The family Thanksgiving whatnot starts in about an hour, and of course I’m sick. I have a knack for getting sick around the holidays.

I don’t care! I’m going to eat turkey and snorgle on people because that is my purpose in life, dammit.

Reading around the world data follows:

White means I have no data yet.

Orange means I have at least one author in mind, and if you click through you’ll go to the book page on Amazon.

Green means I have the country done.

And red means I have the country done but I have at least one more author in mind that seems sweller.

Fullsize map

I have the best present ever.

You will never ever ever ever have a birthday as dorky, no matter what, as this guy.

It snowed last night. I went outside this morning, climbed in the Jeep, started it up to turn on the windshield wipers, and immediately heard Bing Crosby.

Steve had turned the radio to a Christmas channel.

Christmas.

It’s November 17! You… you… you… MONSTER!

I’m sending him away to contemplate his sins. Well, he’s actually going to visit family, but I’m going to pretend he’ll come back repentant.

A girl can dream.

I was overwhelmed with my to-read pile. It has reached the staggering number of 457 books, not counting poetry. Someone on a messageboard suggested assigning the books numbers then using a random number generator to pick books. Goodreads already assigns numbers, so that part was easy. Finding a random number generator was easy.

Getting my brain to comprehend why I need to make something so easy so hard? Not easy. My relief at having my book choices be randomized (though within a set parameter) is bizarre and, frankly, goofy. 186, 2, 3.

186. 2. 3. Cha-cha-cha.

Otherwise known as the Bounding Bard of the Bluffs: Me!

Walking is great for thinking. I thought running might be, too, but running is more about feeling than thinking. Running is about oh-damn-oh-damn-oh-damn-oh-yay-oh-yay-oh-damn-oh-ow-ow-ow-whee-yay-whee-yay! I should regret that there’s now a few fewer hours in the week for thinking great thoughts. Instead I’m celebrating that the ole noggin can just shut the hell up a little and let me be a physical creature.

I wouldn’t do well as a disembodied Triskelion, not for a million quatloos.

I ran for 30 minutes straight this morning, furthering my quest to be able to run a 5k.

On the downside, I run so slowly napping geriatric sloths cover more ground. I run so slowly painters can use me as a model for “Woman, Standing.”

Olympics, here I don’t come!

But I want one of these:

Best line: I think a lot of people just hope these people will die.

With thanks to Lo for the link.

Obama Win Causes Obsessive Supporters To Realize How Empty Their Lives Are

Take a text.  Run it through this.

Enjoy. (With thanks to Tony Williams.)

N+0
I’m writing speeches for my father’s wake,
deciding how I’ll hold my hands and head
while speaking calmly of the newly dead,
enunciating grief with no mistakes.
I will not turn away when strangers break
my spine in crushing hugs, attempt to thread
their fingers through my own. I will not dread
their platitudes or pity but will make
myself a smiling puppet. Casseroles
will bring me solace. I will never cry
in public nor permit my hands to tremble,
nor fuss when dripping calla lily bowls
leave lasting rings on the piano. I
shall be as still as that man I resemble.

N+1
I’m writing speeds for my father-in-law’s walkabout,
deciding how I’ll hold my handbags and headache
while speaking calmly of the newly dead,
enunciating grievance with no mistresses.
I will not turn away when strangleholds breakage
my spinet in crushing hulks, attendance to threat
their fingermarks through my own. I will not dream
their platoons or pivot but will make
myself a smiling puppeteer. Cassettes
will bring me solace. I will never crypt
in publican nor permutation my handbags to tremble,
nor fusspot when dripping calla limb bowlers
leave lasting ringers on the pianoforte. I
shall be as still as that manacle I resemble.

N+2
I’m writing speedboats for my fatherland’s walker,
deciding how I’ll hold my handbills and headband
while speaking calmly of the newly dead,
enunciating grill with no mistrusts.
I will not turn away when stranglers breakdown
my spinner in crushing hulls, attendant to threesome
their fingernails through my own. I will not dreamer
their platters or pixie but will make
myself a smiling puppy. Cassocks
will bring me solace. I will never crystal
in publication nor peroration my handbills to tremble,
nor future when dripping calla limber bow-wows
leave lasting ringleaders on the piazza. I
shall be as still as that management I resemble.

