Wednesday, August 03, 2005

 
I ain't talking if I can write. These were the words I just spoke to The Yogini after I hung up the phone. Sure, it wasn't someone I can talk to very often or for long, but really, what it was about was opportunity. With a capital O. Ends in Y and so do I, almost. Maybe it would be better if I did talk this out first. Seems to be going in uncertain circles heading nowhere. Possibly. Or am I being presumptious? We shall see.

I wrote camping bits yesterday - about the drive and the hike. And I wrote a letter to France (an individual, not the country, but in the country, though with a different name) today and babbled on about last year's baby deer and bunnies and the after dinner walk with the white-faced cows. And so, what I am getting at is this: I cannot write the same thing twice. The same story anyway. This enhances the challenge of keeping you entertained, while assuring one-of-a-kind documents a- traveling to and fro. And thus. It came about when I remembered that I didn't remember what I last wrote (not here, duh, that's easy enough to figure out) so I determined to remove the risk of redundancy. Really.

In the spirit of coming up with something new, I can't think of a damn thing. I guess you have been updated, sort of. And the computer seems to be working, so I could, potentially, come back later and embellish. Doubtful. Other than relish, what rhymes with embellish?

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