Sure, I may be broke, but I can get in that pathetic little car and drive until the gas money runs out. I have not lost my sense of humor. Good thing, too, since I was watching my pal Mustang�s hellion cat this weekend. She�s just purchased a condo(m) at the edge of town, mainly because it�s the only socially acceptable property purchase for a young, single gal, but also because there�s a basement for band practice (though we have neither instruments nor a vision for our bad basement band). She�s not yet keen on the place and laments that it�s indistinguishable from all the others.

No more.

I have both a car and a devotion to the Big Lots. (I heard an ancient Jayhawks song on the in-store sound system this weekend�how marvelous is that? Not �Red�s Song,� but �Two Angels,� I think.)

Mustang now has a charming row of 8 giant plastic candy canes lining her drive from the mailbox to the condo(m) garage. A lovely sparkly silver disco ball holiday garland adorns the mailbox. There�s a tacky lighted reindeer sign on her front window. Oh, what a surprise awaits her tonight when she hits the garage door opener, so she�ll know which place is hers!

(But because I�m still me, I did casually get out of her a few weeks ago that there is neither a condo association nor a covenants against tacky lawn ornaments. She won�t get in trouble.)

Yep. And props to the pops, cuz it�s my father�s birthday. He�s at home baking an orange chiffon cake for a neighbor. Then he�ll go out to eat with several neighbors. Terribly cute.

I�ll go home and tend to my citrus fruit obsession. I tried to start a fling with Brussels sprouts, but even when cut fresh off the stalks and roasted in olive oil and drizzled with lemon juice, there was zero attraction. But there�s a lovely grapefruit waiting for me at home.

Heh heh. Creepy.