Ode to joy
Some things are so perfect, so magnificent, so very nearly heavenly, that to add to them would be criminal. This image, for instance. Or, the following update from Edward and Juju‘s Pa.
Some things are so perfect, so magnificent, so very nearly heavenly, that to add to them would be criminal. This image, for instance. Or, the following update from Edward and Juju‘s Pa.
Tra-la… It’s May, which means spring is about to get real. We’re talking dogwoods. Tulips. Hydrangeas. And kittens. Baby kittens. Bring on the brain-liquefying, IQ-annihilating powers of kittens and their nuclear cuteness.
There are certain things we speak before saying things better left unspoken. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but your cooking tastes like excrement.” “No offense, but I find you loathsome.” Or try this one on for size: “Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but Tabby’s Place only has really sick cats.”
You know it’s autumn when you suddenly see galumphing hordes of gourds. Gourds at roadside stands. Gourds in the supermarket. Gourds in disturbingly-perfect centerpieces on Pinterest. Gourds in Suite FIV.