It Only Hurts When I Blog

Greetings, Bloggo-generians!

I made that word up.

I also thought I made up 'The Hungry Blogger', but someone already has it. Curses, foiled again.

Charlie's ankle is still turning pretty colors, and so are a couple of his toes. Poor thing! My mother called it 'foliage', and I guess she's right - bruise foliage. Good word games this morning.

Here are some flowers from the Nordic Lodge for Charlie and his ankle and his foot and his toes.

Dreamland update:
I dreamed last night of a resort that offered luxury treehouse villas. They were 367 dollars a night, and I didn't spend the money but I was surely tempted to. That sounds like me!

Sams Club update:
I stopped at Sams Club last night on the way home from work. There was a guy wandering around there who looked like he was an escapee from a mental hospital. He had the 'green scrubs' on, thick white socks and plastic sandals to go over them, and a remarkably vacant expression...

He was shaking his head and saying they had changed the store around and he couldn't find anything.

Sure buddy, sure...

I'm going to play a little medication music from 'One flew over the Cuckoo's Nest' and see if you come to it like the Pied Piper of Hamelin Town. Oh Nurse... Nurse!

Quote of the Day:
"From the start, when it was the instrument of the wood-god Pan, the flute has been associated with pure (some might say impure) energy. Its sound releases something naturally untamed, as if a squirrel were let loose in a church." --Seamus Heaney

It's time for me to rock and roll... Play ON, dude! Play on!