When the young republican version of me was voting for Bob Dole, I�d never have imagined myself saying such things. Remarkable how quickly we can turn around, when removed from a small, rural, wealthy midwestern town. Evidently the change is permanent, because I�m still strong in my beliefs, in spite of my post-college relocation to a large farm near a small, rural, wealthy midwestern town. Praise Jesus of the Week.

And I�ll be a monkey�s uncle if this doesn�t look just like my cat, Fuzzy Jesus, when he was a baby. I think I should write and tell them. Or submit a picture of the Fuzz as a Jesus of the Week. There�s a task for the night.

Two and a half hours until happy hour. On a Tuesday. We must be having troubles.

Evidently Noelle Bush is having troubles, too, as you know. We are not alone.

No, no! I�m serious! I was too a young republican! Jeremy and I listened to Rush Limbaugh on the way home from school every afternoon. You know, Ted Nugent in the morning, and Rush in the afternoon. It made sense at the time. You can�t judge us by it, though. We are, at least in part, a product of our environments, so get off your high horse.

Slightly less than two and a half hours until happy hour.

And really, the only useful advice I seem capable of dispensing is �drink more� or �more ice and less cleavage.� The latter clearly being more difficult.

Which brings me to ask, have you had any spotted dick today?

That�s all. I�m just worn out, but it�s all still funny to me. Sometimes.