I have to confess that I cannot watch that show.
And here’s why. This, my friends, is the hero of the show. And this is supposed to be the guy we hate. But I ask you, my friends, who can believe it would be such a horrible fate for Maid Marion to end up with him? And there’s no Roger Miller. You could make do missing one or the other, but not both.
Today, the dog was laying in the sun, all curled up with her snout pointed at me and I had to stop what I was doing and lay down with her, curled like two c’s, there in the warmest spot in the house.
Every day, I feel very lucky to have her and I am embarrassed at how much I thought my parents taking her in was a mistake. I mean, yes, it was a mistake and yet, it has unfolded into one of my greatest fortunes.
I think about that in terms of y’all. When I first started blogging, I was a lonely, weird, introverted, uncomfortable mess who lived in Nashville, but not really in Nashville and thanks to you, I’m now a happy, weird mess who’s going to buy a house!
I don’t know. It’s hard for me to say how much it means to me to have you as my community. It sounds so cheesy and yet where else can a person like me go and ask a question like “what should I be on the look out for?” and get such damn good answers, thoughtful responses, and stuff?
Thanks so much, you guys.
Really, if I ever see you napping in a sunny spot, expect me to snuggle up next to you and rub your nose and tell you what good readers you are and how happy you make me.
Yesterday, we were driving around listening to this group the Butcher likes, which I have never heard of (he told me not to admit this to you, because, according to him, it will give you the impression that I have been living in a cave… Ooo, speaking of caves, I wonder if the old Demonbreun place is available?), My Morning Jacket and I thought we were listening to a song with the lyrics “Another Heartbreak for Breakfast” and I was like “Wow, that’s really powerful” but no, it was something else, not that great.
Which reminds me that when the Boston contingency was going to Graceland, I was reading up on Paul Simon’s lyrics to the applicable song and it turns out that it is “As if I didn’t know that, as if I didn’t know my own bed.”
What?!
I have, all these years, heard that as “As if I didn’t know that, as if I didn’t know my own heart,” which, clearly, you can see, is a million times better.
In fact, now that I think about that, you could probably combine those two snippets into a song that would make folks cry just to hear it.
Tiny Cat Pants 