I'm choosing to greet you in such a cheerful way because I'm hoping that it will make me a little more chipper as I roll out of my bed this morning, 15 minutes before I waltz out the door, still rubbing my eyes and grumbling about how I frickin' hate Mondays.
I'll let you know later if it worked.
Anyway. I don't really feel like typing, so here's a book review in vlog format.
The bottom line: I'm generally not a fan of memoirs, but this was an okay read. I'd recommend checking it out if you're looking for a mindless, somewhat humorous book that's easy to put down when your kid starts screaming or punching his (or her) siblings.
On another note - have any of you ever read the Miss Peregrine series?? I downloaded the first one yesterday and am looking for some opinions/ someone who will talk about it with me when I'm finished!! EDIT: I just finished the first one... someone talk about it with me!!!
And.... just for kicks and giggles, I have something from my hunk a hunk of a hubby.
Mike: I had an assignment to write a poem based on a picture or image I saw. At the time we were in the car driving to Wichita, KS. We had gone to a KFC/ Taco Bell where I got a meal deal #4 from the Taco Bell side. A beefy five-layer burrito without sourcream, adding 'redstrips'. Comes with a medium drink and a bag of doritos. The drink cup they used was from the KFC side and had a picture of Col. Sanders. I chose to write the poem on the cup since it was the only thing I could think of. (Alyx here - it was totally my idea)
The Old Man: Colonel Sanders
Red, white, and no, not blue. Black.
The colors dance across not paper, not canvas, not even cloth, but across plastic.
Not flat, not rough, but round and smooth. It fits snugly in my grip and provides nourishment.
As I look down I see a face warm and bright, but formed with the colors of anger and despair.
He smiles and stares kindly, inviting you to enjoy what’s underneath.
The tie he wears is black, his shirt as white as his hair which glistens in the light.
His spectacles bright and clear create ovals around his eyes that bring them closer and into your soul.
Not penetrating, but embracing. Not forcefully, but as if he asks permission to lighten your burden.
Even now as you see him, you thirst, and long for satisfaction and know that he has it.
Not in him, but a part of him. Not through him, but in him.
Satisfaction is found and thirst sleeps.