Logan the Wonder Pooch says, “Morag went to Target at 830 in the morning. There was no one there. At some point she decided that I celebrate Christmas, even though I’m a Jewish dog, because I got a new bed. And a new water dish. And some treats. I like my new bed. I hope everyone gets a warm soft bed for Christmas.”

We’re druiving around in wind and rain to see holiday lights. I am parked by two inflatable penguins, and the wind has driven them into a rather provative frenzy. One is currently humping the other’s bum. How to explain this to Freebird? No idea.

I am in line at Boston Market. The person in front of me has ordered a solid gold chicken.

That can be the only reason for the delay of this much time.

Mmmm. I want regular chicken please. Soon?

Either militant breast cancer activists were loose in my backyard
with pink spray paint, or people are coming to remove the trees to
get ready for excavation and construction.

It seems like it is taking forever, but I know once they get started, that will seem even longer than the waiting. But still, I can’t wait for the new kitchen.

Get kelly clarkson a happy pill stat. Going grocery shopping when she’s on the store music is freaking depressing.

So there’s a minivan in front of me at the gas station, and there’s a decal on the back window of a stick figure mom and dad, and little stick figure teens and two little stick figure little kids. And a dog. And underneath? “The Smith Family.”

Only not smith. A Portuguese family name.

So there’s the last name of the family and a license plate number obviously. If I follow the car I can score a home address. That’s a lot of info to gather - why make it so easy? Between that and Google I could do a lot of mischief if not harm.

Am I the only creepy brain who thinks that’s a bad idea?

I tried to resist, but dammit, that Fergie song about big girls not crying is stuck in my head. Get out get out get out.

Dammit.