time of year
Well, after getting rid of our respective sicknesses, Mojo and her Favorite Husband have decided to instead transfer their whammy-sickness curse onto their respective vehicles. Which makes you feel better physically, until you get the bill and realize there is no health insurance for cars.
Every year my Favorite Brother does the AIDS Walk New York, aka "AWNY". He estimates, in the 10+ years he's been walking, he has raised around $20,000 for the cause. Not too shabby for a ne'er-do-well relative of the Queen of Ne'er-do-wells!
I've said it before, and I'll say it again. Rosie, our Golden Retriever, is the nicest dog on the planet. She is also the biggest sissy I have ever met. So much so that the tiniest thing will traumatize her for days. Such as the cruelty I inflicted this weekend.
Not HERE, that's for certain.
Mojo has lived in New England for most of her life, and she still gets her mighty heart broken this time of year. You'd think she'd learn by now, but, well, Mojo is one of those special children who doesn't quite get that whole cause 'n' effect doohickie. It's about forecasters forecasting lots 'n' lots of snow, and then we get nuffin.
Mojo has not always been the tired, embittered fool you see before you now. No, at one time in her life, all dewy-eyed and pigtailed, full of girlish dreams, she was once happy and care free.
Not. Any. More.
What drove Mojo from skipping girlhood to the monstrous shell of a human being she has become? Well, I wouldn't tell just anyone, mind you, but just between you and me, kind random internet stranger, I will reveal the source of my sorrow.
Yep, today marks eighteen years of wedded bliss. Not that we're doing anything special. Just marking it on the blog so that people can send me lavish gifts.
I was going to comment about how this time of year always reminds me of my Great Aunt Polly, whose real name was Flora, and how she was a professional botanical illustrator type artist person, and how this time of year, when the trees develop that thin haze of swelling buds and tiny leaves, she always said the trees displayed a muted pastel version of what color the leaves would be in the fall.
If you have been paying attention and you've been dutifully sitting around watching Mojo's YouTube selections over and over instead of doing something more productive and worthy of your life, then you know what Mojo is referring to, over and above her continued practice of crafting sentences that end with prepositions.
Being the first weekend I've had totally OFF for ages, so I spent it wisely. Saturday with the inlaws, suffering through what had to be the worst calzone I have ever had in my life (It was very flat and sort of looked like it had been deep-fat fried), and Sunday morning with most of *my* family, going to a local sugar house for French toast and coffee. Which was nice since even though we live within driving distance I haven't seen many of them since somewhere around Christmas. (Why?