The idea of 7 Quick Takes Friday comes from blogger Jennifer Fulwiler, who hosts it weekly at her site, Conversion Diary.
Pioneer Woman tried to warn me.
She told me not to visit the Fred & Friends website due to its addictive nature.
I ignored her advice.
I am done for.
On the plus side, I know what I want for Christmas:
|M-CUPS™: matryoshkas made to measure|
This would make a lot more sense if I ever, you know, measured anything.
Yesterday, I was walking through the neighborhood. It had been raining off and on all day, and the sky was still looking threatening.
On my iPod: Exodus. Specifically, the part about the plagues. Backed up with ominous and dramatic music, heavy on the shrieking violins.
The streets were wet, and I kept expecting a big frog to leap out in front of me. Fortunately for my heart rate, that didn't happen. But when the rain started up again several minutes later, I was up to the plague of hail, and the violins had become more urgent.
I sped up a little... though I'm not sure if it was the rain, the plagues, or the violins that did it.
Three 8-year-olds freestyling in a space that looks a lot like a doctor's waiting room — I wish my doc provided this kind of entertainment:
There are two shows I never would have understood before moving to the upper Midwest: A Prairie Home Companion and The Red Green Show. (I realize they're kind of at opposite ends of the intellectual spectrum. Yet, they're both highly amusing... still a little puzzling on occasion, but highly amusing nonetheless.)
Maslow's Hierarchy gets a new hat, courtesy of Jessica Hagy of Indexed:
If I ever teach Intro to Psych, I'm using this as a visual aid.
Earlier this week, I posted a teensy little punctuation-related rant as my Facebook status. And the commenters came out of the woodwork.
Longtime readers (as well as friends and family) know I have issues in this area.
But now I'm thinking semi-seriously about writing a multi-stanza poem about punctuation marks, in the style of nursery rhymes like Eugene Field's The Duel, or Lewis Carroll's Jabberwocky. Or maybe like The Highwayman by Alfred Noyes, but that seems a little less friendly.
The fact that I'm concerned about the poem appearing unfriendly (rather than about my desire to write it in the first place) should probably worry me more than it does.
And if the freestyling kids in take #3 didn't make you smile, maybe a helpful little Jack Russell terrier will do the trick: