This entry was posted on Tuesday, January 4th, 2022 at 11:11 am and is filed under circus of life. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.
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Haha! Even if a books doesn’t help with the cold, you still have a book.
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We need “Brains required” in Atlanta. lol
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Reblogged this on wordrefiner.
Thanks Mark. 🙂
“Wicked stawm comin'” – love that one 🙂
Yep! When the snow falls, make sure you carry your brains with you when you drive, people!
Love these. I understand the impulse of the writer on the Stop sign. I still have urges to write in collected snow, dust, etc. I must be a child at heart.
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[…] January 5, 2022 V.M.Sang Leave a comment See more for a good laugh. […]
Thank you for the link. ♥️
Lol. I lived in wicked stawm country, aka Maine, back in the 1980s. One wicked stawm came close to blowing me away.
Now I live in New Mexico. About ten years ago, after a long dry spell, we had a storm with hail that was larger than baseballs. It destroyed our roof, our car, our RV, and the roof of most of the buildings in town. The United Methodist church put this on their sign:
OH HAIL NO!
Send Us Just
The Rain Please!
I’ve never seen hail that large. (I hope I never do!) Local roofers must have made out like bandits after that one.
I hope I never see hail like that again!
Storm chaser Reed Timmer was driving through the area where we lived when the storm hit. The windshield on their vehicle was broken by the hail, when they were about 1/4 mile from where we were living at the time. I will post the link to that wild storm, but you may want to watch it with the sound off. The female driving Reed’s vehicle did a lot of squealing and screaming. 😀
[…] by Jean ReilandJanuary 5, 2022 Comments 0 Signs of the times — winter wonderland edition — bluebird of bitterness […]
Thank you for the link. 🙂
No matter how bleak things get, the sense of humor seems to survive!
Yes, thank heaven. 🙂
God chuckles. Thanks.
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We always ask where the time went. We never ask where it’s coming from. —James Lileks
Whatever you do, always give 100%… unless you’re donating blood.
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Home sweet home
Bob's sister Hannah
Bob's sister Ada
Bob's brother Otto
Bob's sister Eve
Bob's sister Nan
A baby picture of Bob and his siblings (clockwise from upper left: Otto, Eve, Hannah, Ada, Bob, and Nan)
Bob's childhood home
Bob's mom and dad
Bob in his youth
Bob's cousin Alphonse
Bob's Uncle Ralph and Aunt Edna
Bob's cousin Archibald
Bob's stepbrother Herbie (who really needs to quit smoking)
Bob's cousin Chester
Bob's Great Uncle Norbert and Great Aunt Phyllis
Bob's cousin Saffron (who will do anything for a drink)
Bob's cousin Thorndike
Bob's brother-in-law Vinnie
Bob's cousin Orville, who loves the Green Bay Packers
Bob's nieces Lulu and Bitsy, the biker chicks
Bob's stepsister Eloise, with the twins, Rudy and Trudy
Bob's Uncle Henry and Aunt Rowena
Bob's niece Esmerelda (who likes to live dangerously)
Bob's Great Uncle Arthur up in Saskatchewan
Bob's cousin Louie, the grackle of grumpiness
Miss Screech, Bob's journalism teacher
Bob's nephew Winthrop, who loves sports
Bob's Uncle Seymour and Aunt Bernice
Bob's second cousin Schlomo in Brooklyn
Bob's nephew Baxter
Bob's cousin Darrell
Nigel, Bob's pen pal in New Zealand
Bob's sister-in-law Delphine, who volunteers at the animal shelter
Percy the Pickpocket, Bob's third cousin once removed (the relative no one likes to talk about... every family has one)
The Bluebird of Happiness™ (no relation to Bob)
A pair of boobies (also no relation to Bob, but included for readers who desire titillation)
A pair of tits (in case the boobies were insufficiently titillating)
Bluebird Bitter™, the beer they named for Bob
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