Stealing Stones

~ Bullet Points, my favorite ~

• I'm changing my official blog font from Georgia to Times.
• Everything written herein is relatively true. Give or take.



• I last blog posted in September.
• I blame Al Gore.
• I no longer have Internet at home. Could someone please take care of this, pronto?!
  
  
• I moderate book reviews for the organization for which I work.
• Apparently some wanna-be book reviewers' keyboards didn't come with a shift key.
• Nor the apostrophe key.
• I spent a good deal of my morning correcting people's punctuation and basic grammar so that when their review shows up on our website, they will appear to be intelligent and literate.


• I am having a crummy day. If that is not the way to spell 'crummy,' correct it yourself, I'm tapped out.
  
• I'm afraid someone put my new, shiny used car under some magic spell so that it would appear to run well after it left the car lot until it crossed over some invisible force field and then began dropping mechanical parts essential to it's well running and my well being.
• I blame all used car dealers. ALL!


• I want credit for all the obscenities and swearing that you didn't have to read in this post. At least so far, huh? Shit.


• What else, what else..... I know there's more. Hmmm.
  
• I keep forgetting it's December. I ate two Thanksgiving dinners, I feel the chill, I see the twinkly lights, yet it still feels like September to me. Maybe no blogging makes one's time stand still.
• I am without my Christmas spirit this year. This happens some years. I have previously been fine with this phenomenon but this year it just pisses me off.
• My heart is not into the season: decorations, music, shopping, gifts, giving, cheer and goodwill to men. Not like I was ever leaning in that direction anyway.
• God bless us, everyone. Some more than others.
  
• Diane Keaton, Marg Helgenberger, Frances McDormand, Barbra Streisand: Some women grow into their beauty. Better year after year. I don't care if this post seems erratic to you. That's the whole point of bullet points.
  
• "People call these things imperfections, but there not. That's the good stuff." ~ Good Will Hunting
  
• Everything is wrong. I am not okay with this.
  
• I had a dream last night that I was riding in a car with Kevin Kline. An old Rambler or Falcon. Kevin drove. I rode shot gun. We drove along a quiet residential road with quaint houses and pretty landscapes. Driving slow and easy down the street, he reached out his window and picked flowers for me. Sweet yellow ones with the roots still attached. I reached out of my window but there were no flowers. I reached out for a rock to give instead. But I didn't like the way the landscape looked without the rock. I put it back and grabbed a smaller rock. So instead of flowers I stole a rock to give him. The rock owners were not happy with me. Some folk seem to like their rocks exactly where they left them. I noticed that none of the flower owners seemed pissed. Stupid double standard. Men, they make all the rules. I am not okay with this.