Dear Baby Mojo,

I hope you're enjoying your relatively idyllic, privileged and carefree childhood. You might be pleased to note that your adult version is likewise reasonably happy with how things turned out. Like that guy you'll meet when you're eighteen? The one where it was raining out and he looked like a drowned rat? Yeah, him. Turns out your stupid little moony infatuation was right: he's a really good guy, with the added bonus of getting even better as time goes on.  MORE Mojo! »

Instead of posting anything new and worthwhile, I will just point out that blackberry season is in full swing, so I shall repost my video of Rosie stealing them from me.  MORE Mojo! »

Yes, Mojo KNOWS "frailties" is mispelled in the headline. She did it on PERPUSS.

She WAS going to blog about the Infamous Hooters Story, I'll have you know. So many people have requested it I fear it will be a total let-down once I get around to it. Which was GOING to be today, if I may be redundant and repeat myself. But now it's not.

We all know how Mojo gets distracted by shiny things. This morning it was the local news, which--as Mojo has admitted many times--she has on in the background as she surfs the web every morning, so that she might not appear to be QUITE the ignoramus should something earth-shaking transpire as she sleeps. Why, she doesn't quite know, since Mojo has grown to hate the news she once loved, and especially the local news. Which, in addition to the usual screwups that makes the local news so charmingly homespun when compared to national productions, Mojo's local news has the Added Bonus of some sort of illiterate jamoke running the Chyron. So Mojo can always count on at least ONE dreadful, dreadful speling errer par braodcast.  MORE Mojo! »

So Mojo's been thinking lately of building a coop and getting chickens again. She's been thinking about it since she moved up here, so it's really been almost ten years of thinking about it, which means, in Mojo's world, it's almost time to maybe do something about it.

Mojo's bird of choice back when she had chickens were Rhode Island Reds, a dual-purpose bird who has the added bonus of being rather pretty, which is of course all-important. Plus you can say the name while stammering like Foghorn Leghorn--"Rhode Island, I say, Rhode IIIIsland Reeeeed"--when telling people what kind of chickens they are. Not that anyone cares other than other chicken people. Most people seem totally oblivious to the simple fact that there are breeds of chickens and not just "chickens". Say La Vee.  MORE Mojo! »

I was at the movie theaters this weekend, which like most movie theaters are set up with these corridors coming off a central hub that contains all the snack and food areas. (For unlike when Mojo was a wee lass, instead of just candy and snacks nowadays one can buy full meals at the movie theater, so long as you consider hot dogs and/or pizza to be a "full meal". You can also buy them at gas stations. Meaning a full meal.  MORE Mojo! »

Sunday was my Favorite Brother's birthday. He spent it at the beach. I spent it commencing my yearly firewood drive. Most of the morning I ranged around the woods near the house cutting up fallen trees and limbs with the chainsaw, and wheeling them to the shed in the garden cart. And then the afternoon reacquainting myself with Mister Maul. It was pleasantly mindless work.

And then this evening my Favorite Husband decided to see a movie, which we hardly ever do at night since we get up at 4:30 in the morning. (Okay, so HE gets up, and I lay about in bed like a slug until five.) We check the movie times and reviews on Amazon and this movie neither one of us ever heard of, called The Descent, was the highest rated of the bunch. So we go see it.  MORE Mojo! »