So I had a picture of me at 45 posted on Mirth’s About page. It was a good picture – especially for someone who’s never been photogenic — taken on that birthday at the library where I worked. Husband had sent a big beautiful bouquet via the trendiest and...
My secret life – well, my second secret life, if you count this blogging one – involves singing in a large symphonic choir. Hmmm. Do you suppose there’s something about this whole Secret Life concept I’m just not getting? One fine friend tells me that I’m the most indiscreet...
That’s a question I’ve been asking, even if you haven’t. Mind you, it’s not that I’m not mired in MIRTH material. But in this world of woe it sometimes seems to me that silliness is a frivolous waste of time and energy. Surely, if God isn’t going to bother...
The big question remains unanswered. Nobody, as far as I can tell, has even asked it. Am I the only one whose morbid curiosity is piqued? Am I the only one gauche enough to wonder what became of the stolen souvenirs? It’s Shakespearean, really – the epic stuff of...
My blog server keeps me up to date on Google searches that lead people to my website. It’s often rather horrifying. I’ve written about cheerleaders and girl scouts and boobs and Bigfoot and underwear and strippers and space aliens and hookers and guns and God and Godzilla and Republicans...