Mary + Her Mental Health

I have to admit, I’m getting a little rusty when it comes to blogging. Bloggety-blog blog. I want to write something, but I’m not sure what. I haven’t been on Oprah, I haven’t visited any thrift stores lately, I haven’t seen Harley Tattoo Neighbor Man, I’ve been sleeping fine, no ailments to report, no bones to pick, no fish to fry. What to write? What to write? What good is a blog anyway if you can’t write something interesting?

My fingernails are quite strong these days.
Oh, come come. We must have something more earth-shattering than that.

Take Two:
It’s getting pretty cold out there in Boston land. First cold day we’ve had this season.

Did I actually just give you a weather report? Oh, my. This is getting serious.

I know what I need to do….I need to go to Target. I think most of you know how I feel about Target. Target is to Mary like Mountain is to Monk. I come away centered and chi-full. (not to be confused with a Brit saying the word “cheerful”, but that could work too.) I’ll go to Target tonight, and I’ll have loads to share.

You know who I think is really talented? Kenneth Branaugh. My roommate Peggy and I were sort-of watching Swing Kids last night (sort-of because we were talking, moving around the apartment, fixing food, and not really paying attention but technically still watching a movie). That Kenneth Branaugh. I have to admit, back in the day…methinks me had quite the crusheth on the The Kenneth. Yeseth. Indeedeth. Even though his lips are even thinner than mine. Have you guys noticed that? Pencil-line lips, The Kenneth has. Mr. Bard Bloke himself. Mr. Bard Branaugh-Bloke.

The saddest part about this miserable excuse for a post today is that I’m now off my sinus drugs. Perhaps I should get back on.