I have begun to wonder where the custom of sending flowers at funerals came from. It seems a little ironic, the exchange of fresh life for decay... Do the bereaved ones ever feel cheated, having been given this cold, indifferently cheery green life in exchange for the warm, moody reassurance of the one they have so recently interred? Does the
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meanwhile chickie-poo i shall see you friday
( i apologize for that extremely off-subject thought)
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~muah~
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