It’s a good thing we all communicate through the written word here, because Hugo Chavez died today, and I’ve already decided the first person I hear call him “Oo-go” is going to have to go. Will have to oo-go.
This is just my personal prejudice. Carry on.
My favorite Chavez story isn’t a story at all, but a picture, of him on a rope line of sorts. A woman is coming forward to shake his hand with a baby on her breast. V-neck pulled down, kid in one hand, the other outstretched to her president. He’s not looking anywhere but at her smiling face. Hey, a kid’s gotta eat.
Guys, I have little to say today, even though was a good one. Got out for two whole hours in some fine late-winter sunshine, strong enough that it actually warmed my face as I drove. You know spring is on its way when that happens.
And scanning around for bloggage, I don’t even have much of that. How about a piece of graffiti I ran across last week? From the p.s. off to the side — “she said yes!!! March 2012” — it’s a bit dated, but it’s interesting that in a year, it hasn’t been defaced yet. True love!