I will hug it and kiss it and call it Friday

Yesterday afternoon, while Husband was at the gas station filling up his truck, he was approached by a frail old man wearing a wide-brimmed hat. The old man shared with Husband that he was a preacher who hadn't been fortunate enough to preach in a church in quite some time. Husband asked if that had left him a little hard up, and the preacher replied that it had and asked if Husband would mind helping him out. Husband opened his wallet and pulled out a five. The preacher looked at the bill, looked at Husband, and said, "Son, I wonder if I could impose upon you for a twenty?" Husband replied that he didn't have a twenty, and hearing that, the preacher shook his head and said, "Well, I suppose your heart's in the right place."

And walked away.

Without the five.

It's SoCal, baby! Beggars CAN be choosers!

Beyond that, I'll just share a few links I posted via Twitter over the past week for those of you who don't "tweet." We'll call it Friday Twitter Roundup. Yee-haw!

Rocket Launch / "This insane photo destroyed a camera lens"

Inflatable Fruitcake / "The fruitcake they'll actually want to get!"

Smirnoff Tea Partay / They may be vanilla, but their labs are chocolate

Cupcake Car / $25K cupcake cars are why God won't let me win the lottery

My Parents Were Awesome / One of the most charming sites I've seen in a while

Bathroom Art / Decorating bathrooms with pixelated classics

Comic Sans!!!! / A sweet story for font nerds

Area Man Passionate Defender Of What He Supposes Constitution To Be / How appropriate that they decided he should be from Escondido

Awesome Mascot Dance / He gets knocked down, but he gets up again!

Esref Armagan Paints the Volvo S60 Concept Car / I've always loved this man--he's proof artistic vision happens in the heart, not the eyes

Enjoy your weekend!

Her name is (Screamin') Mimi

This past weekend, I finally traded in Jack, the miserable 4WD Ford Ranger I needed to get to the house in NM (it was on 10 acres up in the Sandias--at the end of an unpaved road).

Wanna see his replacement? Husband spent some time measuring last night, and he reports that if he leaves the tailgate open, she'll fit in the bed of his Dodge pickup.

(I'm also selling Blossom, my Suzuki Grand Vitara, but not until after the holidays. With out-of-town guests coming, I'll need the back seat. Heh.)

Heeelp!

Guess what! My little granddaughter is coming for Thanksgiving! She'll be here for almost a week, and I'm so excited.

However. It's been 25 years since I've had a two year old in the house, and I need to prepare.

Safety-wise, I remember how to childproof. But what about everything else? One thing I haven't forgotten is that BABIES NEED TONS OF CRAP.

Her mom will bring a car seat and a couple of her favorite books and her Grinch doll. I'll buy some more books/puzzles/toys, a booster seat, and toddler dishes/silverware/sippy cups.

Beyond that, I'm flailing.

Parents/grandparents, please help. What do you feel are essentials?

Aw!

My old friend Jann gave li'l Elise a new hairdo as a surprise. What a thoughtful thing to do!

The pain, the pain without quarter!

I keep seeing more and more of these text block tattoos, and I have to tell you, I find them utterly mortifying.

Not because I dislike tattoos. I don't. I like them. I actually have one.

But these things--I can't decide whether they make me want to laugh or cry. I mean, I realize there are plenty of regrettable flash-art images one can have permanently applied. But a rose, a heart, a thorny anklet--they're all relatively innocuous. There's something so affected, so pretentious, so laughably supercilious about a teenager INSISTING THAT PEOPLE READ HER.

Seriously. A 17 year old stumbles across some ridiculous bunch of Jonathon Livingston Seagull-style drivel, thinks it is the most profound (sob!) thing (sob!) she's ever (sob!) seen (sob!), and instead of adding it (scribbling) to her Facebook (it) profile or making (all) it into her (over) desktop wallpaper (her) or even a giant mural (Trapper) on her bedroom (Keeper) wall, ferfucksake, she HAS IT PERMANENTLY INCISED INTO HER FLESH.

Do you remember what you considered deep and profound when you were 17? I do. And I am so fucking grateful I'm not going to have to shell out thousands of dollars to have 158 little grey smudges* that used to be the lyrics to Led Zeppelin's No Quarter LASERed off my rib cage.

* Has no one explained to these kids that tattoos bleed/degrade over time?