I wonder if we can built a rampart around Christina fast enough?
Outside the Baby Bubble
The Other Face of Frosty
Frosty the Snowman: to you, a beloved symbol of childhood folklore. To me, dangerous criminal faced with a series of charges: engaging police in pursuit (here and there all around the square); possession of a deadly weapon (broomstick); first-degree larceny (old silk hat he “found”); and distribution of a controlled substance to minors. Let’s not kid ourselves. We all know what was in that corncob pipe.
Regrets
I’m having regrets about getting rid of the ’80s cassettes. Where else will I find a complete collection of bands that stood the test of time, like Bang Tango, Trixter and Saigon Kick? Somewhere out there, some guy with a row of jelly bracelets, a tape deck and a dream went to the Goodwill and struck a goldmine. It is my mission to reclaim what’s mine, even if it takes until the next set of ’80s to find him.
It’s getting crowded in my head.
For the past month I’ve been on a de-cluttering mission. Gone are a dozen vases, each with their own ecosystems growing inside; seven bridesmaid dresses; and (gasp) the blessed tape deck. Imagine if the Goodwill were just as interested in our brain clutter? Then perhaps I could tell you the name of the Speaker of the House rather than the phone number of every friend from 1987.