My Necrotic Ovary
It’s a good title for a grunge song, right? “My Necrotic Ovary.” Belongs as a lyric along with the other mediocre lines in “Smells Like Teen Spirit.” Yes, mediocre. “A mosquito, my libido.” These words changed the face of music in the 90’s? Give me a break. At any rate, it’s not of importance cause no matter how I try, I only hear the music to “My Funny Valentine,” when I sing, “My Necrotic Ovary.” I haven’t written in a while. Not that there hasn’t been a lot going on. There was and is the pandemic. Unprecedented and all that - home schooling, masks, gloves, Lysol, toilet paper, vaccines, Delta variant, etc. We got a COVID dog. Penny. She’s a French bulldog and her name on the adoption website was Paris. Would you have expected anything less from this Francophile? She’s perfectly flawed with a crooked jaw, a tongue that hangs out, deeply affectionate and pissed on our dining room rug so many times we had to get rid of it. Not the classiest French lady. Maybe she’s French Canadian.