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Monday, August 25, 2003

Black Diamond! A semi-good news piece out of Liberia.



Monday, August 18, 2003

According to the Wedding Date Predictor I will be married by: Saturday, August 4, 2007. Only four more years to go.



Monday, August 18, 2003



Monday, August 18, 2003



Monday, August 18, 2003

chain holding jack
Good stuff, you are "Wedding? I love
weddings! Drinks all around." You're the
life of the party and nothing gets you down,
not even certain death at the hands of your
zombie nemesis or the Navy. Come to think of
it, realism isn't your strong suit...


Which one of Captain Jack Sparrow's bizarre sayings from Pirates of the Caribbean are you?
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Thursday, August 14, 2003

Kate wants to know if anything is hanging out of her nose.



Saturday, August 09, 2003

I decided to eat the weeds. There is the old dandelion wine recipe I clipped out from the paper many years ago. But what I found in my garden were various species of false dandelions. King Devil Hawkweed, Spotted Cat's-Ear, Fall Hawkbit, the Perennial and Annual Sow Thistles, Goat's-Beard (or wild salsify), and Smooth Hawk's-Beard are among the impostors that I cannot distinguish.

I found some sow thistle recipes but alas! they call for Smooth Sow Thistles, which do not appear to grow in my garden. Once I can safely identify the real dandelion and sow thistles, I can even make coffee out of their roots.

Denise gave me a couple of her weeds to identify. However, they were nowhere to be found in my copy of Common Weeds of Canada.

My lawn yielded masses of Tufted Vetch; unfortunately, this plant is toxic.



Saturday, August 09, 2003

Tamara wove seaweed into a screen that shrank. It stank.

My six seaweed specimens stank too once I opened the jar. I quickly plastered the best examples of seaweed beauty into old phonebooks, skipping much of Martha Stewart's procedure, and ran out to deposit them in the gazebo. Two days later, I opened the blinds. Raccoons or some other nighttime beast rifled through the books. The seaweed was in disarray.



Saturday, August 09, 2003

Tamara, the trapeze artist puppeteer, has a house in Saskatchewan, 45 minutes from Moose Jaw, the city with the subterranean Chinese hideout. She bid $100 for the house. The town held a meeting and decided she would not cart off the heritage house. Nor would the house be condemned. There was a $50 administration fee and Tamara got her house.

On the first night, a friend with psychic powers felt uncomfortable. "The presence is there," he pointed to a jar on a shelf.

Of course, Tamara then remembered that that very jar contained the previous owner's dentures. To appease the ghost of Trevor Davis, Tamara and her friends sat in a circle around the dentures and held a seance. After Tamara acknowledged Trevor, he became an entirely benign spirit.

Later Tamara found hundreds of teabags and coffee filters in the walls. She also uses teabags for art - this was a spiritual connection between the young puppeteer and the old coot!

She still has his dentures and will include them in a new puppet she is constructing. Trevor Davis will not mind; his character, as the stories around town describe, would have appreciated the gesture.

I asked if Trevor Davis died in the house. No, he died in a hospital.

Tamara's town had a plague of grasshoppers last year. Cars lined the sides of the road, overheated as the creatures destroyed radiators without protective grilles.


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