whim

I act stupid when it comes to boys. Well, I used to. I guess I still do a little--dunno, you'd have to ask a boy.

Anyway, I have never believed online dating was the right thing for me or that I was really the type to make long-distance work, but I happened upon the eHarmony personality test.

This morning when Monkey woke up I told him that the man he picked to be president won.

Realize my 4 year-old picked you on a whim yesterday based on your appearance. So congrats on that.

My other brother left a comment on my not-voting post last night. It was an okay comment except for one line which had me (figuratively) jumping up and down.

This is the time of year when I begin stumbling across blog posts that read something like this:

Alexander Solzhenitsyn, Nobel Prize-winning novellist who depicted the rigors of the Stailn era gulags in his The Gulag Archipelago, has died of heart failure at 89.

 Emotionally, I’m flighty, prone to daydream. Victim to whim, impulsive.  Gripped by a

Wednesday, July 16, 2008

I have already noted how ignorant I am of geography.

The Primary Wife and I shared a good laugh this morning.  See, its our 15th anniversary, and again, neither of us remembered in time to prepare anything.  Every year, it seems, one or the other remembers the day of, or the day after, and I can’t remember a time when that made either of us mad.