Mrs. Teabody Goes Rogue
Happy Leap Year or intercalary or bissextile year, Gentle Reader!
All is dotted ebony to Mrs. Teabody's left, and the promise for the day ahead is rain so perhaps a spectacular sunrise is not in the offing. Sixty-eight degrees declared the new Susquehanna Bank sign yesterday afternoon as Mrs. Teabody tossed expired tea leaves into the pansy bed. Has there ever been a milder February, Gentle Reader? And here it is the twenty-ninth day, Leap Day as some call it. Don't squander it, Gentle Reader. Leap Day comes around only once every four years and even a person of Mrs. Teabody's advanced years has had very few. Mrs. Teabody was an adult before she met someone who had a Leap Day birthday. Mon Dieu! A dreadfully unlucky fate. He had the unlikely name of Frances and claimed to be celebrating his SIXTH birthday even though he was a third year law student. Can you fathom it, Gentle Reader? A birthday cake every FOUR years? Even though Mrs. Teabody does not embrace the relentlessness of Time, she would not much like to miss a birthday celebration.
Yesterday morning Mrs. Teabody entertained a person of strong political leanings (POSPL) at Tickle Your Fancy, and quite a dialogue ensued with Mrs. Teabody weakly holding her ground. Mrs. Teabody is not much enamored of this slate of candidates vying for the Presidency, but then Mrs. Teabody would rather clip a stranger's toenails than listen to a modern political debate. One suspects that the single accomplishment Congress managed in the past three years was the banning of ROBERT'S RULES OF ORDER, else why would viewers be subjected to such ridiculousness?
According to the POSPL, this national preoccupation with women and contraception is part of the Tea Party movement. What sort of Tea Party is this? Truth to tell, Gentle Reader, Mrs. Teabody has orchestrated and attended more tea parties than a millipede has legs. These tea parties have involved hundreds of women across all socio-economic lines and never once were the words vaginal probe part of the conversation. When would such a conversation occur? Between the scones and finger sandwiches? Hardly. That is the time reserved for choosing the dessert tea. After the sweets course? Hardly. One would never ruin a glass of good sherry by mentioning anything other than the weather or the latest means of dealing with thrips. Mon Dieu! Tea Party, indeed! Mrs. Teabody wishes such a group would look for some other title.
Mrs. Teabody questions Mr. Santorum's interest in her reproductive rights. She cannot fathom Mr. Gingrich conducting himself well at a tea party in spite of his cherubic face. As there would be an ultrasound accompanying this vaginal probe, Mrs. Teabody concludes that Mr. Romney surely holds a lion's share in imaging stocks. Mrs. Teabody politely requests that all this slate of candidates step away from the private rooms and decisions of women across this great country. Perhaps anyone hoping to lead this country could spend his time learning more about Syria or mass transportation? Mrs Teabody has every confidence that women can manage their reproductive lives on their own, Ta very much.
All is dotted ebony to Mrs. Teabody's left, and the promise for the day ahead is rain so perhaps a spectacular sunrise is not in the offing. Sixty-eight degrees declared the new Susquehanna Bank sign yesterday afternoon as Mrs. Teabody tossed expired tea leaves into the pansy bed. Has there ever been a milder February, Gentle Reader? And here it is the twenty-ninth day, Leap Day as some call it. Don't squander it, Gentle Reader. Leap Day comes around only once every four years and even a person of Mrs. Teabody's advanced years has had very few. Mrs. Teabody was an adult before she met someone who had a Leap Day birthday. Mon Dieu! A dreadfully unlucky fate. He had the unlikely name of Frances and claimed to be celebrating his SIXTH birthday even though he was a third year law student. Can you fathom it, Gentle Reader? A birthday cake every FOUR years? Even though Mrs. Teabody does not embrace the relentlessness of Time, she would not much like to miss a birthday celebration.
Yesterday morning Mrs. Teabody entertained a person of strong political leanings (POSPL) at Tickle Your Fancy, and quite a dialogue ensued with Mrs. Teabody weakly holding her ground. Mrs. Teabody is not much enamored of this slate of candidates vying for the Presidency, but then Mrs. Teabody would rather clip a stranger's toenails than listen to a modern political debate. One suspects that the single accomplishment Congress managed in the past three years was the banning of ROBERT'S RULES OF ORDER, else why would viewers be subjected to such ridiculousness?
According to the POSPL, this national preoccupation with women and contraception is part of the Tea Party movement. What sort of Tea Party is this? Truth to tell, Gentle Reader, Mrs. Teabody has orchestrated and attended more tea parties than a millipede has legs. These tea parties have involved hundreds of women across all socio-economic lines and never once were the words vaginal probe part of the conversation. When would such a conversation occur? Between the scones and finger sandwiches? Hardly. That is the time reserved for choosing the dessert tea. After the sweets course? Hardly. One would never ruin a glass of good sherry by mentioning anything other than the weather or the latest means of dealing with thrips. Mon Dieu! Tea Party, indeed! Mrs. Teabody wishes such a group would look for some other title.
Mrs. Teabody questions Mr. Santorum's interest in her reproductive rights. She cannot fathom Mr. Gingrich conducting himself well at a tea party in spite of his cherubic face. As there would be an ultrasound accompanying this vaginal probe, Mrs. Teabody concludes that Mr. Romney surely holds a lion's share in imaging stocks. Mrs. Teabody politely requests that all this slate of candidates step away from the private rooms and decisions of women across this great country. Perhaps anyone hoping to lead this country could spend his time learning more about Syria or mass transportation? Mrs Teabody has every confidence that women can manage their reproductive lives on their own, Ta very much.
The kettle whistles and "Tulsi Infusion" will soon help Mrs. Teabody greet Leap Day. Yes, it is Leap Day, Gentle Reader. You get one once every four years. Make it a humdinger!
Ta for now!
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