Petticoats of organza and taffeta and bridesmaids in silky velvet can only mean one thing. She's getting married, even though her parents still have misgivings about getting a coneflower son-in-law.
Des yeux qui font baisser les miens Un rire qui se perd sur sa bouche Voilà le portrait sans retouche De l'homme auquel j'appartiens
Quand il me prend dans ses bras Il me parle tout bas Je vois la vie en rose Il me dit des mots d'amour Des mots de tous les jours Et ça me fait quelque chose
Bissage, o horticulturist brother and fellow dweller in hardiness zone 6b, two words: beneficial nematodes. Two more: milky spore.
Now go forth and prevail in the battle of the beetles and clash with rose chafers and remember - moles are our subterranean homesick friends so be kind to those fat furry little grub eaters won'tcha?
There is a new film "La Vie en Rose" (very un-French capitalization there in the USA title) that my wife and I are dying to see. The reviews have been good, too.
No, but thanks for the rec, Theo. Looks as if it just opened in the outlying provinces (southern cities) and so will go see it this week with someone who enjoys music and bleak-inspirational bio and who doesn't still make a point of eating freedom fries :)
(2) Mrs. Bissage is a lovely, kind and gentle soul who nurses birds back to health and weeps when a hawk carries off a squirrel.
She also sneaks up on Japanese Beetles and cuts them in half with her Felco 2.
Afterwards, she frequently gets a look of satisfaction on her face and curses something along the lines of "go straight to hell, you little piece of shit!"
What real man could resist such heart, such timing, such talented hand/eye coordination? Bissage, you are one lucky fellow. Clearly you are.
But, if I may be so bold, a word of caution:
There are stages in every marriage when, predictably, a wife may be prone to behaving toward her husband in, shall we say, unpredictable ways.
On those occasions, seeing as how you said Felco 2's rather than Felco 9's, I would suggest sleeping on her right side. On her right side, with one eye open.
In fact, on those rare occasions (and may they be rare as in too few to count), it may be the wise choice for you to simply camp out for a while in the garden shed or wherever it is she hangs those red-handled weapons of selective pest control, murder, and revenge.
Now, may your lives be blessed with the pitter and the patter of many little feet of Bissages who spray and then peacefully move on.
Support the Althouse blog by doing your Amazon shopping going in through the Althouse Amazon link.
Amazon
I am a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program, an affiliate advertising program designed to provide a means for me to earn fees by linking to Amazon.com and affiliated sites.
Support this blog with PayPal
Make a 1-time donation or set up a monthly donation of any amount you choose:
13 comments:
It is pretty difficult to read any of your posts now without looking for the sexual connotation.
"The pink," she calls it, with a glorious picture of an undulating flower...was this, after all, your intent?
Onion rings, carrot sticks, and now, the pink roses.
Or are you now blushing?
The rose, the rose,
Do you suppose
It knows
What wickedness it doth dispose?
Petticoats of organza and taffeta and bridesmaids in silky velvet can only mean one thing. She's getting married, even though her parents still have misgivings about getting a coneflower son-in-law.
He's purple.
Des yeux qui font baisser les miens
Un rire qui se perd sur sa bouche
Voilà le portrait sans retouche
De l'homme auquel j'appartiens
Quand il me prend dans ses bras
Il me parle tout bas
Je vois la vie en rose
Il me dit des mots d'amour
Des mots de tous les jours
Et ça me fait quelque chose
Real women love roses.
Men, too.
Here in USDA Zone 6(b), the onslaught of Japanese Beetles has just begun.
We have pruned our roses low.
Vincerò! Vincerò!!!
(Please to sing to the "Nessun Dorma.")
(Please to say like the "Borat.")
Or, Tora! Tora! Tora!
which they're sure to understand, along with a mention of beetle sushi.
Bissage, o horticulturist brother and fellow dweller in hardiness zone 6b, two words: beneficial nematodes. Two more: milky spore.
Now go forth and prevail in the battle of the beetles and clash with rose chafers and remember - moles are our subterranean homesick friends so be kind to those fat furry little grub eaters won'tcha?
Jane: Thanks for that perfect link.
There is a new film "La Vie en Rose" (very un-French capitalization there in the USA title) that my wife and I are dying to see. The reviews have been good, too.
Have you seen it yet?
No, but thanks for the rec, Theo. Looks as if it just opened in the outlying provinces (southern cities) and so will go see it this week with someone who enjoys music and bleak-inspirational bio and who doesn't still make a point of eating freedom fries :)
(1) Zone 6(b) Rocks!!!
(2) Mrs. Bissage is a lovely, kind and gentle soul who nurses birds back to health and weeps when a hawk carries off a squirrel.
She also sneaks up on Japanese Beetles and cuts them in half with her Felco 2.
Afterwards, she frequently gets a look of satisfaction on her face and curses something along the lines of "go straight to hell, you little piece of shit!"
Me? I just spray 'em and move on.
"cuts them in half with her Felco 2"
What real man could resist such heart, such timing, such talented hand/eye coordination?
Bissage, you are one lucky fellow. Clearly you are.
But, if I may be so bold, a word of caution:
There are stages in every marriage when, predictably, a wife may be prone to behaving toward her husband in, shall we say, unpredictable ways.
On those occasions, seeing as how you said Felco 2's rather than Felco 9's, I would suggest sleeping on her right side. On her right side, with one eye open.
In fact, on those rare occasions (and may they be rare as in too few to count), it may be the wise choice for you to simply camp out for a while in the garden shed or wherever it is she hangs those red-handled weapons of selective pest control, murder, and revenge.
Now, may your lives be blessed with the pitter and the patter of many little feet of Bissages who spray and then peacefully move on.
Post a Comment