a) A nun of a secret religious order (with a hint of Buddhism).
b) One who has attained moebius.
Both definitions are obscure to the uninitiated.
This is my incorrect moebius.
This is my moebius correctly twisted. (Accompanied by the beginnings of xmas tree stripping. Dirk wanted the tree up for the football playoffs. He didn’t say anything about the ornaments.)
Now that I’m executing this project correctly, I can regain some semblance of sanity. Hopefully, I’ll be able to hand that special someone their moebius scarf before the spring thaw.
In the meantime, here are some varied and bizarre updates:
Aced the volcano project! I mean . . . Ian aced the volcano project. Not one mention of Mother’s help on the grade sheet, just outstanding marks. I feel fairly confident that I can do the 4th Grade again. Not the Math. The Math drives me around the bend ~ Everyday Math. Sure 2 + 2 = 4, but you have to go by way of Albuquerque to arrive at that summation. I’d excel at dioramas though.
You may recall my twisted little impulsive shopping spree on 4 chicks of indeterminate gender. (Shop Therapy Gone Wrong in the August archives.) Well, 3 out of 4 are indeed roosters. And the bizarre tragedy is that a hawk swooped down and whacked the only other hen we had. We still have Mabel. She’s on an egg-laying strike. Not that I blame her; she’s penned in with all these roosters. It has to be frazzling her nerves. I know an excess of testosterone in small spaces has me heading for the hills on occasion.
Thought for the Day: Eat your green vegetables. Sorry, it’s Sunday.