In the other room I have thoughts about blog entries, or things to say to particular people. I think about how I'm spending my time this year, opposed to how I've spent my time the last number of years. I ponder my ability to communicate and connect with those I don't see often enough, or those I've never seen. I wonder why I have so many ideas, and little evidence of my muse. So I thought I should take a moment and see what I spat out. And here's where I think I should stop, but I know as soon as I go into the other room that thoughts will start flowing, emotions and words I should explore will erupt from my innards, yet I sit here stifled.
Then I think about the joke my Dad made on Thanksgiving, an impossible kind of funny. When he chose that particular moment to reach back in time and weave his humor he entered my newly created Comedic Hall of Fame. Too bad I can't remember what he said.
A.Ho
Then I think about the joke my Dad made on Thanksgiving, an impossible kind of funny. When he chose that particular moment to reach back in time and weave his humor he entered my newly created Comedic Hall of Fame. Too bad I can't remember what he said.
A.Ho
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