December 21, 2002

I took a lie detector test and PASSED!

Please state your full name.

Jeneane Dimino Sessum

Your Date of birth?

June 9, 1962.

Are you an "adult child"?

A what?

Are you an adult child of any known psychological grouping?

Oh shit.

Yes or no answers please. Are you an adult child of any known psychological grouping?


Ms. Sessum, are you a member of any cult, psychological, personality-based, or otherwise?

No…. I mean, what does that mean? I’m not sure. I hear this Kennedy and Hitler thing—I don’t know what the heck this even means.

Yes or no. Ms. Sessum, are you a member of any cult?


Is the leader of that cult RageBoy?

By leader, do you mean he links to me and calls me on the phone a lot?

Yes or no. Is the leader of that cult RageBoy?


There was an altercation on the web last week between RageBoy and Kalilily. Do you know of the incident?


Were you involved in the incident?

Not until she dragged me into it.

Were you involved in the incident, yes or no please?


Was the nature of your involvement to defend RageBoy?

No, the nature of my involvement was that I got dragged into it and then pissed on for being mindless and inauthentic.

Was the nature of your involvement to defend RageBoy?

Yes and No.

That’s either Yes or No, please.


Was the nature of your involvement to defend Kalilily?


Was the nature of your involvement to chase Mike Sanders off the net?


Do you believe RageBoy has done anything wrong online over the last six months?

Do you mean, like, when he didn't post for five days at a time, or do you mean when he made the vampire pictures of his ex-girlfriend? Or that weird flash thing where her face flipped all around? Or do you mean all the porn he’s posted? Or that he called himself a babe magnet? Or that he slammed bix for calling him a nasty shmuck? Or which thing do you mean, exactly?

Again, yes or no. Did you believe RageBoy has done anything wrong online over the last six months?

What do you mean by wrong? Do you mean immoral, illegal, useless, or lifewasting?


Well, it’s not that simple. I can’t give you a yes or no. We’re only just getting started. We’re not finished here. My personal prediction: RageBoy’s been tied up in a basement for the last six months and Frank Paynter’s been posting all this stuff. It's a joke. Or maybe it isn't. What if a year from now we read in the Rocky Mountain Times that teeth marks have been found in the necks of several dead men in the southwest. Or, what if laying around naked all day, finding your own ass with both hands, becomes the default? Or, what if none of this happens to be true? What if it’s all true at once? Better yet, what if I don’t care? What if I really don't care if it's wrong?

Ms. Sessum, let me restate. Do you believe RageBoy is doing anything wrong in regard to women, men, transvestites, or children online?

I don’t know what he’s doing. That’s why I read him.


I’m not trying to be difficult. I don’t know what shmuck means.






Only if your name is RageBoy.


Thank goodness THIS IS OVER. Elaine, I'm not hurt. I'm fine. Don't fret. Relentlessness doesn't phase me. I'm Sicilian. Why does everyone keep forgetting that?

My only problem with all of this is that you haven't heard me.

Such is life. Let's blog on!

December 19, 2002

December 18, 2002

The Day Mike Sanders and Jeneane Sessum Agreed

Mike Sanders says he's giving up blogging. I wonder what I'm supposed to say here. But see? I don't care what I'm supposed to say. The truth of the matter is what I speak: I don't have the capacity to care what Mike does about weblogging--he burned that out of me long ago with his nasty emails and moral battery. In short, whatever.

I do agree with Mike, though, that the time we spend blogging could be better directed. He's onto something there.

So, you be well too, Mike. And know that we have another thing in common--I'm taking some time off from blogging too, but I plan to be back. Something tells me you will too. See you on the flip side?

December 17, 2002


One of the most amazing things about blogging, to me, is its fluidity. What we are doing, saying, thinking are typeset blips on a virtual timeline. This is important. It's important because we as humans are fluid, or we are dead. Our insides are circulating, regenerating, morphing, or else rigor mortis begins to set in. We are dynamic or else we are static.

This is why my archives are becoming more important to me. I want my archives to take on a personality. I don't want them arranged simply by weeks or months. I want to be able to tap into where I was--my headspace, my heartspace. I don't my archives to be just chronological; I want them to represent who I was, where I was, why I was, while I was writing. To be my living brain, my living heart, tracing back into the me I was so that I can learn more about the me I'm becoming.

