If I could draw like my sister I'd paint a tiny little silly looking creature wagging its silly little fist at a yawning sky. But, I can't draw dammit.
I don't fancy that I am doing anything more but those absurd wrist wags are better than nothing and the possibilities of a growning witness list exist --at least.
I'm getting hits from all over the world and from very odd keywords:
I don't want to call anyone out who doesn't deserve to be called out but someone from Minnesotta found my blog with these keywords, " Do Claymadia make ur ribs hurt." and this one, " Heene self esteem scumbag" and then this Apco group is back and now they are looking from Signapore and John Grisham and Robin Cook should be taking notes somewhere. If someone sees a 2002 subaru impreza blown up somewhere... please don't call the LAPD or FBI or the public Integrity Division of the D.A-- they will be interested ... but not in that good way.
I still think I could write it myself(or hope my sister gets hit by the muse again) and I'd aspire to at least "in cold blood" levels or at least , "The executioners song" so of course it will either take a long time or just never get sent to any gatekeeper and if it does get in the hands of the right gatekeeper this gatekeeper will get swine flu the day he/she sets out to try and make many see it.
In other news, my mother is defeated by our housedress quest: She is now telling me (as she washes some dishes) that if she ever does find a housedress she will preserve it by getting an apron to put on top of the housedress. I remember again that they are also called "Dusters" and so I haven't given up hope. I so dearly want to get her a host of these at home .... garments.... and I so desperately want to say, " Mommy, here are 200 of the prettiest possible housedresses and there will be no need for an apron."
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