Dead Bird Singing in the Dead of Night

I think it has gotten to me, The Pukiness. I now have Puke Fever which is like Cabin Fever I suppose, and I am "going off my rocker" to quote a well-known pastime. Sanity has left me like a rabid bandit in the night and I can no longer think coherently.

Yesterday I had a breakfast of carrots, bananas and an anti-oxidant drink. When it came back up in the kitchen sink I thought to myself "This wins a prize for the best tasting puke." Combined, all those flavors made for something you'd pay big money for at Jamba Juice! And like my brother Andrew frequently (and sarcastically) reminds,"You can actually have a Jamba for a meal!" In that case, I had two breakfasts yesterday!

(Did you notice? That paragraph begins and ends with the same word!)

I keep thinking that I need to get out and serve. You know, like the Great Mormon Answer to Everything "Go Out and Serve!" besides the other answer, "Read The Scriptures!" I have been reading my scriptures by-the-way, I just happen to be in the midst of the latter chapters of Alma, it's more like reading a Glorious War Novel rather than the Good Word. By-the-way, what does it say about me that the war chapters are my favorite? Anyhow, I'd like to go out and serve, but I can't think of what to serve. A Volleyball? Divorce Papers? Pecan Pie? (Now that is humor!)

Did I already tell you that my next door neighbor Lyle told me that he "seen me be sick in the backyard the other day" but he didn't want me to notice him watching so he "didn't move until [I] was done yakking." What are neighbors for? I am one lucky lady.

Maybe the dead bird I found in my backyard ate my vomit and died.

Did you ever think of that?

So much to ponder this weekend . . .