So Mojo, despite her heartless demeanor and misanthropic outlook, nonetheless likes her pwetty fwowers. Probably because they don't talk back, as I've probably joked before. Anyway, the mountain laurel have been very pretty this past week, so yesterday I risked life and limb and went out in the back yard to take pictures of some of the random wild bushes blooming around the property.

(I took other pictures, too, when I walked down to the lake the other day, but that was using my crappy camera phone. In the bright sunlight all the flowers got burned out to a white blob. I am hoping that will not be the case when my NEW DROID INCREDIBLE theoretically arrives later today. We Shall See.)  MORE Mojo! »

So many sad, angry people ask me: Why, Mojo, how do you ever maintain your saintlike equanimity when faced with this vale of tears I call life? To which Mojo replies, Simple. I go to my spot. For just as Pooh--a Bear With Very Little Brain--had his Thinking Spot, so Mojo--a woman with very little else to recommend her--has her Spot, safely far enough away from polite society to render her fairly harmless and easy to ignore.  MORE Mojo! »

I stayed in bed until five thirty this morning, which is a major sleeping-in for me! I attribute this sudden laziness to yesterday, when I took my Five-Year-Old Friend to see the mountain laurel sanctuary over in Union. It's just a little ways west of the intersection of I-84, off of Route 190. We've been going there since we were kids, but I haven't been in several years.  MORE Mojo! »