Sweethearts, it’s my birthday! And as I stride confidently into 35, I embrace my age-earned give-no-hecks-ed-ness, and stare into that damned void with a twinkle in my eye. If my early thirties were about getting my stuff together and figuring out what really matters to me, my late thirties will be about taking over the world. You’ve been forewarned.
Anyhoo, another short one, since I need to embark on finding every birthday freebie I can and you know what, that kind of professional ambition takes time.
Hallelujah, there are “pothole vigilantes” in Oakland, heroes we need who go around town filling the cavernous maws that pockmark the streets. Amazing.
Speaking of heroes, Of COURSE Friend of the Missive Colin sent in what he considers my historical spirit animal: Smoky, a Yorkshire Terrier / famous war dog who served in World War II. Fun fact: Wikipedia tells us that Smoky was the first recoded therapy dog. And the book written about wee Smoky was entitled Yorkie Doodle Dandy. And I am once again grinning like an idiot thinking about a tiny dog in a tiny 40s-era tweed jacket. And don’t you dare try and tell me that Smoky probably didn’t have a standard issue uniform as I’m envisioning. GIVE ME THIS, YOU MONSTERS.
Speaking of crowd sourcing, Donald Trump’s Wikipedia page is a flaming pit of editing madness.
Speaking of absurdity, we don’t deserve the magic that is Alexandra Petri’s political humor: It is increasingly clear that none of you read my report.
And finally, speaking of distractions to get us through our current existential doom, who knew tape was so scientifically perplexing? Not me, but I’m still overwhelmed with awe that we build bridges that don’t fall over so.... yea?
That’s it, that’s all. Have a great day, and be kind to each other for me, mmmkay?
Xoxo Amy
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