I thought there was going to be a miracle today, but alas, I was wrong. With high hopes I tried on the new shoes. Crash, my mood plummeted. Too big. I had taken a big chance with ordering shoes from online (knowing my history you would agree I’m sure), but I studied the photos carefully and read tons of reviews - it seemed that they’d be okay. I was excited! New shoes! During Covid times! Well… they were too big. So blam - they have to be returned once we get out of lockdown. So disappointed.
I suppose I could order a smaller size but then maybe there’d be 2 pairs to return :-(
The sky merges with land today, a light grey world punctuated only by the line of black trees on the horizon. Even the spruce outside the window is drained of colour, leaving an empty universe of black in the outline of a tree. If white is the representation of all the colours, and black a dearth colours what does that make bleak? Because surely bleak is a colour. If Crayola was making it what would their formula be?
Should we have a giant party at the end of the pandemic (there will be an end won’t there)? Should I start working on the guest list and menu? Maybe by September? Perhaps a huge birthday bash as I celebrate entering my last year before I roll a decade? Balloons, streamers, champagne, all pink. I’ll dress in pink sequins and well-worn denim, maybe a cowboy hat. Everyone else will wear their favorite clothes, dress up or dress down, whichever brings happiness. All of our favorite songs will tinkle their notes in the air as we gyrate on the grass, barefoot and full of joy!
I wonder how many words I’ve written since I started the blog 10 years ago? Let’s see… 2168 posts with an average of 300 words = 650,400 words! Over half a million words have flown off the keyboard onto the virtual page. Even the entire Lord of the Rings series (including The Hobbit) has just (!) 576,459 words.
"I am in no mood to fulminate on paper--I wish the two of us were in a room together talking of what matters most, the air thick with affinity. In January a man crawls into a cave of hopelessness; he hallucinates sympathies catching fire. Letters are glaciers, null frigates, trapping us where we are in the moment, unable to carry us on toward truth.”
~Carlene Bauer
“It was previously a question of finding out whether or not life had to have a meaning to be lived. It now becomes clear on the contrary that it will be lived all the better if it has no meaning”
~Albert Camus
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