a moon, worn as if it had been a shell

So, it's cold out here in LaLa Land! This morning, Henry and I got on the road at 6:00, and the car thermometer read 42 degrees. For all of you who don't think we have seasons, take that! I don't have much to say today, other than to express a bit of wonder at how much traffic a post about vaginal knitting provokes. The comments on the post were all interesting and some provocative. I ventured to think about what makes me close-minded because I would never want to imply that I'm some kind of tolerance guru. I have a hard time keeping an open mind when someone tells me that Jesus is their personal savior, for instance. I also balk when I read that school boards in Texas remove anything that has to do with evolution from their textbooks. Oh, and conspiracy theorists make me raise my eyebrows but not in a curious way. If you defend an insurance company, I might slice off your head with my back-pocket machete before you have the chance to repent, and bless your heart (in the southern way) if you think Dan Brown is a good writer. With the exception of the insurance companies, though, my tolerance is pretty boundless, and I find things outside my own limited realm of experience to be endlessly fascinating and generally amusing. I've risked censure here and possibly dismissal from those who despise adverbs, so let me end by telling you about a tiny snippet of newspaper that I've kept for nearly thirty years. It's from the page of The Tennessean, and the days that I lived in Nashville with The Forty-third Husband (do you tolerate multiple marriages?). The article recounts the story of a man caught and charged with sucking women's toes in parking lots.

I told you I didn't have much to say today.