Enga mellom fjella: where from across the meadow, poems sing from mountains and molehills. |
Me. My journal is on page 3,922. I started it in December 2003. But... I'm no open book. There's a lot I don't share. Nothing quite like nightmares... I dread reading the news some days. I don't see the world through rose-tinted glasses but I'm not happy with the levels of violence and the American public's ho-hum attitude towards it. Surf's up and kayakers and surfers were on the river yesterday. Today there's some ice flowing down it. Do people care about facts? The on-line comments are brutal at times. And folks don't recognize satire or faux reports for what they are. When you have older friends... some of them get ill. Missed Joyce today. She's either at the doctor's or hospital. In any case... Bored. Will watch "Horse Whisperer" if I can stomach watching a movie. It's Tuesday in December and there's little to do in this town in December. It rocks February through November. But December? Continue working on my room issues but no great emotional energy to tackle and be done with it. Goal is still: by next Monday. I posted pictures of Portugal again today but the computers at the Senior center don't like to read my external drive. I don't like fighting with computers as it wastes time. Sure... I have lots of time. But not for frustrating and stupid. 52,711 |