Oh, Pansy, Where Have You Been?

So, first of all, I must comment on my own post where the boy gives the roly poly (potato bug, for the uneducated) a ride on his bike. Hilarious. Can you imagine the sheer terror of the little guy as the wind from the bike ride pulled on him like a tornado? I can picture his conversation with his family when he got back: "Well, I had my first brush with death today, but managed to live, thanks to the giant that finally put me back on the ground!" Unless he was a thrill-seeking roly poly in which case he was pumped about the whole adventure: "Mom, Dad, you will NEVER guess what one of those giants you tell us to stay away from did! He was so cool and took me for a ride on his BIKE!" I'm sure this is the way my son has it pictured in his head.

O.K. Down to business. I know you have all been going to my blog two, three, maybe four times a day and when you get there you think to yourselves, "Dang that Pansy Davenport and that blasted morning sickness post. We are tired of reading it over and over. Although it gave us laughs for a moment, we now know it was just complaining in a shroud of 'creativity.' Creativity-whatever. We are sick of the complaints! No more checking her blog!" But then, you still do, don't you? Because here you are, checking the blog.

Since we are all tired of the complaints I will spare you my two latest stories (and pitiful reasons why blogging and commenting on other blogs has been sparse): "Pansy Davenport Meets the Malicious Migraines" and "Pansy Davenport and the Case of the Virulent, Vicious Vertigo."

Instead I bring you: