But no gallstones. Or kidney stones. Or the subject of thrown stones. At least, not yet.
The thunderstorms have been lining up like jets in approach. Wham. Bam. Crash. Wonder how much more this little house can take. At least last night’s fireworks didn’t crush my newly planted tomatoes.
A few milestones to recognize today:
The Sundries Shack is almost five years old and proprietor Jimmie is a birthday boy! Stop by and celebrate.
Fausta continues her campaign for Queen of Male Rule 5 Domination.
Parents lose more ground in the fight to raise their own children.
Another reason to save some energy and turn off the Tube. And park the jet for the day.
Who would have thought that a great American tradition would be brought down by the likes of this little weasel. Or that a new star would be born from the wreckage?
The Anchoress is movin’ on up in the religious writing world. Congrats!
Charles Johnson is beginning to need his own Terror Alert Status. Pammy? Really? Who’s next, my grandma?
theanchoress said,
April 24, 2009 at 9:09 pm
Thank you – you and Jimmie are very sweet to link to me today, in all my transferring trouble. I’m surprised you did not worry about catching my techno-ills.
Fausta’s Blog » Blog Archive » When Van meet Monie said,
May 15, 2009 at 4:26 pm
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