My Second Blogday came and went a couple of weeks ago without my even noticing. Which indicates that I’m growing up, I suppose. I mean, heck, I’m in my “terrible twos,” cruising around, breaking stuff all over the internet.
For years I wondered why Mom called me “a bowl in a china closet.” What was the origin of this porcelainic intolerance? Why should bowls be barred from china closets? Was it the result of slander by insecure saucers? But then my high school girlfriend said, “It’s ‘bull,’ not bowl, Mitch.” “Oh, well, that I can see,” I replied. “And your mom was right,” she added. “You are.”
So now we are two. Which in dog years is more like 13, actually. And I’m thinking it’s true of blog years, as well. So look out, hide the china. Because I’m now…
An adolescent bull in a china closet!