But Call Me Betsy

My friend Leigh Ann sent me photos of her horse, Easter from when she was younger. Easter is likely dead now, but we don't tell Leigh Ann that. Here is what LA would like me to tell you about Easter: " This is Easter!  She looks like a unicorn!  Her favorite snack is a handful of raisins!  She is my best friend! " We heart Easter and Leigh Ann.

I forget who originally sent me this nose warmer idea, but the illustration reminds me a little bit of a baby chick, and so I thought it fit in well today, as it is Good Friday and chicks have something to do with it, though I'm not sure what. I know Jesus didn't rise from the dead out of an egg, and I know that the bible doesn't mention 1,000 chicks hatching at once when he was reborn, but I don't know how the two link up exactly.   Easter bunnies plus Thumper.    Non-Easter-related photo of intense tabby and candle.    And another. Friendly cat.    Can't tell from this distance if the bunny has a happy smile or a sad one.    Hanging chick in a mayor's hat.   And two little chickadees off-set by white bunnies and an Easter motif curtain.Subtle, yet tasteful.  

Well, this is the arm now more than four months later. The X-ray technician told me today that the bone would never grow together in the same way. I'll always have as crooked arm. I thought that the bone would eventually fuse back into these two lines, but I guess that's not how it works or how it will happen. The bone will just grow over the broken spot. Here is the side view:   And then straight out. You can also still see the hairline fracture at the top of the bone. I think that's what that is. Meanwhile, it doesn't hurt at all. I've been using the elliptical machine at the gym and there's no weird pain or sensation. I hope the arm doctor doesn't yell at me tomorrow at my dr.'s appt. when I confess I've gone to exactly no physical therapy sessions. 

Finally found the cord I need to move my Nebraska pictures over from my camera to the computer, so here they are, though a little late and not in the most chronological order.Most of the photos I'm featured in have me wearing the same expression and sporting the same white streak in my hair that I suppose I could take on as a trademark, since no amount of dye really seems to absorb the color. The following two photos are of me and my Aunt Margaret. Me and Stephanie's dog. I have some video of him and Taylor, but I'll save that for another day. He is on a diet, in case you're worried. And this would be my mom and Aunt Margaret at lunch one day. My 91 year old grandma and me. Taylor Jo, Grandma, and my mother, in her natural state. This is Krista Detor, who gave the concert for everyone and was wonderful. Mother and me. White streak: intact.Where do you think I get it from? My second cousin, Ellie. Cute as a button and knows it. The birds. ...

Jenn Bing and I discussed the possibility of starting a new blog about Philadelphia called "Found Underwear." Really, a day doesn't go by where I don't see a pair of trashed up women's underwear somewhere along the city sidewalks or gutters. We rethought the blog; Philly gets a bad rap (warranted, for the most part), and I don't want to contribute to making that even worse, especially since I have been begging my friends Liz and Luke to give up Park Slope and move to the city of Brotherly Love/Panties. I also have to confess that I'm reading Stephen King's Under the Dome, which I checked out from the Penn library. I feel guilty reading him...But like, kind of guilty and defensive at the same time. He can tell a good story. After reading the first hundred pages before turning out the lights, I had an apocalyptic dream inspired by what I had just read (it didn't directly correlate, but the same fear was there. This fear that the world was ending o...

Because I am lazy and unimaginative today, I'm just going to post this video I stole off of Cute Overload. I will try to think of an interesting topic of conversation later on.

Dan noticed last night at the grocery store that Sandra Bullock's face appeared on all of the tabloid magazines. He's not much of a pop culture follower, so he said, "What happened? Did she die?" No, she got cheated on by her husband who formerly dated mostly strippers and porn stars and who's notorious for his tattoos. A bad boy. So, but, how can this be a surprise? And anyway, who cares? I honestly don't care about Tiger Woods cheating either. I just don't think celebrities should try to be married; not until they're old or their careers are over. Fame is such a weird thing and it screws people up and I'm sure there's tons of temptation and people who are dying to sleep with you and get on TMZ to tell the world about it and post camera photos on their various blogs.