Nonsense, mostly.

Oliver has developed a bit of separation anxiety.
He had his first trip to the kennel while we were in Colorado over the weekend, and while he was there, I had them go ahead and rid the world of any potential Baby Olivers.  Listen, I'm all for procreation, but I don't need that dog running around humping all my fine things.

I don't own any fine things.  I just think watching animals hump things is really gross.
Anyway, Bob Barker said it's the right thing to do.

This looks really amazing and I would like to go, please.  Plus and also, my birthday is on the solstice, so it would be very easy for me to pretend that the entire celebration was being held in my honor.  And I cannot tell you how much I love to pretend to be celebrated.

Speaking of beards and banjos, I am growing increasingly nervous about this impending move to the city.  I am just really afraid that there is going to be a complete lack of bluegrass (and bluegrass musicians, reowr) in Brooklyn.  Do you yankees even know how to get down on a mandolin?  Is it even possible for you to both clap your hands and stomp your foot at the same time?  In flannel?

...am I playing up the country mouse role enough here?

I have been noticing lately that roughly half of what comes out of my mouth does so in question form. 
You know when kids first start to form their own thoughts and consequently become way less adorable?  I feel like I am in perpetual toddler mode.  Between ending every statement with a question mark and the constant red koolaid stain on my upper lip, I have a little trouble being taken seriously.

I am really terrible at concluding things.  Especially things in which I did not actually say anything.  So I'm going to leave you with this picture of some jellyfish I took a long time ago.  Because why not, really?