Wednesday, January 7, 2009
"Future." It gives me heart palpitations. It turns out that "I want to write" is a less than acceptable answer to the plans inquiry. Turns out that pursing my lips and throwing my eyes doesn't deflect the well-meaning questioners. And it turns out that no one, wish as I might, is going to sit me down and spell out the rest of my life for me, probably because I don't have gypsy friends. Fetch.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
I think most of us feel the same as you--to an extent--you're not alone! Except none of us can say like you can. And P.S. the next time we have a Freestone's Indian food feeding fest, you're invited. Glad you have a blog.
ReplyDelete