Roses

Today I planted two Cerise Bouquet climbing roses, in the hopes that they will be obliging enough to climb the trellis on the west end of the front porch. I am uneasily aware that I am standing at the top of a slippery slope, rose-wise, and am hoping that my aversion to sunlight will keep me strong.

Also, a plug: HelpMeFind.Com is very aptly named, for they did, in fact, help me find the identity of my roses. (The nursery from which I got them had had them for quite a while and had lost their information.)

The Parable of the Shower

Let me recommend to you "The Parable of the Shower" by Leah Bobet (a.k.a. cristalia), which is trenchant and thoughtful and passionate about any number of things, is a wickedly wickedly brilliant use of the second-person narrator, and also makes me laugh like a loon: The angel of the LORD cometh upon you in the shower at the worst possible moment: one hand placed upon thy right buttock and the other bearing soap, radio blaring, humming a heathen song of sin.

You will so not regret reading this story.

Say it with me:

Evil AND crazy.

Stephen Tyrone Johns, rest in peace. My deep sympathy goes to the people whose love for you is now in the past tense.