|A porta-potty at the arboretum, as photographed by my seven-year-old.|
It feels like I’m living in a topsy turvy world
where everything is upside down and inside out.
Nothing is making sense. Nothing is normal.
It’s been in the 60s. In November. In Minnesota.
People are sitting in lawn chairs without jackets!
It’s a Midwestern miracle.
My usual coffee shop just got new over sized furniture.
I felt like Edith Ann in her gigantic rocking chair.
I finished reviewing my editors’ edits on my manuscript.
Wait a second. I have an editor!!??
A red fox ran right across the road in front of my car yesterday!
Whoa! And hello!
A new Bon Jovi Greatest Hits album came out this week and I don’t have it yet.
It’s probably the first time in 20+ years this hair band dweeb
doesn’t have Bon Jovi’s latest album on THE day it came out.
See? Nothing makes sense. Nothing is normal.
And it’s all peachy keen.