LET THE GAMES BEGIN

A conversation overheard moments ago in the friendly confines of Chez Spinster:

MO-THER: Stewey, dear. It's time that we started planning your costume for Halloween.

STEWEY: There will be no planning necessary, Mo-ther. I have already decided upon my costume for this year, as well as started the procurement of necessary materials to make said costume.

MO-THER: Oh, wonderful! What are you going to be? A ghost? A witch? A cowboy? Maybe a comic book super hero? I could even envision you as a ladybug or a pirate, or maybe even a Power Ranger? How about a Ninja Turtle?

(The little dog snorts in disgust and walks out of the room muttering to himself. When he returns, the mo-ther strongly suspects that he has watered the master closet contents.)

MO-THER: How about a hotdog? You know, with a bun on either side and condiments across your back? I think it's more of a dachshund type of thing, but you could probably pull it off with your figure. A fireman? Policeman? Army Ranger? You could do anything in the military category, provided you didn't insist on a gun. I don't like guns. Guns would not be something that I would approve of for your costume, just so you know.

STEWEY: I'm going to be a PanAm flight attendant.

MO-THER: (sound of crickets chirping while she blinks in disbelief, slack jawed)

End scene.

So here's the lousy progress on the Prairie Moon. Sorry about the limited view due to the q-snaps, but it took me about four days to get the damn things on there, so I'm not taking them off now!

Happy Wednesday, everybody!