...See you later alligator, after 'while crocodile/ See you later alligator/ So long, that's all/ Goodbye....
"Mama, why did you not throw this away?"
I can't see what 'this' is from here. What have you got?
Fuzzy enters with a light brown orb. I frown at it.
"It's the brain from your alligator head. Why did you leave it on the table?"
Now I know what I'm looking at.
When I cut the avocado open, the pit popped out and rolled away, and I forgot about it. Sorry.
I call them, southern-style, 'alligator pears'. The brain. Of the alligator head. Of course. I snicker as I consign this 'brain' to the trash.
She sighs deeply at my idocy.
It's going to be 'that' sort of a day when dressing goes like this: bra, panties, left shoe, trousers, right shoe. And then, downstairs, noticing that I sort of need a shirt.
Y'all go on and complain about the heat, but Primarily Decorative has been enjoying an extended Naked Season.
She does, however, draw the line at (shudder) white shoes.
If you haven't made it out to the Maryland Renaissance Festival this gorgeous season, you should hurry. Hey, Nunnie, Nunnie has already left the building. This is the final weekend for Hack and Slash. The Mediaeval Baebes will be here next weekend, and both Wolgemut and Puke and Snot have already arrived. This weekend, next weekend, and THAT'S IT, PEOPLE. C'mon.
(Seey You Later, Alligator; Bill Haley and his Comets)