Lovely Diary,
Through a fit of boredom, I come to you. Since gossip and chatter do not occupy my tongue, a keyboard will occupy my fingers. My dearest, my beautiful, my love, my Elvis! as my fingers caress your cyber pages, filling them with my deepest oddities and stupidities, I plead with you: please don't tell my parole officer.
Lately, as you well know, I've been reading a very intrigueing book: Even Cowgirls Get The Blues. Because of this particular novel, my gray brain has been kicked into gear; squirming and twitching like an eyeball that just lost a poker game to the nose. I've been questioning the human "understanding
All these questions and more, coming to a store near you.
Hugs and Kisses,
Elizabeth