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| Shells' gift. Filled with pb. |
Journeyed to a local cinema to see a buffalo nickel movie yesterday. Ironically, we chose Argo, you know, the one about the hostages. Hitting too close to home. In other news, still hating the cold, snow, being indoors, having to drive everywhere, and, of course, Christmas in general.
Waiting for heart growth steroids. Worried will not arrive based on holiday parcel traffic. Fear for my henchman and first mate. Their souls are subject to my bitter seasonal rage, anxiety, and moodiness. Over and out.
2 comments:
And now Alice, I find myself wishing for you a dangerous thing. My wish for you is patience and the ability to breath through the slow and dragging moments. These are equal to the part of life that we think of as Life (with a capital "L".) I wish for you to cherish and value the yin and yang of it all.
I'm sorry to wish this for you because wishing for something from the Universe usually means having to stare into its gaping maw, it's stinking hot breath blowing up your nostrils. The good news is that when the Universe inhales, you do not have to smell the stench, instead you see the glory of IT ALL.
That is why I wish it for you.
I didn't know you didn't like Christmas, why not?
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