lil yeowls from tired girls

Always the less amorous of two jsys, I am happy to report that here on the east coast spring has only meant the premature death of naked baby birds plummeting out of trees onto concrete sidewalks. Gross, I know, but even more disgusting is how these little darlings have become Zooey’s favorite source of protein.

For those of us who are wholeheartedly immune to phermonal outbreaks and other such romantic inclinations, la saison de coeur has meant...well... *yeowl* (see picture above). Let’s face it…new relationships are *kinda* tiring. Granted, rollicking good fun-- like tromping through mud puddles and flinging writhing earthworms into creeks-- but exhausting.

On the plus side, I’m learning new words. Or being reminded of old ones. Like “rigamarole”-- which I haven’t heard since Snooky the Elephant got footloose and fancy free, impulsively bounding into the ball pit with the pre-todds at the Hayward County Fair. yeooooowl.