On days that I don’t work, you know, most days?  I want to post many times.  I want to write and write, updating all you (four) people that seem to care on the trivial details of my life.  I am not being modest here, I mean trivial details.  Contemplated informing you of my breakfast, and exactly how I make it.  Except. . . I would be irritated to read that, and anyway unless you have the same obsession with dietary fiber that I do, it would be of no interest.  Yes, I did just say dietary fiber.  Someone foisted the disturbing (possibly true) fact on me that the average human has 15 lbs of undigested food in his/her large intestine.  I immediately became very upset and made plans to eat nothing but fibrous things until my insides outed themselves and I was healthy and not dying of rotting eww in my colon.  (I apologize for the overshare)  I did not, in fact, do such things but I did develop a fondness for fiber.

Anyway.  I think you all should know about The Script.  They are a darling band out of Ireland and their songs are alternately amusing: If You See Kay and heartbreaking: We Cry, and just plain understandable while still being poetic and beautiful.  Plus, they’re from Ireland.  They talk in their delicious accents in interviews and you can hear just a smidge of it in their songs.   Mmmmm poetic Irish boys.

Wow, the weather was crazy this afternoon.  Wild, gusty wind throwing rain around like it was having a tantrum and didn’t like the rain anymore because they weren’t friends. The wind is still keeping up now, and the pretty tree across the parking lot is showing its pale leafy underbelly.  Indecent, is what I call it.  I confess (I’m feeling poetic but that’s not the confession) I like to imagine that I can become part of the wind.  I don’t want to be a bird; flapping appendages to stay aloft doesn’t sound like fun.  I idly dream of stepping out onto my balcony, and before that, out my bedroom window and just dissolving into that vicious, playful, cruel spring wind.  Have you ever seen videos of seals swimming and playing underwater?  I imagine that I’d look something like that, if I joined the wind.  All graceful and flippy and twirly and totally not out of control or surprised by an errant current of air.  It’s winds like these that make me wish magic was real, like in the storybooks, that I could join the wind, if I studied enough and learned how.

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