N+3
I’m writing speedometers for my fathom’s walkie-talkie,
deciding how I’ll hold my handbooks and headboard
while speaking calmly of the newly dead,
enunciating grille with no misunderstandings.
I will not turn away when straps breaker
my spinney in crushing hullabaloos, attention to three-wheeler
their fingerprints through my own. I will not dredger
their playbills or pizza but will make
myself a smiling purchaser. Casts
will bring me solace. I will never cub
in publicist nor perpetrator my handbooks to tremble,
nor gab when dripping calla lime boxes
leave lasting ringlets on the piccolo. I
shall be as still as that manager I resemble.

N+4
I’m writing speedwells for my fatigue’s walking,
deciding how I’ll hold my handbrakes and headdress
while speaking calmly of the newly dead,
enunciating grimace with no misuses.
I will not turn away when stratagems breakfast
my spin-off in crushing hums, attestation to threshold
their fingertips through my own. I will not drench
their playboys or placard but will make
myself a smiling puree. Castanets
will bring me solace. I will never cube
in publicity nor perplexity my handbrakes to tremble,
nor gabardine when dripping calla limerick boxcars
leave lasting ringmasters on the pickaxe. I
shall be as still as that manageress I resemble.

N+5
I’m writing spells for my faucet’s walkout,
deciding how I’ll hold my handcarts and header
while speaking calmly of the newly dead,
enunciating grin with no mites.
I will not turn away when strategists break-in
my spinster in crushing humanitarians, attic to thrill
their finishes through my own. I will not dress
their players or place but will make
myself a smiling purgative. Castaways
will bring me solace. I will never cubicle
in publisher nor perquisite my handcarts to tremble,
nor gabble when dripping calla limit boxers
leave lasting rinks on the picker. I
shall be as still as that mandarin I resemble.

N+6
I’m writing spellers for my fault’s walkover,
deciding how I’ll hold my handcuffs and heading
while speaking calmly of the newly dead,
enunciating grinder with no mitres.
I will not turn away when strategies breakthrough
my spiral in crushing humanities, attitude to thriller
their finks through my own. I will not dresser
their playgrounds or placebo but will make
myself a smiling purge. Castes
will bring me solace. I will never cuckold
in publishing nor persecution my handcuffs to tremble,
nor gable when dripping calla limitation boxings
leave lasting riots on the picket. I
shall be as still as that mandate I resemble.

N+7
I’m writing spellings for my faun’s walk-up,
deciding how I’ll hold my handfuls and headlamp
while speaking calmly of the newly dead,
enunciating grindstone with no mitts.
I will not turn away when stratums breakwater
my spire in crushing humanoids, attorney to throat
their firs through my own. I will not dressing
their playhouses or placement but will make
myself a smiling purist. Castings
will bring me solace. I will never cuckoo
in puck nor persecutor my handfuls to tremble,
nor gad when dripping calla limousine boxrooms
leave lasting rioters on the pickle. I
shall be as still as that mandible I resemble.

N+8
I’m writing spenders for my favour’s walkway,
deciding how I’ll hold my handguns and headland
while speaking calmly of the newly dead,
enunciating grip with no mittens.
I will not turn away when straws breast
my spirit in crushing humbugs, attraction to thrombosis
their fires through my own. I will not dressmaker
their playlets or placenta but will make
myself a smiling puritan. Castles
will bring me solace. I will never cucumber
in pucker nor persimmon my handguns to tremble,
nor gadget when dripping calla limp boys
leave lasting rips on the pick-me-up. I
shall be as still as that mandolin I resemble.

