Thought prints. All these are, the incessant dialogue in my head. In a funk. Designer fruit. Sick of snow. Winter. A gun shop called the Gunatorium. Mammogram tomorrow. Ugh. Will the U.S have a black or woman president? Downing virtual shots with virtual friends on Facebook. I’m getting a sore throat and my lash conditioner fell down the toilet. Boo hoo, could not retrieve it. I’m feeding wild birds. What does that say? I derive satisfaction out of watching them feed and flit about, especially in winter.

I found myself lecturing my kid on punctuality this morning as he slept in again. Continue reading →