Saturday, May 28, 2005

You actually CAN get there from here

So here I am in New Hampshire. The closing didn't go smoothly (do they ever?) so I wasn't a property owner in The Granite State until yesterday afternoon at some point or other.

I wasn't actually there; I was frivoling away the afternoon at the Portsmouth Children's Museum, instead. So I don't know precisely when it was that I ceased to be 100 percent Wholesome Midwesterner and became 25 percent tax-allergic penny-pinching Yankee.

I'm hoping that this magical moment occurred when I was purchasing trinkets in the Children's Museum gift shop and not paying sales tax. Wouldn't that be poetic justice?

Speaking of poetry, now that I am at least a semi-resident of New Hampshire, before the weekend is up, I expect to write a sonnet about the local wildlife, if any, a la Robert Frost.

But don't worry; I won't post it.


p.s. Anyone have a rhyme for "lobsters?"


  1. This is really one of the crapiest blogs I've read. And I read alot. Ewww

  2. Merci bien, mon petit.

    (And I meant it to sting.)


  3. Lobsters rhymes with mobsters. While you were denying the coffers of the Granite State your hard-earned ducats, I was having the police power of the state of FL and Orange Co. socking it to me in the chops for 7% all weekend long.


  4. I was going to suggest "mobsters" as well. As in: "Oh, there ain't no lobsters on me! There ain't no lobsters on me! There may be lobsters on some of you mobsters, but there ain't no lobsters on me!" But then, I drink a lot.

    Wait, what about "hob-nobsters"? As in, those who hob-nob? No? Okay, going to bed now.


Gentle Readers:

For the time being, I've turned off comment moderation. Please don't spam; it's not nice.

xxx, Poppy.