To think that you are the same person you were when you landed here a year, a month, a minute ago--and that you will be the same person a year from now--is shortchanging yourself. If weblogging is one thing, it is movement forward. One post at a time, one eye ahead and one back.

That's why I've never pulled a post. Not to say I never will--I may feel the urge one day. But the reason I haven't is that I WANT to be able to look back and see the way I hopped from one thought to the next, the way I vibed off of others and myself, what triggers me, what inspires me, what shuts down my voice, what makes me grow.

I want a record. I just wish it could be chronological *and* emotional, that it could track the days of the year *and* the moods of the mind, that it could link back in time *and* back into my heart.

Carry on.

let the record show

In the comments section of Elaine's blog there's a whole lotta accusin' going on that I am a cult member in good standing, a mindless drone to Massa Locke. Much of the accusations of such mindlessness have taken place in comments, here, and elsewhere. You know what? I don't want to lose those comments if YACCS ever decides to take a powder. They're too important. I want them so I can look back in five years on what was said. The whole story. That's how we're really going to grow from all this. So here's a rundown of what's gone down:

the post that started the chatter unveiled an underhanded attempt by Mr. Slanders to summon folks onto his anti-RB bandwagon, namely Marek, who blew the whistle. In the post, Locke also mentioned bix's recent callout of RB as a "nasty shmuck," saying this: "As to b!X, a boy with a handle indistinguisable from line-noise, he posted his nasty schmuck remark on his mommy's blog. Brave lad. Rather than have words with this insignificant weasel, I deleted him and his croney dame from my blogroll and good riddance."

A not-nice slam for a not-nice slam.

I posted this, an explanation of why the above post was dedicated to me--the answer to which is that I called Slanders out his name a long time ago. In said post, I stated that I don't lump the Bix/Crone team together with Slanders (or I didn't) when I wrote this: "While I'm not aligned with RB on his opinions about all his blogger relationships - I love the Crone, for example -- I second his nomination of Mike Slanders of Stop Trying as Blogger Asshole of the Year. (okay, well, I made up that nomination)."

That's when the fun began. Let's relive it, shall we?


Starts out pretty nice...

"Tut. Tut. Poor little boy got his feelings hurt by mama Crone and her progeny (who, btw, contributes a hell of a lot more to making the world a better place than the poor little rageboy.) Locke IS a nasty schmuck. But that never stopped me from reading his weblog or keeping him on my blogroll, which I will continue to do. And it never stopped me from being able to separate his adolescent attitudes toward women and relationships from the often brilliant and usually amusing mentally verbal calisthenics. I guess I'm just a better man than he is (and, believe me, there's nothing manly about me at all!) I'm beginning to think that not only is Locke a nasty scmuck, but he's pretty much a lost soul, a lost cause, and a general all-over life-waster. Sorry, Jeneane. I know that he's your blog mentor, but his life seems pretty much useless otherwise."

Things are going pretty civil so far. A constructive dialog begins. Though I think calling someone "life-waster," a "lost cause," and "useless" is pretty much like saying someone's worth as much dead as alive. That aint' so nice.

"Elaine, I've logged probably 200 hours of real time conversation with Chris over the past year, during which he's helped me in countless ways. It hasn't been a one way street. Both professionally and personally I've learned from every conversation, plus we've laughed a bunch at times when neither of us had a reason to. He's friend to my husband, uncle to our Daughter. His brother and my husband are longtime musician friends that go back 20 years. The Lockes are part of our family. Who knew? Nasty shmuck? No. Abrasive and intolerable? Sometimes. He is brilliant--that's evident in what you mention above...the stuff that keeps you coming back to read him. He understands more about what we're doing here than I think most peple will realize until (my personal prediction) 5 years from now. He has an amazing capacity to understand and love. Yes, he's aggressive and stubborn too--qualities I find endearing in *MANY* of my blog friends (het-hem), even when they butt heads with one another. In short, I love you both. Bix, I'm still trying to figure out!

Still pretty civil. Okay. Cool. Agree to disagree. That's what makes the world go round. Then Frank Paynter chimes in some good stuff--which if I included would take too much room. He's seeing all sides, as he usually does. And wittily so. Okay, onto the next comment.

