Monday, April 21, 2008

A perfect non sequitur

I've told this story to a couple people today and nobody laughed like I did. I was at a meeting the other day where a couple people brought small children. Toward the end, I was droning on about something and a little three-year old boy climbed up on a chair to listen and stare at me like I was the most fascinating thing around. We all realized he appeared to be paying attention, and his mom commented to him that he was a good listener. He grinned broadly and said, "Get more puppies." So, he wasn't listening to me after all. Little kids are a good lesson when you think you're saying important things.

It was 77 degrees when I left work today at 4:00, 67 when I left again for a meeting at 5:00, and 45 degrees and raining when I came home at 6:30. Yikes. Do we have to get the mittens out again? I had to change clothes three times.

Regis says that guy who is running for President for the Republicans has a wife who's rich. Man, why is he doing that? I'd be sitting on the deck of her yacht drinking margaritas and bossing the servants around. He's 71 for cripes sake. He doesn't need that kind of BS in his life. Of course, my husband's theory is that the guy isn't wrapped too tight in the head and this proves it. That's all you're going to hear from me about politics.

Good night to go to bed and read. I recommend The Vision of Emma Blau. It's one of those epic kind of books that covers several generations. It's very good except that a lot (and I mean a lot) of people have died. Not usually under violent circumstances which helps a little since I'm not a fan of violence in any form.

I don't have any more interesting observations today. That usually doesn't stop me, I know. I realized the other day I have about 450 posts on this blog. Some people could turn that into something profitable if they had, say, a plot or some imagination. Ah, well. Lame quips, rants about lawn care, and quirky observations...that's about all you're going to get from me. Hey, that could be a book.

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