So Austin and his little friend, little Lucca (because there is a bigger Lucca, of course) have been running around saying "Ninny Nine Ninny Nine Ninny Nine" for what seems like forever. I dunno why. Don't care, it keeps them busy.

Since I have tired of the Chapeaux that was the Choogler, I felt like I should go out on some inner limb and try to choose a new name for this heap of crumpled scrap paper that is my blog. Combining the four previous thoughtful sentences together, one quickly comes to the assumption that I have renamed the heap "Ninny Nine" as if it were a group of youthful goats trying to form a retro-emo band fondly reliving the nineties. And that sometimes I like it when my kid is busy obsessing with something other than my left thigh, which he can often be found hanging on to and hiding behind.

Well, this ain't no emo band, believe me and there are not any goats. We do have thighs. So for the most current space of time that we can call "the future" I think I will refer to this electronic clam shack Niny 9.


Clam shack?