Who, What, I Don't Get It?!

People generally don't get me. I blame most of that on my having an INFJ personality type, but more on that later, probably much later. Gidney without Cloyd is probably the first thing about me people may or may not get, so let us begin there.

Anyone who remembers The Adventures of Rocky and Bullwinkle may also remember two little green moon men, Gidney (mustachioed, unarmed) and Cloyd (clean shaven, packing heat).  The last time I saw my Cloyd (the other half of my trivia team) was sometime in the mid-to-late 1980s, so now this Gidney is flying solo.

Why Another Blog? Just what this world needs, right? Well, I have thoughts. Lots and lots of thoughts that no one else seems to have expressed yet so, TA-DA!!! I'm here to to set that right.

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I had a dream last night. I dreamed that Craig Ferguson and his friend, Phil Cottone, had started a business making sandals out of a plant which produced large pumpkin leaves, miniature zucchini, tiny cucumbers, and kale on the same vines. In my dream a person could go up to this structure similar to an old photo booth from the 1950's, insert $18.79, stand barefoot on two large curly leaves which would take imprints of their feet, and voila! Within moments a pair of sandals would be custom made to fit their feet, with straps made from the cucumbers, and bottoms from the dried pumpkin leaves. I had snuck in early in hopes of meeting Mr. Ferguson, but by the time my sandals were ready, Michael Nesmith of Monkees fame had bought out the whole she-bang, and I didn't get to meet anybody!

Papa Freud would be spinning in his grave. 

Not that I'm a Freudian. Nor am I a Jungian, when it comes to that. Bottom line I'm probably a follower of Bugs Bunny. I chew on the nearest available carrot (or cucumber, as long as it's been loosed from its peel, significantly more on THAT later) and ask, "what's up?" with or without the doc, and draw my conclusions from there.

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Mother gives birth to

Wriggly boy - The cord is cut
Scottish fog moves in

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