I can think of several witty comments, but I really think that this picture speaks for itself:

Something feels wrong today, like the planets are not properly aligned, or Mercury is in retrograde. It feels like there's a tear in the space-time continuum, or a disruption in the Force.

Or maybe chocolate bread toast, with apricot jam, chocolate spread, and almond slivers is not a healthful breakfast.


Hmmmmm, now which could it be?

Tonight's TV viewing:

"Mom, Mom, quick, it's Sarah Palin's Alaska."

"Okay, I need to make a drink for this--I'll be right in!"

Oh, please God, let her be hunting moose. Damn, it's caribou, oh well.

Sarah talks about "hunting and gathering for a living." Are you telling me that they actually depend on food that they catch like "Native Communitites" (Sarah's words)?

Oooooh, now we're looking at her Dad's collection of skulls--mink, bear, wolf, cougar, fox, wolverine, weasel, lynx, goose, and duck feet--I'm awestruck.

Sarah and her dad are going caribou hunting in harsh weather conditions--suddenly it sounds like Elmer Fudd, and "vewy, vewy, dangewous."

Cute prairie dog--my son fears that they will shoot it. The cute rodent escapes!

I need more alcohol.

Now, we're meeting a woman who lives at latitudinal and longitudinal coordinates, not at a town or an address. She prefers "blood and guts to diamonds." Ah, okay. I'm not a big fan of diamonds either, but INDOOR PLUMBING?

Now, there's a bear story about how she (the woman with no address, not Sarah Palin) was injured by a bear and had to sew her own head "back together." Hmmmmm. Then, she went out and shot the bear, and ate him apparently. Well, goodness, I hope so.

Now Sarah is lecturing us about being careful while hunting, because they're "alone out there" (except for the ten person camera crew.) My son wants to know if they're hunting Ruskies; he reads too much Bloom County--pinko liberal wannabe.

My son wants to change the channel or watch something from Netflix (or apparently anything that is NOT Sarah Palin hunting caribou).

I said, 'What could possibly be better than this?" I am serious.

He replies, "C-SPAN."

My husband replies, "A sharp stick in the eye?"

I guess, it's Glee. Sigh. I have been outvoted.

Finally a wrong has been righted. Jim Morrison was pardoned on forty year old charges of indecent exposure in a Florida court today. He apparently used profanity at a concert and attempted to show the audience his private parts. While I agree that's obscene, it was forty years ago; is this incident still bothering anyone?

He never served his six month sentence, but I'm sure that he's relieved to finally have this off of his record. Jim Morrison really strikes me as the type to be tortured over issues of image and morality.

My husband, upon hearing the news said, "He's way dead isn't he?"

Well, yes, but maybe it's an important gesture like Galileo getting un-excommunicated by the Roman Catholic Church. Okay, maybe not comparable.

My husband thinks that in thanks, Morrison should give a concert.

Doesn't the governor of Florida have ANYTHING better to do?

Apparently not.

Southern Californians aren't used to fall color. My son says that fall color and snow are simply "unnatural."

Here are some trees from my neighborhood for your viewing pleasure. Notice my cute orange car parked among them in some shots.

Stop playing music and pet the dog.