After years of blithe evasion and darkest subterfuge, Zoe has rolled up her sleeves and crocheted me my octopus. You will note his extreme handsomeness and Zoe's exquisite craftsmanship. Here he is, hamming it up with Giant Head:
I love him like a son. My son, the undersea genius. My son, the octopus. He will grow up to be a lawyer and a doctor and he will keep me free of disease and assorted pestilence until I die peacefully (and entirely compos mentis) in my sleep. I will be very old, but my beauty will cling to me like a drenched sailor to a buoy.
That's my boy!
Tuesday, September 20, 2005
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3 comments:
Lovely! Congratulations.
I know what a long saga this waiting for the octopus has been for you.
Yes, it has been harrowing.
Now I must think of something else to demand of Zoe. I may revert to the old standby: Zoe, smell the jar.
No finer tribute to a crocheted octopus son has ever been had.
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