Sunday, March 11, 2007


After the tomboy girls of the neighborhood whipped the pants off the shitty little neighborhood boys in a baseball game 42 years ago, the sorest loser of the shitty little neighbor boys put a half dead still kicking frog down the back of my tight-waisted sweatshirt. This child is operating on my father in the morning. Can it be? Getting grown, getting old. It's so very, very strange.


Anonymous Tater said...

My thoughts and prayers are with you and your father, hope it's nothing too serious, and I will pray for a speedy recovery.

Thank you.

Your kind words and advice will be with me tonight when I arrive (in my new frock) at the party, and I will let the past and my nervousness go.

Thanks again, your words meant a lot to me.

March 11, 2007 3:20 PM  
Blogger evilganome said...

I don't think they'll let him bring frogs into the hospital. REALLY! Well, pretty sure anyway.

I'll be thinking about you and thinking good thoughts about your dad.

Don't the years just start goin' by to fast though?

March 11, 2007 3:53 PM  

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