December 19th, 2009


In which bitches nearly are cut

Oh my sweet God have mercy. Collapse )

By the way, remember this story?

Meanwhile, on the way home from our last excursion of the day, we dropped by my grandmother's to bring her some more ornaments. On the way out, I stopped to play with a--I don't know, I guess you'd call it a banner? It kind of looks like a long flat bell pull? I don't know. She has it hanging on her front door, and it's this tan-colored strip of fabric with little decorated felt Christmas trees, edged with shiny gold rickrack. "I loved this when I was a kid," I told her, shaking it a little so the bells would jingle. "Ruth made that," my grandmother said warmly. "She really liked arts and crafts. She made all of this herself, every bit of it. Even the tassels. She sewed everything on it there--the sequins, the little ornaments, she even put the pearls on the trees. She's dead now."

I managed not to crack up until I got to the car. My mother couldn't understand why I was doubled up in the passenger seat crying with laughter. I'm not sure I understand it myself.

This year, I got pictures of it:


And now, I flop.

P.S. I still want a foot massage really, really badly.

(Zomg e-book! The Annotated Movies in Fifteen Minutes: Wizards!)

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