Enga mellom fjella

Phallousy and Farming. Gumbalaya and Sayonara.

Phallousy = phallic jealousy. After reading Z.˚rz 's entry about bras and Robert Waltz about new words I had to come up with something. I guess it's what's in the codpiece that counts.

"Is that bulge for real?" said Ricky to Dicky, a bit jealous and tiffed and demanding proof.

Ah... the creativity of the denizens of Blogville.

"My arthritic fingers are suffering from plowing." A comment by Wren about spending too much time on computer playing at "farming".

I just don't have time. I amazed Lavinia with how quickly I moved from room to room. She has seen me totally de-energized. Let's put it this way: an over-cooked lasagna flops less.

Okay... I'm moved. I swept and mopped and handed in the keys today. Sayonara! I have the 'big' things in my new room more-or-less where I want them. I now must go through boxes and sort, toss and rearrange.

Did I mention I moved? Well, I haven't gotten much else done! Celebrated with gumbalaya (gumbo+jambalaya) a couple nights ago and sushi last night. Mikey made me an awesome milkshake the other day as well. She is a diva!

What I found cleaning.

In the fridge: an old blood orange, cheese ends, mummified plums in a colander I forgot I had. Behind the stove: a toothbrush holder, white lighter, scrub pads, soap. In the oven I never used: utensils stuck there a long time ago. On the floor: spare change... everywhere.

I still need to promote these:

"Snow Dragon" 
"At the homeless encampment" 
"Remains of a juvenile delinquent" 

I'll try to enter and edit some new poems tonight/tomorrow. I should have the time now.

Montana: Warm, sunny... kinda 80°.

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