Life Among the Never-Winged

Once upon a time I was writing a book called, "Just Another Love Letter", about angels behaving badly. Now I just quietly ask myself each day, "What the hell am I doing?"

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Location: The Rocky Mountain Empire, United States

My friends always knew I was going to hell. My only hope is that God likes good jokes and bad redheads.

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  • Friday, June 08, 2007

    And the Winner Is...

    Me!

    But not first row. Oh well. I'm more thankful that O didn't slice through a tendon yesterday when he cut his finger open.

    Roller. Coaster.

    Anyway. My folks are on the road heading West. They'll be here tomorrow. If I get a chance I'll do a quick post with a List of Characters so that you can follow along at home when the boyos and I are whisked back to Rockvalefordton a week from now. Should be interesting.

    Oh yeah. And I forgot to tell them I got my nose pierced.

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    11 people left me a love letter:

    Blogger patches wrote in a love letter...

    Kitchen knife? or something more exciting?

    Sting is still Sting, whether you are in the first row or the five hundredth.

    7:55 PM, June 08, 2007  
    Blogger meno wrote in a love letter...

    First row, back row. Whatever.

    Did he have to get stitches? I know something about stitches.

    8:39 PM, June 08, 2007  
    Blogger Nancy Dancehall wrote in a love letter...

    He cut it open on a pocket knife while trying to cut through one of those damn indestructible, Armageddon-proof plastic tie thingies that holds toys onto their unnecessary cardboard packaging. He's somewhat embarrassed, because he 'knows better than to cut like that'.

    Exactly, Meno. But they must be pretty good seats because I had to fill out a tax form for them. Sting tax. But don't they all? Har har! Anyway, I kept telling O to go to the damn emergency room yesterday but he wouldn't go until today, so now he can't get stitches for another ten days or so. He has a splint, so he's walking around looking Amishly stern and pointing the 'finger of accusation' at everyone. Injuries are funny!

    10:06 PM, June 08, 2007  
    Blogger Scott from Oregon wrote in a love letter...

    Super glue for O and red wine for you...

    10:01 AM, June 09, 2007  
    Blogger Mother of Invention wrote in a love letter...

    Yikes! I hate that packaging! It's impossible to get into simple make-up etc. I don't get why he has to wait 10 days to get stitches?

    3:05 PM, June 09, 2007  
    Blogger Lynn wrote in a love letter...

    I know something about stitches too...can't figure out what he has to wait 10 days either.

    5:41 PM, June 09, 2007  
    Blogger Maggie wrote in a love letter...

    But you still love O in some old fashioned way.

    Couldn't help myself. Glad O is ok.

    Destiny is destiny - somehow or other from that seat not in the front row, circumstances will unfold and you will meet Sting. Can you feel that? It's the fate train.

    5:49 PM, June 09, 2007  
    Blogger Des_Moines_Girl wrote in a love letter...

    Congrats on the concert tickets!!! Sting....*dreamy far away look*

    So sorry about O's finger. I would guess they told him to wait cuz he didn't go to the ER right away. They wanted to make sure it wasn't infected before they stitched it up.

    Is it is middle finger? That could be fun to show people. ;-)

    8:50 PM, June 09, 2007  
    Anonymous clowncar wrote in a love letter...

    I'm getting a kick imagining O "walking around looking Amishly stern and pointing the 'finger of accusation' at everyone." He'd make a good Amish man. If Amish men were allowed to drink beer.

    1:29 PM, June 10, 2007  
    Blogger amusing wrote in a love letter...

    Bionic O. Better than he was before! Able to leap tall bookshelves in a single bound...

    That or the subject of a Mary Shelley prequel....

    11:16 PM, June 10, 2007  
    Blogger Nancy Dancehall wrote in a love letter...

    I've been laying off the red wine since the folks got here. I'll take it in a month.

    No doubt, MOI. Sheesh, and it's totally unnecessary.

    He has to wait to make sure that there's no infection. He's supposed to be on antibiotics, and they won't stitch him up until he's taken them.

    Oh, no Maggie; don't quote Police lyrics. I can't abide them. ;-) I hear that train a comin'...

    Spoken like a Dr's daughter, DMG. ;-) Bingo. Nope, the index finger. The middle finger _would_ have been funny though. I mean, as funny as these things go, you know. :-)

    Oh, well then he added "J'Accuse!" along with the pointing, so he looked like a French Amish beer-drinking guy, Clowncar.

    I asked him about a Mary Shelley prequel and he kinda tripped and fell. I guess no one can leap that one...

    11:30 PM, June 11, 2007  

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