All great truths begin as blasphemies.
George Bernard Shaw
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There is nothing to read here. The content is over there, to your right.
I may, however, at some point, put something here. Some day. Eventually. No pressure.
the betweens
Thunderstorm today. Not a huge one but enough to worry about having a few candles on hand in case the power went out. No such luck, though. Power flickered once or twice but kept humming along.
I love it when storms knock out the power. It's like Mother Nature saying "Pay attention, you petty mortal fools!" Nothing like it to keep the ego in check. Take that, West Edmonton Mall.
Girling's birthday on Wednesday. 11 years old.
oy.
oy.
oy.
"2 valiums straight up with a double vodka on the side, please." Same request I made when in labour, come to think of it.
It would also have been B and Y's 41st wedding anniversary.
*sigh* She'll be here.
It'll be a day of mixed emotions.
Learning how to work my camera. Learning how to play the guitar. Learning how to not waste my life on everyone else's details. I've got my own details I need to find, thank you very much. I'm a little tired of this blurry, out of focus person I see in the mirror.
If I were a painter, I'd be... a failed impressionist
Patience and passion. Passion and patience. These things matter. I need to remember that.
...and try them both out some time.
There has to be something about me I give a damn about.
I love it when storms knock out the power. It's like Mother Nature saying "Pay attention, you petty mortal fools!" Nothing like it to keep the ego in check. Take that, West Edmonton Mall.
Girling's birthday on Wednesday. 11 years old.
oy.
oy.
oy.
"2 valiums straight up with a double vodka on the side, please." Same request I made when in labour, come to think of it.
It would also have been B and Y's 41st wedding anniversary.
*sigh* She'll be here.
It'll be a day of mixed emotions.
Learning how to work my camera. Learning how to play the guitar. Learning how to not waste my life on everyone else's details. I've got my own details I need to find, thank you very much. I'm a little tired of this blurry, out of focus person I see in the mirror.
If I were a painter, I'd be... a failed impressionist
Patience and passion. Passion and patience. These things matter. I need to remember that.
...and try them both out some time.
There has to be something about me I give a damn about.
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