I feel like yesterday’s post is a little like my civil rights for gays post in that it requires a little clarification.  Or maybe I’m just neurotic.  At any rate, I would like to clarify that I am the furthest thing from a so-called gold digger.  No!  Really!  I am super uncomfortable with boys paying for things.  I can’t say I don’t occasionally enjoy doing something that I would otherwise be unable to afford on someone else’s dime.  But I took OGfPS out for coffee following our picnic in the park.  To keep things even.  Sort of even, anyway.  Also, it was chilly outside.

I am immensely pleased by the shoes because they are awesome shoes.   I am more pleased by the thoughtfulness of their procurement.  My  “ooh, great shoes” was a throw-away line in a conversation about bands of the late 1980s.  The shoes were a tangible proof of listening.  Boys: girls love proof you were listening.   That’s my free advice on scorin’ wit da ladies.  You’re welcome.

Not that anyone’s scoring with this particular lady at present.  As if that’s any of your business.

I have a cough.  A terrible, terrible cough.  I fell over coughing in the shower this morning.  Good times.

Today I was searching for a suitable scripture for the church facebook page and got to thinking about Micah 6:8, about what it means to love mercy.  I do not consider the love of mercy to be a natural inclination or something all that easily attained.  Sure, I love mercy when it comes my direction.  But mostly I want the bastards to get what’s coming to them.  That’s my Election Day thought: fuck George Bush.