Oops, I hope you didn’t go outside on my recommendation

When Mrs. Wigglebottom and I got to the park it was gorgeous and warm and sunny. But we started up the hill near the swingsets and I looked over at the big dead tree and saw behind it, also coming over the hill, a steel gray wall of clouds backed by a cold wind.

The white trees* seemed to glow in contrast to the winter clouds. And all the birds were darting from tree to tree or falling out of the sky into the bushes in big clumps.

There was so much noise. Everyone chattering back and forth, the squirrels rustling what few leaves are left. There were only four other humans and one other dog at the park, but I could barely hear myself think.

But I did ponder one thing–which is my favorite tree? The sumac or the magnolia. The sumac has those gorgeous red leaves that seem to turn about eight million different shades before they finally fall and those crooked branches that look like art. But the magnolia has that smell and you can hide under the branches and keep cool in the shade even on the hottest days. So, I never could decide. I think I like them both equally.

While we were waiting for the Butcher to pick us up (he’d gone to Walmart to pick up supplies for me before leaving me carless again), I explained to Mrs. Wigglebottom that her fans are requesting more stories about her and so she’d better start doing some cute shit for me to write about.

Sadly for y’all, she doesn’t understand a whole lot of English and so once she realized that nothing I was saying corresponded with any of the words she knows, she went back to sniffing around and ignoring me.

*Does anyone know what those are? They look like frozen lightning strikes out there in the woods.


Simple Questions

If a man says “Put the whole bill on my card,” and throws his credit card on the table and goes outside to have a smoke, why should he be surprised to come back to the table and find that he has spent $65 on dinner?

If a woman, say our charming Professor, is continually falling down, does it not seem reasonable that we should try to design a giant baby walker for the Professor, that she could use to maneuver around campus without putting undue pressure on her ankles?

Is that any weirder an idea than some kind of helper dog? Though, in all fairness, I suppose if the Professor had a mastiff on either side of her, they could lean in on her a little bit and prevent her from falling.

But where would two mastiffs sleep in her tiny apartment?

What kind of name is “Frank” for a boob freckle? Thanks for nothing, Sheik.

Could it be any more beautiful out? The dog and I are going to the park just as soon as I throw some clothes on.