Yes, by lovely people, I mean you.
It was a morning just like any other morning. I was a little stiff while I stretched out, so pleased with the peachy morning sky at 730. I toyed with going back to sleep but passed—there were so many things to do today, most of them I was looking forward to. Halfway through my first glass of water, I moved the wrong way and my back made me scream. Sitting in my chair all day was off the list of things to do. I sneezed once; it made me cry. I’ve been neglecting my back lately and it’s not going to take it anymore.
Fortunately, I wrote half of this post over the weekend. All I have to do is finish it before my painkillers knock me out. One of the things I miss most about Reverb10 is tweeting all those wonderful blog posts I read. Happy Monday? Almost, you lovely person. Almost.
Let this one be a devil: A haunting tale of the South Jersey pine barrens, from Search Results.
”Is this your car, miss?” asked the policewoman: Injustice happens to real people, from Uncle Typewriter.
I have tried to fight this hypothesis. I have gone dream-hunting: Dispatches from a shoes-optional district in Israel, from Roxanne at Stories of Conflict and Love.
Whether you ignore the call or not it is there: the call to understand rituals that are familiar and foreign at the same time: The deep ties of ethnic food and history, from Noël at French Christmas.
Together, we can rise above anything: Letters from a father from Jen at Open Book. If this doesn’t move you, well… I just don’t want to know that about you, okay, so keep it to yourself.
I declare another tree red. / “No.” he says: Naming the palette, from Julie at Julie Unplugged.
On one hand, I hate change. On the other hand I love change: Fighting life paralysis, from Tracy at Inky Twig.
I will have to give you more some other time, but you’ll be reading for awhile just with these. And in the meantime, I will take some more medicine, feed my hardworking husband, and leave you in Heather’s hands tomorrow.