Because I Should Update, Fool

What's Wrong with the World:

Nothing.

Because Marcia, with Annie & sister Charity in tow, came over last night and made homemade knoephla soup! We ate on the picnic table and dipped baguettes into bowls of delicious dumplings. Afterwards, Bridge built a small fire, Berkowitz stopped over, and all attempted to make the perfect smore.

And, I am in day 3 of the Dakota Writing Project and lovin' it, baby.

And, and, I got 6 miles in on the bike yesterday.

What's Wrong with My Body (Besides the Obvious):

Lots.

While weeding the lawn on Monday evening, some insect bit the corner of my eye, and now my left eyelid is swollen. I choose to believe this makes me look sultry, and that I am "puttin on my bedroom eyes," but I am pretty sure I look like a stroke victim.

Again, while weeding, I may have been elbow-deep in poison ivy. Developments to come.

My left index finger may be broken, but that is not related to weeding. And I have no other medical proof besides "it hurts."

One more personal thing. (It's my blog and I can write what I want to.) While disrobing for bed last night, I glanced down and noticed I have two identical insect bites on the tops of my bazoongas.

Don't you wish your girlfriend was hot like me?

What's Wrong with My Lawn:

Nothing anymore!

I spent Monday and Tuesday evening mowing and weeding (obvi). I also sawed off huge, droopy, branches from the ginormous Maple in the front yard. For awhile, I resigned myself to my shady, leafy, overgrown frontyard. I thought it was charming, like a bungalow Hemingway may like to write in, like Ethan Allen could come film a furniture commercial on my front stoop.

Now, though, it's clean and sun-dappled and my new favorite place. I trimmed up the peonies and planted a shrub rose bush.

What's Wrong with My Writing:

I'm not cool enough for McSweeney's Lists.