Sunday Salmagundi Stew. And THAT folks, is called alliteration. I love words. That’s called “logophilia.” I will stop now.
This type of “round-up” post isn’t a new premise – this “other places I’ve been” thing – and I don’t profess to have invented it. You’ve eaten toast before, right? I bet you’ve even told people about all the great toast you’ve eaten. BUT YOU DIDN’T INVENT IT. (Or maybe you did. I sometimes assume things about people. I’m working on that.) The Bloggess writes one of my favourite roundups here.
I haven’t written a blog post at highlyirritable since my traumatic live view of Wild Kingdom a few weeks ago, because I’ve been busy doing some original word organization about feelings and stuff in other places.
I had an article published in Canadian Family magazine in their May edition, and I will link to it when it’s available online. You should probably just go and buy the magazine, because, yeah, it’s that good. Also, thank you to the lovely folks at Canadian Family for the gig. My own Canadian family now remembers what red meat tastes like.
I was also thrilled to guest at The Mouthy Housewives in their advice column. I guess they figured that since I clearly have so many problems myself I would have several stock solutions in hand. Here’s hoping!
I had quite a rage-filled weekend with a piece of small lawn machinery that hates me, but I calmed the stormy waters by partaking in the relaxation offered by a bottle of wine and some self grooming. Here’s some tweets about it.
If these don’t prove I have some issues with self-governance, I should tell you that it was also my son’s 8th birthday this week and I bought him a full size drum set.
I think I used the word “also” like a hundred times in this post. You’d think that someone who claims to love words so much would have some better words, but the thesaurus is all the way over there and I just sat down. I’m tired, okay? My lawnmower slapped me in the throat three times and I CUT MY OWN HAIR. And you know what? I’m not even spell checking this.
If you’re telling me I’m crazy, please – talk louder, AS I CANNOT HEAR YOU OVER THIS BASS DRUM.