fingers should be eaten seperately

I sat down to chicken noodle soup and a second quiet evening at home. My phone rang. I really should turn it off, but I am always afraid I will miss a call from my husband or daughter. It was my writer friends calling. They said, “Alternative bluegrass cello.” So, I bundled up and headed out into the subzero darkness. The concert, if you could call it that, was intimate – maybe forty people, gathered in a warm spot for music on a winter night. It is a very natural, human thing to do, I think - something from ancient times, people huddled up to a fire to share stories and song. The musician was good. He probably won’t ever be top forty, but stranger things have happened. I’m glad I went.

Have you ever noticed that Robin is the smarter one? Batman lays out all of the facts and Robin snaps his fingers, concocts a painful pun, and solves the problem. Batman follows it up with something like, “Right you are, Robin.” He pretends like he knew it all along and was waiting for Robin to catch up.

Why don’t people sky write anymore? Especially villains. It would sure spice things up in our small town if the criminals started sky writing clues for our local police department to figure out. They could put something up there like “What is the difference between President Hoover and President Clinton?” It would naturally lead the police to the pot smoking juveniles with the munchies who tried to cook Mrs. Pogline’s chickens last week. Maybe I could hire a sky writer just to get the ball rolling and remind criminals of this lost art. Also, we could put parachutes on the back of all of the police cars, especially the drug enforcement vehicle – that would totally freak people out. But, then the city would have to employ someone to drive around and pick up all of the used parachutes deployed in the streets. It might not be a bad job. I am going to suggest it to the mayor when she comes in for coffee tomorrow.