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a flock of seagulls.
Oddity for the day:
Leaving work, walking toward Broadway. Hear the unmistakable sounds of seagulls. Many seagulls.
I look up.
Many, many seagulls.
Um...this was downtown, not Elliott Bay.
Maybe one or two errant birds, okay. But these things had lined themselves up like a chorus line on the rooftops of several buildings for over a block.
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...and the rain turned to snow.
Came home and the house was empty. So sad.
One of the things I love about my life now is that I can walk over to Madison Market or Trader Joe's and bump into someone I know and get kisses and hugs and pleasant five-minute conversations which are a delightful addition to my day. While I'm getting more Pellegrino. And some really good turkey.
Took up ( Read more... ) -
No...I am the eggman.
Trying yoga for the first time today. Hope I survive. Da Boon hopes I survive...I hope that Da Boon hopes I survive...
and if you hope that someone hopes something isn't that a double hopeative, and if so, is that even a word?
One dares not ask such things. Knowing my history it could cause some sort of paradox creating a fissure in the space-time ( Read more... ) -
Fezzik: “Why do you wear a mask? Were you burned by acid or something?"
Dread Pirate Roberts: "Oh, no. It's just that they're terribly comfortable. I think everyone will be wearing them in the future."
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New Year's Tally
I have written the date incorrectly on two counts about 12 times today.
I'm not so quick these days...
Cheers -
I'm so in love...
Handbrake...oh how do I love the...I now have Blazing Saddles on my iPod...
swoon... -
The blog in which...
the tea gods speak to me. -
New blog post
Oh my...I am now swooning:
My New Years' plans I believe will now consist of:
New Year's Labyrinth: A canvas labyrinth inspired by the stone floor of the Chartres Cathedral in France. Used as a meditative tool, walk through it with candlelight accompanied by live music. 6 p.m.-midnight. $5. St. Mark's Cathedral, 1245 10th Ave. E.; 206-323-0300.
New ( Read more... ) -
Remembering.
Almost every year my mother, for Christmas, sends me a new book by Richard Paul Evans, who you may know as the author of The Christmas Box. I am not a Christian in any sense of the definition, but even though Evans weaves faith into his books quite obviously I can appreciate it for what it meant to the author and what it means to my mother. The ( Read more... )