(1.) I don't always understand b!X either, but at least he's out there in his community trying to make the world a better place for someone other than himself. (see I guess it's a matter of personal values. (2.) I have nothing against tortured artists and/or brilliant minds that try to make a name and a living manipulating the artificial construct of the world of commerce, even if it's couched in the interest of honest conversation. Something good is likely to come out of anything that urges speaking from the best parts of the heart. I do have something against schmucks who publicly harass former "beloveds" and who can dish out invectives out but can't take them. And, I have only pity and sympathy for narcissistic might have beens who seem to make a great effort to make sure the world at large sees them as emotionally stunted and psychologically deformed (by choice or circumstance -- it really doesn't matter) and then complain that people see them as emotionally stunted and psychologically deformed. In other words, as nasty schmucks. Obviously, RageBoy can't tolerate anyone who doesn't idolize him. To those who do, he bestows his good graces and frequent links. If that isn't narcissism, I don't know what is. I wrote Mike Sanders off a long time ago, but now I find that RageBoy has relegated me into his ousted company. While I'm not too happy about that, I'm very happy to suggest that those who idolize RB should perhaps check out his enormous clay feet and his consistent contradictions to his purported humanity. Someone should tell the emperor that his bare ass is hanging out. No one's got the guts."

Oh dear. The beginings of the CULT accusations are taking shape.... "Idolizing" and such. Followed by Elaine again:

"uh. well, if there's one thing that gets my cauldron roiling nastily is unexpected and unwarranted verbal attacks. I didn't start the fire. However, I'm not afraid to stir the stew. Boil and bubble. Lililth rises. Kali smiles."

"Elaine, I'll speak for myself here--let the other "cluetrainers" as you've referred to them lately speak for themselves. To suggest that I "idolize" Chris, that I wouldn't have the "guts" to tell him what I think about any given topic, and that any linkage that goes back and forth between us are based on his "good graces"--a return for said idolization--is more than wrong, it's insulting. There are about eight hundred reasons why, and a comment box probably isn't the right medium to list them--more on that elsewhere. What you write here is like saying, "Poor souls; they don't know they're just being used to feed an out-of-control ego." Wouldn't it be interesting if that were the case. Suggestion: Twist it, read it backwards, and see if it makes more sense. It would be nice (in some ways) to be able to boil all relationships--both in and outside of blogging--down to black and white, to never waver from absolute right and wrong, to be Pro A and anti B or vice versa. To hold to the "Mike Slanders line of absolute Truth As I Say It To Be." To draw thick lines with magic markers and never waver. But that's not where the human heart lives, it's not HOW the human heart lives, and it's not what we're doing *here*. From all the discourse I've seen flying back and forth in emails and posts over the last several months, the fire didn't start yesterday. And it wasn't lit with a single match or piece of paper in Boulder. Look deeper. Stir longer. Blog on."

Next Mike Golby chimes in and I'm not sure I still understand his comment, but it's something about hate the sin not the sinner. Then Tom, with his usual wit and charm. Again, they state their view, try to diffuse a bit with humor. To which I say the following:

"Okay, Mr's Golby and Matrullo, I'll lighten up if my Crone mother will. The deal is, I don't have a problem with Elaine (or anyone) vocalizing their less than favorable assessment of Dr. RB's behavior if that's what they feel. I have a problem with the notion that somehow RB's butt is hanging out and I/we wouldn't have the balls to tell him, which, I tell him quite often, and, when is the case, he tells me. Not sure what ya'll think friendship is about, but in this case it's definitely peppered with, you ass, fuck you, that's not the way I see it, and you're the best. I'm able to do that. That's what makes me so damn charming. ;-)"

You know, I'm glad I'm who I am.

"Yes. I just verbally behaved like a nasty schmuck. I tend to shoot back from the hip and then have to stand there and take the returned fire. Yes, I did NOT deserve Locke's blogattack. Neither did I deserve the vitriolic email he sent me that I won't repeat here. But I will back off on how I said what I said about Locke. And I thank Golby and Paynter and Sessum for reminding me. We are all human, with all of our faults and indequacies and mistakes. I don't condemn the human being; but I do condemn nasty schmuck BEHAVIOR. I feel the same way about Sanders and a lot of the other warbloggers, which is why I made up my mind to ignore them. Locke has a habit of behaving like a nasty schmuck. I have a tendency to return nasty schmuck behavior. We both need to lighten up. Only time will tell whether history views Locke as a cultural pop hero. I hope it does. As a matter of fact, in case it does, I'm going to save his vitriolic email (in which he calls me a passive-aggressive bitch) in case it might be worth something someday. Sorry Chris, I don't intend to 'fuck off.'"

