Once, many years ago, when my husband had a Mellon Fellowship at Harvard, he asked one of his colleagues what it was like to teach in his particular department. The guy thought about it a minute, then said, "Well, I've been to the mountaintop, and there's nobody home."
Or like Yogi Berra famously put it, "Where ever you go, there you are."
Today I'm guest blogging at The Stiletto Gang where I'm making a true confession about certain vacancies in my own homesteading, especially when it comes to managing my website, living life in the fast lane and uncovering the existence of certain homo sapiens who are not, as far as I can tell, HOME, at least in ways that count. Please join me over there by clicking on the link above. Then email me with dirt on vile husbands, even wives, even dogs or children, as long as they're real wankers, they're welcome. Home to Mama, that's right, we got Eustice and Bertha waiting. (You won't understand that reference unless you double click on the purple writing above, which is otherwise known as a link, named after HYPER-LINK, as if that tells you a thing.)
this is what my dog does when there's no one home, and that's not the worst of it, as the tell-tale empty bag of JOLLY RANCHERS will attest. It makes you wonder, how does she keep her figure?
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