Even though I have been an actual, official Adult for, oh, three or four years now, there are some words that have never matured for me. These soft, pink cotton things with rosebuds that I'm wearing are "jamas", not "pajamas", the things on the ends of my feet are "piggytoes", not "toes". I'm not sure why. That is, I know they're "piggytoes" because of 'this little piggy went to market, this little piggy stayed home' but I don't know why that term in particular has stuck through the years.

On and along these Georgia roads, particularly in the more rural area where my parents live, one frequently sees opossums, either dead or playing, er, possum. When I was very small, I couldn't say "possum"; it came out "ponnus". It is generally true that my entire family, not just me, still refers to this particular marsupial as a "ponnus".

Speaking of vermin, Tivoli Apartments is experiencing something of a rodent problem. My brother has been forced to set out a variety of mouse-traps, both glue and snappy kind. He's been forced to dispose of several captures, which hurt his soft sweet little Buddha-natured heart, but he didn't want to live in a mouse-den full of mouse-droppings and mouse-chewed belongings either. It was obvious that some sisterly support would be helpful, so of course I hastened to prank-call him.

In a very good (if I do say so myself, and so did Alan who heard me do it and nearly choked from laughter) Mickey Mouse impression, I left a message for The Sibling: "Hello, Bo? This is Mickey. Gawrsh, I really don't think it's very nice what you're doing to my friends...I mean, gee, [graphic details deleted] wasn't very nice of you at all. I hope you know this means war, you sorry-ass motherfucker - WAR!!!" (Pardon the swearing but it was quite funny delivered in a Mickey Mouse voice, honest).