Truth be known, I've seen many emails. Regardless, I notice here that again, Elaine seems to be looking forward to Chris' death--one might assume from the recent toungue thrashings flying about cyberland that she should get in a long line. Still, I'm content to let it rest. Who the fuck cares. I could see this personality clash coming a mile away. There's no winner here except Slanders. My worst fear realized. Then bix chimes in with his penny and a half.

"I have no earthly idea what in the Hell this entire latest dose of claptrap is event about, but since I was dragged into it be the rabid Locke/Sanders tagteam, I'll just say this: Locke was at one time an unavoidable genius talent. But then he decided to react to a crash and burn lovelife as if he was a spiteful and vengeful pre-adolescent of the worst sort. And ever since then, I've been hard pressed to find any actual brilliance in there anymore. Just bitter pretension. Sorry if I don't see the appeal of that."

Well let's not stop there. Tell me what you really think.

"Oh, wait. Hold on. One other thing, since Locke and his alleged genius felt that it would maligningly amusing to say this: he posted his nasty schmuck remark on his mommy's blog. Brave lad. FWIW (and it's worth little to most of those who still wallow in Locke's bootstrapped cult of personality), it was posted there because there was a thread of conversation there about Locke. How dare I! The gall! To participate in the conversation! The matter of whose site said conversation was on is irrelevant, and Locke's making some sort of bizarre point out of it only helps illustrate the nasty schmuckiness in which he's been mired for what seems like ages now. I suppose he merely wishes I had said it on my own site, so that he would receive just that little bit of more traffic."

THERE WE HAVE IT! "The Cult of Personality" accusation takes form. With eleoquent words from Bix, including "claptrap," Remind me--was this a bad Duran Duran song, or Boy George--I'm pretty sure the last time I heard it I was someplace that I left puking. Bix has been doing this kind of thing a lot lately. Pissing in other people's comment boxes and then acting rather surprised--read: really really angry--when people react to what he's said. Funny how that works. BUT WHY STOP THERE? Let's here some more Bix. You're getting to know me real good now. Piss in my comment box some more. It's not full yet.

"This -- and the bit that follows it, about people drawing black/white distinctions -- is a load of bollocks. Someone from the Christopher Locke Cult of Personality explain to me why Locke can be brutal, savage, and vitriolic, but then if someone should bother to state in public, and perhaps harshly, just what sort of person that behavior describes -- well, explain to me why the cult goes out of its way to circle the wagons to defend Locke even as he moves onward to try his hand at savaging his critics. If such group dynamics don't lean towards "idolatry" as an explanatio, then someone had better come up with a good alternative. Because they haven't explained it here yet."

Okay, the whole cult worship thing has really grabbed hold here. I'm pretty sure Elaine's going to run with it.. So I figure I should say something first. Cut the whole thing off at the pass. Stop it now before it gets worse:

"Bix, get a grip. "Claptrap," "Nasty," "idolizing," "Bitter," "Pre-Adolescent," "vitriolic": pot calling kettle much? Learn to read--I said whatever anyone says about Locke, say it. I don't jump to his defense. I don't care. He's a big boy--he knows how to speak for himself. I'm speaking about what is accused of *me*. Don't you dare imply that you know my story, what I'm doing here beyond what I've written, my story with RB or your mom, or that "idolitry" is what any of it is about. Easy, black-and-white Mike Slanderism is what that is. I'll be happy to talk about the big picture with you when you grow up. Hopefully I'll still be around. Til then, -j."

Wshew. Glad that's over with. Now bix can get back to work saving Portland. But no, he clearly thinks he's onto something with this "Cult of Personality" mantra. Hey, when you're throwing around some heavy meaningless words, run with 'em! That's what I always say!

"Of course he knows how to handle himself. By dumping on other people. And then when people call him treating people that way, only they seem to get dismissed. He gets called some sort of Warrior Hero of Showing Us Humanity. They get disparaged for being mean. That, my friends and Romans, is a cult of personality."

To which Tom Shugart pops in to say, Go Elaine. RB is a nasty shmuck. To which RageBoy makes an appearance saying, hey, this was all staged--me and mikey knew what we were doing from the get-go.


