What do I care, how much it may storm?...
I'm happy that I got such a great response on my last entry, even if you did have difficulty reading it (but that's to be expected, especially if you're not used to the way somebody writes). I love handwriting and it is a little obsession of mine. I admire it like I admire a decent picture of myself. It's me and it's vanity, in a strange way, because I wrote a bunch of words on a piece of looseleaf and together they make something great, even if it is only a small note. I just hate to think that it's dying. It really is a novelty now. And it's so much a part of you. Unfortunately, I cannot speak French. But I can copy what other people have written in French and look like I do :) Poseur!
I bought a gingerbread latte using my last five dollars and it was nice indeed. Then I read children's books. Oh dear, even if children tend to annoy me, I love the books written for them and always will. I just wish I knew of some well enough to buy books for. I'd be in heaven. Though I'd tend to go more for the classics than what is currently written and popular, fuzzy nostalgia.
I daresay I'd make a great Aunt. Felicia had better have children.
At the cafe today there was a ton of rum balls left over from Thursday's Christmas dinner. Cherilyn and I had a rather unpleasant experience sampling one yesterday. I suppose nobody likes them well enough, though they look nice. But that's beside the point. The point is, they taste horrid. That's the point.
There's a shirt that they're selling at Glarkware.com that says "In Soviet Russia, Shirt Wears You." If you wish to please the goddess of (un)Profound Nonsense, you will purchase this for me and be therefore rewarded, in thoughts. For thoughts :)
I bought a gingerbread latte using my last five dollars and it was nice indeed. Then I read children's books. Oh dear, even if children tend to annoy me, I love the books written for them and always will. I just wish I knew of some well enough to buy books for. I'd be in heaven. Though I'd tend to go more for the classics than what is currently written and popular, fuzzy nostalgia.
I daresay I'd make a great Aunt. Felicia had better have children.
At the cafe today there was a ton of rum balls left over from Thursday's Christmas dinner. Cherilyn and I had a rather unpleasant experience sampling one yesterday. I suppose nobody likes them well enough, though they look nice. But that's beside the point. The point is, they taste horrid. That's the point.
There's a shirt that they're selling at Glarkware.com that says "In Soviet Russia, Shirt Wears You." If you wish to please the goddess of (un)Profound Nonsense, you will purchase this for me and be therefore rewarded, in thoughts. For thoughts :)