Who came up with that phrase? I think I really really like them.
I got am e-mail from Miles the other day and I almost cracked in half. It was SO refreshing to read his sense of humor. It's so like mine. I knew just when he was being sarcastic and when he wanted me to laugh.. and I did.
I have been so stressed I can't sleep well and when I am awake I can't keep my eyes open. James said "Why don't you just choose to be happy?"
I PROMISE I AM TRYING MY VERY BEST!
I am overwhelmed with my weaknesses right now. Just when my plate is full with things I need to do better or fix, I get bombarded with more.
I have been helping James get ready to move to Washington.
last month I read a book and among other cultural lessons I thought it this was interesting. The heroin... the gal not the drug... I'm way not going to check into that right now... was stressed about her new marriage and money and other things that newly married Jewish girls worry over. She came home to find her mother very depressed and she had the presence of mind to take over the responsibilities her mother shouldered for Pesach. She found that when she was so busy cleaning and delegating and cooking, that she had no time to worry over anything else. * aside I just found a WONDERFUL site : jewish-life-organized.com *
I feel like I'm running off that theory right now... I'm not looking forward to things slowing down.
I was wondering what our conversations would be like if I were to speak what I was thinking. It would definitely be interesting. I hardly think in complete or linear patterns. And always there is a song going through my mind... so conversations would jump around and be broken up with random-usually unrelated- songs.
If I get a chance to breath with out having a meltdown, I'll try it and let the world know how it goes.
I love automatic spell checks!
From Diane Setterfield's The Thirteenth Tale
People disappear when they die. Their voices, their laughter, the warmth of their breath. Their flesh. Eventually their bones. All living mempry of them ceases. This is both dreadful and natural. Yet for some there is an exception to this annihilation. For in the books they write they continut to exist. We can rediscover them. Their humour, their tone of voice, their moods. Through the written word they can anger you or make you happy. They can comfort you. They can perplex you. They can alter you. All this, even though they are dead. Like flies in amber, like corpses frozen in ice, that which according to the laws of nature should pass away is, by the miracle of ink on paper, preserved. It is a kind of magic.