WOLFEBORO, NH – Camp Hattie during the holidays. I love our tree’s little lean.
Mom swears it doesn’t bother her that people celebrate the birth of Christ on her birthday. Nevermind that across the board, bible scholars agree, Jesus was not born on December 25.
Still, it doesn’t bother my mom, who really was born on Christmas Day. In any event, I won’t be voting for Mike Huckabee, who completely ignores my mom’s birthday in his advertising.
Mom will be celebrating with Howie this year and having a damn fine time.
This is a little blog that a few people read. Like other things, it started as a joke between Christine and me. Not everyone likes me or my writing or my jokes, but I highly doubt anyone at The Des Moines Register has the time or interest to comment. On the other hand, ANY comment from The Des Moines Register is welcome.
Still, when someone tries to hurt me, they usually succeed. Hopefully, this admission will provide comfort: congratulations, you’ve hurt me.
My next play? Dog-Sitting in Des Moines. Maybe it will play in a warehouse near you soon.
Punishment for bad behavior during a hearty game of Scrabble, perhaps? Haw!
I arrived in Des Moines on December 1 during an ice storm. Two planes skidded off the runway before my little jet touched down. At least Midwest Airlines serves warm cookies. I couldn’t care less if we crash landed. Ova!
I only read Kathleen Parker every dozen years. Her column, “Survival of the Stupidest,” makes me want to upchuck. Cur!