Funny how things turn out. Reactions, non-reactions, et al. Puzzling how we use such language to write off situations which are not humorous at all. Save for, perhaps, the odd coupling of sophomoric stupidity and muddled perseverance.
In other news, the garden is cold and the rosemary is nearly dead. Not dead enough to deter me from garlic rosemary biscuits, however. My room is garnished in tulips and enough skeins of yarn to keep me click-clacking for some time to come. And however much I may be dreaming of zipping through the south of France in a hunter green e-type roadster, I am rather content with the stack of girl scout cookies shipped over by dear ol' mom & dad, an endless supply of Seinfeld-in-bed-laughs, and the prospect of many weekend nights spent twisting around to Northern Soul. Perhaps more than Jaguars & holidays abroad spent collecting antique Digoin bowls, I'd like to spend my days jivin' with Don Cornelius on the set of Soul Train. Lord knows I'd be giving Marvin my number on a napkin in a flash!