WHITE NOISE

Something is up with my TV signal, so I might as well blog. Not that I am addicted to staring vacuously at the mind numbing screen or anything. But maybe you are, which is sad. It's sad to me you spend your days yelling that, "IT'S JUST A JOLLY CHRISTMAS SWEATER! ARE THOSE POM POM BALLS DANGLING FROM THE TREE REALLY HURTING ANYONE? LET THE POOR WOMAN ALONE, STACY AND CLINTON! CRIMINY!" And it's sad to me that you know every verse of the CMT top 20, singing about your HillBilly Bone all loud, proud and oblivious at Gardner's Village, while loitering around ladies who lunch. And it's equally sad to me that you are probably still in your nightgown, unsure what to do with yourself, minus your early morning routine of falling back to sleep with the soothing lullaby of Mythbusters.

So sad for you.

Anyway, I have completed a few chores lately. First, I decorated for Thanksgiving, which means I also UNDECORATED for Halloween. No small task. Plus I finally noticed and threw away the last remaining "vomiting it's own innards" jack-o-lantern on the front porch that had become white noise to me.

But I was only on the fringe of the white trash neighborhood, as it's been LESS than a week, and I happen to know a woman who still has her pumpkin corpse on her front porch from HALLOWEEN, CIRCA 2009, PEOPLE! Course, it's now the size of a shriveled-up kumquat, so maybe she forgot it was once the majestic king of squashdom. (Suddenly, the word squash is cracking me up.)

And you know, maybe she's gone green, but doesn't know that shouldn't be taken so literally~as in green, moldy, rotting pulp staining her front walkway. So who am I to judge this woman who so obviously loves Mother Earth, and is just trying to feed the cement with all manner of fall harvest, as surely it gets hungry, too?

Anyway, where was I? Eh, never mind. I'll just end with a TGIF, even though those initials lost their thrill after I left (notice how I chose left rather than finished or graduated~here's a pencil~draw your own conclusion) college, as a MOTHER'S work is never done.

Course, sometimes it's never started.

Which could be why it's never done.

Touche.