Sitting up, listening to the radio while I write, I am thinking about a lot of different things but none with an obvious common thread.
My oldest daughter has developed a fascination with harpsichords and I am trying to find someone in our area who has one and would be willing to give her a demonstration. She cried today when I told her we could not possibly buy one of our own. We already have two pianos, an antique reed organ, a French horn, and a guitar. Not to mention castanets, a tambourine, shaker eggs, maracas, and a triangle. We'd have to put a harpsichord out on the back patio, next to the plastic wading pool. Nice.
Reparations for slavery. No. The children have already been held accountable for the sins of the fathers and that's enough. It's impossible to move forward if we're determined to stay mired in the past. We can't have it both ways. Sen. Phil Gramm got booted from the McCain campaign for calling us a nation of whiners. The truth hurts.
Presidential candidates. I don't like either of them. Where's my viable third choice?
My youngest just turned one. We call him Puffcookie because he is both puffy and sweet.
Poetry isn't as popular as it should be. Neither is common sense.
2 comments:
Girl! So I can't seem to access your address to send you that long, newsy email. But I think I've clicked the right box so that you can send me an email. And then, we'll be hooked up! Your youngest it one? How many are there? Theresa
HEY!!!!!!!!!!!!! It's been way too long. For those who don't know, Theresa Fuesting, aka "T" is a long lost friend o' mine who moved north of the Mason Dixon with her husband and cutie pie daughter some years back. We lost touch but I found her 'blog and now she's found mine. This rocks!! Stand by, T, I'm sending you a private reply so you can capture my email address.
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