Busier than a whore at a picnic...



I've been struggling to find some clever way to describe my current state of undress. The only thing that comes to mind is something I picked up at cheerleading in camp, from a *farm girl.

Oh, Fuck me.

::*The farmgirl and I established a close, long-distance friendship, which lasted through college and beyond. In high school, this friend personified Polly Purebread meets Mary Mattress. At 17, she taught me the importance of proper nipple hygiene. She believed that having a reputation for sleeping around was one thing. A reputation for passing around stanky-ass, hairy nipples, was quite another. And dammit if her momma didn't make the meanest Tuna Noodle Bake, complete with crushed potato chip topping.::

C'est Mimi
Okay. "Mimi."
Now what?



She's done except for the fringe.

For that Mimi photo, I was trying to be all artistic, and shit. However, considering the band of monkeys currently playing chinese jumprope with my last nerve, this may not have been the best approach.

It's time for bed. My tales of chagrin, will wait another day.

I'll wrap with a poem from The Cakers. She recited this to me today, as she waited for me to take her to the park. Her toes were basking in a sunbeam.

My feet are hot.
The warm Is shining.

And now,
It's time
To go.

Labels: Knit Done, My Daughter Scares Me, Now You're Whining, Yore