Books and blossoms
I know that my tally isn’t on-the-spot accurate largely because keeping a record of the blossoms from The Peanut Butter Bunch didn’t even occur to me until after at least eight weeks.
[Okay–be frank. Has anyone else been dealing with absurd little Blogger imps in the last three days? Crazy link-leaving, text-moving, picture-dancing, content-shifting, ziggy-zaggin’ paragraph hopping pthththt?
Well–because me either. Except, if it ever happened–I would dub it Bogger.
Fine. It is happening. And it is driving me bonkers.]
Back to the blossoms–or the tally of the blossoms. I have had a bloom [lean forward on your chair] like this [tilt your head to one side] on my porch [widen your eyes] for at least sixteen weeks [put a hand on your heart]. Sixteen weeks [lean back, and snap your fingers]. That’s astonishing [nod your head].
And I’m certain it can’t last forever because blossoms don’t last forever.
Memories have a much longer shelf life, though.
Gratefully.
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Remember the creative friend I mentioned in yesterday’s blog? Yuh–well–remember that I also mentioned that her husband is equally creative?
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Remember the creative friend I mentioned in yesterday’s blog? Yuh–well–remember that I also mentioned that her husband is equally creative?
HE wrote the books. SHE created the covers.
BoOm.
I can’t even stand it.
One day they are going to be famous–and I will own three signed books.
Happy October 14th.
what do you think?