I recently discovered that my great grandmother died in 1937, right in the middle of the Great Rutabaga Famine, which swept through Central Europe at about that time. She was in China that week. Fell off a goat. (She had a thing for goats.) Or maybe a goat fell off her. Who can say? (We didn't get any of her recipes either. They were burned for heresy. Goat heresy. It happens.)
Nearly got cooked today. Might have to quit wearing my rutabaga fan shirt.
Rats stole my rutabagas. Might be holding them for ransom. Let's see if I care.
Rutabagas have been banned from Route 66 pending investigations early in the next century, whenever that might be. If the century is not returned for insufficient funds. Life can be so unreasonably stupid at times.
So, rutabagas receive no birthday cards. Rutabagas receive no joy. Rutabagas do not care. So I have been told by experts.
Ruta Lee is apparently not a garden vegetable. News to me at least, but I'm not famous yet.
Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@gmail.com
Me? I'm not either.
Etc...
so says eff: sporadic spurts of grade eff distraction
definitions: outdoor terms
fiyh: dave's little guide to ultralight backpacking stoves
boyb: dave's little guide to backpacks
snorpy bits: nibbling away at your sanity
last seen receding: missives from a certain mobile homer
noseyjoe: purposefully poking my proboscis into technicals
