Thursday, February 14, 2013

ST. VALENTINE TURNS IN GRAVE

What does a saint have to do with courtly love? Bet it's a shock to him. Hence: St. Valentine Turns In Grave. Okay. Now that I have your undivided attention . . .

Hey! You! Put down that chocolate! You there, in Chicago! Stop Frenching. Don't you know that's how babies are made? Now pay attention. I don't have a lot of time. Something's waiting for me. *wink*


Ever tried making one of these from a Swankie Hankie? Let me tell you, it ain't easy. Especially if you're in a hurry. It's still cute, and it gives you something to do while you wait. If you do it naked, in the dark, it looks like this.


Got a little more time on your hands? Blow your nose, then start over. 


And . . . He-e-r-e's Ella! Again. I can only imagine the fun I would have if I were dressed like that, wore those hot glasses, grrr-ed into that coat, slid onto that red seat . . . We'd have to get rid of those old lady shoes though. The cute hat too, 'cause we know the hat, wig, and anything false will come off, since we'd be scattin' and speedin' like we were God's older sister. We would own the road.
Ms Fitzgerald is a lovely part of American History. Right on.



Mail was writ, yet never was sent. I forgot. 

I hope everyone is someone's Valentine today. 

Goodnight.







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