I know I make fun of the Christmas thing. Truth is, however, that I do have a soft spot in my heart for the season. I love the idea of giving, the beautiful decorations, the image of little rugrats children all wide-eyed with wonder—and the music. Most of all I love the music.
BUT—having had about a foot of snow in the past week, and weeks of nothing but gray skies and rain before that—I am NOT dreaming of a White Christmas. :nonono:
This is what I’m dreaming of.
It’s an early summer day. I’m in that picture. Can’t see me? Trust me, I’m SO there. Reclining in the shade, my back pillowed against the trunk of the tree. I’ve got a nice, cold drink on one side, a bit of french bread and butter in a sack on the other, a wonderful book in my lap.
No problems, no disturbances, no negativity. No worrying about what I should be doing, or why. Just this moment.
The only sounds are those of the bird songs and the lazy hum of bees. Sometime toward afternoon, there is the distant song of a wood flute, vague and sweet. The sun is warm, and the breeze as soft as a wish. The lighting is hazy and diffused, the sky a luminous, clarified blue. I close my eyes between chapters and drowse, completely at peace, and when I pick up my book again it seems no time has passed at all.
This is what I’m dreaming of.
Wishing you the fulfillment of yours. :grin:
I’m sucking it up at the Chicas today.
Join me! :waving:
“…A date which will live in infamy.”
These words were spoken by President Roosevelt at a joint session of Congress on the day following the attack on Pearl Harbor.
But if you ask anyone under the age of 35 or so what the significance of December 7th is, you might have your doubts about this statement.
No, I’m not old enough to remember Pearl Harbor. But my parents lived through it, remembered vividly exactly what they were doing at the moment news of the attack crackled over the radios of America.
Sound familiar? It isn’t difficult to relate to, even in these times. Think of the Kennedy assassination, or your own personal 9/11 experiences.
But the impact of these critical moments in our history tends to die out with the generations—and that generation is slowly dying out.
On this day I always remember the war stories my father told, and how my mother went to work for the Pentagon. I remember hearing about the mass movement of patriotism, the sacrifices. The unbearable losses.
That fading generation gave a great deal that we might live as we live today.
If you can, please spare a moment of your day today to remember that, to remember THEM.
And if you can’t spare that moment…you’re just too damn busy.
Cece wants to hear about your worst Christmas.
She’s funny that way. :twisted:
No, seriously—stop over at the Chica’s site, and let’s hear about your worst Christmas. It doesn’t have to be sad. We don’t necessarily want to hear how Timmy fell down the well again, and the guy with the curly black mustache came to foreclose on the family farm.
It can be strange, quirky, crowded with strange people–and yes, sad.
But do come share with us.
In return, one winner will receive an autographed cover flat of Cece’s coming Aphrodisia release, Hands On, which is VERY hot, and a mini Total Bitch Kit (which we can all use at one time or another…) :razz:
You’ve got until Wednesday to qualify.
And today Dennie is giving away a Dirty Girl box set to celebrate her coming release, Deadly Mistakes. All you need to do is comment. :smokin:
Come and play! :waving:
It seems that Bernita has not only revealed her Dark Side, but gives us a peep into the paradigm of the average Pepé Le Pew, the eau-so-adorable visitors noted in my previous post. But she does it SO eloquently. :yesyesyes:
(And no, I couldn’t resist saying it, lol!) :razz:
It seems the kittles have found a new way to have fun.
It goes like this:
“Hey, let’s wait by the windows until we see a skunk saunter by, then scare the crap out of it so it’ll spray the house! YAAYYYY!!!! :razz:
Sigh… 
In other news, I’m feeling rejected at the Chicas. 
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