And that, my friends, brings us to the end of 20 comments worth of bickering. Like a true blue blogger, I try one more time to clarify what I think is going on here in a post two up -- my permalink to that post is broken. Smart permalink. The result is another rash of cult accusations I'm actually too tired to pull out right now. Maybe later. I have a real job I better get back to.

I'll leave you with a comment from Elaine over on her site in which she details what's really going on with me and the mind control mojo massa Locke has cast upon me:

"And Jeneane, you have a very special relationship with him; it has always been obvious that you are one of his annointed ones. (That's how a cult personality functions.) And, you look at him as your mentor, so it's understandable why you would come to his defense (as the unconditional-love mother figure). That's commendable. But, I'm just been a blogger who tries to question the validity of people who have set themselves up as cult figures, the assumed right, of some of them, to be nasty. Just because he has had to demonize me, doesn't mean that you have to, but I understand if that falls under your definition of loyalty."

What's left to say? How do you respond to that catch 22?

Have you stopped beating your wife? Hey, have you broken loose from that Cult yet?

Loyalty. Yep, that's me. The loyal and faithful servent who would never speak my own mind in public. I can't say what I think because I need people too much and the potential of their rejection of me would be too much for me to bear. Instead, I choose to posture behind my broad strokes, blending magical colors across the canvas that is allied, moved by an inner strength that only I can know, only I can touch.

Now, if you'll forgive me, I think there's a rolled up newspaper over by the couch with my name on it. I better high tail it outta here. And quick.


December 16, 2002

I Tank My Luky Stars

Tonight i tank my luky stars abov. I thank thos good stars dat i have this here real smart biness man to do my thankin fer me. I wdnt know wha to say without hm. i can barly type withot him tllin me how to thank or writ. i herd it's his persnality that got me all culted up an stuff. oooothankgodalmighty fer that, i kin tell you becaz without dat man i wldnt have a goo job an stuff or dis her blog or nuthin.

but lately i thank wha he's sayin bout dat woman a his is jus plain nasty. yeah nasty. usully i like nasty. but not dis. i wish i culd tell hm he shnt do that to the nice blond ladie. oooooooo but i'm so fraid o hm. i'm so fraid to tell hm wha i think bout anyting. ooooooo lawd what wd he do to me if i tell him he all nekid an stuff. oooooo.

1-720-304-8077.... ring.... ring...


hallo boss masa. hows yer throne empera boss, and can i com by and clean it fer ya?

Well sure. I just took a piss in it. wait. lemme flush. there. yeah. if you want to. Can you bring your own lysol.

ooooo sure will sir empora. whadever you say. an so ar you cold in dem mountans caus i kin bring you some aminal skins to put on kuz some pepel say yer big white ars is hangin out.

No, really. Keep them. My arse is fine. Hairy, but fine.

okay den boss. i'll be by wid da lysol to clean yer throne. but.... uh.... boss.... uh... uh...

What is it? What's up?

well.... um, i don mean no disrespec. you no boss, it's not like me to tell you whad i thank bout stuff, but i can't keep my ol mouth shut bout dis. see boss, i don like what yer writin bout femails des days. i think it's right nasty. you not goin bout thangs the rite way no more.


uh. well. boss, the thang is, you gotta find nother way to xpress yerself bout this pain bein that it's been six monts and i think you got lil problem wit dis here depressin stuff. i mean, isn there anoder way, you no, you keep... well... pepel startin to wonder if yer okay. i mean those nasty wrds and pcturs... not that i wld ever tell you not to.... caus you know i'm fraid of dose reglar beatins.... but... i got an idea if you wan lisn to me.

Hey, I'm all ears. What you got?

well i thin you shld, you know, gather some powrfl minerals, make a potion.

Make a what?

You no boss, go down to dose geese by yer pond down yonder and get some fethers from them birds. Den get you some coppar pennies you find down by da noody bookstor down there by 18th, then grab you sum toilet paper, wipe undaneth the rim of da john over at the ladies sport club. Bring all dat back and start a pot boiln with some necktar of honey an sum melon seeds, and stir in the fethers an the pennies an the toilet paper. let it boil, bubble, you no, get real hot, real hot like a lady waitin in her bed late at nite time fer her man ta com home.

Okay, let me see if I got ya: geese feathers, copper pennies, toilet paper from the women's gym, nectar, melon seeds. Boil it. Hot. Very hot. And, so, what am I supposed to do with this?

