>I haven’t felt up to posting much lately. Still don’t. So, I hereby endow you with a short list of what’s currently on my mind.

In college, I received a smallish bottle of mango essential oil as a gift. I didn’t care for it too much. A little on the sweet side. Okay, a lot on the sweet side. Especially after I spilled it in my bedroom closet and had to smell it for months and months. Like cherry vodka, mango haunts me.

Am I Ready?
Am I really ready for a move to DC? Just talked “government” with a regional rep at work and realized that I have a lot to learn if I’m going to get in the game. I may have found a local non-profit in line with my personal beliefs. Can I get off of the schmooze wagon long enough to get back to what I believe in? I can put on a good game face when I need to. Unfortunately, I’ve been needing to entirely too much lately.

I went up in a teeny tiny plane a couple of weeks ago and realized that I wasn’t afraid because it felt like I was in a dream. I used to have dreams about walking or paddling and moving entirely too far without extending a realistic amount of effort. I really enjoyed the dreams. The flight was too short and just these few lines are stuck in my head from “Brian Wilson’ by Barnaked Ladies:

I floated ’til I couldn’t see the

I floated ’til I couldn’t see the

Somebody help me,
I couldn’t see the ground

Strike a Pose
I really need to have my photo taken professionally. Yes, a posed photo to capture the “radiance of my youth” and other assorted B.S. This is a little extreme, but I think I made it work for my senior yearbook. Let’s all strike a pose now, shall we?


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s