Now is that the end of a sentence where some pretty (yet vaguely tragic) princess called Bubbles thought something? And if so, what was it? Or maybe it's thoughts that bubble in your mind (or mine). Or perhaps it's that bubble over a cartoon character, or maybe all three. You decide.
My coffee is ready. Hang on a minute.
Mmmm. That's good.
The sausages are cooking and the rain is on its way in a while. Birds are calling and the heat just came on. Saturday morning, still in my robe writing to you. My sweetheart is off making a few bucks helping to bring a little theatre come alive with the voices of still-innocent actors in a likely forgettable production. The joy is in the doing, not necessarily in the artistic outcome.
If you were here last night, thanks for being our guest. It was lovely. When people come into our home we try to welcome them all equally as old friends. We greet them with open arms, and most leave with a sincere hug. If you are dear to us, we may even hold you for a few seconds longer as you go, just to say you are important to us and that we wish you well as you make your way home. We have friends like you not to collect but to cherish.
I have friends that write more or less topical journals. Mine lacks a tangible theme but I like to think of it as a place I can just write. Sometimes it's in the moment, sometimes it's existential. Always, it's just my thoughts.
Thanks for reading my mind.
