What? You want a number?
They’re surprisingly affordable . . .
I both took and stored a picture of mine on my phone,
then laminated it and paper-clipped it to my passport – in fervent hope . . .
’Reminds me of my navy days when, upon arriving at a foreign port, we needed to display our ID card, our shot card, and our Geneva Convention card . . .
OK, but why do they dress like pimps?
(Ahem) “My staff has had this matter under close scrutiny, and I plan to announce shortly the establishment of a blue ribbon panel to discuss this matter further with the objective to fielding a proposal to the legislature, in the fullness of time . . . Oh Look! A squirrel!”
I love that sad, but beautiful song.
It serves to make me truly sad for Melania:
_" . . . to think her love is only,
Given to a man with hands as cold as ice . . ."_
The last few weeks of a northern winter are discouraging, but then spring happens, and I find myself yet again walking through my back garden watching buds and shoots erupting from their winter snooze. Heartening . . .
FEMA’s juris diction would not extend beyond our borders.
And Mexico would be inclined to help a neighbor, but there’s this damn wall in the way.
Is that what those ‘of your ilk’ say?