Take my blanket and go

Seems like everybody loves lists. Year-end/beginning lists especially. Be it a bittersweet retrospective, or pathetically optimistic, it's hard to not enjoy a well-conceived and organized list. So, per certain new year's expectations, here is mine, in all its haphazardly compiled glory:

* milk
* eggs
* pop tarts
* ukulele
* cake or death
* Paris
* air guitar
* hot
* kill monsters in the rain
* hump catting
* bear blasting
* ...what the hell?

Ah, I just remembered. I hate lists.
Here's a better idea.

I'm sure by now most of you should be familiar with my smallish gnome friend, Frampton. If not, no big deal--just flash back to my painfully crap** writing of yesteryear, and kindly read about his humble beginnings, before continuing.
While that post fails to actually provide any real information on Frampton, rest assured there isn't actually much to say. A charming gift from my sister, he has since become a strange extension of myself--a kitschy snapshot stand-in, conveniently pausing for photographs at timely major milestones in my life.
So, here he is--in 2007:




** This is not to say the writing is no longer crap, just that it used to be more crap.