilarity ensued. My point is this: The garage is still not clean.
44. The other night I spotted a possum driving into the neighborhood at 23:00 (11:00 PM for non-programmer civilians.) Just to clarify, I was driving into the neighborhood. The possum was not driving. The possum was a pedestrian.
It was hunkered (crouched for you non-southerners) on the curb with an awful snarl on its face that would have been terrifying if I had been walking instead of driving or if I had woken up at night with the thing sitting on my chest staring into my face. The possum is not a beautiful animal. Maybe this is why my Possum Petting Zoo has yet to turn a profit.
45. I have often almost been inspired to describe the three squares that float in the coffee shop I patronize each morning. Almost, but not quite.
46. There is a part of me that feels like writing about myself is stupid. I mean, seriously, who cares? I'd rather make up people to write about.
47. I really enjoyed Brandon's visit to my blog on Monday and the comments that followed. It was fun. Thanks to those who participated.
Hello, friends. Tell me what's happening in the world. I've stopped paying attention.
Later. Love.
