Our house has three floors, with the kitchen and the living room in the middle, all the bed rooms – and my little office – upstairs, and a playroom, and an entrance to the backyard in the basement. Each staircase has 15 steps, so it’s a 30-step run from the basement to my office, when, for example, the phone rings.
Merry holiday (of your choice) and a happy new year (of your choice)!
A happy you
A merry Xmas
New wish year
And we
Wish a merry year
And a new Xmas
You, we: happy
A Xmas:
You and we
A happy wish:
New, merry year
Happy you
Merry we
A new year
And a Xmas wish
You wish a happy new year
And we a merry Xmas
We wish you a merry Xmas
And a happy new year
There’s a pile of newspapers on the table here in the coffee shop. I’m looking at them because this happens to be my table. It’s a pretty big table, seating six, except that my suitcase takes up one seat, and the piles of newspapers two.
There are few things that make me as happy as seeing Son and Daughter take care of each other. Being an only child, I’ve never had that connection with anybody. On the other hand, having always been just me is the only way I know, so I’ve never really missed it, either.
(Although, Mom likes to tell the story about me hugging our dog, and whispering into his ear my joy about getting a new pair of skates for Xmas.)
I saw something strange at the gym the other day, and I guess I could try to use it as a metaphor for something bigger in life, or spin a tale about things that people do.
And if I tried to reach to the inner corridors of my memory, I might be able to come up with another incident like the one I saw the other day – whoops, there it was – but since it’s not something I’d like to spend a lot of time or brain capacity on, and let’s face it, both are a limited commodity – I’m not going to do that.
