Molly Goatwax

Weeners

As I emerged from my house this morning, I was startled to see a denim clad figure lying prone in the middle of the street. The red stains on its clothes and the pavement had me thinking the worst until I remembered the date and noticed the staw....spilling out pant legs and trailing up the street a bit ending at ...my car. There was straw all over the hood and the windshield, stuffed under the headlight wipers and sprinkled on the roof. Some miscreant had arranged this tableau to make it look as if I had taken our neighbor's scarecrow out as it was trying to escape its yard. Hardy har har. Then as I delivered ice at Molly's on the way to the office I discovered that both the toilets had been rendered inoperable. The men's was easy enough to unclog with a plunger, but the inside of the women's toilet tank had been stuffed with paper towels and the bowl filled with more towels and feces. The floater ball was missing. The water to the appliance had been shut off. I cleared it out and fixed it well enough, I think, but what a pain in the butt. Hardy har har har.

goatflipping

here is an image that Typepad wouldn't let me load a while back, or maybe I was cognitively challanged that day...

Not now

Last night I came home from seeing mother, feeling depressed and with the inevitable ponderings on mortality swimming in my head. As I sat at the dining room table with a cold brew, the nine year old crept into sight, carrying a toy double headed axe and wearing a black hooded cape and a skull mask complete with a hidden pump that spurts red goo out the mouth. And she trod heavily about the room with hunched shoulders, moaning and gesturing at me with the axe. I asked her to go away a few times, but she was all wrapped up in her act and continued to menace me until I yelled for Hubby's assistance: "HONEY! Could you please tell Raoul to stop Grim Reapering me?"

Worthless

My blog is worth $0.00.
How much is your blog worth?

Via the pinko feminist, who is well into the 6 figures. I am more amused than bothered by this calculation of this blog's worth, CNN also came up a blank. Try it yourself.

Tapioca

I didn't go to work today, I went to see mother. I inspected the stiches on top of her head and she asked me why she had had brain surgery and if it worked. I told her, as she has been told already, that she has a tumor and that she had had a biopsy. Then I told her, when she asked, that it didn't look good. She thanked me for not beating around the bush about it and I sat down and held her hand and refastened the red lit pulse monitor on the end of her finger when it fell off. After half an hour or so she asked me all the same questions. Then I showed her an engraving I brought her and she discussed the disposition of her library and other articles of her estate. She started telling me about how her taxes were arranged and I told her that we didn't have to worry about them for a while, yet. And then she wondered again why she had had surgery, and told me that we would fight it. Then she wanted some tapioca. I want some too.

the rain, will it never end?

They have not yet turned on the heat in the office. In the cold drizzle I stopped for a plate of the navy bean soup advertised on the sandwich board outside the deli by the office. They were out of it. I can't stand turkey noodle so I went to the pub a few doors down. There I enjoyed a baguette with my potato ham chowder. Sometimes this grace we chanted at a girl scout camp in the mountains of Virginia comes up from bits of memory;

Some hae meat and cannot eat

and some have none that want some,

but we hae meat

and we can eat and so the Lord we thanketh.

Look out

The plush toy jaguar has comandeered the radio controlled Mercedez convertible. Should I be seriously concerned about my ankles?

Sunday Morning

On my way to the hospital this morning, I was driving down the kind of street you just want to cruise through, quick, with the doors locked. Just south of where tough-on-crime Boy Mayor launched his first campagn as Mayor at an infamous drug market, the car ahead of me kept stopping. The driver would put on his flashers and leap out of the car, then run back in. I was perplexed. Imagine my consternation when I realized he was collecting paper money from the roadbed. "I got a twenty!", he told his passenger, brandishing the bill as he leapt back into the car! I looked madly about for bills he might have missed, but he finished his harvest and I decided it would be a good thing to just drive on, anyway.

And so forth

What? I've been hiding under my bed for three days? Say it ain't so! No, it aint. I've been driving ice around, going to work and doing Mom's nails. And I made sure my stepfather had a doughnut. (When I asked him if he wanted one, he smiled like sunshine. Then I had to get him one.) I also scored a bowl of cabbage slick with bacon, all soft and agreeable from the hospital cafeteria. This evening it was deemed by the customers at Molly's that the cactus garden has grown too large to sit by. So Miss Allison and I rehung the bottle holder that is the garden under a south facing window. And all the cactus had a teaspoon of beer each* before their soaking, and then were set in their new home to look out the window.

* They get one teaspoon, once a month. Believe me, these are happy, thriving cacti.

Not Quite Happy Hour

As you must know by now, no one has bombed our tunnels into oblivion yet. That's a good thing. But still, I hope I never have to go through them again. It's not so much the recent scare or the general onset of attacks and disasters recently, I've always been afraid of them. Hubby will attest that the drive under the harbor has put me in a floor-staring, breath-holding panic for the entirety of our relationship. The Bay Bridge works me up even more, so I haven't driven over it...time to turn our thoughts elsewhere. Cinnamon...butter...apples.... An orange cat who regards me with trust and respect (for a cat)...the blender that is Molly's brain switches into high speed... Ah! Let's go hack up a pumpkin with the kids!