That was my favorite movie as a kid, and I was so psyched when I realized what the initials were for. (Living right down the road from NIH and all. I desperately wanted my mom to plant a rose bush in our yard.)

Mr. Brisby (Frisby in the book)

I never understood that change. I mean, of all the pointless things, you know? Unless they figured, well, we changed everything else, no point in leaving that one little detail intact.

I'm listening to the music drifting in my windows from the 10th Annual "Tree Frog Music Festival" about a mile from here.

Either Neil Diamond dropped in unannounced, or a good Neil Diamond impersonator has been singing for the last hour or so.

Must be a good faker. Diamond is scheduled to be singing in Portland, Oregon at the Rose Garden tonight.

Pot is such a parent-type thing. So very old skool and shit.

This says more about my parents than it does me.

I'm getting old. I forgot to wish Perkins a

Happy Frickin' Birthday!!!

kicks pot stash under the couch

My pot stash is under the oven with the casserole pan stash.

OH! THAT kind of pot.

I've never had to kill a mouse before. I've had to capture escaped hamsters and guinea pigs. And once I helped a neighbor get a badger out of her basement.

Then again, I'm weird about animals. In Wisconsin, I saw the freakiest ones every day. In Australia, where animals consider biology textbooks to be "what not to do" guidelines, I'm only seeing mosquitos and magpies. Not even one little spider.

My first year after college I shared a house with four other women of the classes of '92 and '93. The place was mouse-infested, and somehow it happened that of the five of us, I was the least squeamish. This meant that I had to dispose of all the dead mice once the traps got them.

Should've faked the squeamishness better.

Madrigal, in Australia, it's the spiders you don't see that cause the problems. Errr, maybe I shouldn't have said that.

Hugs and ~ma to all the Bitches.

Happy Birthday, Perkins.

I made her a pot roast two weeks ago.

But not in the "changed her into" sense.

I prefer beef, fish and poultry for my stews.

Methinks he doth protest too much. His mom left rather suddenly while I was at work the other week. Supposedly she left a note. But do I know it was really her handwriting? She left behind a surprising amount of her belongings....

I just saw an ad on tv that said that "you" have a right to own their brand of SUV. I know it's just a commercial, but I so very much hate how commercials (primarily) and life in general keep harping on all the trivial things that we deserve to have or have a right to have. It's so frustrating, because so many seem to care more about deserving an SUV than deserving the right to privacy or free speech. I think that this waters down the meaning of the words, making things that people really do deserve, making rights that they should have, on the same level as a car, or makeup, or whatever. And, on the other side, it gives us a sense of entitlement for things that we don't need, that we didn't even want last week. Argh!