29 Bottles of Baron-esssssssss... You take one down, click the exit button, 19 bottles of Baroness on the wall.
See? It's that easy. Before I get too entrenched in the BvonB love-fest, I thought I would give you loyalists a oh-so-brief Thoughtful Thursday. It comes from a beautiful little letterpress book (really little: 3" x 4.5" - so sweet!) called Friends and published by Orange Art Miniatures:
See? It's that easy. Before I get too entrenched in the BvonB love-fest, I thought I would give you loyalists a oh-so-brief Thoughtful Thursday. It comes from a beautiful little letterpress book (really little: 3" x 4.5" - so sweet!) called Friends and published by Orange Art Miniatures:
But of all plagues, good Heaven,
thy wrath can send,
Save me, oh save me, from the
candid friend. George Canning
thy wrath can send,
Save me, oh save me, from the
candid friend. George Canning
What can I tell you? There is no saving you today from this candid friend. Or tomorrow. Or the next day, even. By Sunday - appropriately enough - salvation will be once again be yours.
Truth be told, I'm not even being as candid as I could be. I am a Baroness, after all. And I do have boundaries. I call them moats. And they are definite, and deep and tall. Teeming with defense. Just as I teem with defensiveness. Fine. That being established, let's go.
29. I'm an extremely fast talker. As is The Baron. When we get going, it's almost a foreign language. Woe be to the poor exchange students who stay with us - they aren't going to learn a damn thing here.
28. Favorite-ish season? Spring. Fall. Summer. Winter. Each has its own redeeming qualities, non? Spring for my garden babies, fall for scrunching around in other people's leaves, summer for long days without a coat or shoes, and winter for those crisp shiny days.
27. I am a selective Hello Kitty collector. Nothing too flashy or obvious; only subversive.
26. While I try very hard to be nice to everyone, I do not suffer fools gladly. Not even madly. They are idiots, and my contempt runs deep. Like my moats.
25. And the Baroness doth proclaim: Garlic is the new black.
24. To quote Miss kd lang, I am a big-boned girl from Southern Alberta. Yeah, you crazy Prairies.
23. I once fell down 3 stairs and nearly tore my patellar tendon (see WebMD) clean off. I do not recommend this.
22. I am absolutely crazy about my sons. They are smart, clever, kind, polite, and quite possibly funnier than me. OK, they are funnier than me. They make me guffaw at least once every day.
21. Not a morning person. Or a night owl. I hit my peak around 1:20 pm, and it's downhill from there.
20. The song "100 Years" by Five for Fighting makes me cry. Every time.
Truth be told, I'm not even being as candid as I could be. I am a Baroness, after all. And I do have boundaries. I call them moats. And they are definite, and deep and tall. Teeming with defense. Just as I teem with defensiveness. Fine. That being established, let's go.
29. I'm an extremely fast talker. As is The Baron. When we get going, it's almost a foreign language. Woe be to the poor exchange students who stay with us - they aren't going to learn a damn thing here.
28. Favorite-ish season? Spring. Fall. Summer. Winter. Each has its own redeeming qualities, non? Spring for my garden babies, fall for scrunching around in other people's leaves, summer for long days without a coat or shoes, and winter for those crisp shiny days.
27. I am a selective Hello Kitty collector. Nothing too flashy or obvious; only subversive.
26. While I try very hard to be nice to everyone, I do not suffer fools gladly. Not even madly. They are idiots, and my contempt runs deep. Like my moats.
25. And the Baroness doth proclaim: Garlic is the new black.
24. To quote Miss kd lang, I am a big-boned girl from Southern Alberta. Yeah, you crazy Prairies.
23. I once fell down 3 stairs and nearly tore my patellar tendon (see WebMD) clean off. I do not recommend this.
22. I am absolutely crazy about my sons. They are smart, clever, kind, polite, and quite possibly funnier than me. OK, they are funnier than me. They make me guffaw at least once every day.
21. Not a morning person. Or a night owl. I hit my peak around 1:20 pm, and it's downhill from there.
20. The song "100 Years" by Five for Fighting makes me cry. Every time.
12 comments:
Oh, I am with you about fools. And my sister-in-law is the queen of them.
Good Lord. Items 29-25 are like looking in a mirror. In the 80s, people likened me to the character the Cosby show who talked a mile a minute.
Countess NATUI:
So if I look in a mirror, will I have on Grillz and a diadem (love that word, BTW...)?
So, me. You. 29 to 25. Really? V. cool, and so good to know.
A Canadian that loves all four seasons equally? Even the stoutest of Northerners is begging for spring to hurry its return.
"And the Baroness doth proclaim: Garlic is the new black."
You are sooooo preaching to the choir.
Count WP: Salutations!
What can I say? I'm a "walking in a winter wonderland" kind of gal (note here I did not mention driving - not such the wonderland).
As for the Great Garlic sermon of ought-8, can I get an amen?
Amen!
Amen! Asthmagirl loves her garlic!
It's worth noting that I also do not suffer fools gladly. Or really any way. I think that there's certain folk who are racing toward the edge of the cliff. Sometimes our role in life is to step to one side and let nature take it's course. This goes against my primary function of benefactress of human kind, however the theory has proven itself many times over. Unfortunate but true.
I am a morning person. Everything goes down hill about 2:30. Unless I have cider in me. Then I'm a hoot till about 10:00 PM!
"What can I say? I'm a "walking in a winter wonderland" kind of gal (note here I did not mention driving - not such the wonderland)."
So I take it that you are not a fan of ice skids?
Countess AG: I like it! Culling the herd for stupidity, cliffs, watching.
It sounds very satisfying.
And the morning thing? Yay you. I guess if we were ever to meet, it would have to be a late-ish brunch.
Count WP: I had one big ice skid, about 6 years ago, when I was innocuously (I thought) changing lanes. I skidded across the highway, across 2 lanes of oncoming traffic and only stopped courtesy of a cement barrier. As I endeavoured to disengage my heart from my bowel and to stop shaking, my Gr. 6 son from the back seat quietly said, "Cool. Do it again."
Sorry, bucko. Show's over. Permanently. Now every snowfall over 3" is a snow day for mom (I really don't get out much). :)
I wonder if my friends recite that poem like a prayer before they hang out with me?? I think I'm seeing a link between the poem and #26 ... non?
Barbra Peapod
Countess Babs:
Oui. Et peut-etre non aussi.
To qualify (in English, because that is pretty much the extent of my French...), I value candor in a friend. In fact, if one of my buddy's is not willing to call me on my sh*t, then they're not really in the friend category.
A candid acquaintance, however? From that, I need saving.
As for the poetry, I often use verse to soften the blow of what I really want to say. Those poets were on to something, methinks. :)
That ice skid made everything on me clench, just reading it.
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