Sock #2

I've thought of bunch of questions I have, like what is a sock hop (we all sort of know, right?  A h.s. dance with no shoes.  Confirmed.), and what happens to all those missing socks (I know, a dumb house-wifely mystery, but a puzzle, none-the-less). A blog hop is like a sock hop without the high school, the dance, the shews (shouldn't we spell it that way?), the hopping, the angst, the not getting asked to go, the big hair, the girls gathering
Time-travelling portal in the Snoqualmie Valley
and weeping in the bathroom over some boy, the drama, the vomiting in the parking lot.  So, in almost every single way, the blog hop is better, especially because you'll get to meet Beth if you don't already know her, because she's generous and interesting and a beautiful poet, and also, not to make this about me or anything, but she carted around a gigantic box of Sun magazines for a long long time and then gave them all to me.  


The only thing wrong the the blog hop is no music.  So here, try this.

Beth Coyote is a writer whose day job is catching babies. This means that she is remarkably unreliable for normal human activities like movies, dinners, parties and all holidays. Her circadian rhythms often resemble the lenticular halo over Mt Rainier, an endless cycle of sleep deprivation and annoying insomnia. She recently bought a new house that has every possible type of garden pest: bindweed, blackberries, ivy, horse tail and moles. This situation could be depressing as she is an avid gardener but she is invigorated by many creative and probably hopeless strategies for full eradication. Moles? Really?

Oh, right.  And she's a poet.  Go visit!

Comments

  1. Every post Ms. Coyote writes is a post I cherish.
    Just as yours are.

    ReplyDelete
  2. "the not getting asked to go" oh gawd. And then there was the red dress my mother bought and I had to wear it. Awful and horrible and embarrassing. The dark pit of teenage despair.

    I'm better now. And thanks for the fine endorsement.

    Your fan in Jesus,

    Beth

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Oh, sorry to send you back to the Red Dress Incident. Let's never speak of it again. xo

      Delete

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