Okay, it’s not all about Mimi. But prit near. And I promise, no tales of wee-wee today, either. ::Can you appreciate the restraint I’m showing here? I mean, Mimi just begs a rhyme.::



This is a fun pattern, and easy, and I love how it turns in. Kind of like the Clapotis, which rhymes with, with...just slap-o-me.

Tro’ Ho
This is The Cakers outdoor Trolly Dolly.





She lives year-round, in the garage. And even though she doesn't get to live in the house with her 2 dozen or so step-sibs, she does hold a special honor as being the only doll who gets to ride in the stroller. Weather permitting.

I'm afraid, however, that her undersocialized, reclusive upbringing has made her a bit, well, feral.

This is the sight that greeted me on the porch this morning, as I left for work:





Needless to say, I was not pleased. What that little Troll Bitch does after sundown, with goats, under bridges, is none of my business. But dammit, I will not have this shame brought to my doorstep.

So I rebuked* her.
And she agreed.
No more naked yoga on the porch.
'Cause we just ain’t dog-down widdat.

*Anybody guess what tv show I've been watching?
**I'm pitifully behind in email correspondence and blog reading. I'm sorry. It may not let up for a bit.