Is it a bonus or a detriment when I don’t write a blog entry and instead redirect you to some of my work which has actually passed another human’s eyes before going public? On the one hand, less snark. On the other hand, less snark.
What is snark, exactly anyway? I’ve been accused of it, or crowned with it, not sure which. I read a series of blogs when I’m not running around my apartment in tight, geometrically-incorrect circles, making oven-baked squash and carmellized onion soup (which never becomes soup, strangely, forkful by forkful it disappears down my squash-deprived gullet). Anyway, some of these people? Not happy. It might be that I’m mellowing with my (cough) advanced age, or that I’ve lived through a couple of mindwrenchingly bad scenarios in my life, and am better able to tell the difference between TRAGIC and merely uncomfortable. Anyway, who knows. Looking at the world through my own lens? Certainly. Does the lens need an adjustment? Dunno. Got a friend who works at an optical shop. Maybe I’ll see what he can do for me. I just hope it doesn’t hurt.
I will now ponder my own navel in private, and before I go, leave you with this.
Supermarket souvenirs. Brought to you by my fab editor at bootsnall (who I hope to see when I’m in Portland later this year, someone should probably mention that to him), and also from me, your humble hostess. But you don’t get any soup. Go buy your own squash.