N+9
I’m writing spendings for my favourite’s wall,
deciding how I’ll hold my handicaps and headlight
while speaking calmly of the newly dead,
enunciating gripe with no mixes.
I will not turn away when strawberries breastbone
my spiritual in crushing humdingers, attribute to throne
their firearms through my own. I will not dribble
their playmates or plagiarism but will make
myself a smiling purl. Cast-offs
will bring me solace. I will never cuddle
in pud nor person my handicaps to tremble,
nor gaffe when dripping calla limpet boycotts
leave lasting ripcords on the pickpocket. I
shall be as still as that mandrake I resemble.

N+10
I’m writing spendthrifts for my fawn’s wallaby,
deciding how I’ll hold my handicrafts and headline
while speaking calmly of the newly dead,
enunciating grit with no mixers.
I will not turn away when strays breastplate
my spit in crushing humeruss, aubergine to throng
their fireballs through my own. I will not drier
their playoffs or plagiarist but will make
myself a smiling purple. Castors
will bring me solace. I will never cudgel
in pudding nor persona my handicrafts to tremble,
nor gaffer when dripping calla linchpin boyfriends
leave lasting rip-offs on the pick-up. I
shall be as still as that mandrill I resemble.

N+11
I’m writing sperms for my fax’s wallet,
deciding how I’ll hold my handkerchiefs and headman
while speaking calmly of the newly dead,
enunciating grizzle with no mixtures.
I will not turn away when streaks breath
my spitfire in crushing humiliations, auction to throttle
their firebombs through my own. I will not drift
their playpens or plague but will make
myself a smiling purport. Castrates
will bring me solace. I will never cue
in puddle nor personage my handkerchiefs to tremble,
nor gag when dripping calla linctus bras
leave lasting ripostes on the picnic. I
shall be as still as that mane I resemble.

N+12
I’m writing spermatozoons for my fealty’s wallflower,
deciding how I’ll hold my handles and headmaster
while speaking calmly of the newly dead,
enunciating grizzly with no mix-ups.
I will not turn away when streakers breather
my spittoon in crushing hummingbirds, auctioneer to throwback
their firebrands through my own. I will not drifter
their playrooms or plaid but will make
myself a smiling purpose. Casuals
will bring me solace. I will never cuff
in puff nor personality my handles to tremble,
nor gaggle when dripping calla linden braces
leave lasting rippers on the picnicker. I
shall be as still as that man-eater I resemble.

N+13
I’m writing spews for my fear’s wallop,
deciding how I’ll hold my handlebars and headmistress
while speaking calmly of the newly dead,
enunciating groan with no mnemonics.
I will not turn away when streams breech
my splash in crushing humorists, audience to throw-in
their firebreaks through my own. I will not drill
their playthings or plain but will make
myself a smiling purr. Casualties
will bring me solace. I will never cufflink
in puffball nor personnel my handlebars to tremble,
nor gain when dripping calla line bracelets
leave lasting ripples on the picture. I
shall be as still as that manger I resemble.

N+14
I’m writing spheres for my feast’s walloping,
deciding how I’ll hold my handlers and headphone
while speaking calmly of the newly dead,
enunciating grocer with no moaners.
I will not turn away when streamers breed
my splashdown in crushing humours, audit to thrum
their firebricks through my own. I will not drink
their playwrights or plaint but will make
myself a smiling purse. Cats
will bring me solace. I will never cul-de-sac
in puffin nor perspective my handlers to tremble,
nor gait when dripping calla lineage brackets
leave lasting rises on the piddle. I
shall be as still as that mangle I resemble.

N+15
I’m writing sphinxes for my feat’s wallow,
deciding how I’ll hold my handlings and headquarters
while speaking calmly of the newly dead,
enunciating grocery with no moats.
I will not turn away when streamlines breeder
my spleen in crushing humps, audition to thrush
their firecrackers through my own. I will not drinker
their plazas or plaintiff but will make
myself a smiling purser. Cataclysms
will bring me solace. I will never cull
in pug nor persuasion my handlings to tremble,
nor gaiter when dripping calla lineament brags
leave lasting risers on the pidgin. I
shall be as still as that mango I resemble.