Some of us are born just absolutely stuffed to the gills with winkarma. The rest of us get it doled out out by the God of Adventure, who is one stingy bastard. I used up my winkarma allocation decades ago, on a box of cookies.
William the Conqueror-squirrel is now part of a household already enriched by Lola, Nikki, The Resident Carpenter, about a million saltwater denizens of the deep, assorted garden vegetables, and a number of wild critters living (only, I hope) in the backyard. This is the story of a squirrel orphan being rehabbed to the wilderness.
It's like a horror movie: You walk into your chicken coop and roosters attack, spurs and beaks shredding your jugular like carnitas, killing you deader than Kentucky Fried. Apparently this can happen if you have chickens. Kinda makes Alfred [...]
If this summer has taught me anything, it's that normal takes a helluva lot more time. It's been almost three months since Elmo-the-total-knee-replacement and I announced our joint partnership (heh-heh). While I can't say I'm as good as new, I'm at [...]
Dear The Knee (“TK”); It is with great regret that we inform you that your position as Left Knee for Cynthia Morgan, Human Organism has been made redundant. Beginning Monday, July 13, 2015, all left knee functionality will be managed by [...]
"Do anything exciting tonight?" asked my friend Clarissa. ...except that Clarissa isn't really her name. "You writing about this the way you did LAST time?" she asked. I said, well, maybe... "Then don't you DARE use my name. Last time ******** couldn't stop laughing. [...]
If you added up all my blogposts since 2003, you’d have something like 7,200 separate articles. Only about 650 are actually searchable on morganica.com right now. Tried to import the rest, but so far can’t figure out a way to [...]
"You're 5,000 miles overdue," he said reproachfully, "CherryBaby needed her tires rotated at 15,000." I puzzled over that one, since CherryBaby rotates her tires madly every time we hit the road. The ins and outs of automotive maintenance aren't really my thing--when your dad regards tinkering with cars the way everyone else regards fine Belgian chocolate, there's not much need. But the service dude seemed to think this was a terrible faux pas, so I apologized.
What could be more fun than spending Sunday night blowdrying your lips? Uhm...I should probably explain that...
Serves 12... if you can find the plates Blow the dust off your old recipe box and pull out that superb three-years-in-development recipe for your award-winning Triple-Chocoholic cake. No recipe. Recall the time you were late for the hotshop, needed [...]
