Time on my hands

I'm so used to staring down deadlines and thrashing about trying to finish things, that I'm quite discombobulated by the amount of free time I have until January 4th.  I figured I'd be a bloggin' fool, putting up 4 or 5 posts a day but, but, well...  I guess I'm like a tire - if there's no pressure, I ain't movin' too fast.  But I do have some more thoughts that I really need to get off my chest:

It doesn't matter what size fries one orders from Wendy's.  There is always one - exactly one - that tastes like dirt.  I'm always relieved to get it in the first bite so I can devour the rest without trepidation.

Dante needs to add a new circle for where Harry Reid is going to end up.

My grandson isn't old enough yet to want a Tonka truck.  Probably next year.  But just looking around, the good ol' steel ones are scarce.  A plastic Tonka truck is an insult!  The steel ones last for years, and even begin to rust after a while.  A good, rusty, well-used Tonka truck is a thing of beauty.  Plus, the steel tends to have sharp corners that'll scrape a kid up.  That builds character.

Senator Ben Nelson's (D-Neb) healthcare screwjob counts as a job saved or created.

To combat the scourge of rising sea levels, I propose that the fire department load their tankers with seawater. Then drive well inland, to my county courthouse where there are STILL hippies out front protesting Iraq.  It is still inconclusive whether hippie odor is actually a contributor to global warming, but pressure-washing the stink off them while mitigating beach erosion seems like a win-win to me.


In the last month I've lost about 10 lbs without even trying.  Whatever your goal, if you're trying and not attaining, try not trying so hard.  It might help.