Thanks to the recently resurrected Comicstriphero (YAY), I now know that my Sarah Palin name would be Strike Chipper Palin, if I'd been born into her family. Dunno about the 'Strike', but I think 'Chipper' is pretty good. Ha.
For all my lyrical waxing on about Spring, I forgot the crappy bit: The Fluff. Damn whomever planted those frigging cotton trees or whatever they are, because there are places around the city where you just can't open your mouth or your car window for fear of having fifty-fifteen lumps of fluffy stuff fly into it (say THAT fast a few times!). At the ANU they have always said to new students that if you haven't started studying by the time the fluff falls, you're fucked. 'They', you might surmise, are older, wiser students. It's been passed on for generations, and it actually works. Well, I was printing in the Bookstud on Sunday when it started, and I noticed because it started to come through the windows and stick on my nice wet ink. GAH. At least I don't get hayfever from it, like many of the poor sods around the city.
I want everyone to go over to Bernice and give her a big friendly pat on the back for not smoking for TWO WHOLE WEEKS. She needs encouragement. She thinks I didn't notice the other night when she came over for tea, but I did. How? Well, she didn't stink, and she wasn't constantly dashing outside muttering weird apologies. Dead giveaway. I'm very proud of her.
Tonight is the grand final of Bumblebee's Wakakirri performance. I'm really looking forward to it. We're going, Colonel & Lady Duck are, and even the Albatross. It's a big occasion. Then on Monday I'm taking him to the hairdresser for a makeover. He's decided he's had enough of the dashing shoulder-length hair. He's going for a David Tennant makeover. I'll try to do before and after shots.
Gawd, I think of lots of things to write when I'm on my bicycle. But now I'm actually here I go blank. Oh well, I'll come back and add if anything hits me.