So I didn't, hardly.
In having written Tollipop for a few years now, I believe I've distilled the essence of myself down to a very few topics. I used to think I was so mysterious and unfathomable! No more. I now realize I can be summed up in the following words: bugs, candy, running, little old men, and Trader Joe's.
Well, let's hope there's more to me than that, but this blog would hardly lead one to believe otherwise.
To wit: I'm still on the path of the ancient Norseman, dear reader. I still believe he's out there. Why, just the other day I ran past this very spot and there was only one cairn. As of yesterday, there are three!
Oh, the desert is so magical, so mystical and queer! I cannot begin to tell you how still, how empty, barren, and lonely it is out there, so that the tiniest change, the smallest arrangement of rocks is received with wonder and delight. It's like a little presence, a sentinel, a friend.
If this sounds a bit crazy, don't be alarmed. I probably need to hydrate myself.
Last night my husband texted me to go outside and look at the sunset, so I did. It reminded me of everything good in life, sharing that moment with him on opposite ends of the city.
I'm reading a book right now called Journey Into the Whirlwind. It's the story of one woman's ordeal in Soviet prisons due to trumped up political charges during the 1930's. I don't know why I'm bothering to mention this, since it entices me to launch into about ten different topics and I need to get going with my day, but I wanted to say such accounts make me wonder if I could endure a similar experience so well, with dignity and in accordance to my conscience.
Among other things, I would find it terribly daunting to be denied the freedom to gaze up at the sky.