OH LOR, you don no the power dis brew has. Incantations. Mojo. Voodo. Dey call it sometin else dese days. Somethn like knew age. But that shit sure do beat words an pictures fer gettin back at people been botherin you, ooooo you don no the power of it.

Hey, cultster, thanks MUCH for that. I'm heading out right now--the pond, adult bookstore, gym--gotcha. Thanks. Skip the throne cleaning this week. You gave me one valuable motherfuckin lesson. These words and pictures are for the birds. What have I been wasting my time for? I shoulda got me some knew age a long time ago.

OH no prolem boss. tanks for tellin me how to read n right all dis las year. you know without dat personality yers tellin me how to behav, i don no what I woulda been tellin pepel. ooooo thank ya so kindly fer dat. Thank ya so kindly.

No problem. Hey, want to swing by and help me pluck the geese?

Sho nuf. Sho nuf.

cameron came

welcome Cameron.

welcome, Cameron.

December 16, 2002, 03.24 GMT, 7 pounds 3 ounces.

All is well.

Congratulations to Gary and Fiona. God bless you. Peace, sleep, dreams.

December 15, 2002


round my corners
shave away my edges
make me smooth
as polished stone
let me skim your skin
slip me in and out of the wind

search results I'm proud of

Yes, there are visitors who arrive here from google search results that I'm none to proud of. Anyone with a blog knows what I mean. Chin Porn is one of the tamest queries that apparently pops this blog up (thank goodness, not on the first page of results). I'm not sure what chin porn is--although I have a couple of guesses. Needless to say, I was a little jittery when the person looking for information on said subject found me.

What a pleasant surprise today was. Today I was happy to see three visitors who came here via google search results that, well, made me feel glad I could help. The winners are:

Digiorno Cooking Instructions
Norlin Streaker
Negative Introject

So there. If I've helped someone cook a pizza without the cardboard, find out what Eric Norlin does at nationally televised football games, or get a handle on that little voice inside your head that says you just can't do anything right, well then I've done my job.

Search on, googlers.

Happy Birthday Grandma Dimino

I was thinking about you on the 13th, your birthday. I was going to blog something for you, but instead I've been fishing around over on this site. And with Dad's birthday tomorrow, maybe today, right in the middle, is the best place to post this.

Of all who've gone, I miss you most. I miss you in your flowered dress and black shoes, that great big house of oak and plaster, of tall ceilings and loud pianos, I miss clomping up the front steps and flipping open the mail slot so I could be the first one to smell the fresh sauce and meatballs; I miss your orange soda and hugs, me singing/you clapping. I miss my cheeks never not hurting from all the love pinches, your laugh, the way you raised your eyebrows and shook your hand with an "Eeeeee!" that said ten words with one syllable.

I miss you on the phone with me at night after the late news; I always knew you'd be up. Yours is my late night gene, and that other gene, the one that reminds me of love every time I think of you, and I think of you then with hair teased high, your long gloves, beautiful, and I think of you long after your knuckles buldged, after your body bent and your knees gave way, beautiful. Your 93 years too brief.

I saw the boat you came over on when you were just one. I wanted to put it here:

I saw your name on the ship manifest, and your mother's and brother's names. I know that your other brother died two weeks before you were born; I know he didn't make the trip. But you did.

Yours is a family of long journeys, of rough waters, of welcome arrivals and sudden departures.

And today I miss you more.

Thanks, Tom.

Tom Sugart breathes fresh air into this place. Go see this movie. Get outside yourself and inside yourself all at once. Music can do that for you. So can a story that matters. This story does.

Dare you, Dare me.

If he stopped pushing the edge, then the edge would be a lot closer in. Our words would be much safer, much less interesting, less meaningful. Does moving the line in the sand mean that you have to step across it sometimes, kick the shit out of it sometimes, erase it completely, start over, say, "what line, where?" Sure.

So? Grow.

More than anything else, he has, by example, encouraged us to give ourselves permission to risk, to be outrageous, to be kind, to show our hearts and our messy guts. Our "blood-intenstines," as Jenna would say.

Now, we're off to take the Bean to the zoo, with a heartfelt thank you to another blog of heart.

Lights Out

Okay, kids. Put the tin cans and strings away, take the flashlights out from under your pillows and hand them over, stop the giggling, and turn off that light.

It's past your bed time. Yes, I know Gary will be getting up soon. That's all well and good. He can get breakfast started. But the rest of you, get to sleep this instant!

goodnight johnboy.