I always tell my daughter "Your mind is just like any other muscle--the more you use it the stronger it gets." I subscribe wholeheartedly to this belief, and as such I do various things throughout each day to keep my mind sharp, my mental reflexes on their toes, and my Peculiar Bump well aired. VW might argue the sharpness point (no pun intended) but with word games, puns and strange ideas I manage to keep my mind right where I want it--teetering as if in a rocking chair that is about to fall over backwards.
So now I'm taking it public.
Without further explaination (after all, it is MY blog, and if I want to discontinue the superscillious apologias and &c. or extend it indefinitely I shall) I give you
Whatever I'm Going To Name It Friday!
I shall endeavour to come up with the first line of an imaginary book, making it as monstrously peculiar and/or entertaining and/or convoluted as I can, and still have it make some semblance of sense.
As the smoke curliqued from the twin barrels of Sidney's 12 gauge shotgun and the last of the crystal shards pattered onto the Persian rug from the destroyed leaded crystal serving set that had resided on the antique Peppersnort serving board which had squatted darkly in it's place of honour in the Gran Salon of the Van Schnicker's ancestral home for seven generations the youngest Lord of the manor, epilleptic five year old Buchblister Van Schnicker cowered behind the bandy, kilted legs of the family's Norwegian gamekeeper Olaf and whispered in a tiny voice that barely carried across the room "But wot about the gazelle in the drawing room, Uncle Sidney?"
Feel free to add on if you'd like, or just roll your eyes in derision.