I can remember when the thought of ever needing a gig of memory on your computer was some hilarious far off future unimaginable need. Everything, everything, we thought, that we could possibly accrue in our lifetimes to fit on our computer would surely fit on a gig of space and that would be a computer so huge as to be ridiculous for us to have in our homes.
In related news, I just filled up my 4-gig iPod, which I carry around in my pocket. And I am mad that it’s so little space.
I have jalapenos! Not full grown ones yet, but slender green fruit curling under the pepper plant leaves like a long witch’s fingers beckoning “Come here, my pretty.”
I need to look and see if I have any bell peppers yet, too.
I don’t intend to live-blog this, but Jennifer Hudson’s right boob is bigger than Sarah Jessica Parker’s whole head. It’s like watching Jennifer Hudson on stage with a scrawny hobbit.
I had to get up in what amounted to the middle of my night to drive the Butcher to work and on the one hand it was totally worth it because the lightning was amazing but on the other hand, I’m all discombobulated. It feels like it’s much earlier than it actually is.
But I was glad to have the minutes in the car through empty streets under the blinking lights and the blinking sky to talk to him.
I tried to spend my evening laying in bed listening to sad music, but I got bored and so instead spent the evening watching scary movies on the couch with the dog.
And this morning I find Kathy T. has already filled my inbox with other possibilities.
Do I even have to tell you who’s posting “Where in the World Is Barack Obama? Well, he’s not at Trinity United Church of Christ on Chicago’s south side this morning.” at prime church-going time on a Sunday morning?
Bwah ha ha ha ha ha ha.
That’s the trouble with electing yourself to the God police. Sometimes the work requires you to commit the very sins you’re trying to eradicate.
Tiny Cat Pants 